Interpretation, Religion and Culture in Midrash and Beyond: Proceedings of the 2006 and 2007 SBL Midrash Sessions 9781463215941

Table of contents :
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
THE SERMONS ON JOSEPH OF BALAI OF QENNEŠRĪN (EARLY FIFTH CENTURY CE) AS A WITNESS TO THE TRANSMISSION HISTORY AND INTERPRETIVE DEVELOPMENT OF JOSEPH TRADITIONS
THE FOUNDATION STONE: REFLECTIONS ON THE ADOPTION AND TRANSFORMATION OF ‘PRIMORDIAL MYTH’ IN RABBINIC LITERATURE
“DIALOGUES BETWEEN SAGES AND OUTSIDERS TO THE TRADITION”: FORMAL CHANGES TO THE LITERARY COMPOSITION AS A METHOD OF RELIGIOUS POLEMICS IN RABBINIC LITERATURE
THE EXTREMES OF ESTHER AND ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR MIDRASH
THE DEMISE OF THE SCHOOL OF SHAMMAI AND THE FALL OF JERUSALEM
SOME REMARKS ON THE EGYPTIAN LANGUAGE (COPTIC) IN RABBINIC TEXTS
LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE IN EARLY RABBINIC LITERATURE

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Interpretation, Religion and Culture in Midrash and Beyond

JUDAISM IN CONTEXT

6 Series Editors

Naomi Koltun-Fromm, Lieve M. Teugels and Rivka Ulmer

Interpretation, Religion and Culture in Midrash and Beyond

Proceedings of the 2006 and 2007 SBL Midrash Sections

LIEVE M. TEUGELS AND RIVKA ULMER EDITORS

GORGIAS PRESS 2008

First Gorgias Press Edition, 2008 Copyright © 2008 by Gorgias Press LLC All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise without the prior written permission of Gorgias Press LLC. Published in the United States of America by Gorgias Press LLC, New Jersey ISBN 978-1-59333-619-6 ISSN 1935-6978

GORGIAS PRESS 180 Centennial Ave., Piscataway, NJ 08854 USA www.gorgiaspress.com Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Society of Biblical Literature. Midrash Section (2006 : Washington, D.C.) Interpretation, religion and culture in midrash and beyond : proceedings of the 2006 and 2007 SBL Midrash sections / Lieve M. Teugels and Rivka Ulmer. -- 1st Gorgias Press ed. p. cm. -- (Judaism in context ; 6) ISBN 978-1-59333-619-6 (alk. paper) 1. Midrash--History and criticism--Congresses. I. Teugels, Lieve M. II. Ulmer, Rivka. III. Society of Biblical Literature. Midrash Section (2007 : San Diego, Calif.) IV. Title. BM514.S63 2006 296.1'406--dc22 2008043399 The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standards. Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS Contents....................................................................................................................v Introduction .............................................................................................................1 Robert R. Phenix: The Sermons on Joseph of Balai of Qennešrīn (Early Fifth Century CE) As a Witness to the Transmission History and Interpretive Development of Joseph Traditions................................................3 Steven D. Sacks: The Foundation Stone: Reflections on the Adoption and Transformation of ‘Primordial Myth’ in Rabbinic Literature.........................25 Ezster Katalin Füzessy: “Dialogues between Sages and Outsiders to the Tradition”: Formal Changes to the Literary Composition as a Method of Religious Polemics in Rabbinic Literature.........................................................39 Isaac Gottlieb: The Extremes of Esther and Its Implications for Midrash.51 John T. Townsend: The Demise of the School of Shammai and the Fall of Jerusalem.................................................................................................................69 Rivka Ulmer: Some Remarks on the Egyptian Language (Coptic) in Rabbinic Texts .......................................................................................................79 Willem Smelik: Language Selection and the Holy Tongue in Early Rabbinic Literature.................................................................................................................91

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INTRODUCTION The scope of midrash continues to be refined and rediscovered. The articles in this volume “break new ground” by making bold statements and examining new material that is pertinent to the understanding of midrash and the processes involved in its creation. This volume contains select scholarly contributions to the Midrash Section of the Society of Biblical Literature at the Annual Meetings in San Diego (2007) and in Washington, DC (2006). This volume also demonstrates the renewed interest in Syriac and Islamic texts, as well as their relation to rabbinic midrash. Robert R. Phenix examines two episodes from Syriac stories about Joseph in Genesis 37 and 39-50, their connections with select Jewish midrashim and Islamic literature, as well as possible dependency relationships. The ‘foundation stone’ of rabbinic Judaism is approached from the perspective of religious theory by Steven Sacks, since religious comparativists sought out this myth in order to elucidate cross-cultural tropes. As a result of this inquiry, the ‘foundation stone’ was viewed as the center of the world; alternatively, it represented the primordial battle against chaos. By analyzing traditions found in the Zohar and in Pirke de-Rabbi Eliezer, Sacks finds that the imagery relating to the ‘foundation stone’ is informed by the mythic value of the patriarch Jacob. In his article, Sacks also addresses the tenor of rabbinic discourse. Eszter Katalin Füzessy researches the literary processes that mark the dialogues between a Sage and an ‘Outsider to the Tradition.’ In the tannaitic stratum of midrashic texts the dialogues did not have the polemic edge that is present in amoraic reformulations of the dialogues. The introduction of the ‘Outsiders’ may have served to present divergent opinions that were in opposition to the emerging positions of rabbinic Judaism. In her article, Füzessy pays attention to the formal features of these ‘dialogues.’ According to Isaac Gottlieb and other scholars, the Book of Esther is replete with reversals, exaggerations, and extremes. An approach to these “extremes” is also found in the interpretation of the Book of Esther, particularly in midrash. Furthermore, the fact that the Book of Esther itself is subject to halakhic midrash is noteworthy and needs to be explained. 1

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The demise of the House of Shammai is puzzling to the scholars of midrash. After carefully weighing external evidence and internal patterns of discourse, John Townsend suggests that the general rejection of the rulings of Bet Shammai may have its origin in the explicit preference maintained by the movement that followed Jesus of Nazareth which often agreed with the ideas put forth by the Shammaites. Two articles in this volume focus upon linguistic issues. The Egyptian language may be viewed as a memento that is present in rabbinic texts. Rivka Ulmer maintains that the rabbinic awareness of the existence of the Coptic language is significant because Coptic was relatively contemporary to some of the rabbinic texts. Willem Smelik focuses upon the concept of the ‘Holy tongue,’ the language of revelation. Analysis of the early rabbinic reflections on the holy tongue demonste that this concept was primarily connected with a limited set of priestly rituals, but the attempts to justify the Hebrew language requirement point to an emerging ideology of the Hebrew language. A note about style is due here. The authors followed different styles in their reference to sources. One author decided to have a bibliographical list at the end of his paper; the others give the full bibliographical information in their notes. Some authors use more abbreviations than others when listing sources. The editors decided to honor these individual differences as much as possible. We did try, however, to be consistent in the way Hebrew words and titles are transliterated. We used a very simple transliteration system that reflects the pronunciation of Hebrew in English, rather than spelling or word structure. Accordingly, we do not differentiate between alef and ayin; tet and taf; kaf and kuf; sin and samekh. Likewise dagesh is not indicated by duplication. Words in other languages than English are rendered in italics. Sometimes, a word may have become part of the English vocabulary, such as the Megillah, the Sabbath etc. We then use the common English way of rendering these words. It happens, however, that both the Hebrew term and the ‘English’ term occur in the same paper. This may result in different spellings for both uses of the term. For example, Isaac Gottlieb’s paper frequently mentions ‘the Megillah’, but also refers to the rabbinic sources BT Megilah. Lieve Teugels & Rivka Ulmer Rosh Hashanah 5769/September 2008

THE SERMONS ON JOSEPH OF BALAI OF QENNEŠRĪN (EARLY FIFTH CENTURY CE) AS A WITNESS TO THE TRANSMISSION HISTORY AND INTERPRETIVE DEVELOPMENT OF JOSEPH TRADITIONS1 Robert R. Phenix Saint Louis University INTRODUCTION This article examines two episodes from Syriac stories about Joseph in Genesis 37 and 39-50, their connections with selected Jewish midrashim and Islamic literature, and possible dependency relationships. The study of two minor but interesting examples of parabiblical Joseph material discussed below, namely Joseph’s lament at Rachel’s tomb and the topos of Jacob’s doubt of the report of his sons regarding Joseph’s fate, is motivated by the fact that these elements are relatively compact and have not been extensively studied in previous literature. In light of the fact that there are relatively few Jewish sources that transmit both of the topoi selected for the present contribution, the use of a relatively late Jewish midrash, the Sefer Hayashar, which probably transmits older material, is justified. The same criterion is applicable to the use of the Islamic Lives of the Prophets, a genre that develops relatively late in the history of Islamic exegesis and paraqur’ānic literature. This article is dedicated in memoriam to Adam Mendelson, D. Pharm. I am indebted to Aaron Overby for his research assistance. This article benefited from the response of Marilyn Kincaid, MA, MD and the remarks of other participants at the Fall 2007 Early Church Colloquium, St. Louis University, as well as from discussion of some of its aspects with Prof. Cornelia Horn. I take all responsibility for inaccuracies or omissions. 1

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In recent work on the Joseph literature in Syriac I have demonstrated that the largest and most complex of the Syriac Joseph stories, the Sermons on Joseph of Balai of Qenneshrin, are probably based on a now-lost, written Joseph story that was of Jewish origin. That study has presented evidence for a written Joseph text that served as the basis for Balai’s treatment of Joseph and has argued for a process of textual transmission, from a Jewish source, probably composed in Greek or in an Aramaic dialect which Balai had adapted into Syriac poetry.2 The present article extends this earlier discussion to include perspectives related to the formation of Islamic and Jewish paracanonical literature in the tenth to eleventh centuries. The goal here is to identify the contribution that the Syriac material might offer for examining the sources of some of the Lives of the Prophets texts, and to lay a small part of the groundwork for a more detailed investigation of the transmission of Jewish and Christian material on the biblical prophets into Islamic literature. A more comprehensive research project aims at addressing the transmission of Jewish, Christian, and Islamic exegesis on the lives of prophets through a critical evaluation of current discussions of orality in Jewish midrash, the development of exegesis in Islam, and the interactions of all three religions in the development of their paracanonical literatures. THE SYRIAC SOURCES The date of almost all of the Syriac texts considered in this study lies between the fourth and the end of the sixth centuries. The following comments offer a synopsis of these works. The Sermons on Joseph is a single work written in Syriac and consisting of twelve verse homilies or memrē that recount the events of the story of Joseph in Genesis chapters 37, 39 through 48, and 49.24 through the end of chapter 50. The work is attested in thirteen known manuscripts, one of which, a manuscript perhaps still kept in Iran, is known only through a report by Paul Bedjan.3 He also was the first person to establish an edition of the Sermons on Joseph. Of the remaining ten manuscripts, six are in Western 2 See Robert R. Phenix, “The End of the Story of Joseph in Pseudepigraphical Texts and in the Sermons on Joseph of Balai (First Half of 5th Century)”, in Proceedings of the Ottawa Conference on Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, Sept. 29th – Oct. 1st, 2006, University of Ottawa, Ontario, ed. Pierluigi Piovanelli, forthcoming. 3 These manuscripts are discussed in greater detail in Robert R. Phenix Jr., Rhetoric and Interpretation in Fifth Century Syriac Literature: the Sermons on Joseph of Balai of Qenneshrin, Studien und Texte zu Antike und Christentum (Tübingen: MohrSiebeck, 2009, forthcoming).

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and four in Eastern collections. The oldest attestation is BL 742 (Add 12,166, 6/7th c.), but this manuscript contains only memrē One and Eight. The second oldest manuscript, BL 777 (Add 14,590, 8/9th c.), from the ninth century, merely contains memrā Two. The complete work is preserved only in two manuscripts in Eastern Collections. These more recent manuscripts were both copied in the late nineteenth century. One copy was obtained from the Chaldean Catholic convent of Notre Dame des Sémences at Alqosh, Iraq. Bedjan had procured the other manuscript from the village of Tell Keph. Thus far, only two scholars have published the text of the Sermons on Joseph. Bedjan presented three editions, the last of which in 1891 contains the complete text as well as the Translation of the Bones of Joseph to Constantinople, a work that may have been written to celebrate the transportation, or translatio, of what the Byzantines believed to have been the relics of this patriarch that were used in the consecration of the rebuilding of Hagia Sophia in 412. Thomas Joseph Lamy also published the complete text in two parts (1889 and 1902), relying in part on Bedjan’s editions, and supplying a Latin translation.4 Other Syriac poetic interpretations of the life of the patriarch Joseph exist as well. A substantial work was composed by Narsai (d. mid-fifth century). There are four Sermons on Joseph of Narsai, only the first two of which are authentic.5 Sermons on Joseph of Narsai One is found in MSS Ber(liner) Staats(bibliothek) 58 and was edited by Victor Grabowski.6 Sermons on Joseph Paul Bedjan, Histoire complète de Joseph par Saint Ephrem, poème en douze livres (Paris & Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, 1891); Thomas Joseph Lamy, Sancti Ephraem Syri Hymni et Sermones, Tomus III (Mechliniae: H. Dessain, Summi Pontificis, S. Congregationis de Propaganda Fide et Archiepiscopatus Mechliniensis typographus, 1889), cols. 250-640 [Sermons on Joseph One through Nine and the first half of Sermon Ten]; Idem, Sancti Ephraem Syri Hymni et Sermones, Tomus IV (Mechliniae: H. Dessain, Summi Pontificis, S. Congregationis de Propaganda Fide et Archiepiscopatus Mechliniensis typographus, 1902), cols. 791-844 [Sermons on Joseph, Second Half of Sermon Ten and Sermons Eleven and Twelve]. The author of this article is in the process of preparing a new edition and English translation. 5 For further discussion, see Phenix, Rhetoric and Interpretation. 6 Eduard Sachau, Verzeichnis der syrischen Handschriften der königlichen Bibliothek zu Berlin (Berlin: A. Ascher, 1899), 199-200. Manuscript Ber. Staats. 58 contains all four sermons and these occupy the entire manuscript, 68 folios, 17 lines per folio. The edition of the first sermon is found in Victor Grabowski, Geschichte Josefs von Mar Narses. I. Teil (Leipzig: Itzkowski, 1889). The second sermon is edited in Max Weyl, Das zweite Josephs-Gedicht von Narses. Nach zwei Handschriften der Königl. Bibliothek zu Berlin (Berlin: M. Poppelauer, 1901). 4

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of Narsai Two is attested in MS Ber. Staats. 58 and 59, an edition of which Max Weyl issued in 1901.7 Bedjan published all four of the Sermons on Joseph of Narsai, based on MS Ber. Staats. 58 and a manuscript that was in the possession of Joseph Elie Khayyat, which Bedjan designated as the “Mosul” manuscript.8 The authentic two homilies by Narsai follow the Joseph story of Genesis until the announcement to Jacob that Joseph was alive in Egypt (Gen 45.26), at which point Sermons on Joseph of Narsai Two ends. Sermons on Joseph of Narsai Three contains excerpted direct quotations from Balai’s material, the Sermons on Joseph 10.16-19, continuing the story to the tearful reunion of Jacob and Joseph in Egypt (Gen. 46:30). Sermons on Joseph of Narsai Four is an independent work, a dialogue between Joseph, Jacob, and Dinah on the seventh day after they arrived in Egypt. Sermons on Joseph of Narsai Four is clearly a later addition and is not by Narsai.9 Additional material consists of the Syriac Joseph story witnessed in at least two manuscripts. The first is MS Berlin Sachau 166 (=Sachau 190, fols. 1-170).10 The other, MS Berlin Sachau 180 (=Sachau 219, fols. 94a96b), preserves only a fragment,11 which Meier Engel edited.12 Meier Engel published an edition of the first half of Sachau 190 with some collation of Sachau MS 219 and a German translation for his doctoral dissertation at Berlin in 1895.13 The text of these two manuscripts is a pastiche of different 7 Sachau, Verzeichnis der syrischen Handschriften, 200-204. Manuscript Ber. Staats. 59, folios 1b – 45a contains sermons one through three wherein they are attributed to Jacob of Sarugh. 8 Paul Bedjan, Liber superiorum seu historia monastica, auctore Thoma, episcopo Margensi, Liber fundatorem monasteriorum in regno persarum et arabum, homiliæ Mar-Narsentis in Joseph, documenta patrum de quibusdam veræ fidei dogmatibus (Leipzig: Otto Harrassowitz, and Paris: Congregatio missionis er puellarum caritatis - also, 1901), ix-x; text edition, 521-629; Anton Baumstark, Geschichte der syrischen Literatur (A. Marcus und E. Webers Verlag Dr. jur. Albert Ahn, 1922), 112-113, doubted that Narsai composed any of the sermons on Joseph attributed to him. 9 See A. S. Rodriguez Pereira, “Two Syriac Verse Homilies on Joseph”, Jaarbericht . . . van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap Ex Oriente Lux 31 (1989-90), 95120, here 98-99 and the discussion in Phenix, Rhetoric and Interpretation. 10 Sachau, Verzeichnis der syrischen Handschriften, 519-520. 11 Sachau, Verzeichnis der syrischen Handschriften, 590-594. This fragment corresponds to MS Sachau 166, fols. 28b-30b. 12 Meier Engel, Die Geschichte Josephs, nach einer syrischen Handschrift der Königl. Bibliothek in Berlin (Berlin: Itzkowski, 1895), 3, stated that he employed MS Berlin Sachau 190 with an apparatus for the material in MS Berlin Sachau 215. These numbers are incorrect according to Sachau’s catalogue. 13 The second half of this work has not been edited.

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Syriac Joseph texts that a redactor pieced together from material in five-, seven-, and twelve-syllable meters. The recitative sections in twelve-syllable meter are identical to Sermons on Joseph of Narsai One. The five-syllable meter is employed in oratorical sections and is from an unknown source. The material in the seven-syllable meter consists partly of excerpts from Balai’s Sermons on Joseph narrating the reunion of Jacob and Joseph (which is identical to its usage in Sermons on Joseph of Narsai Three), the death and burial of Jacob, and the final doxology. Some of the seven-syllable meter material does not occur in the Sermons on Joseph and its source or source(s) remain unknown. The pericope of Joseph at Rachel’s tomb, addressed in the present communication, is such an example: composed in the “meter of Balai,” the text is not attested elsewhere, but the topos of Joseph at Rachel’s tomb occurs too frequently elsewhere for the passage to have been invented by the author, making it likely that this pericope in the Sachau text was taken from an existing Syriac text. The haggadic contents of the shorter and the longer recension are identical, with one exception: the “man” who finds Joseph lost in the wilderness in the longer recension (cf. Gen. 37:15) is transformed in the shorter recension into a sponsor whom Jacob had sent to Joseph for this purpose.14 The Story of Joseph of Pseudo-Basil of Caesarea is preserved in one Syriac manuscript, MS Berlin Sachau 9.15 This manuscript was edited in two 14 “And at the sound of his weeping the sponsor whom Jacob had given to Joseph inclined his ear”, text: Engel, Die Geschichte Josephs, Syriac, 1; German translation, p. 14. This interpretation seems to be a position of compromise between the “man” of Gen. 37:17 and the rabbinic tradition. As Meier Engel noted (Die Geschichte Josephs, 14 note 3), rabbinic tradition interpreted the “man” to be an angel. Compare Pseudo-Basil of Caesarea, Story of Joseph in Sachau MS 9 [=74].4 (ed. and German tr.: Magnus Weinberg, Die Geschichte Josefs Teil I [Berlin: Itzkowski, 1893], 19). More specifically the angel Gabriel is mentioned: Pirke Rabbi Eliezer 38 (ed. Dagmar Börner-Klein, Pirke de-Rabbi Eliezer. Nach der Edition Venedig 1544 unter Berücksichtigung der Edition Warschau 1852, Studia Judaica XXVI [Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2004], 488, 489), and older versions of the Tanḥuma as translated in Samuel A. Berman, Midrash Tanhuma-Yelammedenu. An English Translation of Genesis and Exodus from the Printed Version of Tanhuma-Yelammedenu with an Introduction, Notes, and Indices (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav, 1996), 224. Midrash Genesis Rabbah 84:14 contains a tradition from R. Jannai that states that Joseph was met by three angels. See C. Albeck, Bereshit Rabba. Mit kritischem Apparat und Commentar, 3 vols. (Jerusalem: Wahrman Books, 1971), 1017; English tr.: H. Freedman, Midrash Rabbah. Genesis in Two Volumes, vol. 2 (London: The Soncino Press, 1962), 780. 15 Sachau 9 = No. 74 in: Sachau, Verzeichnis der syrischen Handschriften, 281-288, here: 284; folios 24b-52b.

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dissertations. The first half was edited and translated with a general introduction by Magnus Weinberg and the second half in an analogous format by Samuel Link.16 An Ethiopic translation of this text, known as the Ethiopic History of Joseph, was made not from Syriac, but from an Arabic intermediary, as the names of some of the biblical figures attest.17 That intermediary in turn was produced on the basis of a Syriac text.18 An English translation of this work was prepared by Ephraim Isaac, but the Ethiopic manuscript (MS EMML 1939, fol. 124a-168a) has not been edited.19 In addition to examining the Syriac material, the present study also has collated the Story of Joseph that circulated under the name of Ephraem Graecus.20 This work was popular in the Middle Ages but cannot be dated with any accuracy.21 It is certainly not by Ephraem the Syrian. Indeed, several topoi in the In pulcherrimum Joseph are not found in Ephraem’s authentic works. The Greek text is also not a translation of any other extant Syriac source. Yet it does seem to convey material contained in several midrashim Magnus Weinberg, Die Geschichte Josephs. Teil I (Berlin: Itzkowski, 1893); Samuel Wolf Link, Die Geschichte Josephs. Teil II (Berlin: Itzkowski, 1895). For a discussion of this work, see Phenix, Rhetoric and Interpretation. 17 For example, the name Qātifan for Potiphar is attested in the Ethiopic History of Joseph, itself a translation of the Syriac Pseudo-Basil. English translation: Ephraem Isaac, “The Ethiopic History of Joseph. Translation with Introduction and Notes”, Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 6 (1990), 3-125, here 59. 18 A critical edition of the Arabic Joseph material remains a desideratum. For a presentation of the manuscripts, see Georg Graf, Geschichte der christlichen arabischen Literatur, vol. 1 (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1944), 205-206. 19 This work and its importance for establishing the Urgeschichte of the Sermons on Joseph is discussed in Phenix, “The End of the Story of Joseph”. 20 In pulcherrimum Joseph. Του̃ έν άγίοις πατρός ήµω̃ν ‘Εφραΐµ του̃ Σύρου τὰ εύρισκόµενα πάντα. This text can be found in Josephus Simonius Assemani, ed. Bibliotheca Orientalis Clementino-Vaticana, 3 vols. (Rome: 1732, 1743, and 1746; reprinted: Hildesheim: Olms Verlag, 2000), vol. 1, fols. 21-41; the more recent edition is in Konstantinos G. Phrantzolas, Όσίου Έφραΐ του̃ Σύρου ̀Έργα, 7 Τόµοι (Θεσσαλονίκη: Έκδόσεις , 1998), Τόµος ˝εβδοµος, 260-300, which also collates Edward Thwaites, ed., Ta tou osiou [sic] pater Ephraim tou Surou: pros ten Ellada [sic] metablentha. S. Ephraim Syrus, Graece e codibus manuscriptis Bodleianis (Oxonia: Imprimatur Guil Lancaster, 1709). An English translation of this text will be appended to the volume of the translation of the Sermons on Joseph of Balai. 21 The number of illuminated manuscripts of this story testifies to its popularity. See Gary Vikan, “Illustrated Manuscripts of Pseudo-Ephraem’s Life of Joseph and the Romance of Joseph and Aseneth”, PhD Dissertation, Princeton, 1976. 16

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found in early Syriac and Jewish sources, including several common extrabiblical topoi shared with the Sermons on Joseph of Ps.-Basil and/or the Sermons on Joseph of Narsai. It is not possible to demonstrate a textual dependence between them, but it is likely that these two works share a common textual tradition. Its prevalent Christian typological exegesis of the Joseph story suggests that it was composed not before the middle of the fifth century, when typological exegesis of the Joseph story becomes evident in textual sources. The Commentary on Genesis of Ephraem the Syrian (d. 373) is a commentary that is neither a “rewritten Bible” nor a strictly midrashic work.22 It falls somewhere in the middle of these: it follows the story of Genesis and incorporates extra-biblical material freely, but there are many instances in which the biblical text and its interpretation are carefully separated.23 The reliability of the dating of these works varies. Ephraem the Syrian died in 373, and Balai and Narsai composed their respective Sermons on Joseph in the fifth century. The Joseph Story of Pseudo-Basil is probably from before the seventh century. The dating of Ephraem Graecus’s In pulcherrimum Joseph, as mentioned above, is uncertain. THE LIVES OF THE PROPHETS: AL-THA‘LABĪ AND AL-KISĀ’Ī The work that is regarded to be the standard collection of the genre of Lives of the Prophets is the ‘Arā’is al-Majālis fī Qişaş al-’Anbiyā of Abū Işhaq Aħmad bin Muħammad bin Ibrāhīm al-Tha‘labī al-Nīsābūrī al-Shāfi‘ī, who died in 427/1035.24 Al-Tha‘labī cites authors known from other commentators on R.-M. Tonneau, ed. and tr., Sancti Ephraemi Syri in Genesim et in Exodum comentarii, CSCO vols. 152-153, Scriptores Syri tt. 71-72 (Louvain: Imprimerie Orientaliste L. Dubrecq, 1955); English translation with introduction and notes: Edward Matthews and Joseph Amar, Saint Ephraem the Syrian. Selected Prose Writings, Fathers of the Church vol. 91 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America Press, 1994). For a discussion of the concept of “Rewritten Bible” in the context of Syriac Joseph narratives, see Robert R. Phenix, “Was there a Jewish Greek Vorlage to the Syriac Sermons on Joseph by Balai (First Half of the Fifth Century)?” paper delivered at the 2006 North American Patristics Society Meeting, Chicago, IL, May 25-27, 2006. 23 For a discussion of Ephraem’s use of Genesis 37 and 39-50 in the Commentary on Genesis, and its source-critical relationships to the other Syriac Joseph material, see Phenix, Rhetoric and Interpretation. 24 For an English translation with annotations and introduction: William M. Brinner, “‘Arā’is al-Majālis fī Qīşaş al-Anbiyā’ or “Lives of the Prophets”, as Recorded by Abū Işhāq Aħmad ibn Muħammad ibn Ibrāhīm al-Tha‘labī, Studies in Arabic Literature: Supplements to the Journal of Arabic Literature vol. 24 (Leiden, Boston, Köln: Brill, 22

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the Qur’ān. Al-Tha‘labī was interested primarily in exegesis, and his collection of Lives of the Prophets is a tool to better understand the meaning of the Qur’ān.25 He is an important source for earlier exegesis, particularly of Sufyān al-Thawrī al-Kūfī (d. 161/778), some of whose exegeses go back to Mujāhid b. Jabr al-Makkī (d. 104/722).26 Al-Ŧabarī (Abū Ja‘far Muħammad b. Jarīr b. Yazīd al-Ŧabarī, d. 310/923) preserves many sayings attributed to Mujāhid as well, but these do not correspond to the edition made on the basis of a single manuscript of Mujāhid’s Tafsīr.27 The Lives of the Prophets falls into the genre of narrative exegesis, one of the three earliest types in evidence for Islamic exegesis of the Qur’ān.28 There has been some debate among Western scholars concerning the dating of the origin of narrative exegesis of the Qur’ān. Claude Gilliot has provided clear evidence that the early development of this form of tafsīr must

2002), 3-744; a presentation of al-Tha‘labī’s life is given in idem, xxiv-xxvi. See now also the German translation of Heribert Busse, Islamische Erzählungen von Propheten und Gottesmännern: Qisas al-anbiya oder `Arais al-magalis (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2006). For the printed editions of the Arabic text that served as the basis for Brinner’s translation, see Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 750. There is no critical edition of this work of Tha‘lābī. 25 See Roberto Tottloli, I profeti biblici nella traduzione islamica Studi biblici 121 (Brescia: Paideia Editrice, 1999), 179-185; ET in Roberto Tottoli, Biblical Prophets in the Qur’ān and Muslim Literature (Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press, 2002), 146-151. 26 F. Leemhuis, “Origins and Early Development of the Tafsīr Tradition”, in Andrew Rippin, ed., Approaches to the History of the Interpretation of the Qur’ān (Oxford: Clarendon Press, and New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 13-30, here 21, in accordance with the study of G. Stauth, Die Überlieferung des Korankommentars Mugāhid b. Gabrs. Zur Frage der Rekonstruktion der in den Sammelwerken des 3. Jh.d.H. benutzten frühislamischen Quellenwerke (Gießen: n.p., 1969), cf. esp. 225-9, has determined that the traditions of Mujāhid which are transmitted through ibn Abī Najīh (d. 131/749) must have been fixed by the middle of the second Islamic century. 27 The relationship between al-Tha‘labī and his sources is more complex than Brinner seems to imply in his introduction: Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, xviii-xix. For the problems of the edition of Mujāhid, and for a summary of his relationship to later tradents such as al-Ŧabarī, see Claude Gilliot, “Exegesis”, in Jane Damm, Encyclopaedia of the Qur’ān, ed. Jane Dammen McAuliffe (Leiden: Brill, 2001-2006), 99-124, here 105. 28 The other two being paraphrastic (explanation of a discrete word or phrase) and legal. For an overview of the important figures and developments, see Gilliot, “Exegesis”, 105-108. For a definition, see Andrew Rippin, “Tafsir”, in Lindsay Jones, ed., Encyclopedia of Religion, vol. 13 (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2005 [article composed 1987]), 8949-8957, here 8951-8953.

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be dated to before the second/eighth century.29 This is against John Wansbrough’s earlier claim that the tafsīr tradition of authoritative chains is essentially unreliable, and that interpretation of the Qur’ān could not have begun before the third/ninth century.30

SEFER HAYASHAR The present investigation of the Joseph material also relies on a Jewish source, the Sefer Hayashar. This work is relatively late: dates between the ninth and the sixteenth centuries have been proposed, but there is no evidence of its existence before 1625, the year of the earliest surviving edition.31 This does not mean that individual sections do not reflect much earlier sources. The Sefer Hayashar is a medieval work that transmits older interpretative material which can be found in earlier works, such as the Talmud. The fact is that this collection of midrash stands much closer to the Syriac Joseph texts and to the Lives of the Prophets of al-Tha‘labī than any single Jewish midrashic collection. The present discussion suggests that a closer study of the relationship between the Sefer Hayashar and the Lives of the Prophets could reveal some degree of dependence between these two works.

The details are too cumbersome to even summarize here. See Gilliot, “Exegesis”, 105-106, and literature cited in his discussion. 30 John Wansbrough, Quranic Studies: Sources and Methods of Scriptural Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), 142, 217. 31 There are several editions of this work that continue to be reproduced. This article cites from the edition Sefer hayashar. Sipurim al hatorah (Brooklyn, NY: Hotsa’at Yashar, 1988). A German translation of the section of this work on Joseph may be found in Micha Josef ben Gorion, Joseph und seine Brüder: ein altjüdischer Roman (Berlin: Schocken Verlag, 1933). English translation: no author, Sefer haYashur [sic], or, the Book of Jasher: Referred to in Joshua and Second Samuel, Faithfully Translated from the Original Hebrew into English (Salt Lake City: [s.n.], 1973; lithographic reprint of Salt Lake City: J. H. Parry & Company, 1887; first published 1840); other English translations exist. On this work generally, see Joseph Dan, “Sefer Ha-Yashar”, in Encyclopaedia Judaica, Vol. 14(Jerusalem: Macmillan, 1971), 1099. This work is not to be confused with other works of this title, among them the moral work known as the Sefer Ha-Yashar, edition: Seymour J. Cohen, Sefer Hayyashar: The Book of the Righteous (New York: KTAV, 1973); reviewed by S. T. Katz, Religious Studies 12 No. 2 (June 1976), 260-261. 29

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JACOB’S DOUBT AND RACHEL’S TOMB The two episodes selected for discussion in the present article were chosen because they provide evidence for working out the connections between Jewish, Christian, and Islamic Joseph material. The first of these examples is more of a topos than an independent episode: Jacob’s doubt of his son’s report of the death of Joseph. The second selection is a complete episode, that of Joseph at Rachel’s tomb. JACOB SUSPECTS THAT HIS SONS ARE NOT TELLING THE TRUTH In certain midrashim, the theme of Jacob suspecting that his sons are not telling the truth is found as an expansion on Gen. 37:33.32 A similar remark is also found in BT Soferim 43b(2) (Ch. 21).33 In the Lives of the Prophets of alTha‘labī, an expansion of Sūra Yūsuf [12]:18 reveals a similar assessment. All three sources seem to actively dissuade the reader from the conclusion that Jacob was not wise enough to realize that his sons were lying to him. In the Lives of the Prophets of al-Tha‘labī, Jacob’s sons capture a wolf and present it to their father, telling him that this is the beast that killed his son Joseph. The wolf speaks with Jacob and denies their report.34 The Sefer Hayashar does not mention that Jacob doubts the report of his sons. The episode in which Jacob’s sons return with Joseph’s coat offers a lengthy speech, in which the brothers recount to Jacob what happened to Joseph, and Jacob in reply falls into a lengthy lament over Joseph’s coat.35 This episode has incorporated the two different versions of the motif of the “wild animal”/ “wolf” attested in al-Tha‘labī as well as the “wild animal” ruse that is presented in the Syriac Joseph material, among other texts. 32 For motifs found in rabbinic midrashim, see Dov Neuman (Noy), “MotifIndex of Talmud-Midrashic Literature”, PhD Thesis (Bloomington: University of Indiana, 1954; distributed by Ann Arbor, MI: UMI, 1954). 33 “It was taught: ‘What did our father Jacob do when his sons brought him the coat [stained] with blood? He did not believe them at all. . . .” Jacob then writes the names of the tribes onto sheaves, and orders them to bow down to Levi and Judah, “but they did not stand up”, but for Joseph they stood up and bowed. Jacob then went to the mountains, and set up twelve stones. He performed a similar ritual, in which the stones only stood and bowed before Joseph’s stone. English translation from Hebrew-English Edition of the Babylonian Talmud. Minor Tractates (London: Soncino Press, 1984), ad locum. 34 Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 193. 35 Sefer Hayashar, ch. 43; ed. Sefer hayashar, 148-151; tr. Book of Jasher, 124-128. This lengthy lament is also a feature of Balai’s Sermons on Joseph 2: Bedjan, Histoire, 49-71; Lamy, Sermones, Tomus III, col. 309-338.

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In the first version of this account, the brothers report that Joseph never arrived, and they found only his blood-stained coat.36 Jacob is convinced by their story, stating, “An evil beast has devoured him”.37 The second version of this story is incorporated at the end of Jacob’s lengthy lament. He asks his sons to look for Joseph’s body and for the animal who killed Joseph to be returned to him alive, telling them that the culprit will be the first animal that they seize.38 Jacob’s sons go off, capture a wolf, and bring it to their father.39 “With a bitter heart”, Jacob accuses the wolf of Joseph’s murder in an impassioned speech.40 “The Lord opened the mouth of the beast”, telling Jacob that his son also suffered a fate similar to Joseph’s. Coming from afar to look for his own son, he was caught by Jacob’s sons. The wolf swears an oath that he did not devour Joseph or even see him. Jacob then sets the wolf free.41 An interesting episode may be found in the Lives of the Prophets attributed to one Muħammad ibn ‘Abd Allāh al-Kisā’ī,42 in which the motif of the wolf plays a role in illustrating Jacob’s struggle with the fate of his son. Jacob has a dream in which he sees ten wolves abduct Joseph and take him into the wilderness. One of the wolves throws Joseph into a pit, whence he emerges after three days.43 Al-Kisā’ī did not preserve the episode in Gen. 39 of the slaughter of the goat and the act of deception perpetrated against Jacob. Rather, through a Bedouin Joseph sends word to his father that he is alive.44 Although the wolves recall the remark of al-Tha‘labī, the direct report from Joseph to his father is not paralleled in any of the literature surveyed in the present study. Of all of the Syriac sources, only the Sermons on Joseph by Balai develops the topos of Jacob’s skepticism of his sons’ tale of the demise of Joseph. In Sermons on Joseph Two, Jacob’s sons return with Joseph’s blood-spattered Ibid., sec. 14; ed. Sefer hayashar, 148; tr. Book of Jasher, 125. Ibid., sec. 20; ed. Sefer hayashar, 149-150; tr. Book of Jasher, 126. 38 Ibid., sec. 36-37; ed. Sefer hayashar, 150; tr. Book of Jasher, 127. 39 Ibid., sec. 40; ed. Sefer hayashar, 151-152; tr. Book of Jasher, 127. 40 Ibid., sec. 41-42; ed. Sefer hayashar, 152; tr. Book of Jasher, 127. 41 Ibid., sec. 43-47; ed. Sefer hayashar, 152; tr. Book of Jasher, 127-128. 42 Wheeler Thackston, The Tales of the Prophets of al-Kisā’ī (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1978). On the problems of authorship and dating of this text, see Tottoli, I profeti biblici, 185-191; ET in Biblical Prophets, 151-155; the oldest manuscript is from the 13th century, but some of the material could be as old as the ninth century. Furthermore, there is considerable variation in the contents of this work in the various manuscript witnesses. 43 Thackston, The Tales of the Prophets of al-Kisā’ī, 168. 44 Ibid., 173. 36 37

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coat. In a lengthy speech they offer to Jacob an explanation as to Joseph’s alleged demise from an attack by a wild animal, of which no species is specified. Jacob does not wait for them to finish, but cutting them off embraces the coat, and begins a lamentation in which Jacob blames his sons for not returning with Joseph’s corpse, but returning with the coat. Here one cannot pass over the irony expressed in the following passage:45 “My sons I expected today * to come and bring me joy. // Instead of Joseph they brought his mantle * by the sight of which life has become bitter. // They left off from seeking his corpse * instead of it they brought the coat. // They left that which is beloved * and brought that which is insignificant”46 In Gen. 37, Jacob’s gift of the coat to Joseph is the spark that ignites the envy of his sons. The fact that Jacob calls the coat “insignificant” is an example of Balai’s masterful dramatic irony that pervades his entire interpretation of the Joseph story.47 To return to the passage in Sermons on Joseph Two, Jacob blames himself for not helping Joseph in the wilderness.48 The speech then abruptly shifts from a lamentation to a forensic examination of the physical evidence and the testimony of his sons. The hearer is privy to Jacob’s thoughts as he works out the problems with his sons’ account of Joseph’s demise. One passage in this speech has a topical parallel in al-Tha‘labī’s Lives of the Prophets. In Sermons on Joseph Two, Jacob begins to analyze the matter: I have thought about his action * and its investigation full of terror. // If someone in the desert had killed him * why did they leave the coat? // But if wild animals tore him up * how did they preserve his clothes?49 The rest of the speech contains pairs of such questions, cross-examining the evidence to challenge the two theses that Joseph was murdered by bandits or that wild animals devoured him; both theses having been proposed by Joseph’s brothers in their long speech to Jacob.50 Al-Tha‘labī bases

45 “//” indicates the separation of the bicola; “*” denotes the separation of the cola within a bicolon. 46 Bedjan, Histoire, 59; Lamy, Sermones, Tomus III, 323. 47 See Phenix, Rhetoric and Interpretation. 48 Apocryphal Joseph stories usually have one episode in which Jacob intervenes to help Joseph, either directly or through his prayer. 49 Bedjan, Histoire, 60-61; Lamy, Sermones, Tomus III, 325. 50 Ibid., 54-59; Lamy, Sermones, Tomus III, 315-323.

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Jacob’s doubt on an intra-textual reading based on the recurring motif of Joseph’s coat in the Qur’ān: When they brought [the coat] to his father saying, ‘A wolf has devoured him,’ ([sūra] 12:17) his father said, ‘If a wolf had devoured him, he would have torn his shirt apart’; and when he raced to the door and she rent his shirt from behind ([sūra] 12:25) and the minister knew; if it had been he who had seduced her, the tear would have been in front; and when the shirt was dropped – on Jacob’s face – he regained his eyesight ([sūra] 12:96).51 This type of exegesis, in which a passage is interpreted through reference to a different one, but both passages share a common object, such as Joseph’s coat in this instance, is a device that may be found in Syriac interpretation.52 In Jewish midrashim, the use of a keyword to link different passages of the Bible with haggadic midrash, is quite common. This key word furthermore might be based on an aural word play, which works only in a cross-linguistic context.53 As with many other aspects of biblical interpretation in Syriac literature, this phenomenon is probably of Jewish origin, but awaits a study to clarify its origins and development. The motifs of Jacob’s speech which are shared among these Syriac, Hebrew, and Arabic texts reflect a common topos, even if the contents of this topos differ. This is best explained as the result of a transmission that is based on the experience of an oral transmission. The earliest record for this topos could be 4Q539 frags. 2 and 3, which in turn are probably related to Testament of Joseph 15:1-17:2.54 These fragments allude to the sale of Joseph, Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 193. Examples of this phenomenon are to be found in the Book of the Bee of the Syriac writer Solomon of Bosra, composed in 1222; see Ernest A. Wallis Budge, M.A., ed., The Book of the Bee, Anecdota Oxoniensia. Texts, Documents, and Extracts chiefly from Manuscripts in the Bodleian and other Oxford Libraries, Semitic Series. Vol. 1, Part II (Oxford: At the Clarendon Press, 1886), 94-95. 53 Studies of this phenomenon abound. See Zvi Malachi, “‘Creative Philology’ as a System of Biblical and Talmudic Exegesis: Creating Midrashic Interpretations From Multi-Meaning Words in the Midrash and the Zohar”, in Scott B. Noegel, ed., Puns and Pundits: Word Play in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near Eastern Literature (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2000), 269-287. 54 Edition and translation: Émile Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4. XXII: Textes araméens. Première partie: 4Q529-549, Discoveries in the Judean Desert, 31 (Oxford : Clrendon Press, 2001), 204-208; Greek Testament of Joseph, ed. M. de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Pseudepigrapha Veteris Testamenti Graece 1B (Leiden: Brill, 1978), 160-163; English translation: H. W. Hollander and M. de Jonge, 51 52

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Jacob’s grief at the loss of his son, and Joseph’s exoneration of his brothers, so as not to shame his family. One significant question to be answered in this instance is the extent to which, if at all, written interpretation influenced the transmission of this topos. This question is of particular importance in the Islamic material, given the dearth of investigations on the relationships between tafsīr, works such as the Lives of the Prophets, and Jewish and Christian exegesis. To return to the episode of the deception of Jacob by his sons, what is significant about Balai’s presentation of Jacob’s doubt is the reaction of Jacob’s sons to these words: The brothers who had stripped (him) were amazed * by the words Jacob said. // Because the truth [of] the mouth of the old man had announced * they had lied. // Their minds were condemned * because their accusations had been announced. // All which they had done beside the flock * the old man had explained in the house.55 To understand the irony of this passage, one must consider the elaborate plan that the brothers had hatched to deceive Jacob before they return with Joseph’s coat: “We shall slaughter a goat over it * and our father shall think that he was killed. // When his eyes see the blood * his heart shall conclude murder. // And far be it from him because of his honesty * to deduce that we dipped it. // Nothing remains for us * but that we sit and completely persuade you. // Keep back your weeping near your progenitor * when you arrive before him, be silent. // May you have no doubts * from which the accusations shall flow. // If we are divided one against the other * it shall be discerned immediately from our face. // Let no one reveal it openly * because if it is perceived it shall break us. // Let our minds be graves * and from inside us let nothing be resurrected.”56 The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs. A Commentary, Studia in Veteris Testamenti Pseudepigrapha 8 (Leiden: Brill, 1985), 400-403. This text is also mentioned in James A. Kugler, “Joseph at Qumran: The Importance of 4Q372 Frg. 1 in Extending a Tradition”, in Studies in the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, and the Septuagint presented to Eugene Ulrich, ed. Peter W. Flint, Emanuel Tov, James C. VanderKam (Boston: Brill, 2006), 261-278, here 266. 55 Bedjan, Histoire, 63; Lamy, Sermones, 327, 329. 56 Bedjan, Histoire, 53; Lamy, Sermones, 313.

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In Balai’s account, the plan of Jacob’s sons has failed entirely, even though Jacob does not directly accuse his sons of lying or of murdering Joseph. The manner in which Balai expresses Jacob’s insight suggests that dispelling any doubt in the mind of the hearer concerning Jacob’s wisdom is secondary to offering an account that conveys dramatic irony and the interior thoughts and motives of the biblical characters. Hence, while the Sermons on Joseph share with Jewish haggadic midrash and with the later texts of Qur’an and the Lives of the Prophets the topos of Jacob’s doubt, Balai has provided a unique adaptation that is in line with his psychological interpretation of the characters in the Joseph story, an interpretation that is unparalleled in Jewish, Christian or Muslim sources for its depth and sophistication. None of the other Syriac sources witness to this topos, but its presence in Balai’s poetry suggests a pre-Islamic date for this topos in the Lives of the Prophets, even if the details in the Lives of the Prophets cannot be connected with any extant Jewish or Christian textual witness. JOSEPH AT THE GRAVE OF HIS MOTHER RACHEL The episode of Joseph at Rachel’s grave, which is not found in Genesis, exists in several versions in Syriac, in Greek, and in the Lives of the Prophets. The fact that this same episode is retold with substantial differences in detail might reflect a common Jewish topos that was transmitted orally or perhaps through an anonymous text tradition into Christian and Islamic sources. The basic structure of this non-biblical episode is the same for all three sources. As the merchants, who purchased Joseph from his brothers, journey on their way to Egypt, they pass Rachel’s grave. Joseph goes to the grave and mourns his fate. Within this basic framework, the sources preserve different interpretations of this pericope. Manuscript Sachau 190 also provides a witness to this episode,57 which can be summarized as follows. The merchants who bought Joseph from his brothers lead Joseph to Egypt and pass by Rachel’s tomb, the location of which is not mentioned. Joseph begs the merchants to let him see the grave. They let him go and he runs to the tomb, falling upon it, weeping and sighing. The text continues with Joseph’s address to Rachel: “See, Joseph has become a slave and the Midianites are taking me down to Egypt”. Joseph’s crying brings the merchants to tears. MS Sachau 190 states, “Crying, he called to the Lord and his mother”. Following this, one finds Joseph’s prayer. This section of the text is composed “in the meter of Balai”, which 57

Engel, Die Geschichte Josephs, Syriac, p. 12; German translation, pp. 21-22.

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in Western Syriac literature means the seven-syllable meter. It is unclear whether the redactor of this text took this section from a work attributed to Balai. None of the manuscript witnesses to Balai’s Sermons on Joseph recount an episode in which Joseph prays at Rachel’s tomb. Indeed, this section of MS Sachau 190 could not have come from Balai’s Sermons on Joseph: Balai composed his Sermons on Joseph in the seven-syllable meter, whereas this section of text in MS Sachau 190 is in the five-syllable meter. This section is very similar to the same episode narrated in Sermon One of Narsai’s Sermons on Joseph.58 Although the meter is different (Narsai composed his Sermons on Joseph in the twelve-syllable meter), many of the phrases are similar, almost to the point where one would think that there was some textual dependence between the text of this episode in MS Sachau 190 and Narsai’s text (which is witnessed in MS Sachau 219, beginning on fol. 2). The textual evidence for such a hypothesis is somewhat complex and cannot be untangled here. Perhaps the most expansive interpretation of this episode is that found in the Story of Joseph of Ephraem Graecus.59 There are several peculiarities in that account. Rachel’s tomb is located on the road where the hippodrome is, which indicates that the author based his story on the Septuagint, and not the MT; LXX Gen. 48:7 states that Jacob buried Rachel “on the road to the hippodrome.”60 Just as in the account in Narsai and in the “Ps.-Balai” of Ms. Sachau 190, so too in Ephraem Graecus, Joseph runs to the tomb and throws himself upon it. He petitions his mother to rise from the grave and look upon what has happened to her son. This topos, if not the exact wording, is found in Narsai and MS Sachau 190. What follows is unique among the Syriac and Greek Joseph stories. The merchants, identified in Ephraem Graecus as Ishmaelites, accuse Joseph of performing sorcery: “This young man wants to perform witchcraft on us, so that he might be able to run away from us, while we would not know how he has disappeared. Let us bind him, then, and put him in chains, so that he shall not wind up making us disappear.”61 When they see Edited in Bedjan, Liber Superiorum seu Historia Monastica Auctore Thoma, Episcopo Marga, 531-532. 59 Phrantzolas, Όσίου Έφραΐ του̃ Σύρου Έργα, vol. 7, 270-274. 60 Hillel I. Newman, “A Hippodrome on the Road to Ephrath”, Biblica 86.2 (2005), 213-228, maintains that there is no evidence to suggest that there was not a hippodrome in the vicinity of Bethlehem in the Ptolemaic period. Newman does not refer to Ephraem Graecus. 61 Phrantzolas, Όσίου Έφραΐ του̃ Σύρου Έργα, vol. 7, 272. 58

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Joseph crying, they soften a bit. They tell him that his “former masters,” that is, his brothers, warned them that Joseph was a rebellious slave liable to try to run off. The merchants admit that they considered Joseph to be a free person because of his appearance (and appearance plays an important role in these Joseph accounts). Joseph tells the merchants that he is in fact a free person whose brothers sold him into slavery because of their jealousy. The merchants also cry with Joseph, and comfort him, foretelling that he will experience “the greatest honor in Egypt”. The weeping of the merchants for Joseph is also found in Narsai and in MS Sachau 190. Their foreshadowing of Joseph’s fame in Egypt also occurs in Balai’s Sermons on Joseph One and Three, even though Balai does not recount the episode at Rachel’s tomb. Before turning to the Jewish and Islamic evidence for this episode, there is one further element of its depiction that deserves mention. In Narsai’s Sermons on Joseph, Rachel’s voice from the grave replies to Joseph’s petition. It is worth quoting this passage in full: Who shall give to me legs to stand and eyes to see you * so as to go with you, my beloved son, to the house of foreigners? // Go in peace, and do not be sad over what has happened to you. * For the Lord shall make straight the way before you according to his will. // For everything that shall pass is from God, * and he it is who gives you hope and life and the salvation of your soul. // Make the suffering of your mind pass, and do not be sad, * for also your Lord shall be sold, but he shall be the savior of creation.62 As a first observation, it is clear that this is Rachel’s voice. Secondly, the Christian typology of Joseph as a type of Jesus also is obvious. This passage is paralleled almost verbatim in MS Sachau 190. The only possible difference is a statement that follows “but he shall be the savior of creation,” adding, “You, my beloved son, will make your parents great.” In this case, the foreshadowing of Joseph’s greatness may be placed in the mouth of the merchants, rather than the words of his mother. Yet it could still be the voice of the mother after all. The account of Joseph at Rachel’s tomb found in the Lives of the Prophets presents some striking parallels to those in Ephraem Graecus, Narsai, and MS Sachau 190. The overall shape of the narratives in Ephraem Edited in Bedjan, Liber Superiorum seu Historia Monastica Auctore Thoma, Episcopo Marga, 531-532. 62

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Graecus and the Lives of the Prophets is unmistakably similar: Joseph runs off from the caravan without the knowledge of the merchants and falls on Rachel’s tomb (contrast this with Narsai and MS Sachau 190, wherein Joseph asks permission from the merchants to go to Rachel’s tomb). In the prayer that Joseph speaks at the tomb in both Ephraem Graecus and the Lives of the Prophets there are some almost verbatim parallels (also with the version in MS Sachau 190 and in Narsai). In Narsai, MS Sachau 190, and the Lives of the Prophets a voice answers Joseph, yet the difference is, that in the Lives of the Prophets this voice is “a herald behind” Joseph that says to him just the words, “Be firm. But your firmness is in God alone.”63 In Ephraem Graecus, Narsai, and the Lives of the Prophets (but not MS Sachau 190!), the merchants realize that Joseph has escaped, and Narsai and the Lives of the Prophets have a dialogue in which the merchants tell Joseph that his former masters, that is, his brothers, warned them that Joseph was liable to escape, and Joseph tells them his true origins. The Lives of the Prophets then adds a remark, which is not found in any other Joseph story, that Mālik bin Du‘ar, the name of the leader of the merchants, “raised his hand and slapped Joseph in the face,64 then dragged him and loaded him onto his camel. Some say he was brought to Egypt in chains.”65 There is no mention in Genesis or Sura 12 of Joseph being led to Egypt in chains, but this detail is found in Balai’s Sermons on Joseph One, and in Ephraem the Syrian’s Commentary on Genesis.66 Finally, the merchants in the Lives of the Prophets remark that Joseph is a blessed person. Mālik said, “I would hear the angels greeting him morning and evening; and I would observe a white cloud shading him, journeying above his head when we journeyed and stopping wherever he stopped.”67 In the Sermons on Joseph One and Three, the merchants cannot believe that someone of Joseph’s appearance is a slave. The notion of the contradiction between the appearances of characters, which reveal their true intentions, and the lies they speak about themselves or others, is an important literary device for Balai. Although it is not present in this episode, the merchants in Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 196. Al-Kisā’ī has a shorter but similar passage to that of al-Tha‘labī, in which he does not record the voice at the grave, but does mention that Mālik slapped Joseph and put him on a mule. See Thackston, The Tales of the Prophets of al-Kisā’ī, 172. 65 Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 196. 66 Ephraem the Syrian, Commentary on Genesis 33; ed. Tonneau, Sancti Ephraemi Syri in Genesim , vol. 71, p. 96; English tr. Matthew and Amar, St. Ephrem the Syrian, 182. 67 Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 196. 63 64

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Balai’s Sermons on Joseph and in Narsai’s Sermons on Joseph One have an intimation that Joseph might be a free-born child at the time of Joseph’s sale by his brothers. Manuscript Sachau 190 states that when they had arrived in Egypt, the merchants “wanted to say, ‘Come now, let yourself be sold’, but they were aware of his freedom.”68 With this detail the account of Joseph at the tomb of Rachel ends, and the story resumes with Gen. 39:1-6, which recounts the sale of Joseph to Potiphar or Qitfīn, as Islamic Arabic sources call him.69 The primary source for this episode in Jewish literature is Sefer Hayashar.70 Of note is that in this episode Joseph offers a lengthy lament in the form of a petition or prayer addressed to his mother Rachel, urging her to rescue him from his cruel fate. Rachel’s voice from the grave comforts her son, telling him to trust God, who will deliver him from all evil. Joseph’s petition to Rachel recounts the humiliation and physical abuse that Joseph suffered at the hands of his brothers. In some details, this description parallels what may be found in the Lives of the Prophets, though the latter provides a longer list of injustices. In Sefer Hayashar, Joseph complains that his brothers “. . . stripped me even of my shirt, and sold me as a slave to merchantmen, who in turn sold me to others, and without mercy they tore me away from my father.”71 The Lives of the Prophets offers a more ample list of injustices: “If you would have seen my weakness and humiliation, you would have pity on me. Mother! If you saw me when they tore off my shirt and bound me and cast me into the pit and slapped me on the cheek, stoned me, and showed no pity on me!”72 Such a list of injustices is not found in any of the Syriac material, or in Ephraem Graecus or Ephraem the Syrian. However, some details of Joseph’s petition, namely, the mention of his being sold into slavery, the command to Rachel to “rise from the grave” or to “look up from the ground” at Joseph’s condition, are shared by MS Sachau 190,73 the Sefer Hayashar,74 the Lives of the Prophets,75 and Narsai.76 Although Engel, Die Geschichte Josephs, Syriac, p. 14; German translation, p. 23. See Juan-Pedro Sala-Monferrer, “El episodio de la venta de José. Un intento de análisis textual a partir de un fragmento de al-Tabarî.” Miscelánea de estudios árabes y hebraicos 44 (1995), 97-120. 70 Sefer Hayashar, ch. 42, sec. 30-47; ed. Sefer hayashar, 145-146; tr. Book of Jasher, 123-124. 71 Sefer Hayashar, ch. 42, sec. 33; ed. Sefer hayashar, 145; tr. Book of Jasher, 123. 72 Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 195. 73 Engel, Die Geschichte Josephs, Syriac pp. 12-14; German translation, pp. 21-22. 74 Sefer Hayashar, ch. 42, sec. 32; ed. Sefer hayashar, 145; tr. Book of Jasher, 123. 75 Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 195. 68 69

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there is not a verbatim textual dependence, it seems that these accounts are related, and so the parallel is not just the work of independent imaginations working from the biblical Joseph material. The dependencies are more difficult to work out. It seems that MS Sachau 190 and Narsai, which contain similar prayers of Joseph at Rachel’s grave, are closely related to one another and are independent of the Lives of the Prophets. In the two Syriac accounts there is a parallel sequence that mentions Joseph’s sale price of twenty silver pieces77; this sequence is not found in the Lives of the Prophets, or in the Sefer Hayashar. The prediction of Joseph’s good fortune is also made in the Sefer Hayashar, though of course without any Christological interpretation.78 In the Lives of the Prophets, the reply of the voice is just two lines long: “Be firm. But your firmness is from God alone.”79 This phrase is too short to determine whether there is a source for this other than the author or redactor of the Lives of the Prophets. Many details of the abuse of Joseph at Rachel’s tomb, discussed above, are shared by these two texts, the Sefer Hayashar and the Lives of the Prophets, but are not reflected in any Syriac account, Ephraem Graecus, or Ephraem the Syrian. Al-Tha‘labī attributed the source of this statement of Ka‘b al-Aħbār (d. 656 CE), who was reportedly a convert to Islam from Judaism, and an important source of isrā’īliyyāt.80 Islamic exegetes before the eleventh century generally held in high regard those figures who were stated to be converts to Islam. Whether al-Tha‘labī transmits a story that comes from older Jewish tradition, or whether he obtained this tradition from a contemporary or near contemporary Jewish source and legitimated it through reference to Ka‘b, cannot be determined. There is another element of this episode that determines that the account in the Lives of the Prophets of al-Tha‘labī and that of the Sefer Hayashar form a distinct subgroup. Both accounts mention that the merchants mistreat Joseph at the grave. In the Sefer Hayashar, one of the Ishmaelites drove

Bedjan, Liber superiorum, 531. Manuscript Sachau 190 mentions “Twenty silver and gold pieces”, a phrase occurring in Joseph’s lament at Rachel’s tomb. This lament is stated in a section with the heading “According to the Pattern of Mar Balai”; however this passage is not found in any of the manuscripts of Balai’s Sermons on Joseph; Engel, Die Geschichte Josephs, Syriac p. 12; German translation, p. 21, note 4. 78 Sefer Hayashar, ch. 42, sec. 39-40; ed. Sefer hayashar, 146; tr. Book of Jasher, 123. 79 Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 195. 80 Tottoli, I profeti biblici, 108-110; ET in Biblical Prophets, 90-91. 76 77

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23

Joseph from the grave of his mother, hitting him and cursing him.81 When Joseph asks the Ishmaelites to return him to his father, they reply, “Why, you are a slave! How can you know where your father is? . . .” and then they beat Joseph.82 The account in the Lives of the Prophets is more restrained. Mālik bin Du‘ad accuses Joseph of running away. Joseph replies that he could not resist throwing himself onto his mother’s grave. Mālik then “slapped Joseph in the face, then he dragged him and loaded him onto his camel. Some say he was brought into Egypt in chains.”83 TOWARD A CONCLUSION In the albeit limited evidence from Islamic sources presented in this article, the tradition of the topos of Jacob’s doubt and the episode of Joseph’s lament at Rachel’s tomb have been stripped of some or all of their elements of direct speech. It is direct speech that gives the poetic Syriac narratives, especially the Sermons on Joseph, their characteristics as oral texts, memrē recited in a liturgical setting. Some parabiblical elements, such as the voice from the grave that replies to Joseph and the dialogue of Jacob with the wolf, retain some of the less dogmatic and more literary interpretation that is preserved in the Syriac material as well as in the Sefer Hayashar. In the Syriac literature, including Ephraem the Syrian, as well as the Greek In pulcherrimum Joseph, it is possible to identify multiple and largely independent lines of transmission of Joseph material. This, along with the continuous transmission of Joseph material attested in Jewish sources, suggests that the background to Islamic isrā’īliyyāt concerning Joseph reflects a complex system of transmission. The thematic use of Joseph material at Qumran, in rabbinic midrashim, and in the early Christian sources points to some common interpretative traditions that reflect the identity of these diverse religious communities. A further investigation of the Lives of the Prophets with an eye for themes that might precede the concerns of Islamic exegetes is necessary to further clarify this stage of transmission. From the two examples of Jacob’s doubt and of Joseph’s visit at the tomb of his mother Rachel as treated in the Syriac works of Balai and their brief analysis offered here, it is clear that the story of Joseph at Rachel’s tomb in the Sefer Hayashar and in the Lives of the Prophets are related. Yet whether or not there may be a dependency relationship between them is 81

Sefer Hayashar, ch. 42, sec. 39-40; ed. Sefer hayashar, 145; ET: Book of Jasher,

82

Ibid., sec. 41; ed. Sefer hayashar, 145-146; ET: Book of Jasher, 123. Brinner, Lives of the Prophets, 196.

123. 83

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not easy to decide. The only text that contains this episode and to which one can assign a date is the work by Narsai. Assuming that Narsai’s poem is authentic, then the tradition concerning Joseph at Rachel’s tomb is at least as old as the fifth century CE. Setting aside the Christological interpretation that Narsai and MS Sachau 190 present, it is quite natural to posit a Jewish midrashic text that lies behind the overall framework and some of the details in these two accounts. Yet since this group of texts is almost certainly not a witness to the tradition that informed the other group, Sefer Hayashar and the Lives of the Prophets, it is impossible to determine based on the evidence at hand the exact relationship of these two texts. The relationship between the Lives of the Prophets and the Sefer Hayashar is more difficult to determine because borrowing from either direction is possible. Given that the Syriac material witnesses to a pre-Islamic tradition, it is equally likely that there either is no direct relationship between the Lives of the Prophets and the Sefer Hayashar, or that the Islamic sources are indebted to Syriac transmission. More work on the genre of the “Lives of the Prophets” in Syriac and Islamic sources is needed to clarify this relationship through reconstruction of the interpretation history of the Joseph material in Christian, Jewish, and Islamic sources. Understanding the mechanisms of oral tradition and of literacy and textuality in these interlocked religious traditions would also help to free the discussion from the limited use of source criticism. As important as the textual witnesses for sources are, they do not permit an understanding of the process by which their interpretations came into existence. To put this another way, it is necessary to build a picture of the human agents involved, the manner in which texts were read in light of oral sources, and the conditions of literacy, occasion, and social history of their interpreters and tradents.

THE FOUNDATION STONE: REFLECTIONS ON THE ADOPTION AND TRANSFORMATION OF ‘PRIMORDIAL MYTH’ IN RABBINIC LITERATURE Steven D. Sacks Cornell College INTRODUCTION In academia, rabbinic ideas about myth and sacred space have been framed by research in the history of religions. In the twentieth century in particular, scholars in the history or phenomenology of religion sought to unite rabbinic myth with universal models of sacred space. These models were primarily based upon the idea of a sacral center for world religions, and were models that defined the theological and ritual map of rabbinic myth in these terms as much as for myth in the rest of the world. For such theorists such as Mircea Eliade and A.J. Wensinck,1 rabbinic conceptions of sacred space were a direct descendent of their primary exemplars for the theory, the Semitic worldview. According to Eliade and Wensinck, the rabbinic concern with temple of Jerusalem embodied Judaism’s concern with a sacred center, and was the primary source for rabbinic Judaism’s articulation of sacred space. In these scholars’ analysis of rabbinic sacred space, rabbinic myth reflected the sacred space of the Hebrew Bible. Moreover, this historically inclined view also lent itself to easy comparison with the sacred space of other nations, all of which shared conceptions of sacred space that was derived from the ideal of the sacred center, cosmic navel or axis mundi. These comparativists’ view of the relationship between rabbinic myth and the idea of sacred space in rabbinic literature was confirmed within

1 Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (Willard R. Trask, trans.) (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1959), 44-45. A.J. Wensinck, “The Ideas of the Western Semites Concerning the Navel of the Earth” in Studies of A. J. Wensinck (New York: Arno Press, 1978), 60-65.

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rabbinic myth which featured the following passage from the Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 54b: “And it was called shetiyah” (‫ )שתייה‬since the world was established (‫ )הושתת‬from it. We were taught in accordance to the one who held that the world was created from Zion. R. Eliezer said, “The world was created from its center (‫)מאמצעיתו‬, as scripture states, “When the dirt compacts into a clod, and the clumps bind’ (Job 38:38) …”2 R. Isaac Hakapar said: “The Holy One blessed be He cast forth a stone (‫ )ירה אבן‬into the sea (‫)ים‬3 and from there the world was established (‫)נשתת העולם‬, as scripture states, ‘Upon what were [the world’s] pillars fastened (‫אדניה‬ ‫ ?)הטבעו‬Or who cast forth the corner stone (‫”’?)ירה אבן פנתה‬

As advocated by Eliade, the most influential of these theorists, this example embodies rabbinic myth’s views on sacred space, and corresponds to other creation myths that universally reoccur in human experience of the sacred. This myth, like so many others, embodies a blueprint for the sacred in human experience: the divine intervenes at the cosmic “navel” of the world in order to establish order among chaos, an act which forms the basis of ritual reenactment at the cult site. In his use of this myth in The Sacred and the Profane, Eliade represents rabbinic ideas of sacred space as an ideal exemplar of temple and axis mundi cosmography: the Temple is established upon a foundation stone, here called the Even Shetiyah, which the rabbis consider to be the hierophantic center of the world. Eliade argues that the appearance of the Even Shetiyah in rabbinic myth represents rabbinic Judaism’s trope of mythic renewal in illo tempore, and the prime example of the rabbis’ mythic articulation of sacred space. In the view of Eliade and other historians of religion, the Even Shetiyah is the mythic equivalent of the axis mundi because it reflects the checklist of features that are necessary in order to categorize this myth alongside comparable notions of sacred space: the presence of a central place of worship, the rupture which occurs in space and time, the tension between order and chaos, and the possibility for ritual invigoration which stems from interacThis is the tradition that the world was created from its sides, which is peripheral to our discussion of the modern representation of the Even Shetiyah. 3 The reference here to Yam recalls the primordial battle against this Ugaritic deity. See Umberto Cassuto, “The Israelite Epic” Biblical and Oriental Studies (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1975), 83, Frank Moore Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997), 112ff. and Michael Fishbane, Biblical Myth and Rabbinic Mythmaking (Oxford: Clarendon, 2003), 119ff. 2

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tion with this sacred realm. Moreover, Eliade and others could argue that the myth of the Even Shetiyah demonstrates a striking development of the sacred center ideal. The concept of the Even Shetiyah is a rabbinic, and not Biblical idea. Although the temple in Jerusalem is the principal inspiration for the development of the mythic idea, this articulation of the concept as “Even Shetiyah” is solely rabbinic terminology. Moreover, since the physical structure of the Temple in Jerusalem no longer existed during the rabbinic period, the cosmogonic topography is more memory practice; Eliade could argue that the site’s importance to rabbinic Judaism’s worldview is underscored by the absence of a physical structure.4 The absence of the temple on the one hand and the development of new mythic language to describe the sacred center on the other, therefore, provides significant evidence for Eliade’s arguments about the nature of rabbinic sacred space; that is, the presence of an axis mundi in rabbinic literature reflects the tradition’s need to develop its mythic language of sacred space with concepts that did not exist within the Biblical tradition, such as the Even Shetiyah, and which are not relevant to present ritual obligations.5 The presence of this ideal underscores the importance of the sacred center to rabbinic myth, and enables Eliade to argue that rabbinic Judaism reflects his universal ideal of sacred space. Contrary to Eliade and his predecessors, however, the ideal of the sacred center cannot describe all forms of sacred space, nor can the student of rabbinic myth and literature accept this view solely on the basis of its virtues within the history of religions. As is well known within the history of religions, contemporary views of sacred space and comparative myth are not solely defined by the axis mundi. In his modification of Eliade’s ideas of sacred space, Jonathan Z. Smith argued that the conception of the sacred center is not a universal or even dominant pattern of symbolization.6 On Although Eliade appears to claim otherwise in his discussion of the “sacred pole” of the Achilpa. 5 The virtual “ritual simulation” of the temple, however, is another matter altogether and is a pervasive component of the tradition that should not be ignored. See, for example, chapter four of Avot de-Rabbi Natan (A), as an example of the use of the word ‫ כאלו‬as a means to indicate this ritual simulation. See also Michael Fishbane “Substitutes for Sacrifice in Judaism” in The Exegetical Imagination: On Jewish Thought and Theology (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998), 123-135. 6 See his discussions of Eliade and sacred space in “The Wobbling Pivot” in Map is not Territory (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1978), 88-103; To Take Place (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 1-23, and in his most recent collection of essays in Relating Religion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), 61-100. 4

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the contrary, Smith not only calls the universality of the mythic ideal of sacred space into question, but he also critiques the roots of the idea in the “cosmic mountain” conceptions of the Ancient Near East, those that seemed to provide the most fertile ground for the development of this cosmic “navel” of the world.7 In response to Eliade’s model, Smith proposed conceptions of sacred space that invited greater variety, and took into account some of the more imaginative experiences that could be had of sacred space. Smith’s conceptions have provided a new agenda for the study of sacred space within the history of religions, and a series of alternative propositions for experience of sacred space. Nonetheless, Smith’s introduction of alternative morphologies of sacred space does not preclude an understanding of the Even Shetiyah as an exemplar of Eliade’s notion of sacred space. Even if this passage and imagery is approached through any number of interpretive perspectives, it is still possible to acknowledge his notion of sacred space in this example. As such, we could say in response to these more nuanced approaches to sacred space that Eliade’s cosmography of the sacred center may not apply elsewhere, but that it certainly seems that the trope applies here, in this image, and that this myth should be assessed in his terms; that is, that Judaism does have an idea of sacred center and, perhaps, that the fusion of hierophany and ritual that meet in the axis mundi of the Even Shetiyah. The possibility that Eliade’s theory may provide a conceptual model through which to understand the Even Shetiyah raises questions about our ability to understand the significance of this religious symbol. Moreover, we need to ask ourselves if we should understand rabbinic myth about the foundation stone as an indicator of their notions of sacred space, or if there are other components to this tradition which can inform our understanding of rabbinic discourse. In the examination of the tradition of the Even Shetiyah which will be explored below, my discussion will seek to indicate that this seemingly obvious symbol of the sacred center actually functions within classical rabbinic myth in ways that preclude, rather than encourage, concrete and centralized notions of sacred space. As the way I have framed the question for this essay suggests, the present paper will argue that the rabbis did not use the Even Shetiyah in a manner consistent with the ideals of the axis mundi, and that the semiotic development of the Even Shetiyah as a symbol transcends direct reference to this or any notion of sacred space. Accordingly, I will demonstrate that the expositions that concern the Even Shetiyah and the pa7

Jonathan Z. Smith, To Take Place, 16.

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29

triarch Jacob are more concerned with the articulation of mythic ideals from scripture and rabbinic discourse than in a consistent reference to any sense of sacred space, let alone the concept of the axis mundi. Consequently, what I wish to indicate in the use of this mythic trope is that the symbolic value of the Even Shetiyah should not be understood primarily as a signpost or referent to a particular ideal of sacred space. The rabbinic conception of sacred space and time, in fact, is not the most important issue when we examine the traditions about the Even Shetiyah. Rather, we enrich our understanding of rabbinic myth far more when we engage the concept as a symbolic referent to the dense rabbinic mythic discourse of the sages that is founded and developed within scriptural language. The rabbinic inflection of the Even Shetiyah as a symbol, in coordination with the figure of Jacob, will illuminate my argument that this symbol illustrates the dense way that the rabbis utilize symbolic language. It is the symbolic value of the Even Shetiyah, and its relationship to rabbinic hermeneutics, that must be understood before we construct general statements about space and time in rabbinic literature. The point is that we must understand the modes of myth and mythmaking as a prerequisite to comparative conceptions of sacred space. Rabbinic notions of sacred space are exegetically and symbolically construed; the primary indicator of rabbinic sacred space occurs within the context of scriptural language and symbolism. The central text which is the basis for my discussion of the Even Shetiyah is chapter thirty-five of the post-talmudic midrash Pirke Rabi Eliezer (henceforth: PRE), which begins our exploration of the symbolic and exegetical dimensions of the foundation stone tradition with a correlation between the stone of Jacob’s dream and the Even Shetiyah. The tradition reads: And Jacob returned in order to gather the stones, and found that all [stones] had become a single stone, as scripture states, “And he took the stone that was his headstone there, and he placed it as a pillar in that place.” (Gen. 28:18) What did The Holy One blessed be He do? He took his right foot and submerged (‫)וטבעה‬ the stone until the depths of the tehomot, and made [the pillar] into a key stone for the tehomot just as a person makes a keystone for the roof of the house. Therefore, [the stone] has been called the even shetiyah, since [the stone] is the navel of the earth,[‫ ]טבור הארץ‬from there all of the Earth was extended, and the Temple (‫ )היכל‬of The Lord stands upon [Jacob’s pillar/stone], as scripture states, “And this stone, which I have placed as a pillar, will be the house of God (Gen. 28:22).”

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

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In this exposition of Jacob’s dream, PRE’s expositors unite the cosmography of the BT Yoma passage with the image of Jacob’s pillar in order to imbue the language of Gen. 28:22 with concrete mythic significance: in dramatic theomorphism, Jacob provides the pillar that is the Even Shetiyah, the rock by which he and God forge the foundations of the Temple, the origin and navel of the earth, and obstruct the chaotic waters of the tehom from entry into the world. In this passage, we can detect the resonance of the axis mundi paradigm in the tropes of order and chaos, creation and cosmic center. Nonetheless, the sense of sacred space in this account of Jacob as creator indicates how the Even Shetiyah begins to shift away from the axis mundi. The introduction of Jacob’s role in creation provides the context for the expansion of symbolic discourse within the myth, and provides the basis for an exegetical development of the idea of the Even Shetiyah that carries far greater meaning within the context of scripture than in the direct experience of a particular point in sacralized space. A history of rabbinic expansions of Jacob and his relationship to this pillar illustrates how PRE develops the mythic significance of Jacob as a creator figure within the symbolism of his relationship to the Even Shetiyah while also exposing the problems that can arise when mythic symbolism takes priority over sacred topography. PRE’s representation of Jacob is informed by parallel traditions that allow the sages to make the bold representation of Jacob as a creator. PRE’s development of earlier mythic tropes can be discerned in traditions from the Babylonian Talmud and Genesis Rabbah, which are also based on equally significant traditions regarding the cosmological significance of Jacob’s pillar; Rabbi Aḥa said in the name of Rabbi Eleazar, “Where in scripture may one derive that The Holy One Blessed be He called Jacob El? [In the verse where] scripture states, ‘And the God of Israel called him El (‫( )ויקרא לו אל אלהי ישראל‬Gen. 33:20).’” Now if it may occur to you that Jacob called the altar El, then the verse should have stated “And Jacob called it (‫ויקרא לו‬ ‫)יעקב‬.” Rather, [the verse states] “And He called him El” (‫ויקרא‬ ‫ –)לו אל‬who called him El? The God of Israel (‫)אלהי ישראל‬.8 “And He erected an altar there, and the God of Israel called him El,”9 (Gen. 33:20) He said to him, “You are the God of the upper realms and I am the God of the lower realms.”10 BT Meg. 18a, Rashi on Gen. 33:20 and Yalkut Shimoni ‘Vayishlaḥ’ 133. This is according to the midrashic interpretation of the verse, the masoretic text is ambiguous as to who or what calls or is called el. 8 9

THE FOUNDATION STONE

31

In the context of these traditions’ use of mythic imagery, PRE’s expositors expand the traditional view that Jacob sanctifies the altar into a claim that Jacob is divine and cooperative with God. The interpretation of Gen. 33:20 figures as the focus of the exposition in which God refers to Jacob in divine terms; the representation of Jacob as divine and a partner in creation is found in other rabbinic traditions.11 The parallel narratives of Jacob’s erection of a pillar, exegetical strategy, in addition to the mythic parity of Jacob with God, exemplify a mythic antecedent for the PRE exposition of Gen. 28.12 The act of mythic association that is present in these chapters, however, is not dependent upon a consistent geographical location for the event. On the contrary, PRE’s tradition is bound to the scriptural language which is the prime factor that determines the location of the mythic event. In PRE and these other traditions, Jacob’s role as creator shares mythic and not geographic space with the site of the temple: according to the scriptural context of the passage, Jacob’s pillar is nowhere near the axis mundi of Jerusalem, but in earlier cultic sites that are associated with Jacob, in Shechem or in Beit El. The interpretation in PRE implicitly rejects the location of Even Shetiyah at the site of the temple since the mythic reading of Jacob as creator from Gen. 28 and 33 carries more weight than the topographical consistency that identifies the Even Shetiyah with the temple site in Jerusalem. In essence, these passages do not seem to care where the foundation stone is located so long as the myth of Jacob as creator can be derived from the scriptural language. In the Zohar, this topographical (and temporal) contradiction between the site of the temple and the site of Jacob’s dream is precisely what is at stake. In its reception and transmission of the tradition, the Zohar underscores the distance of the classical literature from actual territory and time. Genesis Rabbah 79:20. Leviticus Rabbah 36:4 and Tanḥuma (Buber) ‘Toledot’ 11. 12 Indeed, Nachmanides cites aforementioned midrashim from Genesis Rabbah and BT Megilah in his comment upon Gen. 33:20 in order to present Jacob’s likeness upon the throne of glory as well as the dwelling of the Shekhinah in the land of Israel. Nachmanides states, “By way of Derekh emet, [the interpretation] is like the midrash that our Rabbis have taught in the tractate Megilah … and there is in this matter a great secret which is recounted again in Genesis Rabba … which hints at what [the Rabbis] are always saying – that the likeness of Jacob is inscribed upon the Throne of Glory. The intent is that the Shekhinah dwells in the land of Israel. The maskilim will understand.” See also Elliot Wolfson, Along the Path: Studies in Kabbalistic Myth, Symbolism, and Hermeneutics (Albany: State University of New York , 1995). 10 11

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INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

The passage, from Zohar I, 72a illuminates the priority given to mythic exegesis over sacred space in the earlier traditions. This passage reads: Rabbi Yehudah arose one night at midnight in order to engage in Torah study at his inn in Matah-Mehasiah, and there was a Judean in one house, who came [with two sacks of cloth]. Rabbi Yehudah initiated his discourse and said, “‘And this stone, which I have placed as a pillar, will be the house of God’ (Gen. 28:22) This is the even shetiyah from which the world was established (‫)אשתיל‬, and upon which the Temple was built.” That Judean raised his head and said to him, “These words [that you say] – how are they possible? The even shetiyah, was it not created before the world, and from it the world was established? Yet you declare [from the verse] ‘And this stone, which I have placed as a pillar’ that the mythic significance (‫[ )דמשמע‬of the verse] is that Jacob placed [the stone] (‫ )שוי לה‬now that scripture states, ‘And he took the stone that he had used as a headrest’ (Gen. 28:18). Furthermore, Jacob was at Beit El and the stone is in Jerusalem!’”

In this passage, the Zohar’s expositors challenge PRE’s correlation of Jacob’s pillar and the Even Shetiyah on the issue of sacred space and time; the myth of Jacob as creator presents obvious contradictions about how and when creation occurred. The problem centers on how Jacob’s acts, in Gen. 28, could possibly correspond to God’s cosmogonic creation at Urzeit on the one hand, and how creation could occur at the central site of the temple and at Beit El or Shechem as well. In its recognition of the problem, however, Zohar wrestles not only with the phenomena of time and space, but with the mythic concretization of Gen. 28:22. As is demonstrated in the discussion of R. Yehudah and the Judean, the symbolic components of Jacob and the foundation stone make more sense on a mythic level than in a literal mapping of the sacred landscape. Striking upon the elements of time and location in the PRE tradition, the expositors of the Zohar argue that Jacob’s relationship cannot be contemporaneous nor co-spatial with the same Even Shetiyah of the Yoma passage. But again, this is not the point of the classical exercise in myth and exegesis. On the contrary, the classical sages appear to explicitly favor coherence in the mythic realm over a lucid blueprint of sacred topography. Although the Zohar duly takes note of the glaring contradictions within the tradition about the time and location of creation, the Zohar’s expositors recognize the primacy of symbolism and mythic exegesis over and above a desire for a consistent account; the spatial disjuncture between the reference of scriptural myth and a concrete desig-

THE FOUNDATION STONE

33

nation in a physical or temporal space is not an impediment to the continued use of Jacob-Even Shetiyah imagery, since the work again rehearses Jacob’s role as creator here and in an additional reuse of the mythic tradition in Zohar I, 231a. The classical rabbinic notion of the Even Shetiyah reflects a virtual sacred space that is most forcefully expressed within the landscape of scriptural language and imagery. This bond between the mythic ideas of Jacob, the Even Shetiyah and the scriptural context of Gen. 28:22 continues to grow and develop even in later, particularly Kabbalistic, rabbinic literature. In his invaluable commentary upon the Zohar I, 72a, the Or Yakar, Rabbi Moses Cordovero underscores the importance of PRE’s preference for the mythic over the topographic, and thus contributes his own argument in defense of PRE’s innovative reformulation of the classical rabbinic tradition: It is true that the words of Rabbi Yehudah are surprising … [but] it appears to me that one must interpret that [with respect to] Jacob, our father … the creation of the world was in his hand. [Jacob] took this stone (‫ )צרור‬from the Throne of Glory and furnished the Even Shetiyah as the foundation of the world (‫)יסודו של עולם‬,13 and for this reason scripture states, ‘And this stone, which I have placed as a pillar’ (Gen. 28:22) … [Thus] Rabbi Yehudah did not trouble himself to respond to [the Judean] since he had not examined him in order to see if he could reveal this secret to him.14

See Genesis Rabbah 75:11, discussed below, which fuses the correlation of Jacob and the Even Shetiyah to the interpretation of Prov. 10:25. 14 From Cordovero’s commentary Or Yakar to Zohar I 72a. The idea that the Even Shetiyah is the Even Sapir, or a stone taken from the Throne of Glory is found in the Zohar I 111a, and is correlated with Jacob in Zohar III 239b-240a on the exegetical basis of Gen. 49:24. The inspiration for the correlation of the Even Shetiyah to a stone under the Throne of Glory may, however, be explained through an identification of the stone of creation with Job 37:6 in the midrash, as stated in PRE 3; “The earth, from what was it created? From snow that was underneath the Throne of Glory. He took [the stone] and threw it upon the water and the water condensed (‫נקפאו‬, see Ex. 15:8) and thus made soil, as Scripture states, ‘For he says to snow that it is earth’ (Job 37:6).” Similarly, but with a more explicit relationship between the snow underneath the Throne of Glory and the Even Shetiyah, Otsar Hamidrashim (New York, 1915), 253 states, “‘And God called the light, ‘day’” (Gen. 1:5) On the first day [God] took a clump of snow from underneath the Throne of Glory and threw it upon the surface of the water in the midst of the earth, as Scripture states, ‘For he says to the snow that it is earth,’ and he took the Even Shetiyah , threw it 13

34

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

In this statement, Cordovero reiterates the importance of the connection among the images of Jacob, the Even Shetiyah and the prooftext. Cordovero’s reiteration of the PRE tradition testifies to the power of development of the Even Shetiyah as a mythic trope in which the language of a scriptural episode underscores the expositors’ development of the tradition into a mythic topos. The survival and growth of the PRE tradition occurs in spite of the obvious problems in time and space – and does so due to the strength of the mythic union of Jacob and the Even Shetiyah as mythic tropes. Accordingly, the symbolic value of the union is not only present in PRE’s testimony to Jacob and the Even Shetiyah in classical rabbinic literature, but can also be found in two other examples which further underscore the expository orientation of the rabbis towards the Even Shetiyah. The union of mythic symbols, Jacob and the Even Shetiyah, represent an exegetical attempt to build upon the connections within the scriptural text. These additional examples communicate complicated ideas in dense linguistic shorthand which reflect a use which pertains to mythic and exegetical developments, and not just sacred topography. The first parallel use of these symbols is found in Genesis Rabbah 75:11, and inflects the Jacob-Even Shetiyah pair in terms of an additional rabbinic exploration on righteousness and the “pillar of the world.” In this passage, the Even Shetiyah functions as an expression of sustenance as opposed to creation, and grows as a mythic trope due to the language of Psalms 11. The passage reads: “He will do the will of those who fear Him” (Ps. 145:19) Accordingly, David glorified and celebrated before the Holy One blessed be He, since [God] assisted him (‫ )עזרו‬in his escape from Saul. [Since] scripture states, “Behold, will not the wicked bend back the bow?” (Ps. 11:2) what is written after this [verse]? “If they should tear away the foundations (‫)השתות‬, what has he done for the righteous one (‫”?)צדיק מה פעל‬15 (Ps. 11:3) [David] said before [God], “Master of the World, if you had rejected, upon the site of the Temple and the world was established upon it [ ‫ונתיסד עליה‬ ‫ ]העולם‬as scripture states, ‘Or who cast the foundation stone?’ (Job 38:6). He called [it] the earth, and stood [the earth] upon a place from which it was not possible to move …” 15 The translation of this last phrase of the verse is particularly difficult on account of the wide range of possible inflections which could be possible. Consequently, among other possible translations are, “what may the righteous do?” or “what righteousness has been done?”

THE FOUNDATION STONE

35

abandoned and not assisted (‫ )עזרת‬Jacob [in his conflict with Esau] – since he is the keystone and foundation of the world (‫ )שהוא משתותו ויסודו של עולם‬as scripture states, ‘The righteous one is the foundation of the world (‫( ’)צדיק יסד עולם‬Prov. 10:25) [then] ‘What has he done for the righteous one?’” At that moment [God assisted him] as scripture states, “Some [prevail] by chariot, and some [prevail] by horses, but we recall the name of The Lord, our God.” (Ps. 20:8)

This midrash introduces the figure of Jacob and the Even Shetiyah in the context of a parallel narrative about David’s escape and plea for divine assistance. In their engagement with the language of Psalms 11, the expositors identify David and Jacob with the ‫ שתות‬that is mentioned in this Psalm, an allusion, and cognate, for the Even Shetiyah. The ‫ שתות‬are understood as a cognomen for the subject of the verse, ‫צדיק‬, in which the righteous one, the ‫צדיק‬, is homiletically understood to be as the one who retains the all important foundations, or ‫ ;שתות‬in essence, the righteous ones, Jacob and David, are seen to be as essential to the maintenance of the world order as is the foundation stone, or Even Shetiyah. Accordingly, the passage also correlates the ‫ צדיק‬of Ps. 11 to the ‫ צדיק‬of Prov. 10:25, who is the pillar of the world. In this recollection of the ‫ צדיק‬of Prov. 10 as a righteous person who guards the order of the world, the passage reflects an interpretation found in BT Yoma 38b, and elsewhere. Nonetheless, the repetition and rearticulation of the words ‫ צדיק‬and ‫ השתות‬provide new homiletical formulations for the pair Jacob and the Even Shetiyah. In this interpretation, Jacob may be correlated to the Even Shetiyah, and thus David’s appeal to God incorporates a complete identity of scriptural language with the mythic referent – and again the passage directs us towards the exegetical opportunity in scriptural language and imagery over the referent of the Even Shetiyah to a particular connotation of sacred space. Similarly, another example from the fragmentary Midrash Avkir situates the imagery of Jacob and the Even Shetiyah within a narrative on the temptation of Joseph, a tradition which implicitly correlates the appearance of Jacob himself to the image of the Even Shetiyah; the tradition reads: Rabbi said, “[Joseph] would have listened [to Potiphar’s wife] had not the Holy One blessed be He had brought before him the likeness (‫ )איקונין‬of his father [Jacob], from which he was ashamed and ran. The second time [Joseph] entered, the Holy One blessed be He took the Even Shetiyah and said to him, ‘If you touch her [then] I am about to cast away (‫[ )משליכו‬the

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

36

stone], and destroy the world, as scripture states, ‘And the arms of his hand were supple, from the hands of the mighty one of Jacob, from there, the shepherd of the stone of Israel [‫]אבן ישראל‬ (Gen. 49:24).”16

As James Kugel has demonstrated,17 the expositors of Midrash Avkir correlate the language of Jacob’s emblematic blessings of Joseph in Gen. 49 with the description of his temptation in Gen. 39;18 the expositors use Gen. 49:24 and the surrounding scriptural passages in order to provide context for this episode. In this final passage, Gen. 49:24 represents the application of the mythic trope of Jacob and the Even Shetiyah in another instance of scriptural language and myth. The phrase ‫“ אבן ישראל‬the stone of Israel” in Gen. 49:24 is interpreted as a correlative of the Even Shetiyah, and as a scriptural reference to the imagery of rabbinic myth; that is, the union of Jacob with the Even Shetiyah. This use of Jacob imagery is found in a parallel passage from Lamentations Rabbah on Lam. 2:1 “he cast down from the heavens to the earth the glory of Israel (‫ )תפארת ישראל‬that “the Holy One blessed be He said, “None from Israel may anger me on account of the visage of Jacob which is engraved upon my throne.” But [since Israel continued], he upset [Jacob’s visage] in their faces, as Scripture states, “And he cast down from the heavens to the earth the crown of Israel.” The tradition demonstrates similarities to PRE’s reception, transmission and transformation of classical rabbinic discourse, and underscores the modes of transformation which emerge in both PRE and Midrash Avkir. In Midrash Avkir, scriptural imagery and language unite Jacob to the Even Shetiyah. This example demonstrates again how a discussion of the foundation stone should be read in the context of the development of ideas and myth in rabbinic discourse, and not as an example for rabbinic ideas about sacred space. This episode, like the others, demonstrates that the foundation stone is a tool From the Midrash Avkir reproduced in Yalkut Shimoni ‘Vayeshev’, 145 and Yalkut Reubeni ‘Vayeshev’, 181. This tradition is cited by Luria, Pirke 92b note 21, Ginzberg Legends of the Jews, V, 340 note 124 and D. Feuchtwang “Das Wasseropfer und die damit verbundenen Zeremonien” in Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judenthums, 54 (1910), 535-52, 713-29; 55 (1911), 43-63, 726. 17 James L. Kugel, In Potiphar’s House: The Interpretive Life of Biblical Texts (Cambridge: Harvard 1994). This is not an explicit statement in Kugel’s work, but on account of the exegetical evidence which is implicit to his analysis. The expansion of mythic imagery draws from the blessing and applies to the temptation episode with a high degree of correspondence between the language of the blessing and the midrashic analysis of the episode. 18 Kugel, In Potiphar’s House, 110. 16

THE FOUNDATION STONE

37

within the development of rabbinic myth and in its rearticulation of scripture, all of which works in service of the scriptural and mythic allusion of rabbinic discourse. CONCLUSION In the exempla drawn from PRE and these parallel texts, the complex interaction of the Even Shetiyah with Jacob demonstrates the several points that are relevant for comparative studies, but are particularly important when abstract notions of sacred space are applied to midrashic texts. As we can see from the discussion above, a symbol, such as the Even Shetiyah, may appear to fulfill all of the qualities of sacred space that exist in other cultures, such as the idea of the sacred center, navel of the world or axis mundi. Nevertheless, we require a full understanding of the use of any trope or symbol before we can understand it in these general terms. The exempla explored above underscores the importance of the Even Shetiyah to rabbinic conceptions of creation, stability and order – but the key factor that is missing in comparative accounts is an acknowledgement of the development and articulation of the Even Shetiyah as an exegetical and mythic symbol. The correlation of Jacob and the Even Shetiyah in the examples above demonstrates the priority of the semiotics of myth and exegesis far exceeds the clear and unambiguous identification of a particular place as sacred, let alone an axis mundi. In rabbinic literature’s adoption and transformation of these exegetical traditions and symbols, the expositors provide insight into myth and hermeneutics, and contribute far less to attractive area of cosmogonic topography. On the contrary, the coordination of the tropes of Jacob and the Even Shetiyah provides a wealth of exempla of modes and depth in the rabbinic mythic imagination.

“DIALOGUES BETWEEN SAGES AND OUTSIDERS TO THE TRADITION”: FORMAL CHANGES TO THE LITERARY COMPOSITION AS A METHOD OF RELIGIOUS POLEMICS IN RABBINIC LITERATURE∗ Eszter Katalin Füzessy University of Chicago INTRODUCTION One can find texts in abundance in rabbinic literature in which a dialogue is portrayed between a Sage and an “Outsider to the Tradition”. This is a group of overly polemical texts (in their form, function, topic, as well as rhetoric) in which the main characters of the story are on the one hand, a Sage, and on the other, an “Outsider” such as a min, a goy, an Emperor, (the) matronah, etc. If studied together, these texts can be used for the study of a literary process in rabbinic literature whereby a difference between a “rabbinic us” and a “them”— who are outside of “our tradition”—was created. In tannaitic times to which the original versions of the texts of the “Dialogues between Sages and Outsiders to the Tradition” are to be dated, these texts did not, in any way, differ from other tannaitic interpretations and did not have a polemic edge to them. It is possible to reconstruct the “original” version of some of these Dialogues based on tannatic interpretations scattered throughout rabbinic literature. In these texts both “sides” of the argument found in the later Dialogues are attributed to a tannaitic authority without any indication of their being in any way “un-rabbinic”. ∗

This article is an abridged form of chapter 4 of my doctoral dissertation: “Dialogues between Sages and Outsiders to the Tradition” Creation of Difference as a Literary Method of Religious Polemics in Rabbinic Literature (Divinity School, University of Chicago, in progress). The article is based on a paper read at the 2007 SBL Annual Meeting in San Diego.

39

40

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

In this article, I would like to focus on questions of literary form and composition. As function in rabbinic literature is the decisive factor for the choice of the form to be used for a certain interpretation, it is necessary to deal also with the question of why these original tannaitic texts were reformulated and put in a fictional setting in amoraic times. The main question is: What was the result of this transformation, i.e., what is the message of the amoraic texts in contrast to that of the original ones? The present article deals with this process of transformation/fictionalization. What in the tannaitic interpretations prompted their re-writing in amoraic times? How and why was the new literary form chosen? How was the transformation accomplished on the literary level of the texts? What were the methods of fictionalization used to create polemic, one-voiced texts out of multi-voiced ones? DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE BASIC FORM OF MIDRASH AND THE BASIC FORM OF THE DIALOGUES Let us first consider the form and composition of the Dialogues. The texts we are dealing with are all written in a dialogue form. The dialogue form, however, is not the basic form of midrashic interpretation. It is, rather, a variation on the basic form of Midrash.1 1 The following discussion on the basic form of midrashic interpretation is based on the detailed discussion about the Grundform Midrasch in A. Goldberg, “Die funktionale Form Midrasch”, Frankfurter Judaistische Beiträge 10 (1982), 4-17. The summary of his thesis is found on pp. 4-5: „Untersucht man nun Texte der Sorte Midrasch, d.h. Texte, die mittels der Form-M hergestellt wurden, dann finden sich – eher selbstverständlich – ein lemmatisierter Teil der Offenbarungsschrift, eine Aussage darüber und eine hermeneutische Operation, die es ermöglicht, zu dieser Aussage zu gelangen. Diese Teile oder Konstituenten des Textes seien mit Lemma („L”), Operation (:o: oder „:o:” für die textlich ausgeführte Operation) und Dictum („D”) bezeichnet”. See also A. Goldberg, Rabbinische Texte als Gegenstand der Auslegung. Gesammelte Studien II, ed. M. Schlüter and P. Schäfer (Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, 1999), which contains this article and several others that relate to the same form-analytical method, and L.M. Teugels, Bible and Midrash. The Story of ‘The Wooing of Rebekkah’ (Gen. 24) (Peeters, Leuven, 2004), esp. 157-161. As much as I agree with Goldberg that the Lemma, the Operation, and the Dictum are the main components of the basic form of Midrash, I think that the Question, the use of the Hermeneutic Rule for and as an integral part of the Hermeneutic Operation and the “Prooftext/Intertext” while, admittedly, not always explicit on the textual level, are also important constituents of the basic form. These components characterize the aggadic method of interpretation just as much as the three components given by Goldberg. They also add aspects to the basic form of the interpretation that the

DIALOGUES BETWEEN SAGES AND OUTSIDERS

41

Basic Form of Midrashic Interpretation (1) Lemma (scriptural text) ← [Question] → (2) Hermeneutic Operation: (2a) Hermeneutic Rule – (2b) Interpretation → (3) Dictum ← (4) Prooftext/Intertext2 In the basic form of midrashic interpretation there is always a scriptural text, a Lemma, underlying the interpretation; it is assumed to be there even in those cases when it is not explicitly quoted at the beginning of the midrashic unit. Also, there is always a Question, which is usually implicit; however, the Question can be seen/understood from what follows. The Question draws attention to that feature in the Lemma that is going to be interpreted.3 The Hermeneutic Operation (comprised of a Hermeneutic Rule and the process of the Interpretation itself) is not usually explicit either. However, it can be reconstructed on the basis of the Dictum, the statement that is reached at the end of the interpretive process. There is, usually, a Prooftext or an Intertext that rounds up the composition of the basic form of midrashic interpretation. The basic form of the Dialogues differs very little from that of the basic form of midrashic interpretation, but the differences between the two are significant for they completely alter the function of the respective interpretations. Let us, for the moment, put aside the content/message and the function of the text and consider only how the basic form of the Dialogues differs from the basic form of midrashic interpretation.

scheme of Goldberg does not account for, i.e., the character of aggadic interpretation as a “solution” to a scriptural problem (manifested through the Question), the overwhelming importance of the tradition in rabbinic literature in general (necessitating the naming, in one way or other, of the author of the interpretation), and the idea underlying rabbinic interpretation in general according to which all interpretation comes from and is based on Scripture or application of Scripture (hermeneutic rule and Prooftext/Intertext). 2 The arrows in this chart (and in all the charts on the following pages) are used to indicate reference (←), and direction of dependence or consequentiality (→), respectively. 3 That is, not the whole Lemma quoted is being interpreted in the basic form of midrash, but rather only that (those) part(s) of it to which the Question, and subsequently the interpretation refers. It is also possible that the Lemma quoted is not complete, i.e., that the part of the verse which is actually being interpreted is found only in the unquoted continuation of the quoted Lemma.

42

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

Basic Form of the Dialogues 1) Lemma (scriptural text) ← Preface to the Question: → Question/Declaration → Preface to the Answer → (2) Hermeneutic Operation: (2a) Hermeneutic Rule – (2b) Interpretation → (3) Dictum ← (4) Prooftext The main differences between the two forms are, in order of appearance, the following: 1. Every Dialogue begins with a Preface to the Question. This consists of the identification of the Outsider who initiates the dialogue, an introductory formula that introduces the Question, and the Question itself. The introductory formula already indicates the art of the discourse (i.e. debate/dialogue) by the use of a verb of interrogation ‫שאל‬. Sometimes, the amoraic re-formulation of the tannaitic interpretation is not very smooth, and the first introductory verb ‫ שאל‬is given in excess to the original ‫אמר‬. 2. In the basic form of the Dialogues, in contrast to the basic form of midrashic interpretation, the Question that the “Outsider” asks, or the declaration which he makes, is explicit. The style of the Question is polemical and confrontational; which, by way of definition, must indicate that the Outsider and the Sage must hold contradictory opinions about the subject matter of the Dialogue. Stylistically, a contrast/opposition is made clear between the two partners to the Dialogue (“we” or “I” vs. “you;” “we say” vs. “in your Scripture it is written”). In most of the “Dialogues,” a scriptural Lemma underlies the Question. In these cases, where the debate is about different interpretations of Scripture, there is a scriptural text in the Question part, which will have to be opposed to a different scriptural text evoked in the Proof(text) part of the Dialogues. 3. The Hermeneutic Operation and the Dictum of the basic form of midrashic interpretation is introduced by a Preface to the Answer in the basic form of the Dialogue. This Preface is the counterpart to the Preface to the Question. It consists of a reference to the Sage (invoked by name again), a verb of response (usually the simple, multi-referential verb ‫אמר‬, but sometimes even the verbs ‫ ענה‬or ‫ )השיב‬and the Outsider to whom the answer is given (usually in the form of personal pronouns: “to her,” “to him,” “to them”). The Dictum in the basic form of the Dialogue does not differ much from any other form of Dicta in Midrash; the polemic style of the Answer/Interpretation is in the most cases only manifest in the Preface to the Answer.

DIALOGUES BETWEEN SAGES AND OUTSIDERS

43

There is a constancy of the sequence of the parts in the basic form of the Dialogues. The presence of this constant and invariable sequence of the parts (and their stylistic peculiarities which are also constant) is the reason why we can talk about the Dialogues as constituting a distinct literary form of rabbinic literature. The constituents of the Dialogues themselves (apart from the special stylistic and linguistic features of the two Prefaces) are not at all unique in Midrash; what makes them stand out is their composition. I contend that in the “Dialogues between Sages and Outsiders to the Tradition”, the basic form of the literary unit is in every single case the same. There are, of course, variations as to the different parts of the form, but these variations are arrived at by adding new constituents to the basic form. The basic form, the method of composition, the sequence of the smaller units within the whole stay constant. This constancy is what allows us to speak of a distinct literary form of the “Dialogues.” Let us finally look at an example of a text in the basic form of the Dialogues.

Bereshit Rabbah 25:1 Matronah (‫ )מטרונה‬asked (‫ )שאלה‬Rabbi Josi: We do not find (anywhere written about) the death of Enoch. He said to her (‫)אמר לה‬: If it were written (‫)אילו נאמר‬: “And Enoch walked with God” and then there were silence, I would say (‫ )הייתי אומר‬as you have said. But as it says (‫)כשהוא אומר‬: “then he was not because God took him, etc.” (Gen. 5:24) – he is not in this world because God took him.

The important formal features of this Dialogue – features that differentiate it from interpretations in the basic form of Midrash – are the following: 1. In BerR 25:1, the Outsider is (a) matronah. I contend that the attempts to identify (the) matronah have been so far unsuccessful because matronah is a constructed identity whose function is to catalogue her question as that of an Outsider’s. The fact that she is a woman might be significant only insofar as “women” would be a category of Outsiders in rabbinic culture. In our text, there is a polemical overtone to matronah’s question: “We do not find (anywhere written about) the death of Enoch”. That is, if you maintain – as you do – that he died, you have no proof. 2. In our text, the Lemma is implicit in the beginning and is quoted only later by the Sage. In BerR 25:1, we don’t find two opposing biblical citations, but rather, two opposing interpretations of the same scriptural verse.

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

44

3. The Hermeneutic Operation used in our text is a standard hermeneutical operation in Midrash; this particular operation is, however, an operation very often used in the Dialogues because of its polemical character. This hermeneutical operation is very much appropriate for showing a dispute in which both opinions are backed by the same scriptural verse and which then must be resolved by eliminating the one and embracing the other opinion. It must also be noted that this is a rabbinic hermeneutic operation, the validity of which is undisputed in Jewish scriptural interpretation, but not, however, in Christian or Gnostic scriptural interpretation. Just how does this hermeneutical operation work? The Hermeneutic Rule in the above cited text from BerR 25:1 is indicated by the words ‫כשהוא אומר → הייתי אומר → אילו נאמר‬. The point of this hermeneutic rule is that Scripture could have used a certain expression, but did not. This fact is very significant: by the use of the chosen expression, Scripture eliminates the possible meaning/interpretation of all the other expressions it chose not to use, while embracing the meaning/interpretation of the chosen expression as the only valid one. This hermeneutical rule is extremely appropriate for such midrashic interpretations where the function of the text is to demonstrate the invalidity of a certain interpretation. The interpretation that this hermeneutical rule tries to eliminate could be of two different kinds: a. it could be an interpretation that may theoretically be made valid using types of hermeneutic interpretation of a different value-system than that of “rabbinic”4 Judaism; or b. it could be an interpretation that used to be valid in “rabbinic” Judaism itself (and was made valid by a “rabbinic” authority), but through later developments within “rabbinic” Judaism was rejected by the majority. The reason why I put the word rabbinic, when used in connection to the word Judaism, in parentheses is because – as I hope will be confirmed by the results of my dissertation – I consider the Judaism of the Rabbis (even in the way/form it is portrayed in the discourse of rabbinic literature!) as heterogeneous, and, apart from very few instances, in no way comparable to the homogeneous Christianity of the Church Fathers (or, rather, to the homogeneous Christianity that we find portrayed in the discourse of the Church Fathers). Nevertheless, the group of rabbinic texts that my dissertation mainly deals with, “Dialogues between Sages and Outsiders to the Tradition” actually belongs to the few attempts on the part of the rabbis at portraying in discourse a homogeneous “rabbinic” Judaism (one must note here, however, that this portrayal is mainly the result of the polemic nature of the discourse). 4

DIALOGUES BETWEEN SAGES AND OUTSIDERS

45

Depending on which kind of interpretation the hermeneutical rule is used to “fight” against, the invalid interpretation can be classified as either a. an interpretation originating from a non-Jewish source, or from a Jewish (!) “sect” (i.e. a group that stopped belonging to “mainstream,” “rabbinic” Judaism) or b. as an interpretation of a “rabbinic” authority that was later overruled by the majority. It will be the main concern of the second part of this article to decide which category of interpretation our Dialogue is more likely to have fought against. THE FUNCTION OF THE DIALOGUES The first question that needs to be answered in this connection is why our text from Midrash Bereshit Rabbah was written in the basic form of the Dialogues. This midrash would be a perfectly usual rabbinic interpretation even without the superimposed Dialogue structure. As in rabbinic midrash, function is the decisive element, i.e., it is always the function of an interpretation that determines its form, we must look for the function of the text in BerR 25:1 to be able to say why the basic form of the Dialogue was chosen for this interpretation. Unfortunately, the parallel texts to this midrash do not help us here; they all have the same wording in the same form. These parallels, however, are quite late versions of the text from the Yalkut and most probably originate from the version in Midrash Bereshit Rabbah. It is, moreover, striking, that Enoch, who is one of the main personages in “prerabbinic” literature and appears very often in later texts, receives mention in classical rabbinic literature almost exclusively in BerR 25:1. The interpretations preceding our text in Bereshit Rabbah suggest that interpretations about Enoch’s being still alive constituted a topic in rabbinic literature that either already the Tannaim themselves or the Amoraim and later editors of Bereshit Rabbah were not very comfortable discussing. The first interpretation in BerR 25:1 reads as follows: “And Enoch went with God, etc.” Rabbi Ḥama, the son of Rabbi Hoshaya said: He was not written in the Book of the Righteous, but rather in the Book of the Wicked. Rabbi Ayabu: Enoch was a hypocrite; sometimes he was righteous, and sometimes wicked. The Holy One, blessed be He said: Let me take him up as long as he is righteous. Rabbi Ayabu said: He judged him on Rosh Hashanah, in the hour that He judges the whole world.

This interpretation, despite of its being written in the basic form of Midrash, has a polemical overtone: the Rabbis obviously set out to disclaim

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

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the interrelated notions that Enoch a. was taken up to Heaven alive; b. without regular judgment; c. on account of his righteousness. No, on the contrary: he was either entirely wicked (and thus needed to be removed from earth), or a hypocrite on whom the Holy One, blessed be He, took compassion and judged him – on the day He usually judges man – just when he was righteous.5 The next interpretation is already in the Dialogue-form: The minim asked Rabbi Abahu, they said to him: We do not find (anywhere written about) the death of Enoch. He said to them: Why (do you say so)? They said to him: It is said here that “He took him”, and it is said about Eliyahu that He took him. He said to them: If you want to interpret (the word) “and He took him” – it is written here: “and He took him” and it is written in Ezekiel “[Son of man], behold, I take [from you] the desire of your eyes [in slaughter and you shall not wail, shall not cry and shall not shed tears]” (Ezek. 24:16)! Rabbi Tanḥuma said: He answered them well.

It is remarkable that the interpretations of each party are based on scriptural verses in which verbs of the same root, ‫לקח‬, occur (2 Kings 2:910 and Ezek. 24:16, respectively). In the verse quoted by Rabbi Abahu the verb ‫ לקח‬has undoubtedly the meaning of “to take someone’s life”. The polemic tone of the Dialogue is reinforced by Rabbi Tanḥuma’s complimenting Rabbi Abahu on his successful retort. Our text is, thus, the third in a succession of texts, the raison d’être of which is to counter the idea that Enoch never actually died, but is still living (on earth or in the Heavens).

A somewhat different version of this notion is also one of the solutions of Philo to the problem what the words “he was not” could mean: “… Enos, the man who changed from a worse system of life to a better, who is called among the Hebrews Enoch … And the expression, ‘he was not found’, is very appropriately employed of him whose place was changed, either from the fact of his ancient blameable life being wiped out and effaced, and being no longer found, just as if it had never existed at all, or else because he whose place has been changed, and who is enrolled in a better class; is naturally difficult to be discovered.” Philo, De Abra. 3:15. Note that, while the notion of a change from wicked to righteous is found in both the interpretation of Rabbi Ayabu and that of Philo, the latter’s attitude to Enoch is entirely positive, while the former’s is, at the least, ambiguous. 5

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INTERNAL OR EXTERNAL POLEMIC? The idea of an immortal Enoch is very much present in Early Christian Literature where Enoch is seen as one of the, uncircumcised, “fore-runners” of Jesus.6 Do these Dialogues (the one featuring the minim as well as the other featuring matronah) portray real-life or even theoretical disputes between Jews and Christians on the interpretation of Scripture? In my opinion, many facts speak against such an assumption. First of all, the notion of an immortal Enoch is not a new, unique notion of Early Christian Literature. This notion has been already prevalent in “pre-rabbinic” Jewish literature, in the Targumim, and then again in later rabbinic literature.7 6 The Church Fathers made frequent reference to Enoch, mostly for the following two reasons: a. In order to back up their claim that some Jewish customs, such as the circumcision or the keeping of the Sabbath, are (no longer) necessary for salvation. The argument put forward was that persons of the past who were neither circumcised nor had they kept the Sabbath, have, nevertheless, found favor in the eyes of the Lord: “For if, as you claim, circumcision had been necessary for salvation, God would not have created Adam uncircumcised; nor would he have looked with favor upon the sacrifice of the uncircumcised Abel, nor would he have been pleased with the uncircumcised Enoch, who was seen no more, because God took him.” (Just. Dial. 19.3) b. The story of Enoch was used to demonstrate how the resurrection of Jesus, and a final resurrection of humans could be possible: “… Enoch and Elias, who even now, without experiencing a resurrection (because they have not even encountered death), are learning to the full what it is for the flesh to be exempted from all humiliation, and all loss, and all injury, and all disgrace – translated as they have been from this world, and from this very cause already candidates for everlasting life; - to what faith do these notable facts bear witness, if not to that which ought to inspire in us the belief that they are proofs and documents of our own future integrity and perfect resurrection?” (Tert. On the Resurrection of the Flesh 58) 7 In the Targumim we find: “And Enoch went in fear of the Lord; and he was because the Lord did not let him be killed” (a variant – maybe original? – reading of Targum Onkelos, in A. Geiger, Urschrift und Übersetzungen der Bibel in Ihrer Abhängigkeit von der Inneren Entwicklung des Judenthums, [Breslau, 1857], p. 198); “And Enoch prayed truly before the Lord; and there is no knowledge about where he is for he has been taken by the Memra of the Lord” (Targum Neofiti). In Jewish-Hellenistic literature we find: “And it happened after this that his living name was raised up before that Son of Man and to the Lord from among those who dwell upon the earth; it was lifted up in a wind chariot and it disappeared from among them. From that day on, I was not counted among them.” (1Enoch 70:1-3); “And he [Enoch]

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Also, many features of the Dialogue between matronah and Rabbi Josi point in the direction of its being an inner-Jewish dispute rather than an inter-religious one. First of all, one must always keep in mind the important fact that this Dialogue is found within rabbinic literature. The selection as to which traditions were used by the later “rabbinic” editors of rabbinic literature was made according to strict functional criteria. These texts were selected because some aspects of them were relevant and important for the “rabbinic” editors. Why did they include these Dialogues in rabbinic works? The fact that the subject matters of the Dialogues are essentially Jewish, together with the fact that they were written in a rabbinic style, form, and language (i.e. Hebrew) only intelligible to Jews, should lead us to conclude that these comments and teachings were primarily intended for a Jewish audience. Neither a gentile Christian nor a Hellenistic pagan would read and understand these texts, let alone, understand them as polemics against himself! We thus arrived at the last of our questions: Were the intended audience of these texts the Jewish “heretics” or better, “non-rabbinic” Jews or the “rabbinic” Jews themselves? We must not forget that these categories are “rabbinic” categories, Jews who were regarded by the Sages as “heretic” or better, “non-rabbinic” Jews might not have agreed to be included in this category, moreover they might not even have been aware of the existence of such a category and of the fact that, according to some Jews, that was what they belonged to! On the other hand, we must suppose that – at a certain time in history – something like a “rabbinic” class-consciousness developed. was taken from among the children of men, and we led him to the Garden of Eden for greatness and honor.” (Jub. 4.23); “… then his son Enoch succeeded him, who was born when his father was one hundred and sixty-two years old. Now he, when he had lived three hundred and sixty-five years, departed, and went to God; whence it is that they have not written down his death.” (Jos. Ant. 1. 85); “What is the meaning of the expression, ‘He was not found because God translated him? (Gen. 5:24). In the first place, the end of virtuous and holy men is not death but a translation and migration, and an approach to some other place of abode… it is here suggested, that he was translated from a visible place, perceptible by the outward senses, into an incorporeal idea, appreciable only to the intellect.” (Philo, Questiones et Solutiones in Genesin 1.86). In later rabbinic literature we find: “There were nine who, in their lifetime, came to the Garden of Eden; and they are: Enoch; Elijah; and the Messiah; Eliezer, the servant of Abraham; Ebed-Melech, the Kushite; Hiram, King of Tyre; Ya’avez, the grandson of Rabbi Judah Hanasi; Seraḥ, the daughter of Asher; and Batyah, the daughter of Pharaoh.” (Derekh Erets Zuta, 1:18)

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THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE DIALOGUE-FORM FOR RABBINIC LITERATURE The Dialogue-form is not a genuine rabbinic literary form. It was taken over in rabbinic literature from a sub-category of the Hellenistic chria, the controversy dialogue, and subsequently adapted to the needs of rabbinic literature. The form was used every time when in rabbinic literature it became necessary to convey the meaning that in a discussion there is a “winner” and a “loser” in the debate. In the Dialogues there is an overt polemical side to the debate, where, after the presentation of two, mutually exclusive opinions, the debate must end with the rejection of the one and the embracement of the other interpretation. It is almost a unique case in rabbinic literature that the midrashic interpretation does not permit more than one interpretation/solution to any given problem. This characteristic trait of the Dialogue-form is what makes it, more than any other form, suitable for a specific group of midrashic interpretations, the goal of which is to eliminate certain interpretations, to stave off a malicious guess or an interpretation made in bad intent by embracing a single valid interpretation. The Dialogues in my opinion, are parallel to the “pseudo-apologetic” literature of the Hellenistic Diaspora. Their goal was not to fight against other religions or other opinions per se, but rather to fight against interpretations of other religions (in our case, the Christianity of the Church Fathers) or of other “sects” (in our case, interpretations of Jewish-Hellenistic literature) that could have led to “heretic” opinions within “rabbinic” Judaism itself. The Dialogues were intended to a “rabbinic” audience. The Dialogueform was used for interpretations of sensible topics in rabbinic literature. The Rabbis themselves or the later editors of rabbinic literature were eager to disclaim these interpretations by putting them into the mouth of “Outsiders to the Tradition”. An “Outsider to the Tradition,” whether he or she be a goy, (a) matronah, a min, or the Emperor, is a person or persons of whom nothing more is known, or needs to be known, than the fact that the opinion he or she holds is “un-rabbinic”. The Dialogues are one of the main, if not the main, “strategies” whereby “rabbinic” Judaism was created in the discourse of rabbinic literature.

THE EXTREMES OF ESTHER AND ITS IMPLICATIONS FOR MIDRASH Isaac Gottlieb Bar Ilan University INTRODUCTION The Book of Esther is marked by reversals, extremes and exaggerations.1 This tendency may be seen in the events of the story, the structure of the book, and the style of writing. The history of the scroll’s exegesis is likewise a study in extremes and opposites, between those who view it as a reflection of history or a vehicle for a profound religious message and those who read it as a comedy, farce, or fantasy. I wish to show that midrashic interpretation of the Megillah is likewise characterized by hyperbole, exaggeration, and paradox. However, rather than using those qualities to detract from the seriousness of the book, the rabbis were attempting (paradoxically) to strengthen the position of the Megillah within the tradition. First, a brief review of these traits as found in the Megillah itself: reversals in the plot are often signaled by parallel language; events in chapters 3-4 find their mirror image in chapters 8-9. Other times, the reversal is immediately explicit in the text: “So they impaled Haman on the stake which he had put up for Mordecai, and the king’s fury abated” (7:10). The role reversal plays in the structure of the book can best be seen in chapter 6: Haman sets before the king the details of a ceremony in which he thinks he is to be honored, only to be told that he is to accord those honors to Mordecai and be humiliated in the process. This sudden change of events, another example of reversal in the plot, actually heralds a sea-change in the fortunes of all the players from here on in. Chapter 6 therefore sug-

What Carey Moore in his Anchor Bible Dictionary article on Esther calls “the principle of peripety, i.e., the unexpected reversal of affairs”, 640. 1

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gests a “bilateral chiastic structure”2 for all the chapters themselves, in what amounts to a structure of reversal. Finally, matters of style: Esther exhibits a unique mode of writing which both exaggerates and understates. In the opening chapter, the king’s troubles with his wife are blown up into a cause célèbre of international proportions. In another example, the Megillah establishes the theme of law and order as a pillar of Persian society, through repeated use of the Persian word dat “law” or the hendiadys dat vadin, signifying “the rule of law”.3 But the story itself mocks the entire principle, by showing time and again how all the rules are brushed aside by the king when under the influence of wine and women, which is to say, the author treats the theme of law with irony. Shlomo Dov Goitein, in his pioneering Hebrew work on the Bible as literature, compared the Megillah with the story of Darius’ guards in the apocryphal book III Esdras, chapters 3 and 4.4 In that tale, three guards vied with each other as to what was the strongest thing in the world. One extolled wine, the second, the king, while the third wrote down, “Women are strongest, but truth is victor over all things”. Both Esdras and Esther incorporate similar Persian motifs, such as the contest (of women or guards), and both sing the praises of kings, wine, and women.5 However, the story of the three guards takes these three elements seriously, while the Megillah mocks the effect that wine and women have on the king, once again employing the principle of irony.6 The ironic style joins forces with the swing

The term is used by J. D. Levenson, Esther, 8. A more subtle sign of structural reversal can be seen in the contrast between feasting in the first chapter and fasting in the fourth, or in the motif of ten banquets, which provides a spine for this story that is “both synthetic and antithetic” (ibid., 7), while other structures “are closely parallel on the one hand, but . . . reveal important thematic contrasts on the other” (ibid., 9). 3 Dat or dat vadin appear four times in chapter 1, another five times in chapters 2, 3. 4 Called “The Story of the Three Guardsmen” by C. C. Torrey, The Apocryphal Literature, 48-54; according to Torrey, this work was interpolated into First Esdras, treated in the previous chapter of his book (§ 10), 43-48. B. Metzger, An Introduction to the Apocrypha, includes this story in “The First Book of Esdras”, 11-19. In The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. H. Charlesworth, vol. I, 516, Metzger points out that this book was called I Esdras in the Septuagint, King James Version, and RSV, and III Esdras in the Latin Vulgate, which is what S. D. Goitein, Bible Studies, calls it as well. 5 S. D. Goitein, Bible Studies, 64-65. 6 Ibid. 66-68. 2

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of events and the seesaw of structure to impress upon the reader the reversals of fortune that characterize this book. The notion of reversal is so central to the Book of Esther that the word “opposite” serves as a leitmotif for the entire Megillah: “And so, on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month—that is, the month of Adar—when the king’s command and decree were to be executed . . . the opposite happened (venahafokh hu) and the Jews subdued their enemies” (9:1).7 A sense of extremism is also found in the Scroll’s interpretation. We would be hard-put to find another book in the bible that has aroused such vehemently opposed sentiments. Carey Moore opens his introduction with the following: “No other book of the Old Testament has received such mixed reviews…. It has had the unique but dubious distinction of frequently being praised by many Jews and ignored and disliked by even more Christians.”8 There is disagreement among commentators on the basics: Luther disliked this book because of its Judaizing tendencies9 while Elias Bickerman felt that “the only Jewish element of the tale is that, according to the author, Mordecai is a Jew.”10 These commentators, whether they liked the book or loathed it, found it too Jewish or too Gentile, obviously took the story seriously.11 Yet several See also 9:22: “and the same month which had been transformed (nehpakh) for them from one of grief and mourning to one of festive joy.” 8 C. A. Moore, Esther, xvi. 9 As cited by Paton, Esther, ICC, 96: “ ‘I am so hostile to this book that I wish it did not exist, for it Judaizes too much, and has too much heathen naughtiness’ (Tischreden, W. A. xxii. 2080).” Paton, ibid., concurs with Luther and adds his own reasons for hostility: “There is not one noble character in this book. … Esther, for the chance of winning wealth and power, takes her place in the herd of maidens who become concubines of the King … Mordecai sacrifices his cousin to advance his interests… All this the author narrates with interest and approval” (p. 96). Paton’s prejudices are hardly concealed; in a comment on Esth. 2:10, “Esther had not disclosed her race nor her descent”, he notes: “Wherever they have lived, the Jews have made themselves unpopular by their pride and exclusive habits …” (p. 175). Dating the book to the Greek period, he offers the following evidence: “The prominence given to financial considerations (39) is also indicative of the commercialism that developed among the Jews during the Greek period” (p. 62). 10 E. Bickerman, Four Strange Books of the Bible, 181. 11 So, for example, S. D. Goitein, Bible Studies, 65: “Just as the return to Zion is presented in III Esdras in novelistic fashion, incorporating conventional literary motifs, and this does not detract a whit from the historicity of the Restoration, so too the Scroll of Esther, despite its novelistic form, is based on an historic incident.” 7

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modern readers think, if I may borrow a rabbinic comment made about Job, that the historical kernel of the book of Esther “never was, and was never created.”12 Rather, they find it to be a piece of humorous fiction. From their perspective, one should not fret over the portrayal of Jews as bellicose or vengeful; these scenes in Esther are but Jewish fantasies, a selfdeprecating humor, dreamt up to entertain and arouse laughter in the spirit of the holiday of Purim. Clearly, traditional exegetes and modern readers exhibit extremes in their perceptions of the book. In this paper I want to focus on one particular type of interpretation, the comments of the Rabbis in Midrash and Talmud. Many midrashic comments about the Megillah are also characterized by hyperbole and paradox. Overall, the Midrash tends to exaggerate the importance of the Scroll of Esther. It elevates this book, found in the third division of the Masoretic Bible, Writings or Ketuvim, to a position equal to that of the Torah itself. Further, not only is the Megillah compared to the Torah, it is explicated by the Rabbis in that fashion reserved for Torah alone: its verses are understood by means of the midrashic method. Now one may counter that almost the whole of Prophets and Writings is explicated in the midrashic mode; stories, prophecies, epigrams, and poetry are all mined in Talmud and Midrash to produce educational, theological, and moral lessons. But this explication is generally done in the way of aggadic midrash. Only the Megillah alone, though it is a narrative, serves as the basis for Midrash halakhah, exegesis that results in normative Jewish practices and binding customs. By claiming that the Megillah is on a par with the Torah and that it may be expounded in order to produce halakhah or Jewish Law, the Rabbis were engaging in exaggeration, paradox, and even irony, traits that characterize the Megillah itself. Of course, the rabbinic corpus is not monolithic in time, place, or authorship. Nevertheless, I want to substantiate the claim that a relatively large number of comments and derashot, regardless of their provenance, either engage in legal midrash or make exaggerated claims for the standing of the Megillah. To this end I have assembled tannaitic and amoraic statements, halakhic midrash and aggadic, from the Jerusalem Talmud and the Babylonian.13 I lay these comments before the reader in an attempt to explain the element of overstatement within them. BT Bava Batra 14 b. An important contribution in this area is E. L. Segal, The Babylonian Esther Midrash, which translates and comments upon each and every midrash in Tractate Megillah in the Talmud. 12 13

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Source 1: PT Megilah 70a This means that Megillat Esther may be expounded. . . it says of the Megillah “words of peace and truth” (Prov. 9:30) and it says elsewhere “Buy truth and never sell it” (Prov. 23:23). This means that the Megillah is like the truth of Torah, just as this one needs scoring, so does the other. Just as this one may be midrashically expounded, so may the other.

This text establishes both principles: first, that Esther may be expounded in the method of midrash and second, that Esther is the equivalent of “the truth of Torah”. This latter point is derived through a gezerah shavah, or comparison based on identical words: the Torah is called “truth” in Proverbs 23:23 and the Megillah is described as divrei shalom ve’emet “words of peace and truth” (ibid. 9:30).14 Therefore, the Megillah is equivalent to Torah. The Talmud immediately cites a rule of law based on this comparison: just as the parchment on which a Torah scroll is written needs to be scored, marking lines on the writing surface from which the scribe can then suspend the letters, so too the parchment for the Megillah needs to be scored. The Talmudic text concludes by returning to the first point: just as Torah is given over to halakhic midrash, so too is the Megillah. There is some circular reasoning here: the fact that the Megillah may be expounded midrashically is itself learned by the rule of gezerah shavah, one of the thirteen rules of R. Ishmael used to expound the Torah! Further, that very exposition tells us that the Megillah is like Torah, supplying the rationale to expound it in the first place. The paradox of establishing the fact that one may expound through a midrashic exposition, fits in perfectly with the nature of the Megillah and its literary qualities.15 Source 2: Mishnah Megilah 2:2 If the copy from which he reads is written with paint, vermilion, gum, or bootmaker’s blacking, or on paper or untreated parchment, he has not performed his obligation. It must be written in Hebrew, on parchment, and in ink. For the Rabbis, ḥokhmah (wisdom) in Proverbs always meant Torah. Something like the paradox of applying midrashic rules to Esther to determine its standing as Torah may be gleaned from M. Halbertal, People of the Book, 26: “The shift in the function of the text and justification of the new concept of its dimensions are achieved through the new reading of the text itself, in which the text proclaims its new function as if it had been there forever. It is part of that new meaning that such a shift should be effected by appealing to the text itself”. 14 15

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From the equation “Megillah equals Torah” in Source 1 flow several normative practices of halakhah or Jewish law. Source 2 states that if the Megillah is written with substances which are not ink, on paper or even on a different type of parchment, the Megillah is rendered invalid, until it is written on the same type of hide and with the same type of ink as used for the writing of a sefer torah, a Scroll of the law. Source 2 is a mishnah, which provides no explanation or sources for its ruling. So source 3 cites the relevant Talmudic passage, which grounds the ruling once again in an analogy of the gezerah shavah type: Source 3: BT Megilah 19a Whence this rule? We explain ‘writing’ in one place by the use of a term in another. It is written here “she wrote” (Esth. 9:29)… and it is written… “and I wrote them with ink in the book” (Jer. 36:18).

The word vatikhtov “Then Queen Esther … wrote” (Esth. 9:29) refers to writing the Megillah.16 In Jeremiah we read of writing in a book with ink: “And I would write them down in the scroll in ink” (Jer. 36:18). The rabbis associated writing with books and book, Hebrew sefer, with sefer torah, a Torah scroll. In this way the Megillah is once again equated with the Torah and hence it too must be written with ink on parchment. Source 4: BT Megilah 18a “If one reads it by heart” … from whence this rule? Raba said: We explain the expression zekhirah in one passage from its use in another. It is written here …nizkarim and it is written elsewhere “Write this for a memorial [zikaron] in a book” (Exod. 17:14). Just as there it was to be in a book, so here it must be in a book.

Source 4 also opens with a quote from the Mishnah, Megillah 2:1. We learn that one may not recite the Megillah in its liturgical reading in the synagogue by heart. From whence is this learned? Rava explains that once again we have a gezerah shavah or explication of identical words: the word nizkarim ‘are recalled’ from the root zkr is used in connection with the days of Purim, in Esther 9:28: “Consequently, these days are recalled and observed in each generation.” In Exodus 17:14 we read, “Write this in a document [basefer] as a reminder” [zikaron], also from the identical root. Just This is how the Rabbis understood the writing ascribed to Mordecai and Esther, see Rashi, ad loc. 16

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as the portion of Amalek must be read from a valid Torah scroll (the rabbis always took the word sefer, document or scroll, to mean a Torah scroll), not recited by heart, so too the story of the Megillah must be read from a written scroll.17 Once again, the Midrash establishes the status of the Megillah as sefer, which meant for the Rabbis the book, the Torah book. Source 5: BT Megilah 19a The Megillah is called ‘book’ and it is also called ‘letter’. It is called book to show that if it is stitched with three threads of flax, it is not fit for use; and it is called ‘letter’ to show that if it is stitched with three threads of sinew, it may be used.

In source 5, however, we come across a seemingly strange halakhah: the first part of the ruling says that a Megillah is termed a sefer, or scroll, so its columns must be sewn together in the manner of a Torah scroll with sinews of an animal, not with cotton thread. However, the Megillah is also referred to as an igeret, or letter in 9:29: “a letter of Purim”. Therefore while the panels of a Torah scroll must be stitched entirely from top to bottom with sinews, in a Megillah one may make do with only three stitches at the top and three at the bottom, as befits an ordinary epistle. This means that the Megillah is the equivalent of a Torah and yet is not, at one and the same time. This is not the only instance of paradox, as the following source exemplifies: Source 6: BT Megilah 18b The rabbis taught: If the scribe had omitted letters or verses, and the reader recited them like a translator who translates, he has fulfilled his obligation. [The Talmud then asks,] But we learned in another baraita, “if there were broken or torn letters in a Megillah that were partially effaced or torn, if their impression is recognizable the Megillah is valid but if not, the Megillah is invalid”? This presents no difficulty: the baraita about broken or torn letters speaks of a Megillah that is illegible in its entirety, and the other baraita refers to a Megillah that is missing only in part.

“Reciting like a translator” means that the reader supplied the missing words which he read by heart. The element of paradox in the baraita is dou17 An additional factor in this equation is the rabbinic understanding that the story of Purim was but another chapter in the eternal conflict with Amalek and his descendants, see n. 32.

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bled: one the one hand we learned above in source 4 that the Megillah may not be recited by heart. Just as the Torah must be read from a scroll, so too the Megillah must be read from a completed scroll. Second, a Torah scroll may not be missing even one letter; if it is, it is invalid and may not be used to read from in public. Nevertheless, we now learn that a Megillah may be missing letters and may be read that way, which is to say that the Megillah may be recited by heart, and a Megillah with missing letters or verses is valid.18 In the context of the paradoxical and the surprising, this source is revealing. Source 7: BT Shabat 88a “And they stood at the foot of the mountain” (Exod. 19:16)… this teaches that the Almighty inverted the mountain upon them like a dish and said: If you accept the Torah, well and good, and if not, here will be your burial site… said Rava, nevertheless they later received it in the days of Ahasuerus, as it is written, “The Jews accordingly assumed as an obligation” (Esth. 9:23).

We pass over now to the realm of Midrash Aggadah, that body of literature which expounded non-legal portions of the Bible to edify and educate. Source 7 sees Purim as marking a second reception of the Torah. This midrash sees an element of coercion when God gave the Ten Commandments to Israel, in contrast to Purim, when the people received the Torah wholeheartedly and voluntarily.19 In effect, the midrash gives Purim the upper hand over the revelation at Sinai, an obvious exaggeration.

The contradiction between the prohibition to read by heart (above, Source 4) and the present source which allows it, is explained away in a manner identical to the resolution given here for the internal contradiction between the baraitot about missing letters or verses: the prohibition above relates to reading the entire Megillah by heart, whereas our source permits reading a portion of the Megillah by heart. See Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, ‘Laws of Megillah’, 2, 10 and Magid Mishneh, ad loc. How large a portion may be read by heart? Shulḥan Arukh, ‘Oraḥ Ḥayim’, § 690, 3 rules that even if up to half the text is missing, the reader may fill in by heart. 19 Perhaps Rava understood the remainder of the verse, “that which they had begun to practice,” as referring to the Torah which they had received in the days of Moses. The simple meaning seems to be, “The Jews assumed as an annual obligation the observance of Purim which they had recently begun to practice and which Mordecai prescribed for them” (Esth. 9:23). 18

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Source 8: PT Megilah 70d Rav and R. Ḥanina and R. Jonathan and Bar Kappara and R. Joshua b. Levi say, this Megillah was said to Moses at Sinai, but there is no earlier or later in the Torah.

In a related vein, Source 8 bluntly states that indeed the Book of Esther was “said to Moses on Mount Sinai.” However, because of the principle that “there is no earlier or later in the Torah,” that is, there is no strict chronological order in the Bible, the Megillah is found amongst the Writings. Now the phrase “there is no earlier and later in the Torah” always means that a particular story in the Torah may appear out of order. However, this is the only place I know where the phrase is used with respect to the order of Biblical books. The Talmud notes that certain books are not in chronological order, such Isaiah, Ezekiel, and then Jeremiah (this was their arrangement in the Talmud), but it does not explain by claiming that “there is no earlier or later in the Torah;” rather, it finds a thematic order for the books. The use of the phrase “there no earlier or later in the Torah” to mean that the Megillah was spoken to Moses on Sinai, is to greatly extend the rule and to take it to the absurd. Likewise the message that the Megillah was given on Sinai is of course hyperbole, an historical impossibility. Source 9: PT Megilah 70d Prophets and Writings will be cancelled in the future, but the Five books of the Torah are not destined to be cancelled … R. Simeon b. Lakish says, also the Scroll of Esther and the Laws will not be cancelled in the future.

The Jerusalem Talmud goes on to say that when all of Prophets and Writings will be rendered superfluous, the Torah will always remain. Rabbi Simeon’s inclusion of Esther in this category is at once surprising and not quite understandable. This claim once again equates Megillah with Torah, and perhaps explains why this midrash was placed adjacent to the comment about the Megillah having been given to Moses on Sinai. Source 10: BT Megilah 19b R. Ḥiyya bar Abba said in the name of R. Yoḥanan: What is the meaning of that which is written: “And the writing upon them was in accordance with all the words that God spoke to you on the mountain” (Deut. 9:10)? This teaches that the Holy One, Blessed is He, showed Moses the fine interpretations and what

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In line with Sources 7, 8, 9 above, the reading of the Megillah is upgraded. Though it is clearly a rabbinic innovation, by deriving the obligation from a verse in Deuteronomy using the midrashic method,20 it is accorded the status of a biblically ordained commandment. Source 11: BT Megilah 14a The rabbis taught: Forty-eight prophets and seven prophetesses preached to Israel, and subtracted or added nothing, save the reading of the Megillah, which was instituted by the prophets alone. What basis had they for that? Said R. Ḥiyya bar Avin in the name of R. Joshua b. Korḥa: They drew an a fortiori conclusion: if when Israel was delivered from slavery to freedom they sang, so much the more when they were saved from death to life. Why, then, do we not say Hallel on Purim?…Rava said: There, when they went out of Egypt, it was right to say Hallel, because it is said: "Praise, O ye servants of the Lord," and not Pharaoh's; but now, how could they say so on Purim, since they continued to be slaves of Ahasuerus?

This passage begins with a tannaitic observation: From whence did the prophets in the second Temple period get the right to add a commandment to the Torah, in the form of the obligation to read the Megillah on Purim? This observation is predicated on a longstanding rule that obligatory commandments are derived only from Torah verses, not even from prophets, certainly not from the Writings. According to Rabbi Joshua ben Korḥa, this derived from an a fortiori argument, or kal vaḥomer: If on Passover we recite songs of exultation on being freed from slavery, how much more so should we sing when delivered from the hands of death? But if so, inquires the Talmud, then Purim was a greater redemption than Passover; this being the case, why do we recite the Hallel, songs of praise from Psalms, on Passover, but not on Purim? With no little irony, Rava, a fourth generation Babylonian Amora (320-350 C.E.), answers: after the Exodus, we were no longer Pharaoh’s slaves, but after Purim, we remained slaves of Ahasuerus and the Persian Empire right up into the Talmudic period. In this source, the status 20 Presumably, the phrase kekhol hadevarim, “all the words” (Deut. 9:10) contains an “extra” word, kekhol, which often is expounded to include something more (the method of ribuy). In this case the reading of the Megillah is included in the revelation to Moses.

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of Purim, like the Megillah, is upgraded vis à vis Passover, only to be radically reversed and downgraded by Rava’s ironic comment. This parallels the ups and downs of the Megillah plot and its ironies. Source 12: PT Megilah 70d Eighty five elders, amongst them thirty and several prophets, were saddened by this matter. They said, it is written, “These are the commandments which the Lord has commanded to Moses” (Lev.27:34), these are the commandments which we have received from the mouth of Moses, so told us Moses, that no other prophet is entitled to reveal to us any new commandment, and Mordecai and Esther want to institute something new?

Note the tone here, as compared with Source 11. Source 11 is from the Babylonian Talmud, which was sympathetic to Purim.21 This source is far more critical of instituting a new commandment, and finds a biblical basis for the prohibition to do so. In the end, PT Megilah also finds a justification for reading the Megillah, seeing it as part of the biblical commandment to wipe out Amalek and to record a reminder to do so, a function which the Megillah fulfills.22 Source 13: Esther Rabbah 6:2 “In the fortress of Shushan lived a Jew [lit. a Jewish man] by the name of Mordecai.” This teaches that Mordecai in his generation was the equivalent of Moses in his, for of Moses it says, “Now Moses was a humble man (Num. 12:3)…just as Moses taught the Torah to Israel…so did Mordecai, as it is written, “words of peace and truth” (Esth. 9:30) and it says, “Buy truth and never sell it (Prov. 23:23).”

This source equates Mordecai with Moses. Just as Moses taught the Torah to Israel, so did Mordecai, for it says of the Megillah that these were divrei shalom ve’emet, “words of peace and truth” and the word “truth” is used of the Torah as well, for that is how the verse in Proverbs in interpreted. With this source we have come full circle, for the identical comparison was made in Source 1 to equate the Megillah with Torah. I might note that the 21 The tradent is Ḥiya bar Avin, a Babylonian Amora (290-350) who came to Israel and studied in Tiberias. He passed on several statements in the name of R. Joshua b. Korḥa, a Tanna of the generation after R. Akiva (135-170 C.E.), see BT Gitin 57b; Bava Batra 91b. 22 See n. 17 above, n. 32 below.

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Talmud in Sanhedrin (21b) makes the same claim for Ezra, that he was in effect “a second Moses”, fit to receive the Torah, had not Moses preceded him. But there is much more textual support for Ezra’s role as a teacher of the Law than the same claim on behalf of Mordecai. The word torah makes some 25 appearances in Ezra-Nehemiah; it is not to be found even once in the Megillah, nor is there any hint of its observance, let alone its study or teaching, so “Mordecai as Moses” is a bombastic claim. SUMMARY We have seen rulings which equate the laws of writing and reading the Megillah with those that govern the writing and reading of Torah scrolls. Aggadic sources quoted above make the Megillah a second Torah, Mordecai a teacher the equivalent of Moses, and Purim a greater holiday than Passover. Alongside these, we have found several rulings stating that the Megillah is not identical with a Torah scroll; further, Aggadic sources such as 10 and 11 above question instituting a new commandment to read the Megillah over and above the 613 commandments of the Torah. Although one may claim that the contradictory views about the standing of Purim and the Megillah originate in opposing opinions, when taken together, these comments parallel the reversals and hyperbole that we find in the Megillah itself. I think that the rabbis adopted the innate characteristics of paradox and exaggeration as a way to bolster the standing of the scroll and its holiday. Why was the Megillah in need of support? Purim and the Megillah came under attack, both from inside and outside: From the inside, the rabbis themselves questioned initiating a new holiday which was not written in the Torah. Further, the main observance of the holiday was to read from a scroll, which was something done only from the Torah or the canonical prophets. By what virtue did the story of Purim from the Second Temple period earn the right to be considered Holy Writ? Some find the reluctance to institute a new holiday already within the text of the Megillah itself.23 There are scholars who feel that the holiday was 23 In the need for a second letter written by Esther and Mordecai (Esth. 9:29). This was noted by Ibn Ezra (ibid. 30) who commented on the phrase “words of peace and truth”(ibid.) as follows: “Words of peace, that they fear not, because they did not observe the commandment of Purim; and the meaning of ‘truth,’ that they undertake to observe the holiday as they had previously accepted to do” (in verse 27). As for the words “the obligation of the fasts with their lamentations” (ibid., 31), he notes: “They accepted to be happy on the days of Purim just as they had accepted, in the days of their mourning after the capture of Jerusalem and the de-

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accepted only much later in Palestine; they point to the fact that not a single fragment from the Book of Esther has been found among the Dead Sea Scrolls as proof that the book was not copied often in the Land of Israel.24 We have already said that the Babylonian sources seem to treat the issue more gently than the Palestinian, Babylonia (Persia) having been the setting of the story. In sum, Purim and the Megillah were not universally accepted. One may assume that there must also have been an attack on the book from without. H. L. Ginsberg, who with others translated the Five Megillot and Jonah, writes in his introduction: “The Book of Esther may be described, if one stretches a point or two, as a mock-learned disquisition to be read as the opening of a carnival-like celebration.”25 Adele Berlin, in the JPS Bible commentary, calls the work a comedy and a burlesque and sees this as its essence.26 Jon Levenson’s assessment is much more nuanced, but he too notes that it is “so entertaining, so comical. . .”27 Robert Alter describes the Megillah as “a kind of fairytale—the lovely damsel, guided by a wise godfather, is made queen and saves her people”.28 Shmaryahu Talmon did not read it as a comedy, but as a secular work of a different genre, a battle of wits between Haman and Mordecai in the Wisdom tradition. “The contest will be decided upon not by moral superiority or by divine grace, but rather by a ruthless application of all the ruses found in the book of the ‘wise’ courtier. . .”29 If one adds to these assessments the fact that there is not a single overt religious reference in the entire work and that the name of God is totally absent, we are hard put to find its redeeming value.30

struction of the Temple, to fast,” citing the verses in Zechariah that mention four national fast days (Zech. 8:18-19). H. L. Ginsberg, The Five Megillot, 88, added that the words “equity and honesty” (Esth. 9:30) recall Zech. 8:19, “Just love equity and honesty,” since in the Hebrew both phrases use emet and shalom. The similarity is intentional; the Megillah teaches that the people had to be convinced to institute a new holiday, based on the rationale that they had already accepted new days of fasting though they were not ordained by the Torah. 24 Paton, Esther, p. 97: “In Palestine there was long opposition before it was admitted to the Canon.” 25 H.L. Ginsberg, The Five Megilloth, 83. 26 The JPS Bible Commentary: Esther, Introduction, xvi-xix. 27 J. D. Levenson, Esther, 12. 28 Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 34. See too E. L. Greenstein, “A Jewish Reading of Esther”, 225-243. 29 S. Talmon, “‘Wisdom’ in the Book of Esther”, 433. 30 Esther’s request that all the Jews of Shushan fast on her behalf (4:16), as well as an earlier reference to “fasting, weeping, and wailing” as a sign of mourning

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It is entirely possible that humorous or ironic readings were not lost on earlier generations, and one may point to the carnival atmosphere of traditional Purim celebrations in support of such a contention. Lightheadedness on Purim is already indicated in the Talmudic ruling (BT Megilah 7b) that “A man is obliged to intoxicate himself on Purim, till he cannot distinguish between ‘cursed be Haman’ and ‘blessed be Mordecai’.” If the story of Esther contributed to such behavior, why, the Rabbis asked, was it included in the Scriptures? Where is its religious message? By applying to the Megillah the rules of the halakhic midrash, the Rabbis showed that this was a text to be taken seriously;31 the obligation to read the Megillah and the other customs of the holiday were now tantamount to commandments derived from the Torah. Coupled with the ideas that the redemption of the Megillah was equivalent to the redemption of Passover and that Mordecai was the equal of Moses, the rabbis were demonstrating that this story was actually another link in the biblical heilsgeschichte, a chapter in the redemption theme of the entire Bible, and therefore had earned the right to be included in the canon.32 I want to support this idea from similar applications of Midrash: out of five scrolls in the Bible, two others also received such treatment—the Song of Songs and Ecclesiastes. Rabbi Akivah in the Mishnah called the Song of Songs the Holy of Holies. In this play on words, he was according the book elevated status. Further, he continued, “the entire world is not so worthy as the day on which the Song of Songs was given to Israel”, implying that like the Torah, the Song was divinely given to Israel. The same R. Akivah stated in the Tosefta, “he who raises his voice in song in the drinking houses and makes of the Song of Songs a kind of zemer or popular tune, has no share in the world to come”. Putting both statements together, Rabbi Akivah no doubt knew about erotic readings the Song of Songs must have received in the hands of the masses, and he therefore countered by elevating the Song to supreme importance. This elevation (4:3) are clearly religious in nature, but as the word for “prayer” is sorely missing, these should be deemed covert references. 31 “We expect a biblical book to be serious and its message to be congruent with the messages of other biblical books as they have been interpreted by the tradition.” (A. Berlin, Esther, xviii). 32 I might add that the Rabbis saw in the Megillah a text that illustrated the battle against Amalek, since Haman is called “the Aggagite” (Esth. 3:1). It thus joined a text from the Torah (Ex.17:14-16) and the Prophets (I Sam. 15) in commanding the eradication of Amalek. This was reason enough to make the Megillah canonical (PT Megilah 70d).

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took the form of allegorical interpretation, which served in part to deflect the reading of the song as a sensual poem about human love. In the case of Kohelet, the Rabbis themselves raised objections to the book: Both Talmud and Midrash tell us that they wanted to relegate the book to genizah or removal from circulation because of its contradictions and close-to-heretical positions. Rabbi Simeon ben Menasiah denied it any sort of divine inspiration: “The book of Kohelet does not render the hands unclean”—a halakhic way of saying that it is not holy writ—“because it is the wisdom of Solomon,” meaning human wisdom and not divinely inspired. Through a series of derashot that converted heretical statements into acceptable ones, the Midrash “saved” the book.33 In sum, three of the scrolls, Esther, the Song of Songs, and Ecclesiastes, present the reader with ideological and literary challenges. On the religious plane, they do not speak of Torah and its commandments and they seem to ignore Divine Providence in this world. On the literary plane, one may be read as comedy, the second as erotic poetry, the third as pessimistic skepticism. All these genres seriously preclude any religious or educational value. In order to lend them a sense of continuity with biblical themes and bring them into line with rabbinic beliefs, the Midrash came to the defense.34 In each and every instance, the defense took note of the literary nature of the scroll to make its case. In the case of Esther, the subject of the current study, the Rabbis noted reversals, exaggerations, and irony in the story and in its telling, and incorporated these same traits in their midrashic I. Gottlieb, “Pirqe Abot and Biblical Wisdom;” idem, “Qohelet, Pirqe Abot, and Wisdom of Torah” (Heb.). 34 M. Halbertal, People of the Book, 24-26, makes the very same point about these three scrolls from the perspective of canonization. In his view, canonizing them meant limiting their interpretation to meanings that were consistent with the rest of Scriptures (p. 24). He would have it that canonization brings about restrictions: “When Ecclesiastes was introduced into the body of the Scriptures, however, it was required to give up its unique and heretical message” (p. 24); “The canonical position of this poem [the Song of Songs] compels a metaphoric reading of it” (p. 26). I see the order of events in reverse. I think that the Midrash put these works, each in its own way, on a pedestal, which in turn brought about their exalted position. After all, the aggadic readings of Esther in Midrash and Talmud are effusive, not restrictive: at times they are humorous, at times serious; events in the Megillah are described now as miraculous, now as Machiavellian; oftimes the word “the king” refers to God, while in other midrash comments, “the king” is Ahasuerus. It is specifically the halakhic midrash approach, as we have tried to show, which imparts to the Megillah exalted (canonical) status. 33

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treatment of the book.35 Rather than object to the nature of the book and its style of writing, they employed its literary qualities to best advantage in order to get across their reading of the Megillah and the significance which such a reading implied.

35 As stated in the previous note, my point was to stress the halakhic treatment of Esther as exaggerated and sometimes paradoxical. So far as humor, reversal, and exaggeration in the aggadic midrash, see for example Bereshit Rabbah (Theodor-Albeck), 30, 275 (Midrash Rabbah, Soncino Press: 1951, vol. I, 237): “Said Rabbi Judan: On one occasion he [Mordecai] went round to all the wet nurses but could not find one for Esther, whereupon he himself suckled her….When R. Abbahu taught this publicly, the congregation laughed. Said he to them: Yet is this not a Mishnah? R. Simeon b. Eleazar said: the milk of a male is clean.” I thank Marc Bregman for this reference.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Alter, Robert, The Art of Biblical Narrative. New York, 1981. Berlin, Adele, The JPS Bible Commentary: Esther. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2001. Bickerman, Elias, Four Strange Books of the Bible: Jonah, Daniel, Koheleth, Esther. New York, 1967. Charlesworth, James H. (ed.), The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. New York: Doubleday, 1983. Ginsberg, H. L., The Five Megilloth and Jonah: A New Translation. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1969. Goitein, S. D., Bible Studies (Hebrew). Tel Aviv: Yavneh Publishing House, 1967. Gottlieb, Isaac, “Pirqe Abot and Biblical Wisdom”, VT 40 (1990), 152-164. — “Qohelet, Pirqe Abot, and Wisdom of Torah”, Shnaton: An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies 11 (1997), 46-55 (Hebrew). Greenstein, Edward L., “A Jewish Reading of Esther”, Judaic Perspectives on Ancient Israel, ed. J. Neusner et al, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987, 225243. Halbertal, Moshe, People of the Book: Canon, Meaning, and Authority. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1977. Hirshman, Marc, “Qohelet’s Reception and Interpretation in Early Rabbinic Literature”, Studies in Ancient Midrash, ed. James L. Kugel, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001, 87-99. Levenson, John D., Esther: A Commentary. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997. Metzger, Bruce, An Introduction to the Apocrypha. New York: Oxford University Press, 1957 Moore, Carey A., Esther (The Anchor Bible). New York, 1971. — “Esther, Book of”, The Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. 2. New York: Doubleday, 1992, 633-643. Paton, Lewis B., The Book of Esther (The International Critical Commentary). Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1908. Segal, Eliezer Lorne, The Babylonian Esther Midrash – A Critical Commentary. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994. Talmon, Shmaryahu, “‘Wisdom’ in the Book of Esther”. VT 13 (1965), 225-243. Torrey, C. C., The Apocryphal Literature. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1945.

THE DEMISE OF THE SCHOOL OF SHAMMAI AND THE FALL OF JERUSALEM John T. Townsend Harvard University Why did the School of Shammai lose most of its influence to the School of Hillel? The thesis of this essay is that the loss was largely due to what the School of Shammai suffered for actively opposing Rome in the war that lead to the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in CE 70.1 At that time the leader of the School of Hillel was Johanan ben Zakkai.2 He had found himself besieged in Jerusalem but had managed to escape through a ruse. Differing traditions agree that he simply feigned his death and had his followers carry him out of the city for burial. He then proclaimed his neutrality to the Roman general, Vespasian and foretold that he would become Emperor. Having received the general’s favor, he asked for and received permission to set up an academy of scholars; and so was formed the Hillelite After this time, even though the school of Shammai may have been of little importance, an occasional sage might agree with Shammaite rulings. The most notable of these was Eliezer ben Hyracanus (d. 117), who was regarded as a Shammaite for his stringent views (BT Shab. 130b; PT Shevi. 9:9 [39a]; PT Beitsah 1:4 [60]; etc.). In this era, these views resulted in his excommunication (BT BM 59b). 2 Jacob Neusner wrote his doctoral dissertation on Johanan ben Zakkai, which became his first publication, A Life of Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai Ca. 1-80 C. E. (Brill: Leiden, 1962). He soon became more critical of his sources, a fact illustrated in his later publications. In particular see his completely revised second edition (Brill: Leiden, 1970); idem, Development of a Legend: Studies on the Traditions concerning Yohanan ben Zakkai (Leiden: Brill, 1970). More recently, see idem, “The use of the Mishnah for the History of Judaism Prior to the time of the Mishnah: A Methodological Note”, Journal for the Study of Judaism 11 (1980), 177-185. See also Alexander Guttmann, “Hillelites and Shammaites: A Clarification”, HUCA, 28(1957), 115-126. He concludes (p. 125) that “Beth Shammai, having been outlawed, vanished from the history of Judaism. Subsequently, the designation Beth Hillel became meaningless.” 1

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academy at Jamnia (or Javneh).3 While our sources may not provide historical certainty, especially in regard to detail,4 we can be quite certain of the establishment of a Rabbinic academy at Jamnia following the fall of Jerusalem; however, the legend is important in itself. Legends show what people believed to have happened, and it is what people believe that moves later history. It is also interesting to note here that R. Johanan ben Zakkai surrendered to the Romans in a way somewhat similar to Josephus,5 but Josephus chose to go to Rome and spend his time in defense of Judaism (and himself) by writing histories. In the end, however, Judaism chose to follow the way of Johanan ben Zakkai with the scholars at Jamnia, and it was they who laid the foundation for a Judaism without the Jerusalem Temple.6 It is unfortunate that there is not enough evidence about the demise of the School of Shammai to arrive at any certainty; however, what I am presenting here at least fits the facts as we know them. Nevertheless, I take heart in what I learned from the late Professor Henry Cadbury, who taught 3 Various versions of this story appear in ARN A, 4:5 (Schechter, pp. 2224/11b-12a); ARN B, 6 (Schechter p. 19/10a); BT Git. 56ab; Lam. R. 1:5:31; Eccl. R. 7:12:1; Midr. Prov., 15. For analysis see Neusner, Life, 2nd ed., 157-176; idem, First-Century Judaism in Crisis: Yohanan ben Zakkai and the Renaissance of Torah (Nashville, Abingdon, 1975), 145-148. 4 Neusner, “The Quest of the Historical Rabban Yohannan ben Zakkai”, HTR 59 (1966), 391-413; idem, Development of a Legend, especially 228-239. 5 Josephus, BJ 3:8:1-9 (340-408). 6 Both schools seem to have been included among the Pharisees and the people represented in Rabbinic literature, although exactly who the Pharisees were is a matter of much dispute. Even the Hebrew name for Pharisee (parush) is uncertain. It can mean “separatist” or “schismatic” but can also mean that they were noted as interpreters of the Law. (See Anthony J. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes and Sadducees in Palestinian Society [Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1988), 230ff.]) In favor of the former meaning is the fact that Josephus (BJ 2:2 [119]; 2:14 [162]; Ant. 13:5:9 [171]; 10:5 [288]; Vita 2 [10,12]; 38 [191]; 39[197]) refers to them as a heresy (haíresis) and that early Rabbinic literature only calls them by this term in controversies with the Sadducees. See Ellis Rivkin, A Hidden Revolution (Nashville: Abingdon, 1978), 177; idem, “Defining the Pharisees: The Tannaitic Sources”, HUCA 40-41(1969-70), 205-250. In any case, while the Pharisees seem closely related to the Rabbinic movement, we cannot assume that they were identical. Cf., e.g., Mishnah Yad. 4:68, in which Johanan ben Zakkai seems to be speaking of the perushim as sectarians with which he has some disagreements. For a critical history of research on the Pharisees since Wellhausen and Graetz, see Roland Deines, Die Pharisäer (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997).

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that the three most important words for a historian of this period are, “I don’t know”. What first suggested this thesis to me about the demise of the School of Shammai was noting how the views of the two schools appear in Rabbinic literature. Over and over again, when early Rabbinic literature records the differences between the schools, the Shammaite position appears first and only then comes the decision from the School of Hillel with very few exceptions.7 According to the reckoning of Jacob Neusner, in the Mishnah, the Tosefta, and in the tannaitic midrashim, the views of Shammaites precede those of the house of Hillel about 219 times, while the reverse order occurs about 8 times. (An exact count is not possible because in a few cases the order differs in sources discussing the same ruling).8 Then the text generally goes on to accept the ruling from the School of Hillel.9 One might argue that such a presentation is merely a matter of Rabbinic style, but the interpretation here agrees with a well known story about the two schools. We are told that the Hillelite position was confirmed by a voice from heaven (bat qol) proclaiming, “Both [schools in their rulings] are the words of the living G-d, but the practice (halakhah) is in accord with the School of Hillel.”10 Why are the sages honoring Shammai but following Hillel? It is

7 So PT Suk. 2:8 (52c) bar. Note that the passage is a baraita, a fact which suggests, but may not always guarantee, that it stems from the Tannaitic period. Some baraitot seem to derive from Amoraic sources. See Jacob Neusner, “Shammai and Jonathan b. ’Uzziel”, Kairos 12 (1970), 309-313. 8 Jacob Neusner, The Traditions about the Pharisees before 70 (Leiden: Brill, 1971), Part II. Note also that the Shammaite views appear alone 7 times, and those of Hillel appear alone only once. 9 For exceptions, see PT Suk. 2:8 (52c) bar. For wider witnesses to the schools, see the Hebrew book of Israel Konovitz, Beth Shammai & Beth Hillel: Collected Sayings, in Halakhah and Aggadah in the Talmudic and Midrashic Literature (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kuk, 1965), 9-136, who lists about 900 references to the schools or to the Tannaitic sages themselves. We should also note, however, that in a later period, when a bat kol favored the conservative R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus against the Hillelites, the Hillelites chose to discount it as evidence. See BT BM 59b. 10 BT Eruv. 13b bar.// PT Sot. 3:4 (19a) bar.; PT Yev. 1:6 (3b); PT Qid. 1:1 (58d). Cf. Tanh. Numb. 3:15 // Tanh. Buber, Numb. 3:25, which simply stress that according to Eccl. 12:11, the views of both schools “were given from one shepherd.” According to BT Eruv. 6b-7a; BT RH 14b bar.; BT Ḥul. 43b-44; Tosefta Yev. 1:11; Tosefta Edu. 2:3, although one follows the school of Hillel, one may follow the school of Shammai where it is more stringent. See Reuven Kimelman, “Judaism and Pluralism”, Modern Judaism 7:2 (1987), p. 133; Avi Sagi, “‘Both are the Words of

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clear from the context of this tradition that putting the School of Shammai in the place of honor needed an explanation, since it was the School of Hillel that ultimately controlled the tradition. Here the explanation was that the one caused the other. In other words, the law followed the School of Hillel, because it had the humility to put the Shammaites first, i.e., in the place of honor.11 In a similar way Israel honors those who in the days of the Maccabees died rather than profane the Sabbath (I Macc. 2:29-38) or eat forbidden food (II Macc. 7:1-42), but regards life as more sacred than either. In order to save one’s life, one may break any law except murder, forbidden sex such as incest, or outright apostasy. Before the fall of Jerusalem the Shammaites were a power to be reckoned with. While at times their relationship with the Hillelites might be described as friendly rivalry,12 sometimes the relations became more strained. In fact, on occasion they were even willing to use force in promoting their views. There is a tradition about one specific occasion when the Shammaites insured their majority by blocking the entrance to the assembly and keeping out the Hillelites with swords and spears. It was at on that occasion that the Shammaites used their majority to enact what became known as the Eighteen Decrees.13It is also necessary to consider specifically the situation the Living God’: A Topological Analysis of Halakhic Pluralism”, HUCA 65 (1994), 105-136. 11 BT Eruv. 13b, bar.; PT Suk. 2:8 (53c), bar. See also Neusner, Life, 2nd ed., 50-51; Kimelman, “Judaism”, 134-137; Lou Silberman, “Conflict for the Sake of Heaven”, in Justice and the Holy: Essays in Honor of Walter Harrelson, ed. Douglas A. Knight and Peter J. Paris (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), 189-192, especially pp. 190-191. 12 For example, according to Mishnah Yev. 1:4; Tosefta Yev. 1:10 the two schools sanctioned intermarriage. See Kimelman, “Judaism”, 134-135; Silberman, “Conflict”, 189f. See also Neusner, Pharisees, I, 378-379; idem, Development of a Legend, 37; on a joint letter from Simon ben Gamaliel I and Johanan ben Zakkai handed down in Midrash Tannaim to Deut. 26:13 (Hoffmann ed. 175-176). For other versions of this letter or a similar one, see also J(acob) N(ahum) Epstein, Mavo lenusaḥ hamishnah, 3rd ed. (Jerusalerm: Magnes, 2000), vol. II, 1202f. 13 Mishnah Shab. 1:4; Tosefta Shab. 1:16; BT Shab. 13b; PT Shab. 1:7 (4) 3c; also BT Shab. 17a, which probably refers to the same event. See Kimelman, “Judaism”, 133-134; Silberman, “Conflict”, 187-202, especially pp. 191-192. In fact, according to PT Shab. 1:4 (3d), some from the school of Hillel were slain. There is another possible reference in a mirror version of the Hasmonaean Megillat Ta’anit which appears at the end of many editions. The last line of this later work reads, “On the ninth of [Adar] they decreed a fast when the school of Shammai and the

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in Galilee before the fall of Jerusalem. According to PT Shab. 16:8 (15d),14 Johanan ben Zakkai resided in Galilee for eighteen years, years that overlap the time of Jesus and that during this whole period he only adjudicated two cases. This tradition suggests at least two possibilities that came up in a conversation with the late Morton Smith. He suggested the first possibility, that the Pharisees could not have been too important at the time. My answer was the second possibility, that perhaps the unpopularity of Johanan ben Zakkai may have derived from the fact that he was a Hillelite; and there is some suggestion that Galilean Pharisees were partial to the School of Shammai.15 I have always had trouble in seeing the Pharisees as relatively unimportant before the fall of Jerusalem,16 even though a majority of Galileans may not have observed their teachings. After all the New Testament Gospels portray the Pharisees as a major influence in Galilean Judaism and do so School of Hillel became opposed”. For the text of this Hebrew calendar that lists 27of Israel’s unhappy remembrances, see the Hebrew book of Ben-Zion Lurie, Megillath Ta’anith with Introductions and Notes (Jerusalem: Bialik Inst., 1964), 200-201. 14 The tradition is attributed to R. Ulla, one of two who flourished in the 3rd century; however, such attributions must be accepted with caution. See, e.g., Neusner, “Why We Cannot Assume the Historical Reliability of Attributions: The Case of the Houses in Mishnah-Tosefta Makhshirin”, The Mishnah in Contemporary Perspective, 2 (2006), 190-212. 15 The suggestion that Shammaitic Pharisees were dominant is Galilee is not new. See Ernst Lohmeyer, Galiläa und Jerusalem (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1936), 26. Louis Finkelstein, The Pharisees, 3rd edition (Philadelphia: JPSA, 1962), 4-5 show his conclusions in chart form. See also pp. 40-60, especially pp. 5154, 59-60. Note that Finkelstein’s most persuasive arguments appear in “The Pharisees, Their Origin and their Philosophy”, HTR 22 (1930), 185-261. What he adds in the various editions of his book become less and less probable. More recently see Martin Goodman, “Galilean Judaism and Judaean Judaism”, Cambridge History of Judaism, Vol. III: The Early Roman Period, ed. William Horbury, W. D. Davies and John Strudy (Cambridge Univ. Press, 1999), 596-617. See also Lohmeyer, ibid., who points out the connection between Galilee and revolt against Rome by another who may or may not have been a Shammaite, namely John of Giscala, who suspected the loyalty of Josephus, defended the Temple to the end, and died in a Roman prison. 16 According to Ranon Katzoff in a Hebrew Essay, “The Laws of Rabbi Eliezer in Ancient Rome”, Torah Lishma: Essays in Jewish Studies in Honor of Professor Shamma Friedman, ed. David Golinkin et al. (Jerusalem: Schechter Inst. Of Jewish Studies, 2007) 344-357, Rabbinic literature represents first-Century Roman Jews as tending to follow the rulings of Eliezer ben Hyracanus (d. 117), and therefore the school of Shammai, pp. 344-357, in the first century.

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repeatedly. According to these Gospels they also were the one named group who thought enough of Jesus to hear and dispute with him on a regular basis. Whenever Jesus taught, we are told many times that Pharisees were in attendance; and whatever the actual situation, the gospel writers believed that they were the major group who were present and disputing with Jesus. Other sects named by Josephus play no great part in the Gospels, at least until the accounts of Jesus’ death and passion in Jerusalem. Then the Pharisees largely disappear from the gospel versions; and in the earliest one, namely the Markan passion narrative, the disappearance is complete. Thus according to the earliest Christian tradition the Pharisees had nothing to do with Jesus’ crucifixion17 Now in regard to the School of Shammai, what is interesting is that in at least eleven instances, where the New Testament touches matters of dispute between the two schools, the New Testament favors Shammaite decisions eight times,18 the School of Hillel two, possibly three, times,19 and on one issue there is a split between Paul and James.20 The fact that followers of Jesus tended to favor the views of the School of Shammai could be at least a contributing factor for the founders of what later became Rabbinic Judaism to prefer the School of Hillel.21 It is also important to note that,

17 In fact according to Luke 13:31, it was the Pharisees who warned Jesus to leave Galilee because Herod Antipas was out to kill him. See also my A Liturgical Interpretation in Narrative Form of the Passion of Jesus Christ, 2nd ed. (New York: NCCJ, 1985). 18 (1) Post death repentance, (2) divorce, (3) guilt for an evil intention, (4) absolute truthfulness, (5) hostility to the dove sellers of the Jerusalem Temple, (6) spiritualizing of angels, (7) anti-Romanism, and (8) a relatively pro feminist attitude. 19 (1) Cleansing the inside of the cup, and (2) a relatively lax attitude to the Sabbath. Since a heavenly voice (bat kol) proclaimed that one should follow the school of Hillel, we should expect this school to rely on it as authoritative, but such was not necessarily the case. See above n. 9. 20 Paul and the school of Hillel generally represented a pro-proselyte attitude, with James and the school of Shammai being relatively less favorable. For a discussion of these eleven instances in which the New Testament alludes to matters of dispute between the schools, see my essay, “The New Testament and the House of Shammai”, in When Judaism and Christianity Began: Essays in Memory of Anthony J. Saldarini, ed. A. J. Avery Peck, D. Harrington, and J. Neusner (Suppls. to JSJ: Leiden: Brill, 2004); vol. 2, 445-419. 21 See Neusner, “‘Pharisaic-Rabbinic’ Judaism: A Clarification”, Hist. of Rel. 12 (1972), 250-270.

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while the Shammaite views could generally be seen as the more stringent,22 there are plenty of exceptions.23 Other influences, however, were probably more important in the demise of the School of Shammai. As mentioned above, a likely reason is that the School of Shammai was involved in the revolt against Rome which resulted in the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in the year 70. The mere fact that the School of Shammai appears to have lost its influence after this date suggests that there is a connection. Early tradition tells us that the Johanan ben Zakkai made a deal with Rome to permit the academy at Jamnia. What is more difficult to prove is that the School of Shammai was in active opposition to the Roman forces. What we can know is that at least one, more probably two, leading Shammaites, one in Galilee and one in Jerusalem, were actively involved in this opposition and that one or two of well known Shammaites acting against Rome would have been more than enough reason in the eyes of Rome to condemn the whole school. The first was Eleazar ben Hananiah ben Hezekiah ben Garon (Greek: Ananias). His father Hananiah had been one of the Shammaite instigators of the Eighteen Decrees, namely the Shammaite rulings which were enacted in the upper room of his house by a Shammaite majority, a majority they only obtained through drawn swords.24 In other words the Shammaites won the vote by physically preventing Hillelites from attending the meeting. Like his father, Hananiah, Eleazar also apparently lived according to Shammaite halakhah,25 and it was this same Eleazar who was the general for Idumea in the first war against the Romans.26 In fact, Josephus names him as the chief instigator of that war.27 The second was Simeon ben Gamaliel I. Although his father may well have been in agreement with the School of Hillel,28 on three occasions is See e.g., Shmuel Safrai, “Halakha”, in Literature of the Sages, first part (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1987), 121-122, and especially 186-187. 23 See, e.g., E. S. Rosenthal, “Tradition and Innovation in the Halakhah of the Sages” (in Hebrew), Tarbiz 63(1993/94), 321-374. 24 The incident was not without the killing of Hillelites. See PT Shab. 1:7 or 4 (3c) bar. The steps to such a room were typically on the outside of the house, and a few swords could easily prevent the Hillelites from entering to vote. See also BT Shab. 17a, which probably refers to the same event. 25 See Mekhilta de R. Ishmael, “Baḥodesh” 7, lines 66-70 (in the Lauterbach edition), which mentions a practice of Eleazar that BT Beitsah 16a labels as Shammaite. 26 Josephus, BJ 2:5 (166). Note that Neos is usually emended to read Ananias. 27 BJ 2:2 (409) 28 But cf. below, n. 30. 22

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reported to have given Shammaitic rulings.29 Simeon himself seemed to have acted more like a Shammaite;30 and according to PT Shab. 1:7 or 4 (3c) he was the source for eight of the Eighteen Shammaite Decrees mentioned above. Another example of his Shammaite sympathies reported in the Mishnah was his action against the dove sellers in the Jerusalem Temple of whom the Shammaites disapproved.31 He cleansed the Temple of dove sellers simply by giving a ruling that caused the bottom to fall out of the dove market.32 In regard to Rome, although he was against the extreme Zealot nationalists,33 he certainly was not in agreement with Johanan ben Zakkai, who salvaged his scholarly Hillelite circle through what an opponent might regard as appeasement. On the contrary, Simeon ben Gamaliel I was a leader of the pro-war Pharisees.34 While it seems likely that he died in the fall of Jerusalem, his end must remain unknown.35 The anti-Roman activities of two important Shammaites need not mean that all the Shammaites were anti-Roman. Through Roman eyes, however, such would likely have appeared to be the case. Just as today the United States policy concerning the Iraq war is far from unanimous among Mishnah Beitsah 2:6 lists three examples. Louis Finkelstein, Akiba (Philadelphia: JPSA, 1936), pp. 46-60. For other reasons suggesting that this Simeon was a Shammaite, see Neusner, Pharisees, Pt. I, 377-388. Note, however, that Salo W. Baron, A Social and Religious History of the Jews: Ancient Times, 2nd and edition, revised and enlarged, Vol II (Philadelphia: JPSA, 1952), 117, while admitting his role against Rome, assumes that he is still of the school of Hillel. Similarly Haim H. Ben-Sasson (ed.), A History of the Jewish People (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1976), 251, 281, 284, 298. Still, the basic argument that Simeon was a Hillelite is merely that his father was a Hillelite. However, see Neusner, Pharisees, vol. 1, 341-376, who argues that his father Gamaliel may well have been a Shammaite. If Neusner’s suggestion is correct, then it is interesting to note that in the New Testament the book of Acts portrays Gamaliel as a defender of Jesus’ apostles (5:34ff.) and as a teacher of Paul (22:3). 31 Mishnah Ker. 1:7 // Sifra 125 Tazri`a 3 (59ab in Weiss ed.) 32 For details see my essay, “The New Testament and the House of Shammai”, 411-412. 33 Josephus, BJ 4:3:12 (196-207); Emil Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 B.C.-A.D. 135), A new English version revised and edited by Geza Vermes and Fergus Millar, Pamela Vermes and Matthew Black (Edinburgh: T.&T. Clark, 1973), vol. 1, 497. 34 Among his other activities, he wanted to replace Josephus in Galilee. See Josephus, Vita 40 (190ff.), 44 (216ff.), 60 (390ff.); also BJ 4:9 (359-361). 35 The martyrdom referred to in Semaḥot (Evel Rabati) 8:8, 47a; ARN A 38 (57a) // ARN B 41 (57a); et al must be Simeon ben Gamaliel II, since these reports have him martyred along with R. Ishmael. 29 30

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its citizens; nevertheless, in much of the Muslim world Americans as a whole tend to receive the blame (or credit) for what is happening there. Let me now try to draw together what I am saying. Two questions arise: 1. “Why does Rabbinic tradition honor the Shammaites while rejecting their rulings?” and 2.“What was the reason for their becoming relatively marginal after the year 70?”36 A likely answer to both is that they appeared as heroes for resisting Rome, but suffered devastation for that resistance. A further issue may have been a tendency among many followers of Jesus to identify with Shammaitic rulings, and during the first war against Rome the Jerusalem Church had seemed to reject Judaism by fleeing the city for Pella.37 It is true that Johanan ben Zakkai also fled the city, but the actions of Jesus’ followers differed in two ways. First, they fled the city before the siege had begun; and secondly, unlike Johanan ben Zakkai, they took no action to rebuild the Jewish nation. Thus any similarities between followers of Jesus and the School of Shammai would be another reason for rejecting that school.

36 Some later sages like Eleazer ben Hyracanus gave rulings that may have seemed Shammaitic. In the case of Eleazar, at least, he was excommunicated for his opinions. See above n. 1. 37 Eusebius, HE 3:5:3.

SOME REMARKS ON THE EGYPTIAN LANGUAGE (COPTIC) IN RABBINIC TEXTS Rivka Ulmer Bucknell University “When the Holy One, Blessed be He, came to give the Torah to Israel, He spoke to them in a language they knew and understood, Anokhi (I am) the Lord your God (Exod. 20:2). R. Neḥemiah said, What kind of word is anokhi? — an Egyptian word. In Egypt, when someone wishes to say ‘ani (I),’ he says ‘anokh’.” (Tanḥuma, ed. Buber, “Yitro” 16)

INTRODUCTION As may be seen from the above quotation, Jews continued to engage with Egyptian culture long after the Exodus from Egypt.1 The Egyptian language is one of the most significant items that accompanied the Israelites.2 Rabbinic texts of late antiquity and the early medieval period frequently contain Arguments for the historicity of the Exodus are supported by some Egyptological evidence. See Sarah I. Groll, “The Egyptian Background of the Exodus and the Crossing of the Reed Sea: A New Reading of Papyrus Anastasi VIII”, in Jerusalem Studies of Egyptology (ed. Irene Shirun-Grumach; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1998), 159-172; Manfred Görg, “Exodus”, in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, 1:489-490; James K. Hoffmeier, Israel in Egypt: Evidence for the Authenticity of the Exodus Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997); Donald B. Redford, “An Egyptological Perspective on Exodus”, in Egypt, Israel and Sinai: Archaeological and Historical Relationships in the Biblical Period (ed. Anson F. Rainey; Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 1987), 137-161. 2 The presence of Egyptian terms in the Bible has been well-documented, see Abraham S. Yahuda, The Language of the Pentateuch in its Relation to Egyptian, v. 1 (London: Oxford University Press, 1933); Arnold Goldberg, Über die ägyptischen Elemente in der Sprache des Alten Testaments (Ph. D. dissertation, Freiburg im Breisgau, 1957); A. Erman and H. Grapow, Wörterbuch der Ägyptischen Sprache (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1926/1963); and the (unreliable) E. A. Wallis Budge, An Egyptian Hieroglyphic Dictionary (New York: Dover, 1978, reprint). 1

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Egyptian cultural icons. One of the critical objectives of these Egyptian icons was to set boundaries of Jewish identity by presenting rabbinic Judaism in opposition to Egyptian culture. The Egyptian cultural icons in rabbinic texts also demonstrate that the rabbis were aware of cultures other than their own. The presence of Egyptian elements in midrash had previously been noted to a very limited extent by scholars of the Wissenschaft des Judenthums,3 and it has not escaped the attention of more recent scholarship.4 Some Egyptian elements in midrash are fairly accurate depictions of HellenisticRoman customs,5 while other references to Egypt are consistent with images and customs found in earlier periods of Egyptian history. Among the numerous Egyptian elements eliciting religious responses found in different

Moritz Güdemann, Religionsgeschichtliche Studien (Schriften des Israelitischen Literatur-Vereins 2; Leipzig: Oskar Leiner, 1876); Bernard Heller, “Egyptian Elements in the Haggadah”, in Ignace Goldziher Memorial Volume, pt. I (ed. Samuel Löwinger and Joseph Somogyi; Budapest, 1948), 412-18; Jakob Horovitz, Die Josephserzählung (Frankfurt a.M.: Kauffmann, 1921), and others. 4 See Gideon Bohak, “Rabbinic perspectives on Egyptian Religion”, Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 2 (2000) 215-231; Rivka Ulmer, “Zwischen ägyptischer Vorlage und talmudischer Rezeption: Josef und die Ägypterin”, Kairos 24/25 (1992/93), 7590; “Discovering Mosaistics: Israel's Egyptian Roots”, ‫ﻻﺴﺮاﺌﻴﻞ ﻋ ﺮﺾ ﻮﻧﻗد اوﻟﻤﺮ ﻠﻠﻜﺗﺎﺐ‬ ‫>ﮐﺗﺷﺎ ف ﻤوزﻴﺎﺴﺗﻜﺲ< اﺠﺬﻮﺮاﻟﻤﺼﺮﻴة‬, ‫رﻔﻜﻪ اوﻟﻤﺮ‬, Bulletin of the Israeli Academic Centre in Cairo 18 (1994), 24-2 7; “The Divine Eye in Ancient Egypt and in the Midrashic Interpretation of Formative Judaism”, Journal of Religion and Society 5 (2003), 1-17; “Visions of Egypt in Midrash: Pharaoh's Birthday and the Nile Festival”, Biblical Interpretation in Judaism and Christianity (ed. Isaac Kalimi and Peter Haas; Sheffield: T&T Clark, 2006), 52-78; “Visions of Egypt and Roman Palestine: A Dialectical Relationship between History and Homiletical Midrash”, Frankfurter Judaistische Beiträge/Frankfurt Jewish Studies Bulletin 33 (2006), 1-33; “Visions of Egypt in Midrash: The Nile as the Landscape of the Other”, in Discussing Cultural Influences: Text, Context, and Non-Text in Rabbinic Judaism: Proceedings of a Conference on Rabbinic Judaism at Bucknell University (ed. Rivka Ulmer; Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America, 2007), 193-237; “Egyptian Magic and the Osiris Myth in Midrash”, Midrash and Context (ed. Lieve Teugels and Rivka Ulmer; Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2007), 165-208; “Cleopatra as a Cultural Icon in Rabbinic Literature”, Henoch 29, 2 (2007), 327-353. 5 See, for example, the following works pertaining to this period of Egyptian cultural history which is close to the rabbinic period: J. Lindsay, Daily Life in Roman Egypt (London: F. Muller, 1963), 160-75, and Alan Bowman, Egypt after the Pharaohs: 332BC-AD 642. From Alexander to the Arab Conquest (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996, repr. of 1986 ed.). 3

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midrashim are the Nile inundation,6 the Nile god,7 mummy portraits,8 funeral customs,9 and Egyptian festivals.10 Egyptian elements were immediately recognizable as Egyptian; this includes the Egyptian language,11 the gods12 Anubis,13 Isis,14 Osiris,15 Serapis,16 Ra‘17 and Horus,18 as well as Queen Cleopatra.19 Greco-Roman Egypt and the spread of Hellenism were the main cultural conduits for Egyptian and “Egyptianizing” concepts in rabbinic texts. Due to its infrequent use, the Egyptian language in rabbinic texts is only occasionally referred to in dictionaries.20 THE EGYPTIAN LANGUAGE The Egyptian language itself is a memento that is present in rabbinic texts. The rabbis acknowledge some terms as Egyptian, whereas other terms that are also of Egyptian derivation are found in personal names and place names21 without explanation of their Egyptian roots. Highly significant Gen. Rab. 13:9 and parallels. Gen. Rab. 69:4 and parallels. 8 Pesik. Rab. 17:13, Ulmer ed., and parallels. 9 Ibid. 10 Exod. Rab. 11:11 and parallels. 11 Esth. Rab. 4:12 and parallels. 12 See Samuel Krauss, “Aegyptische und syrische Götternamen im Talmud”, in Semitic Studies in Memory of Rev. Dr. Alexander Kohut (ed. George A. Kohut; Berlin: Calvary, 1897), 339-353; Rivka Ulmer, “The Egyptian Gods in Midrashic Literature” [manuscript]. 13 Pesik. Rav. Kah. 11 and parallels. 14 Tosefta Avodah Zarah 5:1. 15 Mekhilta “Beshallaḥ” 1 and parallels. 16 Ibid. 17 Yalkut Shimoni 1, 372, “Ki tissa” and parallels. 18 PT Mo‘ed Katan. 3:7, 83c and parallels. 19 Tosefta Nid. 4:17 and parallels. 20 Samuel Krauss, Griechische und lateinische Lehnwörter im Talmud, Midrasch und Targum (Hildesheim: Olms, 1964). 21 The Biblical place name “Ramses”—related to the name of Pharaoh Ramses— is explained as a site that was destroyed by divine vengeance; the Biblical place name “Pithom”— based upon the Egyptian per tem (“house of Atum,” see Karol Myśliwíec, “Atum”, The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt, 1, 158-160, 160)— is explained as the mouth of the deep in Exod. Rab. 1:10: “Pithom and Ramses (Exod. 1:11). Rav and Shmu’el differ. One said: Its real name was Pithom, and why was it called Ramses? Because one building after another collapsed [mitroses]. The other said that its real name was Ramses, and why was it called Pithom? Because the mouth of the deep [pi tehom] swallowed up one building after another.” 6 7

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terms of rabbinic theology are said to have derived from Egypt, i.e., they are loan-words from the Egyptian language as explained below. Loan-words are the bi-product of the interaction between one society and another. We may speculate whether some of the Egyptian words in rabbinic texts are Hieroglyphic words that are based upon Biblical usage or, alternatively, whether these words belong to a later phase in the development of the Egyptian language. Written records began to appear in Egypt as early as the third millennium BCE in the Hieroglyphic script, which together with its cursive derivatives (Hieratic and Demotic), remained the medium for writing until the end of the second century CE. The Egyptian language evolved into Demotic by 600 BCE and into Coptic by 200 CE. Coptic is a direct descendant of the ancient Egyptian language, and it represents the late form of the Egyptian language; it is mainly written in Greek characters with some additional signs to indicate Egyptian phonemes. One example of a word described as “Egyptian” is ‫( אנוכי‬anokhi), the first word of the Ten Commandments (Exod. 20:2); this word is commented upon in midrashic texts. The Biblical word ‫( אנוכי‬anokhi [`nky]) is based upon the Hieroglyphic ’ink.22 The midrashic analysis of this Biblical word is probably based upon the Coptic anokh.23 In either case the Egyptian term and the Hebrew term both refer to the first personal pronoun “I.”

Pesika de Rav Kahana 12:2424 R. Neḥemiah said, What is anokhi (Exod. 20:2)? It is an Egyptian word. Why did God find it necessary to use an Egyptian word? Consider the story of a king of flesh and blood whose son had been captured. The son spent many years among his captors, unSee also Lester Grabbe, Etymology in Early Jewish Interpretation: The Hebrew Names in Philo (Brown Judaic Studies 115; Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press), 31, referring to Philo’s interpretation as “harassing mouth” for Pithom and “commotion of a moth” for Ramses. 22 Sir Alan Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar being an introduction to the study of Hieroglyphs, (London: Griffiths Institute, Oxford; Oxford University Press,1957, 3rd ed.), 53, refers to the Egyptian independent pronouns that almost always appear at the beginning of a sentence; Rainer Hannig, Die Sprache der Pharaonen: Groβes Handwörterbuch Ägyptisch-Deutsch (2800-950 v. Chr.) (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 1995), s.v. jnk, 79 23 Walter Ewing Crum, A Coptic Dictionary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1939), 11b. 24 My translation closely follows Pesikta de-Rab Kahana: R. Kahana’s Compilation of Discourses for Sabbaths and Festal Days (trans. William G. Braude and Israel J. Kapstein; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society), 248.

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til the king, full of vengeance, went to free his son, brought him back, and then found he had to talk with him in the captor’s language. So it was with the Holy One, blessed be He; Israel had spent all the years of their servitude in Egypt where they learned the Egyptian language. Finally, when the Holy One redeemed them and came to give them the Torah, they could not understand it. So the Holy One said: I will speak to them in their captor’s speech. Therefore the Holy One used the word anokhi [‘nky] which is a form of the Egyptian ‘nwk so that the Holy One began His inauguration of the giving of the Torah with Israel’s acquired way of speaking: I am [anokhi (`nky)] the Lord, your God. 25

The theological implication of this midrashic statement that the very first word of the Ten Commandments is Egyptian is of great significance and strongly suggests that the Israelite God is substituting Himself in lieu of the Egyptian gods. It implies that God displaced Egyptian gods or the Pharaoh, the representative of an Egyptian god on earth, to deliver His message. The above midrashic text and the previously cited passage in Tanḥuma (Tanḥ., ed. Buber, “Yitro” 16) assert that God chose the Egyptian language to enunciate the Ten Commandments. God’s reliance upon the Egyptian language is further attested to in Esth. Rab. 4:12 which comments upon a lemma from Esth. 1:22 (and that [the king’s decree] should be proclaimed according to the language of every people) is applied to “God spoke with the Israelites in the language which they had learnt, as it is written, I (‘nky) am the Lord your God (Exod. 20:2)—in the Egyptian language.” The above midrashic narratives illustrate that a Jewish community in a foreign setting is invariably influenced by its linguistic environment. Jews in the chôra (the area outside of Alexandria in Egypt) might have spoken Egyptian, since it was the language of their environment.26 This is further supported by the custom reflected in Egyptian papyri that Egyptian personal names were widely utilized by Jews.27 At the end of the second century CE, 25 See also Pesik. Rab. 21:31, Ulmer ed.; Tanḥuma, Buber ed., “Yitro” 16; Yalkut Shimoni ,“Yitro” 286; Pesik. Rav. Kah. 11:6. On Coptic terms in midrashic texts, see Daniel Sperber, “Rabbinic Notes to Greaco-Coptica”, AJS Jnl 4 (1979), 205-209. 26 However, Martin Hengel, Jews, Greeks and Barbarians (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980), 127f., points out that there is only scant evidence that Egyptian Jews were in command of Demotic. 27 See Victor Tcherikover, Corpus Papyrorum Judaicorum, 1, 43, cited by J. Gwyn Griffiths, “The Legacy of Egypt in Judaism”, The Cambridge History of Judaism, Volume three, The Early Roman Period (1984), 3, 1025-1051, 1036.

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the missionaries of the Church, then centered in Alexandria, Egypt, undertook the translation of the Bible from Greek into Egyptian in order to facilitate their goal of Christianizing Egypt. They abandoned the Hieroglyphic writing system, probably due to its “pagan” associations and its complexity. As mentioned above, this last phase of the Egyptian language was Coptic before the country was Islamicized and Arabic was introduced. Acknowledgement of the existence of the Coptic language is found in the Tannaitic stratum of rabbinic texts. Some rabbinic passages set forth below refer directly to the Coptic language and use the term qatpi [‫ ]קתפי‬or giptit [‫ ]גיפטית‬which are based upon the term “Coptic” in Arabic (qubtî), which is derived from “Egyptian” (Άεγυπτιος) in Greek. The term “totefet” ‫ טוטפת‬in Tosefta Shekalim 2:14, “beads used as charms,”28 contains a theophoric element, the Egyptian god Thot.29 The Egyptian god Thot,30 who possessed magical powers, in the form of ThotHermes31 or Hermes Trismegistus, was occasionally identified with Moses.32 28 Tal Ilan, Lexicon of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity (TSAJ 91; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 385, states: “alternatively, this name may be Egyptian, with the element ‘Thot’”. This point is supported by Hermann Ranke, Die ägyptischen Personennamen (Glückstadt: J. J. Augustin, 1935-1952), 1, 409. 29 Thot’s tasks are generally related to writing, recording, and mediating between the gods; see Erik Hornung, Conceptions of God in Ancient Egypt: The One and the Many (trans. J. Baines, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1982), 284; see also the somewhat dated, but very comprehensive, E. A. Wallis Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, 2 vols. (Studies in Mythology, Chicago: The Open Court Publications, London: Methuen & Company, 1904, repr. New York: Dover, 1969), 1, 400ff. 30 With respect to Thot, see W. J. Tait, “Theban Magic”, in Hundred-gated Thebes: Acts of a Colloquium on Thebes and the Theban area in the Graeco-Roman period (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 169-182, 174, who mentions the so-called Setna text which is a text about a magical book owned by Thot. This book itself had magical power, 175; the Setna text is found in Miriam Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Book of Readings, 3 vols. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973), 3. According to Clement of Alexandria, Stromata 6, there were forty-two books of Thot, including topics such as the laws, the gods, and the service of the gods. In Coptic, Thot was usually referred to as the Ibis, based upon the bird that often represented him in Ancient Egypt (see Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, 1, 402, Thot in Egyptian (Teḥuti) is related to teḥu, ibis, in Coptic). Thot is also found on Jewish amulets from the Greco-Roman period (see, e.g., E. R. Goodenough, Jewish Symbols in the GrecoRoman Period (New York: Pantheon Books), 2, 269-84 31 Artapanus in Eusebius, Praep. ev. 9:27.3. This extended also into Syriac literature, e.g., Michael the Syrian. See also Georg Luck, Magie und andere Geheimlehren in der Antike (Stuttgart: Kröner, 1990), 57. Gerard Mussies, “The interpretatio Ju-

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These magical powers of Thot may have contributed to function of the totafot. “Totefet” is deconstructed in rabbinic passages, explaining the term as partially derived from the Coptic language and partially from an African language: BT Men. 34b (=BT Yev. 37b)33 Our rabbis taught: It is written, letotafat (Exod. 13:16), letotafat (Deut. 6:8), letotafot (Deut. 11, 18:17)—making four in all. So R. Yishma’el. R. Aqiva says, There is no need for that interpretation, Tot means two in Coptic and fot means two in African.

There are numerous problems with the element “tot” and its derivation from Coptic: the word for “two” in Coptic (ṣnte) is only slightly similar to the interpretation put forth by the Tannaitic rabbi, R. Aqiva. Furthermore, the Coptic language knew of the meaning “fringe of a garment” for “tot”.34 Nevertheless, the awareness of Coptic and an African idiom are used to interpret a Biblical term found in three separate passages; thus, this mode of interpretation is similar to other incidences of interpretation by translation.35 If “totafot” or “totefet” are read as Egyptian words, the meaning could be (a protective device) “given by the god Thot”. Similarly, the different names of Potiphar are deconstructed and read as Hebrew roots, rendering terms that are related to idolatry. A priest of Ra‘ at On (Heliopolis) is referred to in the Hebrew Bible by mentioning the marriage of Joseph to the daughter of the priest Potiphera (Gen. 41:45; Gen. 41:50-51: Before the years of famine came, Joseph had two sons, whom Asenath, daughter of Potiphera, priest of On, bore to him). The name Potiphera (Egyptian: p3 dj p3 r‘ [he who was given by Ra‘]) identifies him as a High Priest of daica of Thot-Hermes”, in Studies in Egyptian Religion Dedicated to Professor Jan Zandee (ed. M. Heerma Van Voss, D. J. Hoens, G. Mussies, et al., Leiden: Brill, 1982), 89120, refers to Eupolemus in Eusebius, Praep ev., 9:17,9. 32 Hermetica, 1st-4th century CE (ed. Walter Scott, Hermetica. The Ancient Greek and Latin Writings which contain Religious or Philosophic Teachings Ascribed to Hermes Trismegistus (Boulder: Hermes House, 1982); Garth Fowden, The Egyptian Hermes: A Historical Approach to the Late Pagan Mind (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 23. 33 Similar in BT Sanh. 4a. 34 Thomas O. Lambdin, Introduction to Sahidic Coptic (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1983), 289, lists tote as “fringe, border (of a garment).” 35 A similar hermeneutic procedure is found in PT Ma‘aser sheni 5:9; see Rivka Ulmer, “The Semiotics of the Dream Sequence in Yerushalmi Ma‘aser Sheni”, Henoch 22 (2001), 305-323, 310, the word Cappadocia is dissected and translated into an Aramaic and a Greek term, which shows dual cultural awareness.

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Ra‘.36 The name Potiphera (or its variation: Potiphar) is Egyptian; however, as set forth below, the rabbis deduced their own reading of the name which was not based upon the Egyptian language. The name was merely recognized as foreign in rabbinic texts (e.g., Gen. Rab. 86:3; Tanḥ., Buber ed., Vayeshev 14; BT Sotah 13b).37 Gen. Rab. 86:3, Theodor/Albeck, p. 1054 Potiphar (Gen. 39:1) is Poti-phera. He was called Potiphar because he fattened bull calves [‫ ]מפטם פרים‬for the purposes of idolatry; “Poti-phera,” because he used to uncover [‫ ]פוער‬himself in idolatry, but when the bull calf [Joseph] came there, [Potiphar] was enlightened [φωτενός]. A eunuch of Pharaoh (ibid.) — [This means] he was castrated, teaching that [Potiphar] purchased [Joseph] for the purpose of intercourse, whereupon the Holy One, blessed be He, emasculated [Potiphar]. Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh’s, [the captain of the guard, an Egyptian] bought him (Gen. 39:1).

The rabbis recognized that the names “Potiphar” and “Potiphera” are related names of an Egyptian priest without providing any specific reference to the Egyptian god he served.38 Selected discussions of Tannaitic statements in the Bavli juxtapose Coptic with other language, which establishes that a language and not a people or a religion is being discussed. The language of the Scroll of Esther is discussed in BT Megilah 18a: BT Meg. 18a (= BT Shab. 115a) 39 [A scroll] may, however, be read in a foreign language to those who speak a foreign language [Mishnah Meg. 2:1]. But you have just said, if [he read it in Aramaic] if one reads it in another language he has not fulfilled his obligation? [ibid.]. Rav and Shemuel both said: in a foreign language refers to Greek. How are we to understand this? Shall we See Donald B. Redford, A Study of the Biblical Story of Joseph (Genesis 37-50) (Suppl. VT 20; Leiden: Brill, 1970), 211ff.; Gary A. Rendsburg, “The Egyptian SunGod Ra in the Pentateuch”, Henoch 10 (1988), 3-15, and the literature cited therein. 37 I presented an analysis of the Egyptian evidence relating to this narrative in Kern-Ulmer, “Zwischen ägyptischer Vorlage und talmudischer Rezeption: Josef und die Ägypterin”, Kairos 24/25 (1992/93), 75-90. 38 The above text merely mentions bull calves that could be construed to reflect an Egyptian god in pure animal form, such as Apis (e.g., Apis of Memphis; see Alfred Hermann, “Der letzte Apisstier”, JAC 3 (1960), 34-50; Hornung, Conceptions, 109, 136; Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, 1, 195-201). 39 This passage is quoted in BT Men. 34b (=BT Zev. 37b; BT Sanh. 4b). 36

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say that it is written in Hebrew script and he reads it in Greek? Is this the same as saying it by heart? ... An objection was brought [against the dictum of Rav and Shemuel]: If one reads it in Coptic, Hebraic, Elamean, Median, Greek, he has not fulfilled his obligation. This [lemma] means the same as the following baraita: [If one reads it in] Coptic to the Copts, in Hebraic40 to the Hebrews, in Elamean to the Elameans, in Greek to the Greeks, he has fulfilled his obligation. If that is the case, why do Rav and Shemuel maintain that the Mishnah refers to Greek? Let them maintain that it refers to any vernacular. The fact is that the Mishnah has to be understood from the baraita [that it may indeed be read in the vernacular only to those who speak the vernacular] that which is said in the name of Rav and Shemuel was meant to be in general [not as an interpretation of the Mishnah]. Rav and Shemuel both say that Greek covers all [language groups, even non-Greek speaking people]. But it is taught [in a baraita]: [He may read] in Greek for the Greeks — [this means] for all; [for the Greeks he may, but] not [for others?] They concurred with Rabban Shimon b. Gamaliel, as we have learnt: Rabban Shimon b. Gamliel says: Scrolls [of Scripture] also were allowed to be written only in Greek [Mishnah Meg. 1:8]. Let them therefore say, The halakhah is as stated by Rabban Shimon b. Gamliel.

The above passage refers to a lemma from the Mishnah which states that the Scroll of Esther may be read in another language if the listeners do not understand Hebrew. The speakers of the languages cited in the Bavli appear to be Jews who spoke different vernaculars, such as Coptic, Elamean, Aramaic or Greek.41 The passage addresses the question of whether a scroll may be recited in languages other than Hebrew or Greek, which is a permissible foreign language. Does this exception for the Greek language apply to other languages as well? The examples of other languages include Coptic. The Talmud cites from the discussion of languages in the Mishnah and the baraita and raises arguments and rebuttals based upon these two readings. In the continuation of the above Talmudic passage the argument is raised that since Scrolls of the Hebrew Bible may be read in Rashi ad BT Meg., 18a, s. v. ‘ivrit, mentions that this was a language in Transjordan. 41 Each scroll (megilah) was recited on a particular festival together with the Aramaic translation, the reading of the Targum. With regard to the Scroll of Esther, Josep Ribera-Florit, “Targums to Hagiographa”, in Encyclopedia of Midrash, vol. 1, 148-173, states that there appears to have been an ancient Targum from the tannaitic period (Soferim 8:6) with at least two recensions. 40

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Greek translation, other languages such as Median (Persian) are also permissible. The proof-text for this line of argumentation refers to the mention of multiple languages in the Scroll of Esther (Esth. 8:9-10: … [And to every people after their language, and to the Jews according to their writing and according to their language... sent letters by post on horseback riding on swift steeds] that were used in the king's service, bred of the stud.) Coptic is one of the languages mentioned in the baraita that clarifies this position on the usage of multiple languages. Sacred writings in Coptic are also referred to in BT Shab. 115a, which discusses whether sacred writings written in Coptic and other languages may be saved from a fire even though they may not be recited. Based upon the above Tannaitic quotes and their discussions in the Bavli, it appears that Scrolls of “Scripture” were available in Coptic and were recited in Coptic by Jews. The reading of the Bible in Coptic in Christian circles is attested to late in the third century CE;42 significantly, there were Coptic versions of the Book of Esther.43 As far as Egypt is concerned, Jews from Alexandria were among the first to accept Christianity.44 The Egyptian Christians spoke Coptic; however, the Alexandrian Church Fathers wrote in Greek. This dichotomy led to a bifurcated transmission of sacred texts and, eventually, to differing Christianities. The Alexandrian Jews, who accepted Christianity, possibly as a perceived Hellenized version of Judaism, were assimilated into the Egyptian population. Egyptians who became Christians practiced remnants of the ancient Egyptian religions in Roman and Christian garb until these practices were suppressed by the Christian Roman emperor Theodosius the Great (379-395 CE) and the patriarch Theophilus of Alexandria (385-412

42 Coptic translations of the Bible into different Coptic dialects from very early Greek translations and versions were at least in existence by the 3rd century CE. J. Neville Bridsall, “Version, Ancient”, ABD 6, 787-813, s. v. “Coptic”, 790, states that the conversion of Saint Antony took place through the “hearing of” Scripture about 270 CE. This indicates the existence of a Coptic version of the Bible late in the 3rd century, since Saint Antony did not know Greek. 43 For example, A Coptic Palimpsest containing Joshua, Judges, Ruth, Judith and Esther in the Sahidic Dialect (ed. Herbert Thompson; London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1911). 44 Acts 2:10 states that Jewish pilgrims from Egypt had taken part in the Pentecost in Jerusalem and subsequently preached Christianity. The first Egyptian Christians came from the ranks of Alexandrian Jewry; e. g., Apollos, the Alexandrian Jewish preacher, became Christian (Acts 18:24ff.). In contrast, some Egyptian Christians adopted Philo’s allegorical reading of the Hebrew Bible.

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CE).45 In the fourth century CE there were clashes between the newly dominant Christian cults and the Greco-Roman as well as the Egyptian cults in Alexandria.46 The Islamic conquest put an end to the remnants of the Egyptian religions, albeit in Coptic garb, and systematically destroyed statues and defaced reliefs depicting Egyptian gods.47 The Egyptian Christians have preserved the Coptic language until today and they use it in their sacred rituals and writings, such as the Coptic Bible. Knowledge of the existence of the Coptic language and a few Coptic words is significant because Coptic was relatively contemporary to some of the rabbinic texts.

Norman Russell, Theophilus of Alexandria (London: Routledge, 2007), 23; Alan Bowman, Egypt after the Pharaohs: 332BC-AD 642. From Alexander to the Arab Conquest (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996, repr. of 1986 ed.). 46 Theophilus supposedly discovered a pagan temple; a letter was sent by the emperor that Theophilus should destroy this temple. 47 Harold I. Bell, Egypt from Alexander the Great to the Arab Conquest: a Study in the Diffusion and Decay of Hellenism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948). 45

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE IN EARLY RABBINIC LITERATURE1 Willem Smelik University College, London As a holy tongue, Hebrew was certainly not unique in the ancient Near East.2 Many cultures fostered an often almost fossilized language in which their religions require(d) certain rituals to be performed. Sumerian occupied an elevated position among the Akkadian speaking Babylonians, Zoroastrianism singles out Old-Iranian, Hinduism Sanskrit, and in the Roman state religion Greek held a special position, as did Old-Phoenician in Ancient Carthago. These languages invariably differed from the vernacular(s), but also, if sometimes more subtly, from the current literary language, in ways similar to the difference between Biblical and Rabbinic Hebrew. That these religious, or more precisely, ritual languages were considered holy comes as no surprise. In the Ancient Near East, all religious writings were considered sacred per se.3 Ancient scribes were religious functionaries, often priests, who formed part and parcel of the sacred tradition in which they had been educated. Theirs was a monopoly of few experts. Their language was a lan1 This article is an expanded version of a paper presented at the SBL Midrash Consultation in 2007. I thank Rivka Ulmer and Lieve Teugels for their kind invitation to participate in this meeting and for their comments and suggestions. The translations of the Hebrew Bible, Mishnah, Tosefta, Talmudim and Midrashim into English are loosely based on the JPS-translation, Neusner's translations, and the Soncino translations. The following abbreviations are used for manuscripts of the Babylonian Talmud (or Bavli): Mun95 = Codex Munich 95, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Munich; Vat110 = Vatican 110-111, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticano. 2 J.F.A. Sawyer, Sacred Languages and Sacred Texts (London: Routledge, 1999), 24. 3 See J. Leipoldt and S. Morenz, Heilige Schriften: Betrachtungen zur Religionsgeschichte der antiken Mittelmeerwelt (Leipzig: Harrassowitz, 1953; K. van der Toorn, Scribal Culture and the Making of the Hebrew Bible (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2007).

91

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guage of the few. The sacred nature of writ helps to explain the occurrence of texts that were never intended for reading, yet meticulously prepared.4 There can be little doubt that the term and idea of Hebrew as the holy tongue goes back as far as the late Second Temple period.5 The Talmudim and Midrashim attest to its full-fledged mythological form, in which ‫לשון‬ ‫ הקודש‬refers to Hebrew as the language by which the world was created when God spoke,6 the language in which God communicated with Moses and handed down the Torah. As the primordial language which originated with God, the holy tongue is intelligible to the angels and humankind alike.7 In medieval times, speculation about the alphabet and its numerical values in the mystical tradition introduced new connotations of the term ‘holy tongue’. The idea that Hebrew is unique inevitably left its mark on the rabbinic assessment of other languages. In several passages the holy tongue, as the language of the Holy Writ, is contrasted with other languages used for Bible translation.8 Joseph outwits the Egyptians not just through his amazing command of the seventy tongues, which the Egyptians wrote down to try him, but especially because he knew the holy tongue in addition whereas they did not.9 The Israelites retained their identity because they did not abandon the holy tongue despite the Egyptian environment in which they lived.10 Only the holy tongue reveals connections which the other languages fail to establish: In Hebrew, the words ‘man’ and ‘woman’ are etymologi4 Such as the texts in tefilin and mezuzot, Akkadian and Egyptian inscriptions in dark, small hallways of temples, and, later, texts on bowls which were buried in the ground. 5 See D.H. Aaron, ‘Judaism’s Holy Language’, in J. Neusner (ed.), Approaches to Ancient Judaism: New Series, XVI (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1999), 49-107. My analysis of the rabbinic sources differs from his. See further M. Weitzman, ‘Judaism’, in R.E. Asher (ed.), Encyclopedia of Language and Linguistics (Oxford: Pergamon Press, 1994), IV, 1827–31. 6 PT Meg. 1.11(8), 71b; TgNeof/TgPsJ Gen. 11.1; Midr. Tanḥ. ‫ נח‬19 (Tanḥ. B. ‫ נח‬28). 7 See, e.g., BT Ḥag. 16a; ARN A 37; MekSbY 6.2. 8 See, e.g., BT San. 21b and BT Shab. 115a. 9 Pes. K. 4.3; Midr. Tanḥ. B ‫ חקת‬13; Tanḥ. ‫ חקת‬6; Num. R. 19.3; Koh. R. 7.33. According to BT Sot. 36b, Gabriel taught him these languages, but only after adding the ‫ ה‬to his name he was able to retain his knowledge. Cf. Gen. R. 93.10; Lev. R. 32.5; Lekaḥ Tov Gen. 41.40; 50.5. 10 Lev. R. 32.5; Pes. K. 11.6; Midr. Tanḥ. B. ‫ בלק‬25; Tanḥ. ‫ בלק‬16; Midr. Pss. 114; Sekhel Tov Gen. 47.

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cally related,11 but not in Greek or Aramaic; the bronze serpent was made of bronze because the words for ‘copper’ and ‘serpent’ are related.12 All this amounts to an intrinsic connection between creation and Hebrew; the Torah could only have been written in Hebrew. As Aaron points out, myths contribute to social reality, without the mythology ever being identical to ‘a full theory of native organization’.13 His is an important caveat, since the evidence for the role and meaning of the notion of the holy tongue in Early Judaism is far more complicated than commonly perceived, notwithstanding the evidence for the myth as briefly related so far. As late as the thirteenth century CE, the Rashba (Rabbi Solomon ibn Adret) claimed in his commentary on Bavli Megilah that the holy tongue is not identical to Hebrew.14 He points out that languages other than Hebrew can justifiably be called ‘holy tongue’, which he inferred from BT Meg. 18b, which allows to recite the book of Esther in ‘Coptic to the Copts and Hebrew to the Hebrews’. This somewhat surprising claim, which was made at a time when mystical speculation about the role of the Hebrew language in the creation of the world had already made considerable inroads in European Judaism, stands in a long tradition of reading the biblical text in translation.15 Since the vast majority of Jews no longer spoke or understood Hebrew by the end of the Second Temple period, Bible translations had long gained a foothold in Jewish religious life. But could someone fulfill his religious obligation by reciting a translation of the Hebrew? Halakhic opinion has been divided ever since the issue was raised. Already in tractate Megilah of the Bavli, three positions are laid out (17b-18b): that reading in a foreign language is allowed only to those who do not understand any Hebrew; that having a foreign vernacular is sufficient by itself, even if one would also understand Hebrew; that Greek is valid (‫ )כשר‬for everyone, whether or not one understands any Greek, just like Hebrew is sufficient whether or not one understands it. In the latter circumstance, 11 That is, in the eyes of the rabbis. Today, linguists differentiate between the origins of both words in Hebrew. 12 Gen. R. 31.8 claims that related words have an etymological relationship only in the holy tongue, and mocks Greek and Aramaic by creating feminine noun formations for ‘man’ in Greek and Aramaic, and masculine ones for ‘woman’, forms which do not exist in these languages. See also Gen. R. 18.4. 13 Aaron, ‘Judaism's Holy Language’, 53, citing B. Malinowski, Magic, Science and Religion and Other Essays (Prospect Heights: Waveland Press, 1992), 117. 14 H.Z. Dimitrovski, ‫ מסכת מגילה‬:‫( חידושי הרשב"א‬Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 2000), ‫פו‬. 15 Cf. Mishnah Meg. 1.8, 2.1.

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Greek is a ‘holy tongue’ in the sense that it is a language in which one may fulfill a particular religious obligation.16 On Rashba's understanding, a holy language is the language in which one may fulfill a religious obligation. This notion runs counter not only to the long-established notion that Hebrew was privileged for religious use as the language spoken at the sanctuary, and tantamount to the ‘holy language’ as a result, but more importantly, also to the notion that Hebrew, whatever the context of its usage, was ‘holy’ by default. The lenient opinions were eventually abandoned, primarily because they were restricted to Greek, the usefulness of which kept equal pace with the diminishing size of the Byzantine Empire. That a full-scale study is desirable would appear from the common misperception that the most frequently used expression to refer to Hebrew is ‘the holy tongue’, while in truth various expressions exist. For certain purposes, ‘Ashurit’, ironical as the term may seem, was even more common than ‘holy tongue’.17 To acquire a fuller grasp of the correlation between language selection and the notion of the holy tongue, I will examine the connotations of ‫ לשון הקודש‬for the early rabbis with a clear focus on its occurences in Tannaitic sources, notwithstanding some excursions into parallel discussions in Talmud and Midrash. I am not so much interested in the prehistory of the concept as in its use among the early Rabbis,18 but I will start with the earliest attestation of the expression ‘holy tongue’ in the Dead Sea scrolls to demonstrate the acute danger of generalizations that are all too often connected with the term ‘holy tongue’. As Paul Strohm wrote concerning English medieval prose,19 The whole point about texts and time is the inability of writing to prevent the temporal discord imported by the disparate prehistories, and unruly utopianisms, of the verbal materials from which the text is made. Texts are always getting ready to fly apart in time, to decompose into their own heterogeneous materials.

Here, I will analyse the time-arrested reflections on the holy tongue. Instead 16 Indeed, two Jewish Greek works identify Greek as the language of creaton: Sib. Or. 3.24-26; 2 En. 30.13; so Schwartz, ‘Language, Power and Identity’, 32 n. 69. 17 Pace Schwartz, ‘Language, Power and Identity’, 33. 18 For a fuller survey including Second Temple literature, see Aaron, ‘Judaism's Holy Language’. A general study is Sawyer, Sacred Languages, who is relatively brief on the Jewish sources but helpfully draws on other cultures as well as sociolinguistics. 19 P. Strohm, Theory and the Premodern Text (Medieval Cultures, 26; Minneapolis: University of Minneapolis Press, 2000), 65.

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of reading the whole set of connotations into every co-text of the term, I suggest to study its occurences in Tannaitic literature to see which task the concept fulfills, what meaning it conveys, and what would seem to have been gained or lost in the process. THE HOLY TONGUE IN QUMRAN The term ‫ לשון הקודש‬occurs for the first time in a fragment found in the fourth cave of Qumran, 4Q464 f 3 ll. 7-8. The editors of this fragment, Esther Eshel and Michael Stone, have repeatedly argued that this fragment is evidence for the full-blown concept of the holy tongue, that is Hebrew, as the primordial language by which the world was created, and the unifying ‘pure speech’ which will be spoken at the end of days.20 Although explicit references to either primordial or eschatological language are absent in this fragment, they use late rabbinic parallels to fill in the gaps. 4Q464 is a badly damaged fragment with very little context for the term under discussion. What is left includes a quotation from Zeph. 3.9: ‫אל‬ ‫[‘ עמים שפה ברורה‬I will change the speech] of the nations to a pure speech’ in close proximity to the term ‘holy tongue’, preceded by the isolated words ‫‘ עד עולם‬forever’. Eshel and Stone take these phrases as evidence for an eschatological context of ‘the holy tongue’,21 in which Zeph. 3.9 foretells the reversal of the confusion of languages resulting from building the Tower of Babel.22 Following Gen. 11.1, the world was once united in thought and language: ‫‘ ויהי כל הארץ שפה אחת ודברים אחדים‬Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words’. They adduce further evidence for the notion that Hebrew as the primordial language had been lost to mankind in the debacle of the Tower of Babel, so that Abram had to be taught Hebrew again by the angel who is Jubilees’ authorial voice (Jub. 12.25-26).23 Other traditions refer to a unified language at the end of days.24 E. Eshel and M. Stone, ‘An exposition on the Patriarchs (4Q464) and two other documents (4Q464a and 4Q464b)’, Le Muséon 105 (1992), 243-64; idem, ‫לשון‬ ‫הקודש באחרית הימים לאור קטע מקומראן‬, Tarbiz 62 (1993), 169-77. See further M. Bernstein, ‘‫’שלוש הערות על תעודת קומראן‬, Tarbiz 65 (1995–1996), 29-32; J. Poirier, ‘4Q464: Not eschatological’, RdQ 20(2002), 583–87. The official edition is: M. Broshi et al., Qumran Cave 4, XIV Parabiblical Texts, Part 2 (Discoveries in the Judean Desert, 19; Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1995 . 21 Compare 4Q403: ‫ותשם פי כחרב חדה ולשוני פתחה לדברי קודש‬. 22 See U. Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Genesis. II. From Noah to Abraham, Genesis VI 9—XI 32 (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1964), 230-31. 23 See also Jub. 3.28; PT Meg. 1.11, 71b; TgNeof, TgPsJ and FragTg Gen. 11.1; Midr. Tanḥ. B. ‫ נח‬28 (Tanḥ. 19); Augustine, City of God 16.11; Pseudo20

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The three components of Hebrew/holy tongue, the Tower of Babel, and Zephaniah's linguistic eschaton are linked in Midr. Tanḥ. ‫ נח‬19 (28 in Buber's version). In their opinion, this fragment deals ‘a fatal blow’ to a more reductive interpretation of ‫ לשון הקודש‬as the language used in the Temple service,25 which highlights a particular function and locale of the language in comparison with other vernaculars which had made considerable inroads in Jewish (and non-Jewish) society during the Second Temple period, without evoking an elaborate myth of Hebrew as a unique language per se—but not necessarily denying that such mythological overtones played a part in conceptualizations of Hebrew. Conversely, Eshel and Stone generalize the connotations of the ‘holy tongue’ without advancing our understanding of the role that Hebrew as a holy tongue played in Jewish society and the emerging rabbinic movement. It does not occur to them that a single occurrence in a fragmentary text may not shed light on the meaning of the concept ‘holy tongue’ for anyone but the authors of that particular text. Some clarification is in order as to what kind of Hebrew is conceived of as holy. Are we referring to God's language, Rabbinic Hebrew as used in halakhic discourse, or any Hebrew at all under all circumstances?26 The term may refer to Hebrew per se as in a linguistic continuum, without any distinction between Biblical and post-biblical Hebrew,27 or in a functional Clementine Recognitiones 1.30. 24 T. Jud. 25.3 and many rabbinic traditions, although the latter, using Zeph. 3.9 as prooftext, are mainly concerned with the unification rather than the language; see BT Ber. 57b; BT Av. Zar. 24a; PT Av. Zar. 2.1, 40c; Ber. R. 88.7; Midr. Zuta (Canticles) 5 [9]; Tanḥ. B ‫ וירא‬38; Midr. Pss. 66.1; Eliyahu Rabah 20; Lekaḥ Tov Gen. 19.11; Lekaḥ Tov Gen. 22.18; Lekaḥ Tov Gen. 49.10; Sekhel Tov Gen. 15; Sekhel Tov Gen. 7; Eisenstein, Otsar Hamidrashim 71, 127, 234, 395; Pitron Torah 277; Yalk. S. 1 Sam. §122; Yalk. S. Zeph. §567; Yalk. S. Ps. 66 §790. 25 E. Levine, ‘Some Characteristics of Pseudo-Jonathan to Genesis’, Augustinianum 11 (1971), 89-103 (97); P. Schäfer, Die Vorstellung vom heiligen Geist in der rabbinischen Literatur (Munich: Kösel-Verlag, 1972), 137-39; Schwartz, ‘Language, Power and Identity’, 33. For an alternative reading, see n. 34 below. 26 In their article ‫לשון הקודש‬, 173 n. 10, Eshel and Stone suggest that the term should be understood as God's language, following the Yerushalmi, but what this means and implies remains opaque. 27 Whether the Sages were aware of the differences between their version of Hebrew and Biblical Hebrew, or wished to acknowledge them, is unclear; however, some awareness of difference is attested by the statement of R. Yoḥanan, ‫לשון תורה‬ ‫‘ לעצמה לשון חכמים לעצמו‬The language of the Torah is one thing, and that of the Sages another’ (BT Av. Zar. 58b, par. BT Ḥul. 137b). Similarly, BT Kid. 2b: ‫מעיקרא‬

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continuum, without any differentiation between liturgical, ritual, academic and ‘common’ language.28 Now we do know that the Rabbis distinguished between ‘secular’ and ‘religious’ language and would not have considered every subject matter which was expressed in Hebrew as sacred. In a narrative that localizes Rabbi's halakhic discussion in the bathhouse, Abaye remarks, ‫דברים של חול מותר לאומרם בלשון קודש של קודש אסור לאומרם בלשון חול‬, ‘secular matters may be said in the holy tongue, but holy matters may not be said in a secular language’ (BT Shab. 40b, par. BT Av. Zar. 44b). Abaye's opinion does not imply, at least not generally, that religious obligations always required Hebrew. When a shepherd blesses his sandwich in Aramaic, ‫בריך מריה דהאי פיתא‬, ‘Blessed be the Master of this bread’, rather than in the holy tongue, Rav declares the blessing valid (BT Ber. 40b).29 There are many more rituals for whose performance any language was permitted, as I will show below. Thus, all matters Hebrew are not necessarily holy, while language that is may not have been couched in Hebrew. In presenting their evidence, heavily reliant on a late Midrash, Stone and Eshel have been too selective and pay insufficient attention to the term's less than uniform deployment in early Jewish sources. They quote R. Yoḥanan's opinion that the language spoken before the confusion of Babel was Hebrew (PT Meg. 1.11, 71b), but do not alert to the opposite and juxtaposed opinion of R. Eleazar that they were speaking 70 languages. The point R. Eleazar made is that all peoples were of one thought, thus metaphorically spoke ‘the same language’, which is the main thrust of Zeph. 3.9 and thus casts doubt on the identification with Hebrew. Aaron rightly cautions that the type of eschaton epitomized by 4Q464 cannot be ascertained due to lack of context, if the fragment is eschatological at all,30 because we remain in the dark what Zeph. 3.9's ‘pure speech’ entails in 4Q464, how ‫‘ תני לישנא דאורייתא ולבסוף תני לישנא דרבנן‬At first he taught in the language of the Torah, then he taught in the rabbinic idiom’. 28 The Dead Sea scrolls refer to an ‘uncircumcised tongue’, which is assumed to denote a form of post-biblical Hebrew, in Hodayot 2.18-19; M. Mansoor, The Thansgiving Hymns (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1961), 107. Whether or not this refers to Hebrew must remain open. 29 The use of Hebrew as ‘holy tongue’ is also attested in the case of someone who entices others to idolatry: ‘who entices speaks in the holy tongue, while one who beguiles speaks in ordinary language. If the one who beguiles speaks in the holy tongue, he falls into the category of one who entices’ (PT San. 7.10, 25d). The very use of Hebrew implies a higher category. 30 Poirier denies that the fragment is eschatological at all; J.C. Poirier, ‘4Q464: Not Eschatological’, RevQ 20 (2002), 583–87.

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universal it was deemed to be.31 There are also differences of opinion in our sources with regard to the language spoken immediately before the Babel episode. If Hebrew had been lost to mankind in the Fall, as Jubilees states (12.25; cf. 3.28), the single, unifying language of Babel to which Zeph. 3.9 alludes cannot have been Hebrew. Indeed, Jubilees remains opaque about that language (10.18-26), and focuses on Hebrew as Abram's language and a sign of his offspring as the chosen ones.32 Nor is it clear which type and functions of language are implied. As 4Q464 cannot answer these questions, this fragment cannot deliver the blueprint for the meaning of this term among all Jews in the late Second Temple period. There is nothing to contradict the assumption that the mythological connotations of the ‘holy tongue’ are a secondary development from an original understanding of the term as restricted to ritual and liturgical language. Such a limited interpretation would not only seem to be suggested by similar functions of holy tongues in the surrounding cultures,33 but also by TgNeof Gen. 11.1: ‫והוון כל דיירי דארעא לשן חד וממלל חד ובלשן בית קדשה הוון משתעין דבה‬ ‫אתברי עלמא מן שרויה‬ Now all the inhabitants of the earth were one language and one speech, and they used to speak in the language of the sanctuary in which the world was created from the beginning.34 Even if term ‫ לישן בית קודשא‬refers to the ‘language of the synagogue’, as Shinan argues,35 the primary locus of this language remains in the liturgical The universal language of the end of days is not specified in T. Jud. 25.3. So Aaron, ‘Judaism's Holy Language’, 72-74. 33 Sawyer, Sacred Languages, 23-24. 34 TgNeof, to be sure, is to be dated in the 4th c. CE at the earliest. 35 A. Shinan, ‫'לישן בית קודשאב' תרגומים הארמיים לתורה‬, Beit Mikra 66 (1976), 472-74; Idem, ‫ תרגום ואגדה בו‬Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992), 113-15; Idem, ‘The Aramaic Targum as a Mirror of Galilean Jewry’, in Levine (ed.), The Galilee in Late Antiquity, 241-51 (248-50). Shinan's argument is based on the targumic term ‫בית‬ ‫ מקדשא‬for the Temple, in contrast to ‫בית קודשה‬. For my purposes, however, it is not decisive whether the latter term denotes the synagogue, because if it does, it still originated as a designation for the Temple as in TgNeof Exod. 28.29, 35, 43; 29,6 and many other occurrences. Schwartz initially argued that no evidence for the designation of a synagogue as a holy place with the term ‫ הקודש‬or ‫ בית קודשא‬exists (‘Language, Power and Identity’, 33 n. 73), which is only true as far as these exact terms are concerned; for the inscriptions (‫אתרא קדישא‬, ἅγιος τόπος), see S. Fine, “This Holy Place”: On the 31 32

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99

realm Mishnah In other words, ‫ לישן בית קודשא‬is derived from an interpretation in which ‫ לשון הקודש‬stood for ‫לשון המקדש‬.36 That is not to argue for the historical priority of the rabbinic understanding (whatever the merit of any historical origin would be); indeed, it is most likely that Hebrew as the Temple language came to carry the connotation of holiness. But it was understood as a ‘religious language’, demarcated against nonreligious use of Hebrew and it did not exclude religious use of non-Hebrew language. That the notion was seized upon in speculative fashion is clear, but these are myths surrounding the primary priority of Hebrew as a religious language. These rabbinic sources, all of which are post-Tannaitic, do not reflect the whole range of opinions, nor do they unequivocally attest to the character of the ‘holy tongue’. THE HOLY TONGUE IN THE MISHNAH The first thing that strikes us when we consider the Tannaitic use of the term ‫ לשון הקודש‬is its limited range of subject matter. The vast majority of Tannaitic occurences relate the notion of ‘the holy tongue’ to specific pericopes in the Torah which require the exclusive use of Hebrew, pitting ‘holy tongue’ against ‘any tongue’. In the Mishnah, the notion is not used anywhere else; it employs the term ‘holy tongue’ nine times, eight of which appear in tractate Sotah while the ninth is related to the ḥalitsah ritual.37 In the Tosefta the term occurs twice, once in the same context as the Mishnah (Tosefta Sot. 7.7), and once to highlight the values of Hebrew by insisting that any father should teach his son the holy tongue (Tosefta Ḥag. 1.2)— otherwise it would have been better had he not been born into this world (‫)ראוי לו שלא בא לעולם‬. The ‘Tannaitic’ Midrashim cover these topics as well and cast their net only slightly wider. They relate that Moses spoke Hebrew on various occasions, which would be stating the obvious were it not for the fact that this observation is linked to the Hebrew language requirement for the specific rituals with which these sources are predominantly conSanctity of Synagogues during the Greco-Roman Period (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997), 97-105. However, in his Imperialism and Jewish Society, 238, he appears to have revised his position somewhat: The rabbis ‘rejected the widespread conception of the local community as a holy place... and of the synagogue as a holy place, both well attested in inscriptions’. This contrast between official and popular religion aligns well with Shinan's view of the Palestinian Targums as works informed by popular beliefs. 36 Cf. Eshel and Stone, ‫לשון הקודש‬, 173 n. 10. 37 Mishnah Sot. 7.2, 3 (2x), 4 (2x); 8.1 (2x); 9.1; Yeb. 12.6.

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cerned.38 None of these sources includes any speculation about the linguistic agent of creation, the primordial tongue or the unitary linguistic utopia of the eschaton. Instead, the early rabbis concern themselves with a specific set of rituals, most of which were no longer performed after the destruction of the Second Temple, for which the Hebrew language is either compulsory or not. The principal discussion is found in Mishnah Sot. 7, which opens with a list of texts that may be recited in any language (7.1):39 ‫אילו נאמרים בלשונם פרשת סוטה ווידויי מעשר וקיריית שמע ותפלה וברכת‬ ‫המזון ושבועת העדות ושבועת הפיקדון‬ These are said in any language: the pericope of the accused wife [Num. 5.19-22], the confession of the tithe [Deut. 26.13-15], the recital of the Shema, [Deut. 6.4-9], the prayer [Amidah], the Grace after Meals, the oath of testimony, and the oath of deposit.

The first three pericopes are biblical, the remaining four are not. Out of all these seven pericopes, only the ritual of the accused wife was an inherently priestly affair. This ritual and the confession of the second tithes are irrelevant to the post-Second Temple period, since the destruction of the Temple ended their performance (Mishnah Sot. 9.9-10). The Shema remained relevant, but its classification attracted controversy as we will shortly see. No such controversy existed with regard to the following four items, which were likewise relevant in Talmudic times. That these texts were allowed in any language is probably related to the circumstances that they neither involved the recitation of a biblical passage, nor required the involvement of priests with the notable exception of the sotah ritual. The Mishnah, however, offers no reason or justification for the freedom of language selection, in contrast to the second Mishnahh which lists a series of biblical pericopes for which the holy tongue is mandatory:

More on this below. For the Mishnah, see J. Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah: A New Approach to Ancient Jewish Texts (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 196-207. Her acute observations are remarkably similar, but not identical, to mine. Part of the differences result from different queries. Whereas Hauptman focuses on the relationship between Mishnah and Tosefta, I am primarily interested in the criteria adduced for language differentiation, but the two interests naturally converge in many ways. 38 39

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101

‫ואלו נאמרים בלשון הקודש מקרא הביכורים וחליצה ברכות וקללות‬ ‫ברכ]ו[ת כהנים וברכות כהן גדול ופרשת המלך ופרשת עגלה ערופה ומשוח‬ ‫המלחמה בשעה שהוא מדבר אל העם‬ And these are said [only] in the holy tongue: the verses of the firstfruits [Deut. 26.3-10], the rite of removing the shoe [Deut. 25.7, 9], blessings and curses [Deut. 27.15-26], the blessing of the priests [Num. 6.24-26], the blessing of a high priest [on the Day of Atonement], the pericope of the king [Deut. 17.14-20]; the pericope of the heifer whose neck is to be broken [Deut. 21.7-8], and [the message of] the anointed for battle when he speaks to the people [Deut. 20.2-7].

The recitation of these biblical passages, introduced by the word ‫מקרא‬, is restricted to the language in which they were received in the Torah. All these passages belong to priestly rituals that were re-enacted at one point or another, either by the time of its season or, in the case of divorce or the discovery of a murder victim, when the occasion presents itself. Two passages require some clarification. If the second list reflects reenacted rituals, the inclusion of the ‘blessings and the curses’ is out of character, since they were a one-off, proclaimed at the time of entering the land of Canaan; they would not be recited other than in the weekly recitation of Scripture which is not the topic of this discussion. The Mishnah and especially the Tosefta discuss this pericope in great detail without any suggestion that the ritual was performed at any one time after its first-time occurence.40 Conceivably, this passage actually belonged to the lists of those passages ‘to be recited but not to be translated’—hence to be recited in Hebrew only— in the context of the synagogal recitation of Scripture, a blurring of contexts which has been attested elsewhere.41 But Fraade argues that the Dead Sea Scrolls do suggest an annual re-anactment,42 which would explain their inclusion in this list. The second ‘passage’ is that of the High Priest's blessings, which are not stipulated by the Torah. These eight blessings were said by the High Priest in the Temple on the Day of Atonement and serve as the conclusion to the recitation of biblical texts. It stands to reason that these, as many other liturgical blessings, had to be recited in Hebrew.43 40 41

33-41.

For an analysis, see Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 109-24. See Y. Heinemann, ‫ לא נקראת ולא מיתרגמת‬...‫ברכת כהנים‬, Bar-Ilan 6 (1968),

42 S. Fraade, ‘Rhetorics and Hermeneutics in Miqsat Ma'ase Ha-Torah (4QMMT): The Case of the Blessings and the Curses’, DSD 10 (2003), 150-61. 43 See the commentary of Ovadya MiBartenura and BT Sot. 40b-41a.

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There is no explicit rationale of differentiation between these two Mishnaic lists, which are a kind of abstract. Both contain biblical pericopes and post-biblical texts; the fact that a passage is written in the Torah is not decisive for the division into one of these two classes. Their link to the preceding chapters is tenuous, as it consists of the first mentioned ritual of the sotah, but their very nature as a summary statement implies a relationship to what follows. The nature of this relationship is interesting: Do these summary statements about ‘these are said in any language’ and ‘these are said in the holy tongue’ reflect the contents of the following mishnayot? The short answer is: no.44 The mishnayot following 7.1-2 deal only with items included in the second list (7.2), but with none in the first (7.1): 7.3 The declaration of the first fruits (bikurim); 7.4 The procedure for dissolving the Levirate obligation (ḥalitsah); 7.5 The blessings and curses; 7.6 The priestly blessing; 7.7 The blessing of the High Priest; 7.8 The king's pericope; 8.1 The anointed war priest (with 8.2-7 commenting on further stipulations); 9.1 The heifer whose neck is to be broken (with further comments in 9.2-8). The last two are presented in reverse order in the summary statement of 7.2; the Tosefta agrees with the order in 7.2–9.1. The last part of the final chapter of tractate Sotah comprises statements about the cancellation of some of these rites, namely that of the heifer (9.9), the tithes (9.10, the only item from the first list that is mentioned again), and of a miscellany of other things (9.10-15). The Mishnah displays no particular interest in those passages which may be recited in any language (7.1), makes no attempt to describe these rites in any detail and does not provide any justification for the freedom of language selection. The impression of incongruity between the summary statements of 7.1-2 and what follows gains strength if we consider several further characteristics of the following mishnayot. Their focus is inconsistent, despite the fact that they seem to exhibit the same structure: The name of the portion to be read, followed by the question ‫כיצד‬, ‘how so?’. But this question does not carry the same meaning in 7.3-4 and 7.5-8 and it is entirely absent in the 44

So also Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 198-200.

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last two items, 8.1 and 9.1.45 For the first two, ‫‘ מקרא בכורים‬the portion of the first fruits’ (or bikurim) and ‫‘ מקרא חליצה‬the portion of the act of dissolving the Levirate obligation’ (or ḥalitsah), the reason provided for the insistence on Hebrew is text-immanent. See 7.3: ‫מקרא הבכורים כיצד וענית ואמרת לפני ייי איך ארמי אובד אבי ולהלן הוא‬ ‫אומ׳ וענו הלוים ואמרו אל כל איש ישרא׳ קול רם מה ענייה אמורה להלן‬ ‫בלשון הקודש ואף כן בלשון הקודש‬ ‘The verses of the first fruits'—how so? ‘And you will answer and say before the Lord thy God: My father was a fugitive Aramaean’ (Deut. 26.5). And later on it says, ‘And the Levites will answer and say to all the Israelites’ (Deut. 27.14). Just as the response in the latter passage is said in the holy tongue, so the response here is said in the holy tongue.

The meaning of this question is: Why is it that ‫ מקרא ביכורים‬should be recited in Hebrew? The explanation seizes upon the analogy of ‘answer and say’ in two passages, taking for granted that the latter passage was recited in Hebrew. In 7.4, the question has the same meaning, ‘why in Hebrew?’. But in 7.5-8 the question ‫ כיצד‬means ‘how was it done?’. In these mishnayot the discussion focuses entirely on the procedure of the rite without any attention to the language used in its performance. See 7.6: ‫ברכות כהנים כיצד במדינה אומ׳ אתם שלוש ברכות ובמקדש ברכה אחת‬ ‫במקדש אומ׳ את השם ככתובו ובמדינה בכנויו ובמדינה כהנים נשאים את‬ ‫ידיהם כנגד כתפותיהם ובמקדש על גבי ראשיהם חוץ מכהן גדול שאינו‬ ‫מגביה את ידיו למעלה מן הציץ ר׳ יהודה אומ׳ אף כהן גדול מגביה את ידיו‬ ‫למעלה מן הציץ שנ׳ וישא אהרן את ידיו אל העם ויב׳ וגו׳‬ The blessing of the priests—how so? In the provinces they say it as three blessings, and in the sanctuary, as one blessing. In the sanctuary one says the Name as it is written but in the provinces, with a euphemism. In the provinces the priests raise their hands as high as their shoulders, but in the sanctuary, they raise them over their heads, except for the high priest, who does not raise his hands over the frontlet. R. Yehuda says, Also the high priest raises his hands over the frontlet, as it is said, ‘And Aaron lifted up his hands toward the people and blessed them’ (Lev. 9.22).

The discussion is all about the performance of the rite without any attention to the choice of language, which is typical for all mishnayot following 7.4.46 It 45 46

Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 198-200. The gemara of BT Sot. 44b recognizes this.

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follows that the organising principle47 of Sotah 7–9 is not captured by the topical division of 7.1-2 into texts that may be recited in any language and those for which Hebrew is compulsory.48 Since the first list is passed over in silence, and for six of the eight rituals in the second list no justification for the insistence on Hebrew is offered, it would seem that the rituals were discussed for the detail of their performance. Their language selection is not what links them. On that assumption, the first two mishnayot which do explain the language requirement may have been added for mnemonic ease, as Judith Hauptman argues,49 when these chapters were added to the bulk of the tractate; most likely, the partial development of 7.2 in 7.3-4 was created at that editorial stage. In addition to the incongruity between 7.1-4 and the remainder of the tractate, the arguments used in 7.3-4 to justify the exclusivity of Hebrew in the case of bikurim and ḥalitsah are noteworthy. The Mishnah provides as a language-specific criterium the combined presence of (verbal forms of) ‫עניה‬ and ‫אמירה‬, which implies the exclusive use of the holy tongue. Apparently, these words were taken to mean that the response should follow the very wording and language as used in the Torah. But if these words are the touchstone, how do rituals without them qualify? Are they automatically classified in the first list? Relevant examples of such rituals not included in the Mishnah's first list would be the Grace after Meals—or its precursor(s) which probably existed in Second Temple times—, the Hallel, the oath of judges, both of which the Yerushalmi, Bavli and Tosefta discuss in this connection,50 the blessing over bread (BT Ber. 40b) or ‫פדיון הבן‬, the redemption of the first-born son. Their absence from the Mishnah raises questions. On closer observation it becomes clear that the criterium adduced in 7.3 does not work for all items listed in 7.2. Nor does it result in assignment to the first list when it yields a ‘false’ result. Forms of ‫ עניה‬and ‫ אמירה‬occur in only 5 of the 8 listed rituals—‫בכורים‬, ‫חליצה‬, ‫ברכות וקללות‬, ‫עגלה ערופה‬, and, if indirectly, in ‫פרשת המלך‬, nos. 1, 2, 3, 6 and 7)51—but not in the three other rituals, ‫ ברכת כהנים‬,‫ברכות כהן גדול‬, and ‫( משוח המלחמה‬4, 5 and 8).52 Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 201 uses the very same term. Ibid. 49 Ibid., 196-207. 50 PT Sot. 7.1, 21b; BT Sot. 33a; Tosefta Sot. 7.1. 51 The king's pericope contains various sections (see Mishnah Sot. 7.8), some of which are previously mentioned passages such as the Shema (in any language according to 7.1!) and the blessings and the curses. For the occurrence in PT Sot. 7.1, 21b, which is problematic, see below, n. 78. 52 Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 205 argues that the four rituals listed in 47 48

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Awareness of this problem may already be signalled by R. Yehuda's opinion in 7.4, who argues that the word ‫ככה‬, rather than ‫ עניה‬and ‫אמירה‬, marks the Hebrew requirement for the ritual of the ḥalitsah: ‫ר׳ יהודה אומ׳ וענתה ואמרה‬ ‫‘ ככה עד שתאמר בלשון הזה‬R. Yehuda says, “And she will answer and say thus”—[it is not valid] unless she speaks in this language’. His argument is part of a system of interdependent textual clues to justify the exclusivity of Hebrew, which the Mishnah apparently presupposes without further elaboration. The Mishnah's silence becomes even more pressing in the priestly blessing (no. 4, Mishnah Sot. 7.6), where neither ‫ עניה‬and ‫ אמירה‬nor ‫ככה‬ occurs, leaving this instance entirely unexplained. Why does the Mishnah does not even alert to this difficulty or to any possible solution—one which was, at some stage, at hand, for R. Yehuda held that the word ‫ כה‬in the priestly blessing signals the holy tongue (or so other sources attest);53 this, in turn, led to the blanket statement cited in several Midrashim, the Yerushalmi and the Bavli that ‘in each place where ‫ כה ככה עניה ואמירה‬occur [it must be said] in the holy tongue’.54 The criteria have been increased from two over three to four textual triggers. But even this latter rule does not solve each case, because none of these key words occur in the ‫משוח‬ ‫המלחמה‬.55 Why does the Mishnah not deploy this argument for the priestly blessing in Mishnah Sot. 7.6, or mention a solution for the anointed priest in 8.1? Why does it leave out any justification after 7.4? There is ample reason to study the criteria for language selection in the performance of these rituals more closely in rabbinic literature. Too much is left unsaid in these two mishnaic lists, and it is worth our efforts to discover choices which may have preceded the making of these lists without becoming explicit, or traces of alternative lists which did not make it into this chapter.

7.5-8 do not contain these words, and passes over 8.1 and 9.1 in silence, but in the sections of the Blessings and Curses (7.5), as well as the Heifer (9.1), and indirectly the king's pericope (7.6), these words do occur, but are not deployed as an argument in either Mishnah or Tosefta. Elsewhere they do receive attention; see Sifrei Deut. §210; Midr. Tan Deut. 21.7; PT Sot. 9.1, 23b; BT Sot. 33a/b; 44b. 53 See below, p. 16; BT Sot. 33a/b; 38a; Sifrei Num. 39; Num. R. 11.4. 54 See Mek. ‫ בחודש‬9 (p. 238); Sifrei Num. 39; Midr. Tan. Deut. 21.7; PT Sot. 7.2, 21c; BT Sot. 33a/b; Lekaḥ Tov Exod. 20.19; Koh. R. 7.4. 55 In other sources, additional markers of the holy tongue are identified for this ritual; see below, p. 21.

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THE RATIONALE OF FREE LANGUAGE SELECTION The Languages of the Sotah Ritual In a previous chapter (Mishnah Sot. 2.3), the Mishnah describes in detail how the ‫ פרשת סוטה‬, the pericope of the accused woman (Num. 5.19-22) was written down by the priest. He would, naturally, omit those parts of the pericope which tell him what to do, or her what to say. The writing material is discussed, and other details, but the reading of the pericope receives no mention until chapter 7 when the pericope is laconically included in a list of texts that may be recited in any language. Thus the Mishnah does not shed any light on one important detail of the procedure: how did the priest read and explain the pericope to the woman? Did he say it in the vernacular, after writing it in Hebrew? Following the Tosefta, the priest read out the text he wrote on the scroll before explaining to her what goes on (Tosefta Sot. 2.1): ‫יוצא ועומד בצד סוטה קורא ודורש ומדקדק כל דקדוקי פרשה ומשמיעה בכל‬ ‫לשון ששומעת כדי שתהא יודעת על מה היתה שותה‬ He goes out and stands by the accused wife. He reads [the text of the scroll] aloud and explains it and spells out every detail of the pericope. And he makes her understand it in any language she understands so that she knows what she is drinking...

Although no indication is given about the language in which the priest would write down the pericope on the scroll, the original language, Hebrew, is the obvious and unmarked choice.56 He copied the pericope from the text which Queen Helene had inscribed on a golden flagstone (Mishnah Yom. 3.10), which was, whether in abbreviated form or not, assumed to be Hebrew (PT Sot. 2.2, 18a). The question whether the scroll defiles the hands assumes a Hebrew text (PT Sot. 2.4, 18a). The written text fulfills a ritual function itself, by being blotted by the bitter waters, circumstances under which the text mattered in every detail, comparable to mezuzot and tefilin for which no other language was allowed (Mishnah Meg. 1.8). He explains to her that his copy is accurate.57 But what about the spoken language? The Mishnah does not specify whether the priest first read the pericope in Hebrew, then interpreted it in the woman's vernacular, or translated the Hebrew immediately in her vernacular. The last option is what the Mishnah's wording would seem to suggest, but we cannot be certain. 56 57

Cf. Mishnah Sot. 2.3-4, which describes how he wrote the text on a scroll. See PT Yom. 3.10(8), 41a and PT Sot. 2.2, 18a.

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The Tosefta offers a different picture: The priest does not read out the pericope in whatever language the woman understands, but its explanation. It follows that the Tosefta assumes recitation in Hebrew followed by an oral interpretation; if so, the passage may not be read in any language. This conclusion chimes with the omission of this pericope among the passages that may be said in any language according to Tosefta Sot. 7.7: ‘Blessings, Hallel, Shema and Amidah are said in any language’; the sotah ritual does not figure in this list.58 The discussion in the Yerushalmi is slightly more suggestive of a translation (PT Sot. 2.2, 18a; par. PT Yom. 3.10(8), 41a): ‫תני רבי הושעיה כל פרשת סוטה היתה כתובה עליה שממנה היה קורא‬ ‫ומתרגם כל דיקדוקי הפרשה‬ R. Hoshaya taught: The whole pericope of the sotah was written on it, because [the priest] read from it and interpreted all the details of the pericope.

Although the verb ‫ ומתרגם‬implies both ‘translation’ (in the sense of a shift of language) and ‘interpretation’ (in the sense of explanation), the Yerushalmi only has a few places where the verb ‫ תרגם‬does not refer to a translation in contrast to the Bavli where the non-translation is dominant.59 Does ‫ ומתרגם כל דיקדוקי הפרשה‬mean exactly the same as the parallel ‫ודורש‬ ‫ ומדקדק כל דקדוקי פרשה‬in the Tosefta?60 Whether or not ‫ דורש ומדקדק‬is a hendiadys, which the Yerushalmi captures in one word, ‫ומתרגם‬, the detailed explanation must have included translation of at least the essentials to render the procedure valid. The whole procedure is reminiscent of Ezra's public reading of the Torah, which, as the rabbis saw it, was followed by both translation and explanation,61 while in this ritual the priest would write and read the pericope to the accused woman in Hebrew (at least in the Tosefta's version), and then explain text and procedure to her in her own vernacular. 58 Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, argues that the Tosefta presupposes ‘any language’, but does not mention the three variables: the language of the written text, the language of reading out the pericope, and the language of instruction. Cf. H. Bietenhard, Der Tosefta-Traktat Sotah (Judaica et Christiana, 9; Bern: Peter Lang, 1986), 27 n. 70, 37 n. 10. 59 See my ‘Language, Locus and Translation between the Talmudim’, Journal for the Aramaic Bible 3 (2001), 199-224 (201-203). 60 For a link between ‫ דורש‬and translation, see Mishnah Shek. 5.1: ‫שהוא פותיח‬ ‫דברים ודורשן ויודיע בשבעים לשון‬ 61 Tosefta San. 4.7(5); Gen. R. 36.8; PT Meg. 1.11(8), 71b; 4.1, 74d; BT San. 21b/22a; BT Ned. 37b.

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But the Tosefta does not refer to an oral-performative translation. In the Yerushalmi, the issue of language selection is taken up again in PT Sot. 7.1, 21b: ‫כתיב ואמר הכהן לאשה בכל לשון שהיא שומעת דברי רבי יאשיה אמר ליה‬ ‫רבי יונתן ואם אינה שומעת ולמה היא עונה אחריו אמן אלא שלא יאמר לה‬ ‫על ידי תורגמן‬ It is written, ‘And the priest shall say to the woman’ (Num. 5.21), ‘In any language which she understands’, the words of R. Yoshiya. R. Yonathan said to him, ‘If she does not understand, then why should she say after him, “Amen’’?’ But [the meaning of the verse just now cited is] that he should not speak to her through an interpreter.

R. Yonathan's response to R. Yoshiya does not challenge the use of a vernacular, but his prooftext. In his interpretation, the verse ‘and the priest shall say to the woman’ precludes the use of an intermediate as interpreter, which agrees with the usual legal restrictions: Any suspect or witness in a legal suit had to be addressed in his or her own language.62 Both R. Yoshiya and R. Yonathan accept this, but the former understands the use of ‘say’ in Num. 5.21 as a reference to her vernacular whereas the latter derives her understanding from her confirmation, ‘Amen’. Behind this exchange looms the distinctive approach of the R. Yishmael Midrashim, which do not accept the derivation of the same legal ruling from two distinct verses.63 The interpretative formula ‫‘ אינו צריך‬the [text] does not require [this interpretation]’, which characterises this \mbox{hermeneutic method, is found wanting in the Yerushalmi, but occurs in the parallel of Sifre Num. 12. Thus the disagreement between these two Rabbis concerns the prooftext, not the procedure followed by the priest. But which procedure do they have in mind—exactly what does the priest say when he uses the woman's vernacular? In R. Yoshiya's version, it would seem that ‘say’ signals the oral-performative translation (just as Onqelos ‘said’ his translation) from the written Hebrew text of the pericope itself, which would not contradict R. Yonathan's conclusion, that the priest should not use an interpreter, hence address the woman himself in her own language. The more detailed challenge in the parallel of Sifre, where R. Yo-

62 Mishnah Mak. 1.9; Tosefta San. 7.7; BT Mak. 6b; BT Sanh. 17a; BT Men. 65a; PT Yeb. 16.7,16a; Lev. R. 9.34; PT Ned. 10.10(8),42a. 63 A. Yadin, Scripture as Logos: R. Yishmael and the Origins of Midrash (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 68-69.

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shiya based his interpretation on Num. 5.19 rather than 5.21,64 helps to clarify how R. Yonathan relates ‘say’ to the priest's instruction: ‫ואמר אל האשה בכל לשון שהיא שומעת דברי ר' יאשיה שהיה בדין ומה אם‬ ‫יבמה קלה לא עשה בה כל הלשונות כלשון הקודש סוטה חמורה אינו דין‬ ‫שלא נעשה בה כל הלשונות כלשון קודש ת“ל ואמר אל האשה בכל לשון‬ ‫שהיא שומעת דברי ר' יאשיה ר' ישמעאל אומר אינו צריך שהרי כבר נאמר‬ ‫ואמרה האשה אמן אמן אם אינה שומעת כיצד אמרה אמן אמן או אינה‬ ‫אומרת ]אלא על אלה[ כשהוא אומר יתן ה' אותך לאלה ולשבועה בתוך עמך‬ ‫הרי שבועה אמורה הא מה ת”ל ואמר הכהן לאשה לימדה כהן סדר שבועה‬

In every language that she understands—the words of R. Yoshiya. Would it not be reasonable to argue that just as in case of a sister-in-law [ḥalitsah]—the more lenient instance—

one would not consider all languages as equal to the holy tongue, all the more so in case of a sotah—the more severe case—one would not consider all languages as equal to the holy tongue? Therefore [Scripture] tells us: ‘And he told the woman'—in any language, that she understands. The words of R. Yoshiya. R. Yishmael says: The text does not require [this interpretation], since it has already been said: ‘And the woman will reply, Amen Amen’ (Num. 5.22)—if she did not understand, how did she [confirm and] say ‘Amen Amen'? Or did she only say this concerning the curse? As it says: ‘The LORD may make you a curse and oath among your people’ (5.21)—here the oath is mentioned. Now, what does Scripture teach us with ‘and the priest said to the woman’ (5.21)? The priest taught her the order of the oath.

This version is the more accurate one. The double use of ‘Amen’ is required, because R. Yishmael understands the woman's double confirmation as addressing both the curse and the oath. She has to understand both; even though the curse works of its own accord (usually assuming Hebrew), her understanding is essential for the legitimacy of the procedure. Likewise, she should understand the oath for it to become legally valid (as several oaths discussed in Tosefta Sot. 7). But in this version, Yishmael's challenge does not refer to an interpreter as the additional derivation from the word ‘say’, but to the priest's instruction, teaching the woman what her oath is all about. He does not translate, but ‘teach’. This conclusion is not at odds 64 It seems likely that both 5.19 and 5.21 played a part, at least in the eyes of R. Yonathan: one of the terms is redundant, which renders one verse free for interpretation.

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with R. Yonathan's inference in the Yerushalmi, which claims that he should not use an interpreter, but in Yishmael's wording the activity for which he may not use an interpreter is the legal instruction of the woman, rather than the translation of the pericope. Since both R. Yonathan and R. Yishmael agree with R. Yoshiya, that in contrast to the ritual of the ḥalitsah the accused woman (sotah) should understand her oath by the use of languages other than the holy tongue—which is a different proposition from the priest's unmediated instruction, otherwise the restriction of ‫אינו צריך‬ would apply—R. Yonathan apparently agrees that the pericope may be recited in any language. All reject the kal vaḥomer argument, which would make Hebrew a prerequisite. They accept the use of the woman's vernacular, but R. Yishmael and R. Yonathan assume that the priest addresses the woman in her own language in two distinct activities: in his translation of the pericope, and in his instruction of the procedural details. Thus the priest copies the text from the golden flagstone while he has the parchment in his hand; he stands by the woman, then reads out the text to her. Since he reads (‫ )קורא‬the text written in Hebrew, the Tosefta would seem to suggest that he recites the pericope in Hebrew. But does he subsequently translate the pericope? In the instruction that follows reading, he ‘makes her understand it in any language she understands’. The ambiguity of the Tosefta is revealing: no value is placed on the translation of the pericope, as long as the accused woman understands the procedure. A different picture emerges from the Yerushalmi and Sifre Numbers. The exchanges between R. Yoshiya/R. Yonathan and R. Yoshiya/R. Yishmael suggest that the priest translated the pericope. Whether he first recited the pericope in Hebrew, remains unclear, although R. Hoshayah (PT Sot. 2.2, 18a) claims that the priest read from the written scroll. The kal vaḥomer argument, contrasting the procedure of ḥalitsah with that of the sotah, would seem to suggest that Hebrew recitation was not a prerequisite for the proper execution of the ritual. Or more precisely, it was incumbent upon the priest to ‘say’ the pericope to the accused woman in her own vernacular. That leaves the issue of his ‘reading’ open: no value is placed on recitation in the holy tongue (even if they thought it constituted a regular part of the procedure). The Mishnah simply states that the pericope was said in whatever language the woman in question would understand. There is accordingly no discussion of the need for understanding of the pericope. The Mishnah's position, followed by the Bavli, neither excludes nor implies a prior reading

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in Hebrew.65 Conversely, the Tosefta neither excludes or implies a (comprehensive) oral translation of the pericope. Although the Tosefta does not include the sotah in the list of pericopes that may be said in any language, this fact does not contradict the possibility of translation, but its necessity for the enactment of the ritual. The contrast between ḥalitsah and sotah in Sifre Numbers and the Yerushalmi would seem to suggest that in these sources no value was attached to Hebrew recitation, although it may have been accepted as a regular part of the ritual. This sheds another light on the editorial form of the Mishnah. The mishnaic list is an ‘either/or’ arrangement: the pericope may either be said in any language (without Hebrew), or in the holy tongue. In this dichotomy, the situation that a pericope is first read in Hebrew to be followed by an oral-performative translation is not envisaged. It is quite likely that the Mishnah forces the pericope into a mould, superimposed upon a series of mishnayot that discussed rituals for the detail of their procedure. In this discussion, language selection played a part, but did not assume an overriding role. There is also an important difference between the rites, that the ‘either/or’ list cannot suitably accommodate: In the case of the sotah ritual, Hebrew was mandatory for the written text, while understanding in whatever language the woman speaks is mandatory for the oral part of the ritual. The Language of the Shema The recitation of the Shema in any language was not uncontroversial. The Shema, originally part of the daily morning liturgy in the Temple (Mishnah Tam. 5.1), the liturgical use of which is attested by the Nash Papyrus dating from the second c. BCE, seems to have been adopted in the daily morning and evening prayers from an early period onward—where it did not necessitate the presence of priests. Following the Tosefta, Rabbi challenged the tradition that the Shema may be recited in any language (Tosefta Sot. 7.7), '‫ברכות הלל ושמע ותפלה נאמרין בכל לשון ר' אומ' אומ' אני שאין שמע נאמ‬ ‫אלא בלשון הקדש שנ' והיו הדברים האלה‬ Blessings, Hallel, Shema and Amidah are said in any language.

BT Sot. 32b: ‘Whence have we it that the section concerning the suspected woman [may be recited in any language]? As it is written, “And the priest shall say (‫ )אמר‬unto the woman” (Num. 5.21) — in whatever language he speaks’. A variant reading in MS Vat110 reads ‫‘ בכל לשון שהיא שומעת‬in whatever language she understands’. MS Mun95: ‫‘ בכל לשון שהו' שומע‬in whatever language he understands’. 65

112

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH Rabbi says, I say that the Shema may only be recited in the Holy Tongue, as it is said, ‘These are the words’ (Deut. 6.6).

Rabbi's emphasis is on the first word in Hebrew, ‘are’. There is no textual irregularity here which triggers this interpretation; ‫ והיו‬is not a superfluous element, or odd in its syntactic construction. Thus ‫ והיו‬is taken to mean that these words must remain as they are, and since they are written in Hebrew, they must be recited in Hebrew, too. Similar arguments on the basis of the verb ‫ היה‬occur elsewhere with regard to tefilin and mezuzot—which must be written in Hebrew, whereas the Bible may be written in either ‘any language’ or in Greek—but not in the Mishnah. While the introduction ‘I say’ bears the hallmarks of Rabbi's authority, the Mishnah does not record his opinion. The Yerushalmi does, but initially in an unfavourabe reception, as illustrated by the story about R. Levi bar Ḥayta who heard Jews in Caesarea reading the Shema in Greek, and objected (PTSot. 7.1, 21b): ‫וקרית שמע דכתיב ודברת בם רבי אומר אומ' אני קרית שמע אינו נאמר אלא‬ ‫בלשון הקודש מה טעמא והיו הדברי' האלה ר' לוי בר חיתה אזל לקיסרין‬ ‫שמע קלון קריין שמע אלוניסתין בעא מעכבתון שמע רבי יוסי ואיקפד אמר‬ ‫כך אומר אני מי שאינו יודע לקרות אשורית לא יקרינה כל עיקר אלא יוצא‬ ‫בכל לשון שהוא יודע השיב ר' ברכיה הרי מגילת אסתר היה יודע לקרותה‬ ‫אשורית ולעז אינו יוצא בה אלא אשורית אמר רבי מנא מגילת אסתר היה‬ ‫יודע לקרותה אשורית ולעז אינו יוצ' אלא אשורית בלעז יוצא בה בלעז וכן‬ ‫יוצא בה בכל לשון שהוא יודע‬ ‘The recitation of the Shema [may be said in any language], as it is written, ‘And you shall talk of them’ (Deut. 6.7). Rabbi says, I say, The recitation of the Shema is said only in the holy tongue. What is the scriptural basis for that view? ‘And these are the words which I command you’ (Deut. 6.6) R. Levi bar Ḥayta went to Caesarea. He heard them read the Shema in Greek. He wanted to stop them from doing so. R. Yose heard and was angered. He said, Should I say, one who does not know how to read them in Hebrew [‫ ]אשורית‬should not read them at all? Rather he fulfills his obligation in any language which he knows. R. Berekhya replied, Lo, the scroll of Esther, if one knew how to read it in Hebrew or in Greek [‫]לעז‬, he carries out his obligation to read it only in Hebrew. [However,] R. Mana said, As to the scroll of Esther, if one knew how to read it in Hebrew and in Greek, he fulfills his obligation to read it only in Hebrew. In Greek [only], he fulfills his obliga-

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tion to read it in Greek. And so one carries out his obligation to read it in any language which he knows.

In the Yerushalmi's narrative, R. Yose retorted to R. Levi bar Ḥayta that it is allowed ro read the Shema ‘in any language which one knows’. Tellingly, the Yerushalmi appends an exchange of opinion about the reading of Esther, attributed to two of the latest Palestinian Amoraim which indicates ongoing interest in the subject of language selection. R. Berekhya ‘replied’ (obviously not in dialogue with either R. Yose or Rabbi, but in a virtual response to the issue under discussion) that someone who knows both Hebrew and another vernacular can only fulfill his obligation in Hebrew. Whether or not R. Berekhya intended to address the recitation of the Shema is largely irrelevant; the editorial effect links the Shema to Esther, and thereby transfers the priority of Hebrew from the laws surrounding the reading of Esther to the language selection of the Shema. The transfer, which is not provided with any justification, entails the recitation from a written text (and the incongruity between the two contexts would seem to suggest that the link between these two issues is editorial). While R. Mana agreed, he filled in the gap which R. Berekhya left open: what if someone does not know Hebrew? Where R. Berekhya is apparently unwilling to address that situation, R. Mana maintained that ‘any language’ will do if someone does not speak Hebrew (here ‘Ashurit’, the term used in connection with Esther). The last line would seem to be superfluous: ‘And so one carries out his obligation to read it in any language which he knows’, unless it is seen as a return to the topic of the Shema, to which the same ruling applies. Thus Rabbi's opinion is accommodated as the preferred option by analogy with the recitation of the scroll of Esther during the festival of Purim, but the older opinion is maintained as the lowest threshold. The anonymous opinion in the Yerushalmi is noteworthy for its choice of prooftext: ‘“The recitation of the Shema [may be said in any language]”, as it is written, “And you shall talk of them” (Deut. 6.7)’. Sages somehow justify the use of any language by the words ‫דברת בם‬, ‘and you shall speak of them’—in whatever language that you understand—but why the element of speech evokes a vernacular is not specified. We may speculate that ‫‘ דברת בם‬speak of them’ was seen as analogue to ‫אמר‬, ‘say’, the keyword which had been argued to imply vernacular use in the sotah ritual. Alternatively, ‫ דברת בם‬may have been understood as ‘talk to them’, hence in the language they would understand. This argument may represent a relatively early stage in the discussion, but was a dead end, as it has no parallels outside the Yerushalmi. How tenuous it is was realised in the Yerushalmi in

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connection with the pericope of the anointed priest (which should be said in the ‘holy tongue’, PT Sot. 8.1, 22b): ‫משוח מלחמה כו' משוח מלחמה למה בגין דכתיב ודיבר הרי קרית שמע הרי‬ ‫כתיב בה ודברת בם והיא נאמרת בכל לשון אלא בגין דכתיב בה אמירה הרי‬ ‫פרשת וידוי מעשר הרי כתיב בה אמירה והיא נאמר' בכל לשון‬ The anointed for war, why [must he address the people in the holy tongue]? Because it is written, ‘He shall speak’ (Deut. 20.2). But with the recitation of the Shema it is also written, ‘And you shall speak of them’ (Deut. 6.7), but she may be said in any language! Rather, because it is written ‘saying’. But with the paragraph of the confession of the tithes it is written ‘saying’, but it may be said in any language.

This rebuttal rules out the unqualified use of gezerah shavah,66 when based on either ‘speak’ or ‘say’, as proof for any language selection. An alternative solution is attested in the Babylonian Talmud, where the discussion is reflected three times (BT Sot. 32b/33a; cf. BT Ber. 13a and BT Meg. 17a-18a): ‫קרית שמע מנלן דכתיב שמע ישראל בכל לשון שאתה שומע תנו רבנן קרית‬ ‫שמע ככתבה דברי רבי וחכמים אומרים בכל לשון מאי טעמא דרבי אמר קרא‬ ‫והיו בהווייתן יהו ורבנן אמר קרא שמע בכל לשון שאתה שומע‬ ‘The Shema’. How do we know67 [that it may be recited in any language]? As it is written: ‘Hear, O Israel'—in any language that you understand. Our rabbis taught: The Shema must be recited as it is written. So Rabbi but Sages say: In any language. What is Rabbi's reason? Scripture declares, ‘And [these words] shall be’, i.e., they must remain as they are. And [what is the reason of] our rabbis? Scripture declares, ‘Hear, O Israel'—in any language you understand.68

Sages base their opinion on the word ‫שמע‬, ‘hear’ (Deut. 6.4), taken as a reference to understanding. In what follows the arguments come under This type of analogy is analysed as ‘keying’ in Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 214-25. 67 MSS Mun95 and Vat110 do not read ‫מנלן‬. 68 There occurs an interesting change of appellation here: ‘Our Rabbis’ teach the words of Rabbi over against the Sages, but when the position of the Sages (usually considered synonymous with ‘our Rabbis’) is clarified, it is in fact attributed to ‘Our Rabbis’. 66

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erence to understanding. In what follows the arguments come under close scrutiny: How does Rabbi explain ‘hear’, what do Sages make of ‘and shall be’. Rabbi launches an (eventually succesfull) attempt to pre-empt the interpretation based on ‘hear’: if you pray the Shema, you should at least hear your own words, thus audibly pronounce the Shema. Sifre Deut. §31 follows suit: ‫]שמע ישראל[ מיכן אמרו הקורא קריית שמע ולא השמיע לאזנו לא יצא‬, ‘[“Hear Israel”], on this basis they said, Who recites the Shema but does not hear it with his own ears, has not fulfilled his obligation’. This midrash takes sides with Rabbi (BT Ber. 13a), R. Yose (Mishnah Ber. 2.3) or R. Eleazar b. Azarya (BT Ber. 15b) in taking ‘hear’ literally, thereby precluding the interpretation that someone should understand the Shema for it to be meaningful. This discussion was not settled when the Mishnah was redacted, but eventually the multilingual approach was to lose out. In the literal approach any reference to understanding, hence to vernaculars, is unnecessary. This style of anonymous discussion is typical for the late editorial layer in the Bavli, commonly attributed to the Stammaim, and it does not end with any obvious decision in favour of one of both alternatives.69 The discussion of the sotah made clear that hearing was tantamount to understanding, and understanding implied linguistic ability. Thus we find three different text-immanent touchstones for the language selection of the Shema, two which allow any language (‘speak’, ‘hear’) and one which prescribes the holy tongue (‘be’). Only the Yerushalmi approximates a decision with its harmony of both positions, derived from the discussion about reading the Book of Esther: if one can read Hebrew, the holy tongue is mandatory, but if not, any language is permitted. All this fails to illuminate why Rabbi stressed the Hebrew language requirement over against both tradition and a sizable number of his peers, and how he could succeed in the long run if multilingual recitation had become the norm for his contemporaries. An extra-textual assessment may bring us one step closer to understanding his position, but first we should continue to evaluate the rationale of language selection for the rituals listed in Mishnah Sot. 7.1-2.

69 A proof based on ‘hear’ is advanced elsewhere, too; in BT Sot. 33a, the reason that the oath of testimony may be uttered in whatever language one understands is based on Lev. 5.1: ‘“And if any one sin, in that he hears the voice of adjuration” (Lev. 5.1) — in whatever language he hears it’.

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Analogies in Support of Free Language Selection Unlike the two previous biblical passages, there is a general consensus on the remaining rituals with the priestly blessing as the only other exception. Despite this, the hermeneutics underlying the foregone conclusions are disputed—not, as far as the first list is concerned, in the Mishnah, but in other rabbinic sources. The case of ma‘aser sheni, the confession of the [second] tithes, is a case in point. This ritual could be recited in whatever language the offerer understands. While neither the Mishnah nor Sifre Deut. §303 offer support for this view,70 the Bavli fills in the gaps (Sot. 32b): ‫וידוי מעשר מנלן דכתיב ואמרת לפני ה' אלהיך בערתי הקודש מן הבית ויליף‬ ‫אמירה מסוטה בכל לשון שהוא אומר‬ The confession of the tithes—from where [do we know that this passage may be recited in any language]? As it is written, ‘Then you shall say before the LORD your God: “I have removed the sacred portion from the house”’ (Deut. 26.13), and it is inferred from [the analogous use of] ‘saying’71 in the [passage about] the sotah [that it may be said] in any language that he speaks.

The argument is derivative, and presumes that the sotah ritual may be recited in any language. On the basis of the weak verbal analogy of the verb ‫אמר‬ the same condition, that the use of any language is permitted, is transferred to the pericope of the confession of the tithes. Arguably, a more refined analogy underlies this argument—since the pericope of the sotah states twice that the priest shall speak (‫ )אמר‬to the woman (5.19, 21), one of these occurences might be termed mufneh, ‘free’ for purposes of analogy72—but if so, this point has not been made expressly. Nonetheless, even this refined analogy more commonly associated with the R. Yishmael Midrashim still does not make clear why the transfer can be made in this particular case, but not in the case of the pericope of the anointed for war, where the same analogy is rejected in the Yerushalmi (above, p. 13). The Bavli highlights the weakness of this argument by an objection which carries the simple analogy ad absurdum, and then sheds more light on the use of the analogy: 70 The Midrash simply comments: ‫ואמרת בכל לשון‬, ‘“And you will say”—in any language’. This gloss adumbrates the issue rather than discussing it. 71 MS Vat 110 reads ‫ אמירה אמירה‬for ‫ ;אמירה‬it omits in the same sentence ‫בכל‬ ‫לשון שהוא אומר‬. 72 See above, n. 64 and p. 11; for the hermeneutics, see Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 88-93; Samely, Rabbinic Interpretation of Scripture, 40-41.

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‫א“ל רב זביד לאביי ולילף אמירה מלוים מה להלן בלשון הקודש אף כאן‬ ‫בלשון הקודש דנין אמירה גרידתא מאמירה גרידתא ואין דנין אמירה גרידתא‬ ‫מענייה ואמירה‬ R. Zebid73 said to Abaye, But let the deduction be drawn from the analogous use of the word ‘say’ in connection with [the blessings and the curses recited by] the Levites (Deut. 27.14): As there it means that it must be [recited] in the holy tongue, so here it must be [recited] in the holy tongue! We deduce [the meaning of] an unqualified use of ‘say’ from another occurrence of an unqualified use of ‘say’,74 but we do not deduce [the meaning of] an unqualified use of ‘say’ from a passage where the expression ‘speak up and say’ occurs.

In this objection the argument is put to the test, using the very same method of analogy which seemingly secured free language selection to invert the agreed practice for the confession. In a mixture of Hebrew and Aramaic, the anonymous reply rules out this particular analogy by the cotextual claim that in the pericope of the blessings and the curses ‫ אמירה‬is qualified by ‫ עניה‬and therefore not eligible for analogy with an instance of ‫ אמירה‬on its own. But the reply seems to have been latched onto the discussion as a late hermeneutic comment on the ruling,75 given its mixture of language, lack of attribution, its style, and the number of variant readings.76 Since the Yerushalmi notes the difficulty of the proof in another context (namely, the ritual of the anointed war priest),77 but does not offer the hermetic type of exegesis which the Bavli proffers, we may assume that MSS Mun95 and Vat110: ‫‘ רב זירא‬Rav Zera’; MS Mun95 omits ‫‘ לאביי‬to Abaye’. Both MSS read ‫ אמירה אמירה‬for the singular use of the word. 74 MS Mun95, supported by the Bomberg edn, reads: ‘ '‫דנין' עניה ואמיר' מעני‬ ‫ ’ואמיר' ואין דנין אמיר' גריד' מעניה ואמיר‬We deduce [the meaning] of “speak up and say” from another occurrence of ‘'speak up and say”, but we do not deduce [the meaning of] an uqualified use of “say” from “speak up and say”’. This is the mirror argument of the Vilna text, which is supported by MS Vat110. 75 Traditionally, the reply is ascribed to Abayye, but the text does not say so expressly, and there is no necessity to assume this attribution. 76 Cf. S. Friedman, ‘‫’מבוא כללי על דרך חקר הסוגיה‬, in H.Z. Dimitrovsky (ed.), ‫( מחקרים ומקורות‬New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1978), 277-441. 77 The gemara on ‫ מעשר שני‬in the Yerushalmi is terse and confusing: ‘“The confession of the tithe”. As it is written: “And you shall respond and say”.’ Although ostensibly the Yerushalmi discusses why the confession of the tithes may be recited in any language, its prooftext is the very hallmark of texts that must be recited in Hebrew. It seems unavoidable to assume that the the wrong prooftext has 73

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metic type of exegesis which the Bavli proffers, we may assume that in an early phase of the discussion the simple analogy was either deemed sufficient and only subsequently found wanting, or tentative, since no one disputed the conclusion itself. Be this as it may, the arguments based on ‫עניה‬ ‫‘ אמירה‬speaking up and say’ lead us to the justification for the Hebrew language requirement. The language selection of the final four rituals—prayer, grace after meals, the oaths of testimony and of a deposit—which the Mishnah includes among those said in any language is simply taken for granted, and receives little attention.78 Only the language of the Amidah was not altogether uncontroversial, and Hebrew was favoured by the rabbis for prayer in general because ‘angels do not understand Aramaic’. The common denominator of these four passages is that they require understanding on the part of the subject, as the Yerushalmi iterates; we may add that they are non-priestly affairs. UNDERPINNING THE HOLY TONGUE REQUIREMENT Levitical Responses: The Blessings and the Curses There is no controversy about the language requirement of the rituals listed in Mishnah Sot. 7.2, with just one exception (the priestly blessing). Despite the identical conclusions, which seem to have been firmly established long before the attention to detail of textual proof, the hermeneutic approaches differ vastly, and may reveal traces of a dichotomy in hermeneutic attitudes of which only one has been preserved completely. To summarize, one method of explaining the Hebrew language requirement identifies unique prooftexts for each of the rituals—with the exception of the King's Pericope and the High Priest's blessings, which are simply past over in silence in

been adduced, because the prooftext ‫( וענית ואמרת‬Deut. 26.5) is part of bikurim (Deut. 26.1-11) rather than the pericope of the tithes (Deut. 26.12-15). As in the Bavli and in Sifrei, Deut. 26.13 would have been expected: ‫ואמרת‬, ‘and you shall say’. While it is conceivable that they had a text which read both verbs in Deut. 26.13, none of the textual witnesses supports this reading. It is worthwhile to point out that the prooftext notwithstanding ‫ מעשר שני‬is discussed as part of those rituals that may be recited in whatever language one understands, while the wording of the discussion, brief as it is, does not hint at any opposition to this ruling. 78 See PT Sot. 7.1,21b; BT Sot. 33a offers prooftexts for grace and oaths; in case of the ‘Amidah, it first states ‘one may pray in whatever [language] one wishes’ and then proceeds to question the suitability of Aramaic.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

119

the Yerushalmi, the Bavli and the Midrashim.79 Alternatively, the rituals inassofar they are discussed are all linked to the pericope of the Levites' blessings and curses, ultimately rooted in the Sinai theophany by analogy with God's voice in Exod. 19.19. Without attempting to include all rabbinic discussions, I will analyse the most salient passages below. The Mishnah supplies a justification for the first two Hebrew-only rituals, bikurim and ḥalitsah, but not for any of the remaining ones. There is something laconic about the way the Mishnah presents these two cases, as if submitting an abstract without the paper. But the paper exists elsewhere: Justifications of the Hebrew language requirement are numerous, and quite possibly coherent approaches may be construed on the basis of other rabbinic sources. If there is any substance behind these two mishnayot in rabbinic reflection on the language selection, as there obviously is, the more pertinent question is: How does such reflection relate to the Mishnah (and the Tosefta), and how coherent is the reflection as found in rabbinic literature?80 In Mishnah Sot. 7.3, the justification for the prerequisite of Hebrew is rooted in a gezerah shavah: ‫מקרא הבכורים כיצד וענית ואמרת לפני ייי א׳׳יך ארמי אובד אבי ולהלן הוא‬ ‫אומ׳ וענו הלוים ואמרו אל כל איש ישרא׳ קול רם מה ענייה אמורה להלן‬ ‫בלשון הקודש ואף כן בלשון הקודש‬ ‘The verses of the firstfruits'—how so? ‘And you will answer and say before the Lord your God’ (Deut. 26.5). And later on it says, ‘And the Levites will answer and say’ (Deut. 27.14). Just as answering which is said in that later passage is in the holy tongue, so answering which is said here [in reference to the firstfruits] is in the holy tongue.

The analogy of ‫‘ עניה אמירה‬speaking up and say’ between the pericope of the first fruits (Deut. 26.5) and the pericope of the blessings and the curses (Deut. 27.14) assumes that the pericope of the Levites should be said in the 79 Perhaps the circumstance, that the King's recitation would include that of the blessings and the curses, meant that it could be passed over in silence. The High Priest's Blessings were part of the liturgy for the Day of Atonement, which may have been assumed to be in Hebrew. 80 Whether parallel tradition in other rabbinic sources are ‘later’, or whether all texts presuppose one another at some level, is not a question I will extensively deal with. ‘Later’ is a relative term, which is particularly uncertain with respect to the smallest textual units, while any presumed harmony of voices is not the goal of the present exercise. What I am after in this section is clarification of the interest which the mishnaic redaction had in the language requirements.

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

120

holy tongue, but does not explain why. The analogy of ‫ עניה אמירה‬with Deut. 27.14 is the most frequently cited argument. It is applied again in the next mishnah concerning the ḥalitsah-ritual. When a man did not wish to marry his widowed sister-in-law, as would have been required of him under normal circumstances, a specific procedure is stipulated in the Torah: ‘the removal of the shoe’ (ḥalitsah). According to all sources, the text prescribed by the Torah had to be spoken in Hebrew, but the justification for this selection of language varies. The Mishnah itself offers two opinions (7.4):81 ‫חליצה כיצד וענתה ואמרה ככה יעשה לאיש אשר לא יבנה את בית אחיו‬ ‫ולהלן הוא אומ׳ וענו הלוים כולו וגו׳ מה ענייה אמורה להלן בלשון הקודש‬ ‫ואף כאן בלשון הקודש ר׳ יהודה אומ׳ וענתה ואמרה ככה עד שתאמר בלשון‬ ‫הזה‬ The rite of removing the shoe—how so? ‘And she will speak up and say, Thus will be done to the man who will not build his brother's house’ (Deut. 25.9). And later on it says, ‘And the Levites will speak up and say’ (Deut. 27.14). Just as later on speaking is to be in the holy tongue, so here speaking is to be said in the holy tongue. R. Yehuda says, ‘And she will speak up and say thus’—[it is not valid] unless she speaks in this very language.

As discussed above, ‫‘ כיצד‬how so’ asks why these passages should be framed in the holy tongue, whereas the same interrogative in 7.5-8 questions the detail of procedure for the ritual to be carried out. The Mishnah derives the language requirement from Deut. 27.14, as in the case of bikurim. But the gezerah shavah shifts the question from the ḥalitsah and bikurim to the blessings and curses: how do we know that the Levites were speaking in the holy tongue in the first place? This question takes on greater importance when we realise the central position of the analogy of ‫עניה אמירה‬. Apart from ḥalitsah and, the same analogy occurs in the connection with the pericope of the heifer whose neck is to be broken (eglah arufah).82 And whilst based on a different analogy, the importance of the Levitical ritual is reinforced by BT Sot. 38a which suggests an analogy between the blessings and the curses and the priestly blessing based on a recurrence of the verb ‘bless’ (‫ לברך‬and ‫תברכו‬ respectively). Thus the blessings and the curses serve as a prooftext for 4 out of 8 of the Mishnah's pericopes. Ignoring the King's pericope and the 81 82

The Mishnah has a parallel in Sifrei Deut. §291 and BT Sot. 33a/b. BT Sot. 44b; cf. Sifre Deut. §210.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

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High Priest's blessings, which are nowhere justified, this leaves only the pericope itself and that of the anointed war priest. The latter passage, however, is indirectly linked to the blessings and the curses, via an analogy with the eglah arufah, itself rooted in an analogy with Deut. 27.14. But where is the evidence for this key-text itself? Three different answers are found, which, I suggest, can be arranged in a logical sequence. Sifre Deut. §55 argues for a ‫‘ הקש‬analogy’ within the pericope itself:83 ‫‘ מה קללות בלשון הקודש אף ברכות בלשון הקודש‬Just as the curses are [pronounced] in the holy tongue, so are the blessings’.84 The midrash takes its cue from the circumstance that the blessings are mentioned but not specified in Deuteronomy, whereas the curses are written out (Deut. 27.15-26). How then is the holy tongue in this analogy, which transfers the language of utterance from one to the other, established for the curses to begin with? Apparently, it goes without saying that the Levites who were to proclaim the curses did so in the holy tongue.85 There is substantial reason to assume that this assumption is correct; the power of exact wording inherent in the curse would get in the way of any language other than the original one, while Levites in their priestly role could be assumed to speak the holy tongue. If so, the pericope of the blessings and the curses was in itself made into the cornerstone of the analogies. But this explanation is rooted in extra-textual assumptions, unlike the explicit rabbinic arguments. A different line of reasoning follows from Mishnah Sot. 7.4 (see above, p. 16), where R. Yehuda does not cite the verbal analogy of ‫עניה‬ ‫ אמירה‬but the adverb ‫ככה‬. He points the demonstrative force of the adverb to the speech act: ‘R. Yehuda says, “And she will speak up and say thus, ...”—[it is not valid] unless she says precisely these words’. In Biblical Hebrew the retrospective adverb ‫ ככה‬stands at the beginning of a clause:86 ‘She 83 For the hekesh, see Mielziner, Introduction to the Talmud, 152-53: ‘the connection of two subjects by a common predicate indicates that they in some respects have a relation to each other’. Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 203 (analogy 2.1): ‘Selection and transfer of a substantive feature between two subjects defined as related on the basis of the textual proximity of their biblical representations’. 84 The same analogy is made in Midr. Tan. Deut. 21.19; BT Sot. 37b. 85 We cannot assume that the justification is grounded in another analogy, namely with Exod. 19.19 as in BT Sot. 33a, for which there is no evidence in Sifrei Deut. itself. Whether BT Sot. 37b presupposes the analogy put forward at f. 33a, as Rashi assumes, is a matter of reading strategies. Nor can the language selection for the curses depend, for the rabbis, on the very fact that they were written out in Hebrew; this, after all, also applies to many other pericopes. 86 See B.K. Waltke and M. O'Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax

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will speak up and say, In the foregoing way shall be done to the man...’87 Moving the reference of the demonstrative adverb ‘thus’ from the following clause to the preceding one, the exact wording of the text itself becomes the decisive factor for the exclusive use of the holy tongue: The word ‘thus’ marks the text as one the woman has to say ‘exactly so, as it is written in the Torah’, namely in the holy tongue. As a result, no analogy is required. R. Yehuda's interpretation of ‫ ככה‬as an emphatic marker of speech is matched by his emphasis on ‫ כה‬to introduce the priestly blessing (Num. R. 11.4): ‫רבי‬ ‫‘ יהודה אומר אינו צריך הרי הוא אומר כה עד שיאמרו בלשון הזה‬R. Yehuda says, It is not necessary [to rely on an analogy], for it says: “so” (‫)כה‬, meaning that they will say in it this language’. Here, too, R. Yehuda's argument stands in contrast to a verbal analogy. Although this Midrash is late, the same argument is implied by Sifre Num. 39 and y. Sot. 7.2, 21c: ‫תני בשם רבי יודה כל מקום שנאמר בלשון הזה ענייה ואמירה ככה וכה הרי‬ ‫הוא בלשון הקודש‬ It is taught in the name of R. Yuda, Wherever these expressions occur: ‘answer and say’, ‘thus’ and ‘so’, [the passage] must be [said] in the holy tongue.88

Given his recorded opposition to the arguments based on analogies, and the prima facie meaning of his summarizing mantra, the mere occurrence of the words ‫‘ עניה אמירה‬speaking up and saying’ is sufficient to trigger the Hebrew language requirement just like ‫ ככה‬and ‫כה‬. Decisive would appear to be the mimetic nature of ‫( עניה אמירה‬which is indeed a factor in justifying the practice of prompting in Sifre Deut. §301):89 the words require a reply (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 665-67; P. Joüon and T. Muraoka, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (Rome: Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 1996), I, §102h). In R. Yehuda's interpretation it would introduce speech, as ‫ כה‬in ‫ כה תברכו את בני ישראל‬. 87 For three different takes on ‘thus shall it be done to the man’ in the Mishnah, stressing ‘thus’, ‘done’ and ‘to the man’, see Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 312-13, 350. 88 Quoted after PT Sot. 7.2, 21c. See further Sifrei Num. 39; Mek. ‫ בחודש‬9; Midr. Tan. 21.7; BT Sot. 33a; 33b; Lekaḥ Tov Exod. 20.19; Koh. R. 7.8; Num. R. 11.4. 89 See also nn. 144 and 145 below. Sifrei Deut. §301 reads: ‫בראשונה כל מי שהוא‬ ‫יודע לקרות קורא ושאינו יודע לקרות מקרים אותו נמנעו מלהביא התקינו שיהו מקרים את היודע‬ ‫‘ ואת מי שאינו יודע סמכו על המקרא וענית אין עניה אלא מפי אחרים‬Originally, whoever knows how to make the declaration, recites, but if there is no one who knows how to recite, they read it out to him. When people consequently refrained from bringing first fruits, it was decided that both those who knew how and those who did

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that corresponds to the original utterance, including its language. This is, in fact, what even Mishnah Sot. 7.3 implies: ‫מה ענייה אמורה להלן בלשון הקודש ואף‬ ‫‘ כן בלשון הקודש‬Just as the response in the latter passage is said in the holy tongue, so the response here is said in the holy tongue’. No analogy is needed; the wording itself implies the holy tongue. To a considerable extent, we cannot exactly construe R. Yehuda's argument. He advances three unique criteria for three pericopes. If he intended all criteria to be unique, then how did he derive the language selection for the remaining Hebrew-only rituals? If he intended the criteria to be valid for all Hebrew-only pericopes, they would still not have covered the pericope of the anointed war priest. Worse, they would include passages never listed among those to be recited only in the holy tongue.90 On both counts the representation of his opinion is found wanting. These problems may suggest that later tradents formalised his arguments and retroactively ascribed the rule to him. An obvious incentive to include his statements would have been the rationale for the language of the priestly blessing (‘so’) which only R. Yehuda could offer. The third solution employs the method of verbal analogy (‘keying’). Quoting the mishnah on bikurim, the Bavli expressly voices the question how the language requirement for this ritual is established (BT Sot. 33a): ‫ולוים גופייהו מנלן אתיא קול קול ממשה כתיב הכא קול רם וכתיב התם משה‬ ‫ידבר והאלהים יעננו בקול מה להלן בלשון הקודש אף כאן בלשון הקודש‬ As for the Levites themselves, from where [do we derive that it must be said in the holy tongue]? It is derived from the analogous use of the word ‘voice’ in connection with Moses. Here it is written ‘with a loud voice’ (Deut. 27.14), and elsewhere it is written, ‘Moses spoke and God answered him by a voice’ (Exod. 19.19); as in the latter passage it was in the holy tongue, so also in the other passage it means in the holy tongue.

The final link in the chain is an analogy between Deut. 27.14 and Exod. 19.19, ‫‘ משה ידבר והאלהים יעננו בקול‬Moses would speak and God would reply with a voice’.91 Moses’ speaking corresponds to God's response with a not would have the declaration recited to them. For this they relied upon the verse, “And you shall respond”, since responding implies prompting to respond by someone else’. 90 For more passages containing ‫עניה אמירה‬, see below, p. 31. Cf. Mek. ‫בחודש‬ 9; Lekaḥ Tov Exod. 20.19. 91 For the same prooftext and analogy, see Midr. Tan. 21.7; BT Sot. 42a. Cf. PT Sot. 8.1, 22b.

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‘voice’. The use of ‫קול‬, redundant in Exod. 19.19 when interpreted as ‘voice’ rather than ‘thunder’, hence ‘free’ (‫)מופנה‬,92 is understood to indicate Hebrew and more particularly the correspondence of language between Moses' address to God and God's reply. This correspondence, then, becomes the blueprint for the mimesis of language that underlies the verbal analogy of ‫עניה אמירה‬. As a consequence, the language requirement for all these rituals is based on the language situation of the blessings and the curses, which in turn is rooted in the Sinai Theophany. The difference between this solution and that of R. Yehuda is not lost on the editors, who wonder why he did not make the same analogy, and supply the following answer: ‫‘ ענייה ענייה גמיר קול קול לא גמיר‬He had learnt [from his teacher] to draw an inference from the analogous use of the word “speak up” but not from “voice”’.93 On the other hand, they do not distinguish between the use of verbal analogy and syntactic emphasis to underpin the Hebrew language requirement, and in fact muddle the water by mixing both approaches (BT Sot. 33b): ‫ורבי יהודה האי וענתה ואמרה מאי עביד ליה מיבעי ליה לאגמורי ללוים‬ ‫דבלשון הקודש‬ What, then, does R. Yehuda make of the phrase ‘and she shall speak up and say' (ḥalitsah, Deut. 25.9)? He requires it for the Levites that [they must speak] in the holy tongue.

Does he? Following this line of reasoning, the burden of proof for the Levitical pericope rests on its the analogy of ‫ עניה אמירה‬with the ḥalitsahpericope, reversing the direction between Deut. 27.14 and Deut. 25.9 in comparison with Mishnah Sot. 7.4. But R. Yehuda does not mention any analogy. The argument is a rationalization of the different positions characteristic for the authorial voice of the Bavli.94 In fact, no Tannaitic parallel for this particular analogy exists, except for Midrash Tannaim to Deut. 21.7 which is suspect as a Tannaitic tradition.95 The Bavli implictly reveals R. 92 See BT Ber. 45a for another interpretation of the apparent superfluity of ‫ ;בקול‬cf. Mek. ‫ בחודש‬4 (edn Horovitz–Rabin, 216; edn Lauerbach, 223). 93 Because this type of analogy easily results in fallacy, the rabbis allowed this method only in the case of a tradition received from an established authority; M. Mielziner, Introduction to the Talmud (repr. New York: Bloch, 1968), 148. 94 Note, in this connection, that BT Sot. 33a/b expresses the analogy with Exod. 19.19 with the Aramaic term ‫( אתיא‬above, p. 18), a formula which is considered to be post-Tannaitic. 95 H. Basser, ‘Midrash Tannaim’, in J. Neusner (ed.), Encyclopedia of Midrash: Biblical Interpretation in Formative Judaism (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2005), I, 510-19.

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Yehuda's real opinion when it continues with the summary statement we already encountered above: ‫תניא נמי הכי רבי יהודה אומר כל מקום שנאמר כה ככה ענייה ואמירה אינו‬ ‫אלא לשון הקודש כה כה תברכו ככה דחליצה ענייה ואמירה דלוים‬ It has been taught, R. Yehuda96 says, Wherever [in Scripture the words] ‘so, thus, answer and say'97 occur, [what has to be spoken] must only be in the holy tongue. The word ‘so’ is found in ‘So you shall bless’ (Num. 6.23); ‘thus’ in connection with ḥalitsah (Deut. 25.9),98 and ‘speaking up and saying’ with the Levites (Deut. 27.14).

R. Yehuda does not mention any analogy, but bases the language requirement for the Levites on the occurrence of the phrase ‘speaking up and saying’; parallel occurrences receive no mention. The textual triggers ‫ענייה ואמירה כה‬ ‫ ככה‬stipulated the holy tongue by themselves. The blend of the Bavli is already attested in PT Sot. 7.2, 21c, where the verbal analogy with Exod. 19.19 is deemed to be the main principle behind the mishnaic selection of pericopes, combined with R. Yehuda's blanket statement that any passage where ‘speaking up, saying, so thus’ occurs must be recited in the holy tongue. All of them are ‘constructed as a family’ (‫בניין‬ ‫)אב‬, derived from the mimetic interpretation of Exod. 19.19.99 But the text continues with a sustained challenge: ‫התיב רבי חגי והכתיב ויען לבן ובתואל ]ויאמרו[ אין תימר על ידי ענייה‬ ‫והכתיב ויאמרו אין תימר על ידי אמירה והכתיב מיי' יצא הדבר אין תימר‬ ‫בלשון הקודש והכתיב ויקרא לו לבן יגר שהדותא ואין תימר קודם למתן‬ ‫תורה הרי פרשת וידוי מעשר הרי הוא לאחר מתן תורה והוא נאמר בכל לשון‬ ‫רבי שמואל בר נחמן בשם רבי יוחנן שלא יהא לשון סורסי קל בעיניך‬ ‫שבתורה ובנביאים ובכתובים הוא אמור‬ R. Haggai objected, But is it not written, ‘Then Laban and Bethuel spoke up [and said]’ (Gen. 24.50)? If you say [it is different here] because of ‘answering’, has it not also been written, ‘And they said’ (Gen. 24.50? Koh. R. 7.8 reads ‫ רבי מאיר‬instead of ‫רבי יהודה‬. Ms CG T.-S. F2(2),30 omits the words ‫ עניה אמירה אינו אלא‬and reads ‫בלשון‬ for ‫לשון‬. 98 Vat110 omits ‫ככה דחליצה‬, for which a Cairo Geniza fragment reads ‫מחליצה‬. See A. Liss, ‫ מסכת סוטה‬.‫תלמוד בבלי‬, II (Jerusalem: Institute for the Complete Israeli Talmud, 1979), ‫צג‬. 99 For ‫בניין אב‬, cf. Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 229. 96 97

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126

If you say [it is different here] because of ‘saying’, has it not been written, ‘The thing comes from the {Lord; we cannot speak to you bad or good’ (Gen. 24.50)? And if you say that, indeed, all of this was said in the holy tongue, and is it not written, ‘And Laban called the place, Yegarsahadutha’ (Gen. 31.47)? And if you explain that that was because it was prior to the giving of the Torah, lo, there is the pericope of the confession for tithe. Lo, it comes from the time after the giving of the Torah, and it may be said in any language at all. R. Samuel bar Naḥman in the name of R. Yoḥanan, Let the Aramaic language not be cheap in your eyes! For in the Torah, Prophets and Writings, that language is to be found.

R. Ḥaggai's objection reveals the fallacy of the argument that ‫עניה אמירה‬ point to the use of the holy tongue. In Gen. 24.50 the verbs apply to Laban and Bethuel, two Arameans who (by implication) would have spoken Aramaic.100 The verbal analogy does not hold water. To emphasize his point, R. Ḥaggai (or rather the anonymous editor) refutes four possible objections to save the analogy. The first calls into question the validity of the analogy with ‘answering’, ‫ויען‬. The suggestion is that Laban and Bethuel ‘answer’ the question of Abraham's servant, Eliezer, so that ‫ עניה‬must be taken literally as a reply, not the expression ‘they began to speak’. This would break up the expression and thus disqualify Gen. 24.50 from the generative analogy—hence save the rule. This interpretation is quickly dismissed by pointing out that the full expression is in fact used. The second objection targets the analogy with ‘saying’, which, judging by the refutation, indicates that the contents of Laban and Bethuel's speech renders the analogy invalid. What could have been wrong with it? Their words are: ‘The matter comes from the LORD; we cannot speak to you bad or good’. But Laban's image in rabbinic literature is notoriously negative,101 and he was accused of attempting to poison Eliezer in an attempt to prevent the marriage between Rivqa and Yitsḥaq;102 presumably, this objection seeks to disqualify the analogy by hinting at Laban and Bethuel's unspoken intentions. R. Ḥaggai (or the editor) counters this objection by pointing out that all Laban and Bethuel said Gen 25.20; 28.5; 31.20,24; Deut 26.5. K.H. Zetterholm, Portrait of a Villain: Laban the Aramean in Rabbinic Literature (Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Culture and Religion, 2; Leuven: Peeters, 2002). 102 See, i.a., TgPsJ Gen. 24.33, 50; Gen. R. 60.12. 100 101

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

127

was determined by God.103 The third objection implies that Laban availed himself of Hebrew, not Aramaic, in an attempt to maintain the verbal analogy—but citing the Aramaic name which Laban gave a place (Yegarsahadutha) proves that he spoke Aramaic and thus gives the lie to that claim. The final attempt to salvage the analogy is of a chronological nature: The holy tongue would not have been imperative before Israel received the Torah. This objection is given equally short shrift, since the confession of the second tithes, which postdates the giving of the Torah, may be declared in any language. This strong challenge to the verbal analogy of ‫ עניה אמירה‬takes a sudden twist when R. Shmuel bar Naḥman emphasizes the positive value of Aramaic.104 Before the Yerushalmi resumes the discussion of the Mishnah, it substantiates the claim that Aramaic occurs in each of the major parts of the Hebrew Bible,105 followed by a saying that accords respect to Greek, Latin, Aramaic and Hebrew before ending on the notion that the Israelites selected Hebrew as a language and Aramaic as a script.106 It follows that R. Shmuel bar Naḥman accepts R. Ḥaggai's inference from Gen. 24.50 that ‫ עניה אמירה‬does not refer to Hebrew but to Aramaic, at least in the editorial flow of the narrative, but in contrast to R. Ḥaggai he draws a positive conclusion about the importance of Aramaic. This conclusion is reinforced by the reference to the four ‘appropriate’ languages that are used in the world. Arguably, this editorial reasoning turns the tables on R. Ḥaggai. Has the analogy been invalidated? Although in practice the analogy of ‫עניה אמירה‬ boils down to an insistence on Hebrew, it functions strictly speaking to prohibit a change of language into any desirable vernacular. If Laban and Bethuel spoke Aramaic, and if Aramaic should not be considered lightly but may be used appropriately for certain purposes—and marriage certainly ranked among these purposes—, the analogy has not been proved wrong. At the end of the day, it is not beyond doubt whether the Yerushalmi maintains the analogy. The final word on the subject suggests yet another solution for the Hebrew language requirement: ‫כתיב וענו הלוים ואמרו אל כל‬ ‫‘ איש ישראל קול רם בקולו של רם מלמד ששיתף הקב“ה קולו עמהם‬It is written, “And the Levites will speak up and say to each man in Israel with a loud 103

18b.

It is inferred from Gen. 24.50 that God arranges marriages: BT M. Kat.

In the parallel of Gen. R. 74.14: ‘because God paid honour to it’. Gen. 31.47; Jer. 10.11; Dan. 2.4. 106 ‘Said R. Jonathan of Beth Guvrin, ‘Four languages are appropriately used in the world, and these are, every day speech [Greek] for song, Latin for war, Sursi [Aramaic] for wailing, Hebrew for clear speech’. 104 105

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128

voice” (Deut. 27.14)—with the voice of the Highest. This teaches that the Holy One blessed be He shared his voice with them.’ If God adds His voice to that of the Levites—and God, naturally, speaks the holy tongue—it follows that the Levites must speak the holy tongue as well. This argument closely resembles that of the analogy with Exod. 19.19, where ‫ בקול‬was deemed mufneh and an indication that God replied to Moses in Hebrew, but this time no analogy is necessary, since the language requirement for the Levites is deduced from the wording of the verse itself. All bases are covered, but has a point been scored? In the rabbinic discussions the result was never in doubt, but the hermeneutics were. With few exceptions, the whole process is an exercise in how to draw foregone conclusions. I hope to show that this observation and the particulars of the disagreements carry significance for the development of the Tannaitic tradition and ultimately for the insistence on the use of the holy tongue. The Language of the Anointed War Priest Ritual The contrast between the notion of a generative anology and unique prooftexts is also in evidence with the ritual of the anointed war priest, which is the most difficult passage among them all since none of the three criteria listed as ‫ ענייה ואמירה ככה וכה‬occur in this pericope. The language of its declaration is discussed in PT Sot. 8.1, 22b:107 ‫משוח מלחמה למה בגין דכתיב ודיבר הרי קרית שמע הרי כתיב בה ודברת‬ ‫בם והיא נאמרת בכל לשון אלא בגין דכתיב בה אמירה הרי פרשת וידוי‬ ‫מעשר הרי כתיב בה אמירה והיא נאמר' בכל לשון אמר רבי חגיי נאמר כאן‬ ‫נגישה ונאמר להלן ונגשו הכהנים בני לוי מה נגישה שנאמר להלן בלשון‬ ‫הקודש אף כאן בלשון הקודש עד כדון כרבי עקיבה דו אמר לשונות ריבויין‬ ‫הן כרבי ישמעאל דו אמר לשונות כפולין הן אמר רבי חייה בר אבא נאמר‬ ‫כאן נגישה ונאמר להלן ונגש משה אל הערפל מה נגישה שנאמר להלן בלשון‬ ‫הקודש אף כאן בלשון הקודש‬ [1] The anointed for war, why [must he address the people in the holy tongue]? Because it is written, ‘He shall speak’ (Deut. 20.2). But with the recitation of the Shema it is also written, ‘And you shall speak of them’ (Deut. 6.7), but she may be said in any language! [2] Rather, because it is written ‘saying’ (Deut. 20.3). But with the paragraph of the confession of the tithes it is written ‘saying’ (Deut. 26.13), but it may be said in any language. 107

The translation is divided into five passages for ease of reference.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

129

[3] Said R. Ḥaggai, It is said here [of the anointed priest] ‘drawing near’, and it is said there ‘and the priests, the sons of Levi, shall draw near’ (eglah arufah, Deut. 21.5). Just as ‘approaching’ there [must be said] in the holy tongue, so also here [it must be said] in the holy tongue. [4] Thus far in agreement with R. Aqiva, who said, They are extended expressions. According to R. Yishmael, who said, They are doubled expressions, [it cannot be used as proof]. [5] Said R. Ḥiyya bar Abba, It is said here ‘ approaching’ and it is said there ‘And Moses approached the thick cloud’ (Exod. 20.17[21]). Just as it is said there in the holy tongue, so also here in the holy tongue.

This complicated passage brings together four different arguments [1-3, 5] for the demand that the pericope of the anointed priest should be said in Hebrew. The differences are once again of a hermeneutic nature. According to the first two, anonymous opinions [1-2], the verbs ‫ דבר‬and ‫ אמר‬imply the use of Hebrew without any use of analogy (at least explicitly). These arguments, formally, resemble those of R. Yehuda: certain lexemes bring on a language requirement of their own accord. As such they are reminiscent of the words ‫ויהו‬, ‫ כה‬and ‫ ככה‬which are taken to indicate that the text should remain as it is, in the holy tongue. But it is difficult to see how this works with ‫[ דבר‬1], let alone ‫[ אמר‬2]. The words ‫ויהו‬, ‫ כה‬and ‫ ככה‬are far more convincing than either ‫ דבר‬or ‫ אמר‬in this sense; they can be conceived as markers of something specific: ‘so’, not otherwise, ‘they will be’ as they are, do not change these words. It is a different story with the verbs ‘speak’ and ‘say’, which more closely resemble the markers ‫‘ שמע‬hear’, ‫‘ אמר‬say’ (!) and ‫‘ אמן‬Amen’ as indicators of understanding, which, for that reason, point to the conclusion that the pericope in question may be said in any language— indeed, they have been adduced as evidence for free language selection (cf. PT Sot. 7.1, 21b).108 The objection to these two solutions is all too keenly felt. If these two arguments are not cut of the same cloth as the other emphatic lexemes, two possible interpretations suggest themselves. They are deliberately deficient so as to expose the type of argument, or they are analogous but lacunary, preserving the keyword but not the analogy necessary to make sense of it all. The first option should be seriously considered, 108

See pp. 112-114 above.

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INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

for the Yerushalmi may not be interested in their potential to demonstrate the Hebrew language requirement, which is the foregone conclusion, but in their fallability as arguments—advanced as a foil to demonstrate the fallacy of unchecked verbal analogies for which just as easily another parallel could be adduced with the very opposite effect. Both ‘speak’ and ‘say’ are countered with proof that other pericopes in which these verbs occur, such as the Shema and the confession of the second tithes, may be said in any language and not exclusively in the holy tongue. On the other hand, the arguments may have been deficient analogies, the reconstruction of which is somewhat speculative but not entirely impossible. To speculate, the arguments based on ‫ דבר‬and ‫ אמר‬are the flip sides of a single coin, assuming that one of the verbs in ‫ ודבר‬... ‫[‘ ואמר‬the priest] would say... and he would speak’ in Deut. 20.2-3 is redundant. If so, either ‫ ודבר‬or ‫ ואמר‬would have been ‘freed’ for interpretation. On this assumption, [1] and [2] represent two ways to establish an analogy based on presumed redundancy.109 The following sequence of [3-5] may strengthen this speculation. These statements revolve around the disagreement between R. Aqiva and R. Yishmael [4], sandwiched between the analogies of R. Ḥaggai [3] and R. Ḥiyya bar Abba [5]. The position is awkward. It is difficult to relate [4] to [3], whereas [4] would make perfect sense following [1-2] to illuminate the arguments of [1-2]. To begin with the hermeneutics of [3], R. Ḥaggai's solution is based on the verb ‫‘ נגש‬approached’, which occurs in both the pericope of the anointed priest and the pericope of the eglah arufah.110 In both cases cited, the verb precedes a public speech act: the Levitical priests who pronounce a blessing and preside over the ritual,111 and the priest who addresses the troops. On the basis of a shared lexeme, he transfers the language requirement from the latter to the former; whether a similarity of context, a 109 Alternatively, the verb ‫ דבר‬may have been linked to Exod. 19.19, ‫משה ידבר‬ ‫‘ והאלהים יעננו בקול‬Moses would speak and God would reply with a voice’. This is the generative analogy to which the previously cited passage of PT Sot. 7.2, 21c refers (and which is explicitly applied to the anointed priest in Midr. Lekaḥ Tov Deut. 20.2). While this speculative argument works for ‫דבר‬, it is less transparent in the case of ‫ אמר‬unless Exod. 19.19 is read in conjunction with 19.21 which refers to God's saying (19.21: ‫‘ ויאמר יהוה אל משה‬Then the Lord said to Moses’). 110 And, we may add, in the pericope of the unwilling levir, Deut. 25.9. 111 The ritual's details are ambiguous, including the exact role of the priests, but they are ascribed the authority in the event: ‘for the LORD your God has chosen them to minister to Him and to pronounce blessing in the name of the LORD, and every lawsuit and case of assault is subject to their ruling’ (21.5).

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

131

priestly-led ritual, informs the transfer is unclear. As it is stated, this is a simple textual analogy, since there is no other obvious element to render the verb mufneh (as is the case elsewhere when the same word in Deut. 21.5 is interpreted).112 Such basic textual analogies were later required to be supported by a redundancy.113 While the transfer is clear, its contents are taken for granted; the transferred language requirement for the eglah arufah is itself not grounded in a textual feature. How was it established? For this latter pericope only one argument is known, the very analogy of ‫עניה אמירה‬ which R. Ḥaggai opposed (PT Sot. 7.2, 21c; p. 20 above). While R. Ḥaggai's interpretation is intelligible, the link between his interpretation and R. Aqiva's method of ‫ לשונות ריבויין‬in [4] is puzzling: Scripture uses the ‘language of extension’, with which R. Yishmael famously disagrees.114 The alleged agreement between R. Ḥaggai's interpretation and R. Aqiva's method is far from obvious: how is ‫ נגש‬marked as a ribbui ‘extension’?115 Defined in a narrow sense, the ribbui is a function of particles like ‫אף‬, ‫גם‬, ‫את‬, and ‫כל‬,116 none of which occur in the present pericope.117 It would make sense to take the ‘extension’ in the sense of redundancy, but there is no obvious redundancy in R. Ḥaggai's analogy. Following Fränkel's commentary on the Yerushalmi, however, the ‘extension’ in the sense of redundancy presumably refers to the occurence of ‫ ודבר‬... ‫ ואמר‬in Deut. 20.2-3,118 the analogies suggested in [1-2]. If so, 112 The analogy of R. Nathan in Sifrei Num. 39 is also based on Deut. 21.5's ‫נגש‬, but in combination with ‫לשרתו‬, which yields the conclusion that in Num. 6.23 the priestly blessing must be recited in standing position: ‫מקיש ברכה לשירות מה שירות‬ ‫בעמידה אף ברכה בעמידה‬. 113 See n. 73 above; Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 352. R. Ḥaggai's analogy belongs to the resource described as Keying2 by Samely. 114 For the expressions ‫ לשונות ריבויין‬and ‫לשונות כפולין‬, see Bacher, Die exegetische Terminologie der jüdischen Traditionsliteratur (repr. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1965), 85, 180. Cf. Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 238-41. 115 The exact definition of ‫ רבוי‬stands open to discussion. Cf. Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 238-41, with Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 45-47. In this connection it is important to bear in mind that Samely's analysis applies to the Mishnah, not necessarily to the corpus Yadin studied. 116 Mielziner, Introduction to the Talmud, 124-26; Bacher, Die exegetische Terminologie, I, 180. 117 Although the ‘waw’ in ‫ ונגש‬could be said to extend the meaning; cf. Mielziner, Introduction to the Talmud, 126 n. 4, but this extension would seem to be limited to one text in which the meaning of a word is extended to include another meaning.

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INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

20.2-3,118 the analogies suggested in [1-2]. If so, either verb in the sequence ‫ ודבר‬... ‫ ואמר‬may be labelled a ‫‘ רבוי‬extension’. In other words, not R. Ḥaggai's opinion chimes with R. Aqiva's opinion about ‘extending expressions’, but the previous two anonymous suggestions which had already been countered. It is entirely consistent with the literary image of R. Yishmael that he would reject this ‘extension’ as an example of ‫כפולין לשונות‬ ‘redundancy of expression’, or pleonasm. Yet it is hard to see which reduplication he would have considered a mere pleonasm in R. Ḥaggai's analogy. Fränkel's point that [4] is a comment on [1-2] is, then, well-taken. On the other hand, R. Ḥaggai's unqualified analogy in [3] would agree with methods ascribed to R. Aqiva, who allowed such analogies even when one of the words can hardly be considered redundant or hermeneutically marked.119 Moreover, the final interpretation by R. Ḥiyya bar Abba in [5] is based on the same verb in the pericope of the anointed war priest, ‫נגש‬, but compared to a text from the Torah. R. Ḥiyya bar Abba ‘s proof in [5] may follow R. Yishmael, as [4] would suggest such an opposition, even if this is not immediately obvious. He derives the language requirement from an analogy between Exod. 20.17(21), ‫‘ ונגש משה אל הערפל‬and Moses approached the thick cloud’, and ‫‘ ונגשו הכהנים‬then the priests will approach’ (Deut. 21.5). Exactly what justifies this interpretation remains unsaid. That Moses would have spoken Hebrew, is assumed on the basis of the following verse, Exod. 20.18(22): ‫ויאמר יהוה אל משה כה תאמר אל בני ישראל אתם‬ ‫‘ ראיתם כי מן השמים דברתי עמכם‬The LORD said to Moses: Thus shall you say to the Israelites: You yourselves saw that I spoke to you from the very heavens’. But how is ‫ נגש‬hermeneutically marked? The Mekhilta does not comment upon this, but does offer an intriguing midrash on Moses’ approach of the thick cloud, asking ‫‘ מי גרם לו‬what brought him [this distinction]?’ It goes on to explain that his humility caused the Shekhinah to dwell on earth, whereas arrogance will cause the Shekhinah to depart. In other words, it is not Moses who moves, but the Shekhinah. That is also the purport of Pirqe de Rabbi Eliezer, more expressly stated, which comments that Moses did not approach the thick cloud of his own accord (hence the Niph‘al, a passive), but was seized by the angels Michael and Gabriel. On 118 So D. Fränkel, ‫( קורבן העדה‬commentary to the Yerushalmi); cited by F.G. Hüttenmeister, Sotah: Die des Ehebruchs verdächtigte Frau (Übersetzung des Talmud Yerushalmi, III/2; Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1998), 184-85 n. 9. 119 H.S. Horovitz, ‫( ספרי דבי רב‬Leipzig: Gustav Fock, 1917), vi; Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 48-69. Cf. the cautious remarks concerning analogy and redundancy in Samely, The Interpretation of Scripture, 39-41.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

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this interpretation, the verb ‫ נגש‬is marked. All the same, the Yerushalmi does not make it clear why R. Ḥiyya bar Abba's interpretation would be more convincing than R. Ḥaggai's. If we were to remove [4] from the text, we would have a straightforward discussion in which two solutions are falsified, and two are put forward as alternatives: one deriving the Hebrew language requirement from a pericope which was said in Hebrew for reasons that have not been stated (R. Ḥaggai), and one which finds a unique proof in the Torah (R. Ḥiyya bar Abba). Since these last Rabbis are Amoraim, and the first two anonymous opinions are formulated in Aramaic, it is not unreasonable to consider the opposition between the two schools of interpretation as an editorial reflection on various hermeneutic solutions, adding [1-2] and [4]. Finally, a word about the language selection for this ritual. The sources unequivocally assume that the priest addresses the troops in Hebrew. However, they are in fact addressed twice according to rabbinic interpretation, and the second address by the officer in command could, according to our text in the Yerushalmi, be carried out in any language: ‫בספר את אמר שוטר‬ ‫‘ שומע מפי כהן פרשה ואומרה בכל לשון‬On the border, you say, the officer heard the pericope from the priest and said it in any language’.120 Thus the ritual was conceived of as bilingual to an extent, but with the Hebrew component being emphasized as the mirror image of the sotah-ritual, in which the legal necessity for understanding brought on a focus on the vernacular element. The Priestly Blessing and the Holy Tongue The relationship between Mishnah and Tosefta has been the focus of much recent scholarship, confirming the complicated interaction between these texts. In many cases, the Tosefta may preserve a response to an older version of the Mishnah than its current textus receptus, but the Tosefta itself frequently makes no sense unless read in alignment with the Mishnah. A good example of this latter phenomenon is Tosefta Sot. 7.7, when it comments on the priestly blessing: '‫ברכות הלל ושמע ותפלה נאמרין בכל לשון ר' אומ' אומ' אני שאין שמע נאמ‬ ‫אלא בלשון הקדש שנ' והיו הדברים האלה ברכת כהנים אלו בשעה שהכהנים‬ ‫עומדין על מעלות האולם‬ Blessings, Hallel, Shema and Amidah are said in any language. Rabbi says, I say that the Shema may only be recited in the holy tongue, as it is said, “These are the words” (Deut. 6.9). 120

Tosefta Sot. 7.16 has the priest address the troops twice.

134

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH The blessing of the priests—which ones? When the priests stand on the steps of the entrance hall.121

The last statement is problematic on several counts. The Tosefta offers no indication whatsoever about the language of the birkat kohanim. As it stands, the Tosefta lists a few texts which are ‫נאמרין בכל לשון‬, followed by a disagreement concerning the Shema and by the priestly blessing in a qualified form. In truth, the Tosefta probably starts a new topic here and we should ignore the division into halakhot. It makes more sense to assume that the clause starting with birkat kohanim stands as a parallel to Mishnah Sot. 7.6. On this assumption, this halakhah does not necessarily refer to any language requirement. In addition to the odd co-text, the syntax is problematic. If we assume that ‫ אלו‬is the demonstrative ‘these’, as Neusner apparently does,122 the plural antecedent of ‘these’ is missing. Changing ‫‘ ברכת‬blessing’ into ‫ברכות‬ ‘blessings’ is not plausible, because the singularity of the blessing is key to understanding the Tosefta at this point (see below). But the Erfurt MS reads ‫אילו‬, the plural interrogative ‘which’.123 This reading still leaves a grammatical incongruity of number, but this incongruity follows from the problem which the Tosefta addresses. The contents of the Tosefta's statement presumes a fuller discussion of the priestly blessing, but in its own cotext, it is unclear what the Tosefta conveys. The blessing was pronounced twice daily at the tamid offering, in the Temple and in the provinces (‫)מדינה‬. The Mishnah focuses on the exact way the blessing is recited, as one blessing in the Temple or three blessings in the provinces, but does not specify at which location in the Temple the blessing is recited. Mishnah Tamid mentions two locations for the Temple: 4.3-5.1 refers to the ‫לשכת הגזית‬, ‘the chamber of hewn stone’, whereas Tamid 7.1-2 says that the priests ‫באו ועמדו‬ ‫‘ על מעלות האולם‬came and stood on the steps of the porch’. On the first occasion we learn, that the blessing in the chamber of hewn stone is in fact a tripartite blessing, while on the steps of the ulam it is one blessing (except in the medinah). In tractate Sotah, the Mishnah distinguishes between a 121 There is a variant readings in the Erfurt manuscript: ‫אילו שהכהנים אומרים‬ for: ‫ אלו בשעה שהכהנים עומדים‬. 122 J. Neusner, The Tosefta (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2002), vol. 1, 862, translates: ‘The blessing of the priests'—this refers to the blessing which is said when the priests stand...’ The translation ‘this’ glosses over the problem in the text. 123 Pérez Fernández, An Introductory Grammar of Rabbinic Hebrew (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1997), 37 (also sometimes used as pronoun or adjective). He notes that manuscripts and printed editions often spell this word defectively (p. 35). For the variant, see n. 122 above.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

135

the medinah). In tractate Sotah, the Mishnah distinguishes between a tripartite blessing recited in the medinah and a single blessing in the mikdash. Thus the Tosefta's short statement identifies the blessing of its mishnaic counterpart as the one that took place on the steps of the ulam.124 The Tosefta's question, to which of three possible performances reference is made, is therefore entirely appropriate: to the singular blessing on the steps of the ulam. If this reading of the Tosefta rings true, we must assume that it directly correlates to a statement about the priestly blessing which it does not quote. The Tosefta only makes sense when read alongside the Mishnah, explaining Mishnah Sot. 7.6 in the light of Mishnah Tam. 4.3-5.1 and 7.1-2. It is therefore not necessary for the Tosefta to include its reference point of the UrMishnah wholesale when making a point of its own. MISHNAH AND TOSEFTA IN COMPARISON The attempts to seal the language selection for a limited number of passages, as the aforegoing analysis shows, yields varied results, among which two approaches are dominant: the analogy with the Levitical Curses and Blessings, ultimately rooted in an analogy with Exod. 19.19, and R. Yehuda's three ‘semantic’ criteria for three of the Hebrew-only passages. While these criteria were eventually blended at some point, doubts persisted about their validity, as the Yerushalmi testifies. This discussion is the backdrop to the text of the Mishnah, which implies the discussion of prooftexts but only gives a lacunary account in Mishnah Sot. 7.3-4. Answering the question ‘how [do we know that bikurim] must be declared in the holy tongue?’, the mishnah adduces the verbal analogy of ‫ עניה אמירה‬with the Levitical pericope as evidence but stops short of offering any further analogy, or explaining why the Levitical blessings and curses may safely be assumed to be said in Hebrew. The same analogy with the blessings and curses is advanced in 7.4, this time in juxtaposition to R. Yehuda's opinion about the force of ‫ ככה‬as regards the language to be used.125 Against the background of the discussions in rabbinic literature as 124 Lieberman, ‫ סדר נשים‬:‫תוספתא‬, 193 n. 56. But, according to Lieberman, the Tosefta goes one step further: it drops the Hebrew language requirement for the blessing recited in the liskat hagazit. Cf. Idem, ‫תוספתא כפשוטה‬, vol. 8, 678. The question here is whether the Tosefta implies a Hebrew language requirement. If it responds to a Mishnah which had that requirement, it would restrict this requirement to the blessing pronounced on the steps of the ulam. But it may as well simply comment on the procedure of the blessing, just as Mishnah Sot. 7.6 does not refer to language; it is impossible to draw any certain conclusion. 125 See above, p. 120.

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surveyed in the preceding section, these arguments are shown to be just two cogs in the mechanisms of establishing the language requirement— capturing a fragment of each of the two predominant approaches, only to fall silent about language selection and its biblical evidence immediately afterwards (from 7.5 onwards). No mention is made of the language requirement of the priestly blessing and the address of the anointed war priest, the two passages which cannot be related to the verbal analogy of ‫עניה אמירה‬ (nor to ‫)ככה‬.126 The Mishnah tacitly approves of the system-wide attempt to find scriptural support for the language selection, and may even agree with the midrashic solution to blend two different approaches, but it does not spell out all details necessary to make sense of its own division into two lists of rituals. On the other hand, the first four mishnayot tally with Tannaitic and Amoraic discussions, but much less so with the remainder of the tractate which focuses on details of procedure. These observations strengthen the theory that 7.1-4 belong to an editorial revision of the Mishnah, which presupposes a far more elaborate discussion on all the Hebrew-only pericopes then it actually provides. A comparison of the Mishnah with the Tosefta confirms this revision, as Hauptman argues. The Tosefta, she writes, opens with six rituals which, like the sotah-ritual, may be said in any language because they have to be understood by the person saying or hearing them.127 This explains why they end up in this tractate.128 When the Tosefta continues with a discussion of five other rituals, all of them have a parallel in the Mishnah's eight Hebrew-only rituals; but the Tosefta makes no mention of the Hebrew language requirement. This discrepancy is highlighted by the lack of a Toseftan parallel for the Mishnah's first two rituals, bikurim and ḥalitsah, which produced the scriptural proof of the Hebrew language requirement. The differences between the two lists, summarized in the table below, are easily explained on the assumption that the redactor of the Mishnah added these last two rituals, which ‘lend themselves to derivation of the Hebrew language requirement from verses’.129 Another difference follows from this insertion: since the pericope of the blessings and the curses delivers the prooftext for their language requirement, it now follows these two rituals in the Mishnah, whereas in the Tosefta this pericope occurs later. To complete the list of Hebrew rituals, the Mishnah's redactor adds the High Priest's blessing. Fi126 Once again, ignoring the High Priest's blessings in which these words do not occur either. 127 Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 201-206. 128 But see n. 58 above. 129 Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 203.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

137

nally, he adds the summary statement of 7.2 and the questions how the language requirement can be derived from Scripture. 7.1

Mishnah ‫ בכל לשון‬or ‫בלשונם‬

Tosefta oath of witnesses— ‫בכל לשון‬ oath of judges

7.1

blessings Hallel-psalms Shema Amidah

7.7

accused woman second tithes Shema Amidah Grace after meals oath of testimony oath of deposit

Rabbi: Shema— ‫בלשון הקדש‬ 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7 7.8 8.1 9.1

‫בלשון הקדש‬ first fruits removal of the shoe blessings & curses priestly blessing High Priest's blessing(s) king’s pericope anointed war priest ↑ eglah arufah

↓ priestly blessing king’s pericope anointed war priest blessings & curses eglah arufah

7.13 7.18 8.1 9.1

Thus the Tosefta sheds light on the final revision of the Mishnah. But what is the purport of the Mishnah's redaction, or the novelty of the Tosefta? In her view, the default position in the Tosefta is Hebrew to the extent that this requirement did not have to be stated expressly; the novel point it makes is that certain rituals may be performed in any language at all.130 This leniency is also the true novel point of the Mishnah's first list; but in a bid for symmetry and clarity, the Mishnah added the second list as a mnemonic device. This second list merely states the default position.131 Ibid., 204, 206. Ibid., 205. In this respect, then, Mishnah and Tosefta do not seem to differ too much, but it remains unclear why the view is deemed novel in either document. 130 131

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INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

At this juncture, I beg to differ. Whilst the Tosefta may not start with two contrastive lists of rituals, it mirrors the structure of the Mishnah: first come several rituals which may be said in any language and then those which the Mishnah arranged as ‘these are said in the holy tongue’, as the table above bears out.132 It opens with oaths that may explicitly be said in any language, but are missing in the Mishnah. The question in 7.2, ‘The oath of judges—how so?’, follows those of the mishnaic list of 7.5-8 inassofar it means ‘how did they do it’, not ‘how come it may be said in any language’. The Tosefta continues to discuss the severity of the task that lies ahead of both judges and witnesses, and impinges on their minds not to use God's name in vain and swear falsely. The following halakhot focus on the acuteness of their testimony in court and using the Name of God; the explanation and commentary offered suggest that legal and semantic clarity is incumbent on those in charge of imposing the oath. 7.5 deals with the validity of adjurations in the Torah for later generations, and 7.6 with the acceptance to read the Scroll of Esther, which, according to one reading of Est. 9.27, was confirmed by swearing (cf. BT Shev. 39a). Then it concludes the discussion of rituals performed in any language with 7.7, listing a series of rituals which may be said in any language. Note that the priestly blessing is the first ritual in the Tosefta that belongs to the Mishnah's Hebrew-only list, immediately after Rabbi's remark that the Shema should be said in the holy tongue. The Tosefta never suggests that any of the latter pericopes may be said in any language.133 It is implausible that the Tosefta would mirror the Mishnah's division of rituals into two lists without any knowledge of the distinction on the basis of language selection, all the more so since it does refer to ‘any language’ at the start of the chapter (7.1), and to the holy tongue immediately before discussing its five rituals which the Mishnah records as being said in the holy tongue exclusively (7.7); the two references to language selection thus occur exactly at the start of its two lists of rituals, in full agreement with the Mishnah. There may not be a summary statement in the Tosefta, as in Mishnah Sot. 7.1-2, but the contents of the Tosefta entirely agree with this division and the language indicators mark each section accordingly. Thus the topical arrangement probably already stood when the Tosefta's editor(s) chose to offer their own version. When they did, they professed more interest in the passages not found in the Mishnah—the oaths of witnesses and judges—which may well represent the Tosefta's addition to the version of 132 Cf. Ibid. 203, covering the second half of the table above—but not the first half, thereby obscuring the parallel division of rituals. 133 So also Ibid., 204.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

139

the Mishnah it responds to. The inclusion of four rituals in the statement, ‘Blessings, Hallel, Shema and Prayer (Amidah) are said in any language’ serves to include the opinion of Rabbi, who holds that the Shema should be recited in the holy tongue. The Tosefta may not mention the Hebrew language requirement explicitly for the five rituals which are known to be Hebrew-only because it had no need to do so, as it is essentially in agreement with whatever version of the Mishnah it responds to. Tempting as it is, we cannot automatically infer from an absence in the Tosefta how the Ur-Mishnah was worded, since the Tosefta frequently assumes the existence of a fuller text with details that have not been stated explicitly. Frequently, no sense can be made of the Tosefta without reading it in conjunction with the Mishnah. As recent research has emphasized, the reverse occurs as well and cases where the Mishnah should be read in conjunction with the Tosefta have been identified.134 The Tosefta will shed light on the Mishnah, even if the Mishnah is rarely incomprehensibe by itself, even if slightly enigmatic. The same cannot always be said for the Tosefta. A good example of this phenomenon is the oblique reference to the locale of the priestly blessing in Tosefta Sot. 7.7, discussed above (p. 24). This is not an isolated case; the following topics, the king's pericope and the anointed war priest receive much additional comment in the Tosefta, but have a similar poor introduction. Dealing with the king's pericope, the Tosefta quotes a small fragment of its Vorlage, ‫במה של עץ היו עושין לו בעזרה ויושב‬ ‫‘ עליה‬they make him a platform of wood in the courtyard, and he sits on it’.135 But it does not even state that we are now dealing with the king's pericope. Concerning the anointed war priest, the Tosefta skips his address to the people (Deut. 20.2-3), and starts with that of the officers (20.8). In other words, the Tosefta leaves things out which are, somehow, presumed to be there. What was there, must have been a version of the Mishnah; if not the present Mishnah, than a predecessor. The Mishnah, at its time of redaction, inherited the distinction between two sets of rituals on the basis of the language in which they are performed, but without emphasis on this distinction. The redactor added some additional items to 7.1, including the sotah ritual which, if both read and translated, could actually be included among both—but since understanding was crucial, the vernacular element was highlighted. Among the rituals 134 For a discussion of the relationship between the two sources, their interdependence and the various scholarly models of interpretation, see A. Houtman, Mishnah and Tosefta: A Synoptic Comparison of the Tractates Berakhot and Shebiit (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1996). 135 The Mishnah has a slightly different wording and much more detail.

140

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

which are said in any language the Tosefta only includes those which were still relevant to its own day: where the Mishnah includes the sotah and confession of the second tithes, the Tosefta remains silent. Far more significant are the changes to 7.2-4, where the additions of ‫ חליצה‬and ‫ בכורים‬aim at finding scriptural proof for the language requirement. The Mishnah eases the structure of its presentation by the summary statements (even if a rudimentary form of these statements probably already existed), and adds a concern for finding scriptural proof. This concern is signalled only once in the Tosefta, when it records Rabbi’ opinion that the word ‘they shall be’ stipulates the use of Hebrew for the Shema. This addition of the Tosefta mirrors the addition of ‫ חליצה‬and ‫ בכורים‬in the Mishnah. Whether or not these rituals were added in toto or only inassofar their language requirements are concerned, cannot be established without considerable conjecture.136 But what is clear is that both the Mishnah and the Tosefta attest to a growing desire to identify scriptural proof for the issue of language selection; the prominence of language selection in the Mishnah's summary statements and especially the greater attention to the stipulation of Hebrew in 7.3-4 indicate an increased sensitivity to the issue. Accordingly, the novel point in both Tosefta and the Mishnah's final version is decidedly not the permission to say certain rituals in any language. On the contrary, Mishnah Sot. 7.1-4 is mainly interested in the Hebrew-only rituals and in the evidence for the Hebrew language requirement. The Talmudim and Midrashim reinforce the impression that the insistence on the use of Hebrew is the actual interest of the later Tannaim and the Amoraim. Several passages which the Mishnah allows to be recited in any language are not discussed as far as the issue of language selection is concerned. That the Shema may be said in a vernacular, is not mentioned in Sifre Deut. In similar ways to the Mishnah itself, which professes no interest in justifying the free language selection, the Midrashim ignore this aspect, unless it has additional halakhic relevance as in the legal requirements of the sotah ritual. The reason for the free language selection—‘free’ is somewhat misleading because it was not so much free as it was compulsory for the addressed woman to be 136 That the Tosefta has no parallel for both these rituals, nor for the high priest's blessing, is far from decisive, even on the assumption that the Tosefta responds to an earlier version of the Mishnah (the Ur-Mishnah). Elsewhere, the Tosefta assumes that the ḥalitsah procedure was conducted in Hebrew, as does Sifrei Deut. §§291, 301 for both rituals: Yeb. 12.9: ‫מצות חליצה בשלשה ובלבד שיהו יודעין‬ ‫לקרות‬. Note that the parallel in the Mishnah lacks the stipulation of knowing how to read the required text out aloud: ‫מצות חליצה בשלשה דינין‬. The high priest's blessing is discussed in another tractate, Tosefta Yom. 3.18t.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

141

able to follow what was being said to her, and thus language selection was subject to her linguistic ability—is that both the legal procedure and the actual effect of the bitter water required her full understanding. But this ritual was accompanied by a Hebrew text written for the occasion, and according to some sources, recitation in Hebrew accompanied by either translation or explanation into her vernacular. The discussions focus predominantly on the imperative use of the holy tongue, not on the vernacular of the participants. If the Mishnah reveals traces of editorial interest in the second issue, it does not automatically follow that the division into two sets of language-determined rituals was born out of the same editorial interest. There is a remarkable concurrence between the Mishnah, the Tosefta and the Halakhic Midrashim in the use of the notion ‘holy tongue’.137 This notion is invoked twice in reference to a father's responsibility to teach his children Hebrew—closely associated with teaching them Torah and the Shema.138 Not coincidentally, the language selection for the recitation of the Shema attracted most controversy as we observed above. But all other instances are brought up in connection with the pericopes of Mishnah Sot. 7.2,139 or the criteria associated with them; no reference to any other connotation such as the primordial language or angelic speech is made. Wherever they profess an interest in the language requirements of most pericopes that Mishnah and Tosefta list, they share the Mishnah's interest in scriptural justification of the language requirement. This is a conspicuous result, even if Among the Halakhic Midrashim, I am cautious in using Midrash Tannaim as a reliable reconstruction of Mek. Deut; see now M. I. Kahana, ‘The Halakhic Midrashim’, in Safrai et al. (eds.), The Literature of the Sages. II. Midrash and Targum, 3105 (100-103); see also n. 96 above. Mek. SbY is dated to the late Amoraic period; see H.L. Strack and G. Stemberger, Introduction to Talmud and Midrash (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), but contrast Kahana, ‘Halakhic Midrashim’, 61-62, 75-76. There is no doubt that later Midrashim preserve old traditions, but it seems wise to err on the safe side in respect of these traditions. 138 Sifrei Zuta 15.38; Sifrei Deut. §46; Tosefta Ḥag. 1.2; Midr. Tan. Deut. 11.19. Cf. BT Suk. 42a; BT Kid. 29a. On this, see S.D. Fraade, ‘Rabbinic Views on the Practice of Targum, and Multilingualism in the Jewish Galilee of the Third–Sixth Centuries’, in L.I. Levine (ed.), The Galilee in Late Antiquity (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992), 253-86 (269 n. 40). See below. 139 Mekh. ‫ בחדש‬2 (p. 207); ‫ בחדש‬9 (p. 238); Sifrei Num. 12; 39; Sifrei Zuta 15.38; Sifrei Deut. §§46, 55, 210, 291, 301. In addition, there are frequent mentions in Midr. Tannaim (but caution is due with this Midrash): 11.19; 11.29; 12.5; 20.2; 21.7; 25.9; 26.5. There are two references in Mekh. SbY: §§6, 19. The first one compares Moses’ speech to that of an angel (that is, in Hebrew), while Aaron speaks Egyptian. But the Midrash is clearly later than the others are; see n. 138 above. 137

142

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

we take into account the halakhic nature of these Midrashim which naturally favour the preservation of halakhic traditions; despite their name, the halakhic Midrashim contain a considerable amount of aggadic material.140 All the same, the various analogies offered indicate that Tannaitic Rabbis are linked to many attempts to find scriptural proof for an almost invariable set of pericopes which were required to be read in Hebrew. The Mishnah makes a novel point,141 which is also born out by the Midrashim: the holy tongue is stipulated by the Torah in a number of cases, whereas the vernacular is prescribed in others. This novel point is decidedly not that certain rituals may be said in any language—which not only Tosefta and Mishnah clearly state, but are likely to have inherited from an Ur-Mishnah—but that others may not. It is the attempt to deliminate the use of other languages. The controversy about reciting the Shema in Greek, reported by the Yerushalmi (above, p. 12) and highlighted by the Tosefta, testifies to the insistence among some Rabbis on using Hebrew wherever possible. The same applies to the scriptural proof for the Hebrew language requirement, added to the Mishnah's final version. Hauptman writes, ‘As time passed, the requirement of Hebrew appears to have been relaxed, in particular for those rituals that do not involve the recitation of verses’.142 I think the reverse is more likely: as time passed by, and Hebrew had receded to the far corners of society, the requirement of Hebrew received formal attention and replaced initial leniency in respect of the use of other languages. The insistence upon using Hebrew—which is not the same as the practice of using Hebrew—signals a concern which is mirrored in the weighing of language choices for the reading of the Megillah (Esther). THE RELEVANCE OF LANGUAGE SELECTION To appreciate the novel tendency to insist upon Hebrew recitation, the reflection of actual performance in rabbinic literature in the light of historical circumstances requires further investigation. Even though it is not possible to construct a reliable picture of the way these rituals very actually per140 Kahana, ‘Halakhic Midrashim’, 6. Sifrei Deut. mentions the holy tongue most frequently (§§ 46; 55; 210; 291; 301; 333). 141 Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 206, writes: ‘Is there a point to the Mishnah's making the Hebrew language requirement explicit, beyond symmetrical structure and ease of memorization? Probably not’. But after discussing Tosefta Ḥag. 1.2 and Sifrei Deut. §333 she continues on p. 207: ‘All of these passages suggest that there may be a reason beyond symmetry that the redactor brings the Hebrew, or “holy tongue” requirement to the surface’. 142 Hauptman, Rereading the Mishnah, 198 n. 99.

LANGUAGE SELECTION AND THE HOLY TONGUE

143

formed, inassofar they were still performed, what we can know sheds additional light on the way the Mishnah established these lists. The linguistic diversity of Jews in Roman Palestine showed in the variety of contemporaneous practices and the scarcity of literate people. The rabbis did not close their eyes for the reality of non-Hebrew speaking Jews. In certain situations, such as the ritual of bikurim, they allowed the practice of prompting.143 In its prooftext for this practice, Sifrei relies once more on the word ‫עניה‬, but now taken in what may well have been its older, antiphonal understanding144 as ‘responding’ in a mimetic fashion, whereas it is elsewhere understood to mark correspondence in language (God, obviously, using the holy tongue). In the ḥalitsah ritual the judges read out the required passages from Deut. 25 to the man and woman involved in this procedure.145 But the ritual of bikurim was no longer actual, so why was this circumstance brought up in the memory of the rabbis?146 The insistence upon Hebrew served other, potent goals, steering Judaism away from the use of translations in the fulfillment of religious obligations. As Fraade points out, Palestinian traditions promote the use of the holy tongue as a vernacular (Sifre Deut. §333): ‫וכן היה רבי מאיר אומר כל הדר בארץ ישראל וקורא קרית שמע שחרית‬ ‫וערבית ומדבר בלשון הקדש הרי הוא בן העולם הבא‬

143 Mishnah Bik. 3.7; Sifrei Deut. §301 which provides a prooftext for this Mishnah (the same prooftext is provided in PT Bik. 3.7,65d; cf. Midr. Tan. Deut. 21.7): ‫מיכן אמרו בראשונה כל מי שהוא יודע לקרות קורא ושאינו יודע לקרות מקרים אותו נמנעו‬ ‫מלהביא התקינו שיהו מקרים את היודע ואת מי שאינו יודע סמכו על המקרא וענית אין עניה אלא‬ ‫מפי אחרים‬, ‘On what basis did they say, At first [they ruled that] whoever knows how to recite, recites, and if there is no one who knows how to recite, they recite it to him. When people consequently refrained from bringing first fruits, it was decided that both those who knew how and those who did not would have the declaration recited to them. For this they relied upon the verse, “And you shall respond”, since responding implies prompting to respond by someone else.’ 144 I.W. Slotki, ‘Antiphony in Ancient Hebrew Poetry’, JQR NS 26.3 (1936), 199-219. 145 Mishnah Yeb. 12.6; BT Yeb. 106b. 146 Or, ‘how and why do memories enter a text? Partially, perhaps, from the past... But more urgently, they come from the future—from a new alignment of circumstances that brings new possibilities into view or enables the articulation of what was previously regarded as unsayable’; Strohm, Theory and the Premodern Text, 104.

INTERPRETATION, RELIGION AND CULTURE IN MIDRASH

144

And so R. Meir used to say, Whoever dwells in the land of Israel and recites the Shema by morning and evening and speaks the holy tongue, now he is a son of the World to Come.147

In the Yerushalmi, R. Meir's saying is directed at those who establish themselves in the land of Israel,148 possibly addressing people who either consider emigration or emigrated in the past. In the same vein fathers are encouraged, in the strongests of terms, to teach their children the holy tongue.149 The envisaged competence in Hebrew may have applied to a limited range of specific language functions, rather than everyday life, since these traditions are closely associated with both the Torah and the recitation of the Shema. These texts point to the pressures of other language upon the use of Hebrew and may well point to a revival of Hebrew as a religious language,150 which certainly initially was largely confined to the rabbinic elite, and as a vernacular even problematic among their circles at that point. Not unlike the situation in medieval Southern Italy, where the epigraphic and literary use of Hebrew hardly reflects the use of Hebrew in daily life, linguistic competence in Late Antique Palestine cannot be extrapolated from religious incentives, epigraphs, or specific language functions. Inscriptions have a public function, hence do not adequately reveal private language use—even under circumstances in which they would not normally be visible or accessible to the public, because function and tradition determine the use of language. Consequently, they do not inform us about ‘informal bilingualism in action’,151 but about the use of formalized language. Parallels: PT Shab. 1.3, 3c; PT Shek. 3.3, 47c; Midr. Tan. Deut. 32.43. PT Shek. 3.3, 47c: ‫תאנא בשם רבי מאיר כל מי שקבוע בארץ ישראל ומדבר לשון‬ ‫הקדש ואוכל פירותיו בטהרה וקורא ק"ש בבקר ובערב יהא מבושר שבן העולם הבא‬, ‘It was taught in the name of R. Meir, Whoever settles in the land of Israel and speaks the holy tongue and eats his fruit in purity and recites the Shema by morning and evening, may rest assured of the world to come’. 149 See n. 139 above. 150 So N. de Lange, ‘The Revival of the Hebrew Language in the Third Century CE.’, JSQ 3 (1996), 342–58. 151 J.N. Adams, ‘Bilingualism at Delos’, in J.N. Adams, M. Janse and S. Swain (eds.), Bilingualism in Ancient Society: Language Contact and the Written Text (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 103–27 (125); cf. M. Leiwo, ‘From Contact to Mixture: Bilingual Inscriptions from Italy’, in Janse, Adams and Swain (eds.), Bilingualism in Ancient Society, 168–94; D. Noy, ‘The Jews in Italy in the First to Sixth Centuries C.E.’, in B.D. Cooperman and B. Garvin (eds.), The Jews of Italy: Memory and Identity (Bethesda: University Press of Maryland, 2000), 47–64. For the inscriptions and literature in Italy, see also C. Colafemmina, ‘Hebrew Inscriptions of the Early Medieval Period in Southern Italy’, in Cooperman and Garvin (eds.), The Jews of 147 148

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145

The insistence among Palestinian Sages that the holy tongue be spoken is exposed, almost in passing, as unreal in BT Bab. Kam. 82b/83a (par. BT Sot. 49b):152 ‫והתניא אמר רבי בארץ ישראל לשון סורסי למה או לשון הקדש או לשון‬ ‫יונית וא“ר יוסי בבל לשון ארמי למה או לשון הקדש או לשון פרסי‬ Has it not been taught, Rabbi said, Why Aramaic in the land of Israel? Either the holy tongue or Greek! And Rabbi Yose [Variant: Rav Yoseph] said, Why Aramaic in Babylon? Either the holy tongue or Persian!

Rav Yoseph's statement highlights the absurdity of Rabbi's claim and thus provides a highly ironic comment on the use of Aramaic in both areas. Rabbi's position must have been related to an ideology of Hebrew rather than a society in which the use of Hebrew was still a viable option for everyday speech. Indeed, it seems likely that a specific function of Aramaic was the bone of contention in the sayings quoted above. This ideology, as De Lange wrote, was probably ‘buttressed by a theory in which the Hebrew language was uniquely linked to the people of Israel and their God’.153 The ingredients for the myth already existed and coalesced in the Amoraic period, if not earlier.154 However, the emphasis was initially placed on certain rituals which had to be performed in Hebrew, and the scriptural proof for this eclusivity, which make up for the vast majority of occurences of the term ‘holy tongue’ in Tannaitic literature. But before we turn to the rationale of the exclusivity for these rituals, we need to consider its wider application. Marking Hebrew as the ‘holy tongue’ in the Midrashim requires some clarification. When Sifre Deut. §210 states, ‘“They answered and said” (Deut. 21.7), in the Holy Tongue’, or Sifre Deut. §55 identifies the blessings and the curses as Hebrew, this amounts to a tautology: As the text is written in Hebrew, who would have argued that it was not? These rituals were, as far as we can tell, not practiced anymore, so that the Midrashim do not simply claim what was used to be in Hebrew, should so remain. Moreover, the criteria for Hebrew-only passages were eventually extended to texts Italy, 65–81; J. Schirmann, ‘The Beginning of Hebrew Poetry in Italy and Northern Europe’, in C. Roth (ed.), The World History of the Jewish People. II. The Dark Ages (Tel-Aviv: Massadah Publishing, 1966), 249–66. 152For a full discussion of this passage, see Smelik, ‘Language, Locus and Translation’, 214-17. 153 De Lange, ‘Revival’, 343. 154 Aaron, ‘Judaism's Holy Language’, 69-70.

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which did not involve any ritual whatsoever. In Mekhilta ‫ בחודש‬9 the ‘blanket statement’ of ‫ עניה אמירה ככה כה‬is applied to another context: ‫ויאמר ה' אל משה כה תאמר בלשון שאני אומר כה תאמר אל בני ישראל‬ ‫בלשון הקדש כל מקום שנאמר כה ככה ענייה ואמירה הרי זה בלשון קדש‬ And the Lord said to Moses, ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites’ (Exod. 20.22). In the language in which I speak to you you shall speak to my children, in the holy tongue. Wherever the expression ‘thus, so, speak up and say’ is used, it means in the holy tongue.

This verse is implicated in none of the pericopes listed in Mishnah Sot. 7.2, but the argument applied to these pericopes is borrowed here in what is essentially a tautological argument:155 If the Torah is in Hebrew (and presumes Moses spoke Hebrew), why identify the language as the holy tongue? That reason is not the historical occasion or the text itself, but the endeavour to justify the exclusivity of Hebrew in other contexts: The correspondence between Moses's speech and God's language highlights the unique and special nature of Hebrew as the holy tongue. The application of the blanket statement to Moses’ speech underscores the importance of the principle itself, not in its original context, but in the world of Late Antiquity. The same verse might justify any claim of divine origin for the Hebrew language, since the verse goes on to say: ‘You have seen for yourselves that I spoke with you from heaven’. There is nothing unusual in the rabbinic attempt to ground halakhic opinions in Scripture, or to disagree on the methodology of doing so. Yet such attempt are significant for the choices made, and those not made, which together obliterate alternative conditions which were once relevant for rituals no longer practised. To illustrate the choices made, and the con155 There is doubt, however, whether the rule is genuine here; it is entirely absent from MS Oxford (edn. Horovitz, p. 238), which reads: ‫אמר ייי אל משה תאמר אל‬ ‫בני ישר' בלשון שאני או' לך בו תדבר אל בניי בלשון הקודש‬, but not the statement about ‘so, thus’ etc. In his Scripture as Logos, Yadin has argued that the R. Yishmael Midrashim do not endorse generic hermeneutic principles which the interpreter can apply at will, but rather espouse the principle that Scripture itself provides unique hermeneutic markers, which are restricted to the marked verse or even the halakhic conclusion derived from it. In MS Vienna, only ‫ ככה כה‬are included. The sentence in the Mekhilta, therefore, may represent an intrusion, made by a copyist who knew the principle from other sources. Be this as it may, even without this rule the Midrash interprets the verse as an indication that Moses's language correponded with God's language—the method of inference is different, the conclusion is not.

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ditions thereby obliterated from memory, we may briefly reconsider those passages which meet one of the criteria surveyed above, such as ‫עניה אמירה‬ ‘speaking up and saying’, yet failed to make the grade for either of the mishnaic lists.156 These passages include Abraham's pleading for Sodom (Gen. 18.27), Laban and Bethuel's conversation with Abraham’ servant (Gen. 24.50),157 the encounter between Joseph and his brothers (Gen. 42.22),158 Balak's blessing (Num. 23.12),159 and others. If there was a special reason for invoking the blanket statement in the Mekhilta in reference to Exod. 20.22, this may have been lost on later exegetes, who also refer to Balaq and Joseph as speaking in the holy tongue—admittedly without invoking any criterium, but it is hardly coincidental that the ruling of ‫עניה‬ ‫ אמירה‬applies. For the early rabbis, Hebrew as the holy tongue and the concern for the language requirement of certain rituals are consanguineous. This concern and insistence upon using Hebrew, while carefully allowing for necessary exceptions to the rule, is about establishing boundaries. The analogies offered in support of any particular language selection probably reflect afterthoughts on a long-standing practice, even though most of the practice had become obsolete in the absence of the Temple. What can we establish about the original reasons for the language requirements of these rituals? Two rituals described in the same chapter, Deuteronomy 26, but assigned to opposing lists, may help understand the differentiation better. In this chapter, the declaration of the second tithes (any language) follows that of bikurim (Hebrew only). While differences between the rituals are discussed in rabbinic literature (e.g., Tosefta Bik. 1.7), the difference in language requirement between bikurim and ma‘aser sheni remains untouched. But there is 156 As a hendiadys, Num 23.12; Deut 1.41; 21.7; 25.9; 26.5; Is 21.9; Jer 11.5; Zech 3.4; 4.4,6,11; 6.4; 1Chr 12.18. In one verse (Torah only): Gen 18.27; 23.5,10,14; 24.50; 27.37,39; 31.14,31,36,43; 40.18; 41.16; 42.22; 45.3; Ex 4.1; 19.8; 24.3; Num 11.28; 22.18; 23.12,26; 32.31; Deut 1.14,41; 21.7; 25.9; 26.5; 27.14-15. 157 See p. 20 above. 158 This may have informed Sekhel Tov Gen. 42.23, which comments: ‘ “But they did not know that Joseph understood” (Gen. 42.23), namely, that Joseph understood what they were saying in the holy tongue’. That Joseph understood and spoke the holy tongue is usually based on Gen. 45.12 or Ps. 81.6; see Tan ‫ ויגש‬5; TanB ‫ בלק‬25 / Tan ‫ בלק‬16; Gen. R. 93.10; Lev. R. 32.5; PesK 11; Sekhel Tov Gen. 47; Lekaḥ Tov Gen. 45.12; TanB ‫ חקת‬13 / Tan ‫ חקת‬6; BT Sot. 36b; PesK 4; Num. R. 19.3; Koh. R. 7.33; Lekaḥ Tov Gen. 50.5. 159 For Balak speaking the holy tongue, see Num. R. 20.14; TanB ‫ בלק‬13/ Tan ‫ בלק‬9.

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an obvious difference in context: Unlike the first, annual declaration, which must be made in the presence of the priest who receives the offering, the triennial confession of the second tithes was neither brought to the Temple, nor consumed in a religious ceremony, but given to ‘the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow, that they may eat their fill in your settlements’, after which the declaration takes place. The obvious reason for the language differentiation between bikurim and ma‘aser sheni is one of locale. The ritual of bikurim is situated in the context of a priestly, Templeorientated ceremony, whereas the confession of the second tithes is not. Priests also played the major part in the Temple ritual of the sotah, but here one language requirement concerned the writing of the scroll, and possibly reading out its text, whereas another language requirement regulated the priest's communication to the accused woman. When the Mishnah discusses the performance of the anointed war priest ritual, it mentions the Hebrew language requirement without any explanation (Mishnah Sot. 8.1): ‘The anointed war [priest], when he spoke to the people, he would speak in the holy tongue...’. That the priest would use Hebrew in his official address is self-evident. It seems to me that the many analogies with the ritual of the blessings and the curses which leave it at that and do not probe into the reason why this pericope had to be recited in Hebrew make similar assumptions about the self-explanatory nature of the language requirement. Associating any ritual with officiating priests and Levites was telling enough, although it was not proof as only the text could generate the hermeneutic evidence. A differentiation between rituals based on locale and context may also have to be factored in the differences of opinion about the language of the Shema. The priests who recited the Shema in the Temple as part of the morning sacrifice probably did so in Hebrew. But outside the Temple precincts the situation may well have been very different, thus creating the situation that the Shema was recited in Hebrew (Temple) or any language (elsewhere, even if Hebrew may still have been the default choice). Such variations are not transparent in the rigid listings of the Mishnah, but may help explain how Rabbi could take a radically different view on the language of the Shema. I should perhaps mention a far more speculative factor, too. An increased sensitivity to the recitation of the Shema might be related to the role it played in the construction of a Jewish identity. Boyarin has shown that unlike earlier Greek-Jewish martyrology, which identified kashrut as the

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core of being Jewish, later rabbinic literature singled out the Shema.160 The selection of Hebrew as the required language for reading out this text would tend to mark off Jews from Christians who, if they would choose to profess allegiance to this creed, would not be able to use Hebrew. Hebrew may have very gradually assumed the status of a religious symbol of Judaism, an importance which never became absolute or even dominant,161 in its double association with the Torah from Heaven and the Temple that once was, an aspect of Judaism that could not be disenfranchised. In this sense, in the polemics with especially nascent Christianity, it is understandable that the notion of the holy tongue expanded.162 Such a polemic development may help explain why the Talmudim and especially later Midrashim operate on a broader understanding of what the ‘holy tongue’ conveys, building upon precursors in the Second Temple period.163 They refer to the notion of Hebrew as the language of creation, the primordial language, Joseph's ability (and Pharaoh's failure) to speak Hebrew besides the seventy languages of the world, and Hebrew as one of three shared characteristics between humans and angels. Polemics, to be sure, cannot account for the whole gamut of rabbinic interpretation. Hebrew as the language of the priestly elite bestowed a considerable amount of prestige on both those who used ‘the language of the sanctuary’ and on texts written in this ancient language. The exclusive use of Hebrew in the so-called ‘sectarian’ scrolls found in the Dead Sea area illustrates this point.164 The religious prestige of Hebrew may well be the primary reason for the Mishnah to have been composed in that language.165 Capitalizing on the status of Hebrew, the Rabbis effectively also monopolised interpretation and legislation. 160 D. Boyarin, Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999), Ch. 4. 161 S. Stern, Jewish Identity in Early Rabbinic Writings (AGJU, 23; Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1994), 79-80. 162 See M. Rubin, ‘The Language of Creation or the Primordial Language: A Case of Cultural Polemics in Antiquity’, JJS 49 (1998), 306-33; Schwartz, ‘Language, Power and Identity’. 163 Aaron, ‘Judaism's Holy Language’, 70-72. 164 See S. Weitzman, ‘Why Did the Qumran Community Write in Hebrew?’, JAOS 119 (1999), 35–45. His conlusion is related to the idea that these scrolls are sectarian: ‘Why did they write in Hebrew? To transcend the wayward ways of the multilingual society around them’ (45). However, his argument entirely relies on evidence culled from non-sectarian documents (including 4Q464, Philo, Jubilees). 165 De Lange, ‘Revival’, 345-48; Schwartz, ‘Language, Power and Identity’, 34.

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Ultimately, however, the emphasis on Hebrew stems from the central focus on the Torah with all the details of its wording. With the loss of the Temple, the original reasons for the language-differentiation disappeared from view, and when these Tannaitic traditions entered their fossilizing stage, the Sages were predominantly interested in supplying text-immanent reasons for what may have been time-honoured, locally sanctioned, traditions. The emphasis on text-immanency depends on the notion of Torah as Sacred Scripture, which inevitably fostered a growing awareness that holiness permeats the language in which the text is couched. The search for text-immanent clues would not inevitably lead to more and more emphasis on the original language of the Torah, but it did. Tannaitic leniency with regard to the language of set prayers, recitations and ceremonies such as the Shema, Amidah and the very Torah itself were gradually abandoned in favour of a stricter approach and insistence upon the use of Hebrew. A good example of this process is the requirement to read megilat ester in Hebrew if at all possible. The greater value of hearing the text in a language one does not understand expouses the value of the holy tongue vice versa the value of understanding. That understanding had been an issue, is still clear from the wording in both Mishnah and Tosefta, but later rabbis were less concerned with understanding as with the use of the holy tongue. It is not surprising, then, that subsequent Sages found more text-imminent clues than their predecessors did. For the halakhic corpus, the main interest in the holy tongue is related to Temple rituals. In this context the inherited term ‫ לשון הקודש‬means at least initially little more than ‫‘ לשון המקדש‬Temple language’. But the Midrashim, who seek to justify the language requirements, and thereby mark the position of Hebrew, relate the concept to God's own voice, turning the ‘holy tongue’ into ‘the language of the Holy One blessed be He’. And that very meaning informs the layer which the Mishnah added, and which the Tosefta added in one case only, that of the Shema. Later still, the notion of the ‘holy tongue’ took on a privileged position, possibly in view of threats to its position since this development took place as a corollary of the disappearance of Hebrew usage in the second century CE. Over the course of time, the mere association with the Temple evaporated as evidence, but the Tannaitic sources still imbued the notion with a ritualistic sense, not with eschatological or primordial connotations.

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THE HOLY TONGUE: CONCLUSIONS In early rabbinic literature, in which the terms ‫ לשון הקודש‬and ‫לשון קודש‬ alternate,166 there is ample reason to believe that the Holy Tongue is in the first place a ritual language. This conclusion agrees with a more regional approach to the meaning of the holy tongue in other religions, which appear to function as a ritual language. As such, the notion was not necessarily devoid of mythological overtones, but these elements did not take centre stage until a much later period. Rabbinic literature does not differentiate any of the mentioned rituals on the basis of priestly involvement, which is unsurprising, as the rabbis made the justification of language selection dependent upon textual clues in the Torah. An initial division of pericopes into two groups received substantial attention first in the Tosefta and later in the Mishnah. As a consequence, a straightjacket was imposed upon all passages grouped together in Mishnah Sot. 7.1-2 which did not allow for qualifications. Closer analysis suggests that certain rituals may have been bilingual, such as the address to the troops which may have been followed by a translation into any language, or the sotah-ritual which involved a written Hebrew text, and possibly Hebrew recitation, before the accused woman was addressed in her own language. The Shema was said both individually, and communally, both outside the Temple and within, and it seems more than likely that there existed differences in the expected language of performance, too, depending on the location. Other rituals may have been accompanied by the practice of prompting. The Hebrew language requirement in the Mishnah reflects the discussions given more fully in the Midrashim and Talmudim in abridged form, and betrays the connection between its editorial shape and the arduous journey towards waterproof arguments and an increased interest in the exclusivity of Hebrew. The language differentiation of Mishnah and Tosefta became a vehicle to express the value of language requirements, while the initial overall leniency dissipated over the course of time. When we take a long-term view on the practice of prayer, blessings and rite, there is an unmistakable tendency towards the exclusivity of Hebrew.

The term ‫ לשון קודש‬is intrinsically definite; see Pérez Fernández, Rabbinic Hebrew, 27. 166