Perspectives on Hebrew Scriptures VIII: Comprising the Contents of Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, Vol. 11 9781463235505

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Perspectives on Hebrew Scriptures VIII

Perspectives on Hebrew Scriptures and its Contexts 19

This series contains volumes dealing with the study of the Hebrew Bible, ancient Israelite society and related ancient societies, biblical Hebrew and cognate languages, the reception of biblical texts through the centuries, and the history of the discipline. The series includes monographs, edited collections, and the printed version of the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, which is also available online.

Perspectives on Hebrew Scriptures VIII

Comprising the Contents of Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, vol. 11

Edited by

Ehud Ben Zvi

9

34 2013

Gorgias Press LLC, 954 River Road, Piscataway, NJ, 08854, USA www.gorgiaspress.com Copyright © 2013 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. 2013

‫ܕ‬

9

ISBN 978-1-4632-0220-0

Printed in the United States of America

ISSN 1935-6897

TABLE OF CONTENTS

VOL. 11 (2011) Zechariah 8 and its Allusions to Jeremiah 30–33 and Deutero-Isaiah Elie Assis.......................................................................................................... 1 “Some Worthless and Reckless Fellows”: Landlessness and Parasocial Leadership in Judges Brian R. Doak ............................................................................................... 23 Structure and Meaning in the Third Vision of Amos (7:7–17) Martha E. Campos ....................................................................................... 53 The Book of the Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36): An Anti‐Mosaic, Non‐Mosaic, or even Pro‐Mosaic Writing? Veronika Bachmann..................................................................................... 81 David’s Elite Warriors and Their Exploits in the Books of Samuel and Chronicles Moshe Garsiel .............................................................................................105 The Shattered Dream The Prophecies of Joel: A Bridge Between Ezekiel and Haggai? Tova Ganzel ................................................................................................135 Comparison With David as a Means of Evaluating Character in the Book of Kings Amos Frisch ................................................................................................157 Biblical Hebrew Wayyiqtol: A Dynamic Definition Alexander Andrason ..................................................................................179

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Semantics and the Semantics of ‫ברא‬: A Rejoinder to the Arguments Advanced by B. Becking and M. Korpel Ellen van Wolde & Robert Rezetko ........................................................241 The Narrative Effect of Psalms 84–89 Robert E. Wallace .......................................................................................283 The Call Narratives of Gideon and Moses: Literary Convention or More? Hava Shalom-Guy ......................................................................................299 The Mound on the Mount: A Possible Solution to the “Problem with Jerusalem” Israel Finkelstein, Ido Koch and Oded Lipschits .................................317 Lot and His Daughters (Gen 19:30–38). Further Literary & Stylistic Examinations Talia Sutskover ............................................................................................341 The Typological Classification of the Hebrew of Genesis: Subject-Verb or Verb-Subject?* Robert D. Holmstedt .................................................................................353 Compositional Strata in the Priestly Sabbath: Exodus 31:12–17 and 35:1–3 Jeffrey Stackert ............................................................................................392

REVIEWS Anderson, Gary A., SIN: A HISTORY Reviewed by Micah D. Kiel ................................................................. 413 Nakhai, Beth Alpert (ed.), THE WORLD OF WOMEN IN THE ANCIENT AND CLASSICAL NEAR EAST Reviewed by Elaine T. James .............................................................. 416 Grabbe, Lester L. (ed.), ISRAEL IN TRANSITION: FROM LATE BRONZE II TO IRON IIA (C. 1250–850 B.C.E.) VOLUME 1. THE ARCHAEOLOGY Reviewed by Trent C. Butler ............................................................... 419

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Klauk, Hans-Josef, B. McGinn, P. Mendes-Flohr, C.-L. Seow, H. Spieckermann, B. D. Walfish, E. Ziolkowski (eds.), ENCYCLOPEDIA OF THE BIBLE AND ITS RECEPTION: AARON–ANICONISM Reviewed by Stephen Westerholm ..................................................... 426 Bernat, David A., SIGN OF THE COVENANT: CIRCUMCISION IN THE PRIESTLY TRADITION Reviewed by Trent C. Butler ............................................................... 430 Horsley, Richard A. (ed.), IN THE SHADOW OF EMPIRE: RECLAIMING THE BIBLE AS A HISTORY OF FAITHFUL RESISTANCE Reviewed by Jonathan Bernier ............................................................ 432 Westbrook, Raymond and Bruce Wells, EVERYDAY LAW IN BIBLICAL ISRAEL: AN INTRODUCTION Reviewed by Victor H. Matthews ....................................................... 435 KUSATU (KLEINE UNTERSUCHENGEN ZUR SPRACHE DES ALTEN TESTAMENTS UND SEINER UMWELT) 8.9 (2008) Reviewed by John Cook ....................................................................... 438 Hadjiev, Tchavdar S., THE COMPOSITION AND REDACTION OF THE BOOK OF AMOS Reviewed by Matthieu Richelle ........................................................... 441 Green, Deborah A. and Laura S. Lieber (eds.), SCRIPTURAL EXEGESIS: THE SHAPES OF CULTURE AND THE RELIGIOUS IMAGINATION, ESSAYS IN HONOUR OF MICHAEL FISHBANE Reviewed by William A. Tooman ....................................................... 447 Tebes, Juan Manuel, CENTRO Y PERIFERIA EN EL MUNDO ANTIGUO: EL NEGEV Y SUS INTERACCIONES CON EGIPTO, ASIRIA, Y EL LEVANTE EN LA EDAD DEL HIERRO (1200–586 A.C.) Reviewed by Romina Della Casa ........................................................ 454 Moberly, R. W. L., THE THEOLOGY OF THE BOOK OF GENESIS Reviewed by Tim Stone Greenport.................................................... 456 Cotrozzi, Stefano, EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED: ASPECTS OF PRAGMATIC FOREGROUNDING IN OLD TESTAMENT NARRATIVES Reviewed by Krzysztof J. Baranowski ............................................... 465 Crane, Ashley S., ISRAEL’S RESTORATION: A TEXTUAL-COMPARATIVE EXPLORATION OF EZEKIEL 36–39 Reviewed by Iain M. Duguid ............................................................... 469 Jones, Scott C., RUMORS OF WISDOM: JOB 28 AS POETRY Reviewed by August H. Konkel.......................................................... 471 Petterson, Anthony R., BEHOLD YOUR KING: THE HOPE FOR THE HOUSE OF DAVID IN THE BOOK OF ZECHARIAH Reviewed by Anna Suk Yee Lee ......................................................... 474

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Smith, Richard G., THE FATE OF JUSTICE AND RIGHTEOUSNESS DURING DAVID’S REIGN: NARRATIVE ETHICS AND REREADING THE COURT HISTORY ACCORDING TO 2 SAMUEL 8:15–20:26 Reviewed by Adam Brown .................................................................. 478 Hagedorn, Anselm C. and Henrik Pfeiffer (eds.), DIE ERZVÄTER IN DER BIBLISCHEN TRADITION: FESTSCHRIFT FÜR MATTHIAS KÖCKERT Reviewed by Christophe Nihan .......................................................... 481 Tuckett, Christopher (ed.), FEASTS AND FESTIVALS Reviewed by Peter Altmann ................................................................ 486 Webster, Brian L., THE CAMBRIDGE INTRODUCTION TO BIBLICAL HEBREW WITH CD-ROM Reviewed by H. Daniel Zacharias....................................................... 490 Fleming, Daniel E. and Sara J. Milstein, THE BURIED FOUNDATION OF THE GILGAMESH EPIC: THE AKKADIAN HUWAWA NARRATIVE Reviewed by Scott C. Jones ................................................................. 499 Jindo, Job Y., BIBLICAL METAPHOR RECONSIDERED: A COGNITIVE APPROACH TO POETIC PROPHECY IN JEREMIAH 1–24 Reviewed by Hyuk-ki Kim................................................................... 504 Allen, Leslie C., JEREMIAH: A COMMENTARY Reviewed by Hetty Lalleman ............................................................... 509 Niditch, Susan, ”MY BROTHER ESAU IS A HAIRY MAN”: HAIR AND IDENTITY IN ANCIENT ISRAEL Reviewed by Jonathan Y. Rowe .......................................................... 511 Boccaccini, Gabriele and Giovanni Ibba (eds.), ENOCH AND MOSAIC TORAH: THE EVIDENCE OF JUBILEES Reviewed by Rodney A. Werline ........................................................ 515 Corley, Jeremy and Vincent Skemp (eds.), STUDIES IN THE GREEK BIBLE: ESSAYS IN HONOR OF FRANCIS T. GIGNAC, S.J. Reviewed by Claude Cox ..................................................................... 518 Pratico, Gary D. and Miles V. Van Pelt, BASICS OF BIBLICAL HEBREW GRAMMAR Reviewed by Mary L. Conway ............................................................. 521 Davis, Ellen F., SCRIPTURE, CULTURE, AND AGRICULTURE: AN AGRARIAN READING OF THE BIBLE Reviewed by Steven J. Schweitzer ...................................................... 524 de Hulster, Izaak J. and Rüdiger Schmitt, (eds.), ICONOGRAPHY AND BIBLICAL STUDIES: PROCEEDINGS OF THE ICONOGRAPHY SESSIONS AT THE JOINT EABS / SBL CONFERENCE, 22–26 JULY 2007, VIENNA, AUSTRIA Reviewed by Frank Ueberschaer ........................................................ 527

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Tooman, William A. and Michael A. Lyons (eds.), TRANSFORMING VISIONS: TRANSFORMATIONS OF TEXT, TRADITION, AND THEOLOGY IN EZEKIEL Reviewed by Jason Gile ........................................................................ 533 Chung, Youn Ho, THE SIN OF THE CALF: THE RISE OF THE BIBLE’S NEGATIVE ATTITUDE TOWARD THE GOLDEN CALF Reviewed by Lissa M. Wray Beal ........................................................ 539 O’Dowd, Ryan, THE WISDOM OF TORAH: EPISTEMOLOGY IN DEUTERONOMY AND THE WISDOM LITERATURE Reviewed by Doug Ingram .................................................................. 542 Klein, Anja, SCHRIFTAUSLEGUNG IM EZECHIELBUCH: REDAKTIONSGESCHICHTLICHE UNTERSUCHUNGEN ZU EZ 34–39 Reviewed by William A. Tooman ....................................................... 545 Smith, Mark S., GOD IN TRANSLATION: DEITIES IN CROSS-CULTURAL DISCOURSE IN THE BIBLICAL WORLD Reviewed by Michael W. Duggan ....................................................... 550 Westbrook, Raymond and Bruce Wells, EVERYDAY LAW IN BIBLICAL ISRAEL: AN INTRODUCTION Reviewed by David P. Wright ............................................................. 554 Matthews, Victor H., MORE THAN MEETS THE EAR: DISCOVERING THE HIDDEN CONTEXTS OF OLD TESTAMENT CONVERSATIONS Reviewed by Colin Toffelmire ............................................................ 562 Earl, Douglas, READING JOSHUA AS CHRISTIAN SCRIPTURE Reviewed by J. Gordon McConville .................................................. 565 Schiffman, Lawrence, THE COURTYARDS OF THE HOUSE OF THE LORD: STUDIES IN THE TEMPLE SCROLL Reviewed by Dwight D. Swanson ...................................................... 568 Fischer, Stefan, DAS HOHELIED SALOMOS ZWISCHEN POESIE UND ERZÄHLUNG: ERZÄHLTEXTANALYSE EINES POETISCHEN TEXTES Reviewed by Matthias Hopf ................................................................ 573 Trebolle Barrera, Julio and Susana Pottecher, JOB Reviewed by Andrés Piquer Otero ..................................................... 578 Barrick, W. Boyd., BMH AS BODY LANGUAGE: A LEXICAL AND ICONOGRAPHICAL STUDY OF THE WORD BMH WHEN NOT A REFERENCE TO CULTIC PHENOMENA IN BIBLICAL AND POSTBIBLICAL HEBREW Reviewed by Elizabeth Hayes ............................................................. 581 Oswald, Wolfgang, NATHAN DER PROPHET: EINE UNTERSUCHUNG ZU 2 SAMUEL 7 UND 12 UND 1 KÖNIGE 1 Reviewed by Jürg Hutzli....................................................................... 587

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Janse, Sam, ”YOU ARE MY SON”: THE RECEPTION HISTORY OF PSALM 2 IN EARLY JUDAISM AND THE EARLY CHURCH Reviewed by Scott C. Jones ................................................................. 594 Halvorson-Taylor, Martien, ENDURING EXILE: THE METAPHORIZATION OF EXILE IN THE HEBREW BIBLE Reviewed by John Ahn ......................................................................... 598 Knoppers, Gary N., and Kenneth A. Ristau, eds., COMMUNITY IDENTITY IN JUDEAN HISTORIOGRAPHY: BIBLICAL AND COMPARATIVE PERSPECTIVES Reviewed by Steven J. Schweitzer ...................................................... 602 Bosworth, David A., THE STORY WITHIN A STORY IN BIBLICAL HEBREW NARRATIVE Reviewed by Shannon Baines .............................................................. 606 Vialle, Catherine, UNE ANALYSE COMPARÉE D’ESTHER TM ET LXX: REGARD SUR DEUX RÉCITS D’UNE MÊME HISTOIRE Reviewed by Veronika Bachmann ...................................................... 609 Meer, Michaël van der, Percy van Keulen, Wido van Peursen, and Bas ter Haar Romeny (eds.), ISAIAH IN CONTEXT: STUDIES IN HONOUR OF ARIE VAN DER KOOIJ ON THE OCCASION OF HIS SIXTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY Reviewed by J. Blake Couey ................................................................ 613 Day, John (ed.), PROPHECY AND THE PROPHETS IN ANCIENT ISRAEL Reviewed by J. Todd Hibbard ............................................................. 620 Holmstedt, Robert D., RUTH: A HANDBOOK ON THE HEBREW TEXT Reviewed by Anthony R. Pyles ........................................................... 626 Russell, Stephen C., IMAGES OF EGYPT IN EARLY BIBLICAL LITERATURE: CISJORDAN-ISRAELITE, TRANSJORDAN-ISRAELITE, AND JUDAHITE PORTRAYALS Reviewed by Safwat Marzouk ............................................................. 629 Nicklas, Tobias, Friedrich V. Reiterer, and Joseph Verheyden (eds.), THE HUMAN BODY IN DEATH AND RESURRECTION Reviewed by Anke Dorman ................................................................ 634 Annus, Amar and Alan Lenzi, LUDLUL BĒL NĒMEQI: THE STANDARD BABYLONIAN POEM OF THE RIGHTEOUS SUFFERER Reviewed by Victor Avigdor Hurowitz ............................................. 644 Yasur-Landau, Assaf, Jennie R. Ebeling, and Laura B. Mazow (eds.), HOUSEHOLD ARCHAEOLOGY IN ANCIENT ISRAEL AND BEYOND Reviewed by Cynthia Shafer-Elliott ................................................... 649

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Halpern, Baruch, FROM GODS TO GOD: THE DYNAMICS OF IRON AGE COSMOLOGIES Reviewed by Nathan MacDonald ....................................................... 653 Sommer, Benjamin D., THE BODIES OF GOD AND THE WORLD OF ANCIENT ISRAEL Reviewed by J. Todd Hibbard ............................................................. 664 Weeks, Stuart, AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF WISDOM LITERATURE Reviewed by Scott C. Jones ................................................................. 669 Evans, Paul S., THE INVASION OF SENNACHERIB IN THE BOOK OF KINGS: A SOURCE-CRITICAL AND RHETORICAL STUDY OF 2 KINGS 18–19 Reviewed by Gordon Oeste ................................................................ 675 Ballhorn, Egbert, ISRAEL AM JORDAN: NARRATIVE TOPOGRAPHIE IM BUCH JOSUA Reviewed by Ernst Axel Knauf........................................................... 678 Linafelt, Tod, Claudia V. Camp, and Timothy Beal, (eds.), THE FATE OF KING DAVID: THE PAST AND PRESENT OF A BIBLICAL ICON Reviewed by Johannes Klein ............................................................... 681 George, Mark K., ISRAEL’S TABERNACLE AS SOCIAL SPACE Reviewed by A. J. Culp ......................................................................... 687 Crenshaw, James L., OLD TESTAMENT WISDOM: AN INTRODUCTION Reviewed by Ryan P. O’Dowd............................................................ 692 Meadors, Edward P., IDOLATRY AND THE HARDENING OF THE HEART: A STUDY IN BIBLICAL THEOLOGY Reviewed by Rob Barrett ..................................................................... 695 Fischer, Alexander Achilles, VON HEBRON NACH JERUSALEM: EINE REDAKTIONSGESCHICHTLICHE STUDIE ZUR ERZÄHLUNG VON KÖNIG DAVID IN II SAM 1–5 Reviewed by Jeremy M. Hutton .......................................................... 700 Tiemeyer, Lena Sofia, FOR THE COMFORT OF ZION: THE GEOGRAPHICAL AND THEOLOGICAL LOCATION OF ISAIAH 40–55 Reviewed by Mark Leuchter ................................................................ 720 Jindo, Job Y., BIBLICAL METAPHOR RECONSIDERED: A COGNITIVE APPROACH TO POETIC PROPHECY IN JEREMIAH 1–24 Reviewed by Paul Kang-Kul Cho ....................................................... 724

PREFACE The present publication includes all the articles and reviews published electronically in the Journal of Hebrew Scriptures vol. 11 (2011), all of which are accessible online at http://www.jhsonline.org. The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures provides freely available, peer-reviewed articles related to the history of ancient Israel and its literature. By doing so, the Journal fulfills important academic needs, particularly in relation to the production and dissemination of scholarly contributions that are wellresearched, original, have high academic standards, and are susceptible of opening new avenues in the field. Because of its electronic format, the Journal also contributes to the establishment of new discursive interactions between scholars, and opens increased possibilities for scholars in (socalled) Third World countries, public libraries anywhere, graduate students and interested public. JHS’s authors and readers have come from different countries and, as such, the Journal contributes to a scholarly conversation that is not restricted by geographical boundaries. In addition, it is the policy of the Journal to promote not only contributions of established scholars, but also appropriate contributions of scholars in their first stages in the field. The Journal has grown substantially in the number of published contributions through the years, but it is still run in the main by volunteers. Konrad Schmid and Peter Altmann are the Review Editors for books published in “continental” Europe in any language except Spanish. Mark J. Boda serves as Review Editor for books published in North America or anywhere in the English speaking world. Maria-Teresa Ortega Monasterio is the Review Editor for books published in Spanish, whether in Spain or anywhere in the world. We thank the three review editors for all their work, which represents a major contribution to JHS. The editorial board of the Journal consists of Peter Altmann, Adele Berlin, Mark J. Boda, Philip R. Davies, Michael V. Fox, William K. Gilders, Gary N. Knoppers, Robert A. Kugler, Francis Landy, Niels Peter Lemche, Mark Leuchter, Oded Lipschits, Hanna Liss, John L. McLaughlin, Hindy Najman, Christophe Nihan, Scott B. Noegel, Saul M. Olyan, Maria-Teresa xiii

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Ortega Monasterio, Gary A. Rendsburg, Konrad Schmid, Gene M. Tucker and Jacob L. Wright. We thank them all for their continuous work with, and support, this Journal. We also thank occasional reviewers of submissions who have similarly contributed to keep the high standards of the journal, and often improved essays with their well-thought suggestions and comments. The regular publication of the Journal is supported by a grant of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRC) and is made possible by the work of many volunteers in different areas. It is impossible to name them all here, but in terms of technical production the contribution of Melanie Marvin (Dept. of History and Classics, Univ. of Alberta) is so prominent that she deserves a specific mention. We would like to thank also Karl Anvik at the University of Alberta who continues to provide technical support for JHS. Sonya Kostamo, with the help of Katie Stott, prepared the present manuscript. Finally, we would like to thank George Kiraz for publishing the printed version of JHS through Gorgias Press, for understanding the importance of maintaining the freely available electronic version of the journal, and for his own role in the development of open-access electronic academic journals. As we complete this preface and go over the many explicit thanks—and in our mind also over those that are implicit here, or minimally mentioned—we can only think of how well they reflect the basic fact that the continuous existence of this open access journal and its present publication in hard copy are the result of a work of love carried out by and through so many willing hands. Ehud Ben Zvi University of Alberta, General Editor, Journal of Hebrew Scriptures Christophe Nihan University of Lausanne Associate General Editor, Journal of Hebrew Scriptures

ABBREVIATIONS AASF AASOR AAR AB ABD ABRL ACJS AcOr ADPV AJBI AJSR ANES ANET AnBib AnOr AOAT AOS AOT AOTC ArBib AS ASOR ASV ATD AuOr AUSS BA

Annales Academiae scientiarum fennicae Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research American Academy of Religion Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by David Noel Freedman. 6 vols. New York, 1992 Anchor Bible Reference Library Annual of the College of Jewish Studies Acta orientalia Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute Association for Jewish Studies Review Ancient Near Eastern Studies Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Edited by J. B. Pritchard. 3d ed.; Princeton, 1969 Analecta biblica Analecta orientalia Alter Orient und Altes Testament American Oriental Series Apollos Old Testament Commentaries Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries The Aramaic Bible Assyriological Studies American School of Oriental Research American Standard Version Das Alte Testament Deutsch Aula orientalis Andrews University Seminary Studies Biblical Archaeologist xv

xvi BAR BASOR BBB BBET BBR BDB BEATAJ BETL BH BHS Bib BibInt BibOr BJRL BJS BS BKAT BN BR BSOAS B.T. BWANT BZ BZAR BZAW CAD CANE CBC

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bonner biblische Beiträge Beiträge zur biblischen Exegese und Theologie Bulletin for Biblical Research F. Brown, S. R. Driver, and C. A. Briggs. A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford, 1907 Beiträge zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des antiken Judentum Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium Biblical Hebrew Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. Edited by K. Elliger and W. Rudolph. Stuttgart, 1983 Biblica Biblical Interpretation Biblica et orientalia Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester Brown Judaic Studies Bibliotheca Sacra Biblischer Kommentar, Altes Testament. Edited by M. Noth and H. W. Wolff Biblische Notizen Biblical Research Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies Babylonian Talmud Beitrage zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Chicago, 1956– Civilizations of the Ancient Near East. Edited by J. Sasson. 4 vols. New York, 1995 Cambridge Bible Commentary

ABBREVIATIONS CBOTS CBQ CBQMS CNEB CHANE ConBNT COS DCH DDD2

DJD DPV DSD EBH EI EEF ESV ETL FAT FB FOTL FRLANT FZPT GAT GKG GTJ HAHAT

xvii

Coniectanea Biblica Old Testament Series Catholic Biblical Quarterly Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series Cambridge Commentary on the New English Bible Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Coniectanea neotestamentica or Coniectanea biblica: New Testament Series Context of Scripture Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. Edited by D. J. A. Clines. Sheffield, 1993– Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible. Edited by K. van der Toorn, B. Becking, and P. W. van der Horst. Second Extensively Revised Edition; Leiden/Grand Rapids, 1999. Sheffield, 1993– Discoveries in the Judaean Desert Deutsch Verein zur Erforschung Palsätinas Dead Sea Discoveries Early Biblical Hebrew Eretz Israel Egypt Exploration Fund English Standard Version Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses Forschungen zum Alten Testament Forschung zur Bibel Forms of the Old Testament Literature Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments Freiburger Zeitshrift für Philosophie und Theologie Gundrisse zum Alten Testament Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar. Edited by E. Kautzsch. Translated by A. E. Cowley. 2d. ed. Oxford, 1910 Grace Theological Journal W. Gesenius, F. Buhl, Hebräisches und aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament. Leipzig, 1915

xviii HALOT

HAR HAT HBS HCSB HeyJ HS HSS HSM HTR HTS HUCA IAA IBC ICC IDAM IEJ IES Int IOSCS JAAR JANES JANESCU JAOS JB JBL JBQ JCS JESHO JETS JHS JJS JNES JNSL

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES Koehler, L., W. Baumgartner, and J. J. Stamm. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Translated and edited under the supervision of M. E. J. Richardson. 4 vols. Leiden, 1994–1999 Hebrew Annual Review Handbuch zum Alten Testament Herder’s Biblical Studies Holman Christian Standard Bible Heythrop Journal Hebrew Studies Harvard Semitic Studies Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Theological Review Harvard Theological Studies Hebrew Union College Annual Israel Antiquities Authority International Bible Commentary International Critical Commentary Israel Department of Antiquities and Museums Israel Exploration Journal Israel Exploration Society Interpretation International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies Journal of the American Academy of the Religion Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University Journal of the American Oriental Society Jerusalem Bible Journal of Biblical Literature Jewish Bible Quarterly Journal of Cuneiform Studies Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal of Hebrew Scriptures Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages

ABBREVIATIONS JOTT JPS JQR JR JSem JSJSup JSOT JSOTSup JSPSup JSS JTS KAI KAT KBL KHC KJV KTU

LBH LCL LHBOTS LXX MH MSIA MT NAC NEAEHL

xix

Journal of Translation and Textlinguistics Jewish Publication Society Jewish Quarterly Review Journal of Religion Journal of Semitics Journal for the Study of Judaism Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Supplement Series Journal of Semitic Studies Journal of Theological Studies Kanaanäishe und aramäische Inschriften. H. Donner and W. Röllig. 2d ed. Wiesbaden, 1966–1969 Kommentar zum Alten Testament Koehler, L. and W. Baumgartner, Lexicon in Veteris Testamenti libros. 2d ed. Leiden, 1958 Kurzer Hand-Commentar zum Alten Testament King James Version Die keilalphabetischen Texte aus Ugarit. Edited by M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. AOAT 24/1. Neukirchen-Vluyn, 1976. 2d enlarged edition of KTU: The Cuneiform Alphabet Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani, and Other Places. Edited by M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. Münster, 1996 (= CTU) Late Biblical Hebrew Loeb Classical Library Library of Hebrew Bible / Old Testament Studies Septuagint Mishnaic Hebrew Monograph Series of the Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University Masoretic Text New American Commentary The New Encyclopedia of Archaeological Excavations in the Holy Land. Edited by E. Stern. 4 vols. Jerusalem, 1993

xx NEchtB NCB NCBC NIB NIBCOT NICOT NIDOTTE NIV NIVI NJB NJPS NJPSV NLT NRSV OBO ÖBS OG OIP OL OLA OLZ Or OTE OTG OTL OTS OTS OtSt PEQ PEF Proof QH RA RB REB

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES NeueEchterBibel New Century Bible New Century Bible Commentary The New Interpreter’s Bible New International Commentary on the Old Testament New International Commentary on the Old Testament New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. Edited by W. A. VanGemeren. 5 vols. Grand Rapids, 1997 New International Version New International Version, Inclusive Language Edition New Jerusalem Bible Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures: The New JPS Translation According to the Traditional Hebrew Text New Jewish Publication Society Translation New Living Translation New Revised Standard Version Orbis biblicus et orientalis Österreichische biblische Studien Old Greek Oriental Institute Publications Old Latin Orientalia lovaniensia analecta Orientalistische Literaturzeitung Orientalia Old Testament Essays Old Testament Guides Old Testament Library Oudtestamentische Studiën Old Testament Studies Oudtestamentische Studiën Palestine Exploration Quarterly Palestine Exploration Fund Prooftexts Qumran Hebrew Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale Revue biblique Revised English Bible

ABBREVIATIONS RevExp RevQ RGG RIBLA RBL RSV SAAS SBAB SBL SBLDS SBLEJL SBLSCS SBLSP SBLSymS SBLWAW SBT SemeiaSt SHCANE SJOT SSN SubBi STDJ TA TBC TDOT ThStKr ThWAT TLZ TNIV TOTC TRE TRev

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Review and Expositor Revue de Qumran Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart Revista de interpretación bíblica latino-americana Review of Biblical Literature Revised Standard Version State Archives of Assyria Studies Stuttgarter biblische Aufsatzbände Society of Biblical Literature Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series Society of Biblical Literature Early Judaism and Its Literature Society of Biblical Literature Septuagint and Cognate Studies Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series Society of Biblical Literature Writings from the Ancient World Studies in Biblical Theology Semeia Studies Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament Studia semitica neerlandica Subsidia biblica Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah Tel Aviv Torch Bible Commentary Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Edited by G. J. Botterweck and H. Ringgren. Grand Rapids, 1974– Theologische Studien und Kritiken Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testamentum. Edited by G. Botterweck and H. Ringgren. Stuttgart, 1970– Theologische Literaturzeitung Today’s NewInternational Version Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries Theologische Realenzyklopädie Theological Review

xxii TU TynBul UF VT VTSup WBC WMANT WTJ ZA ZABR ZAH ZAW ZBK ZDVP ZThK

PERSPECTIVES ON HEBREW SCRIPTURES Texte und Untersuchungen Tyndale Bulletin Ugarit-Forschungen Vetus Testamentum Vetus Testamentum Supplements Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Westminster Theological Journal Zeitschrift für Assyriologie Zeitschrift für altorientalische und biblische Rechtgeschichte Zeitschrift für Althebraistik Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zürucher Bibelkommentare Zeitschrift desdeutschen Palästina-Vereins Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

ZECHARIAH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JEREMIAH 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH ELIE ASSIS BAR ILAN UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION Elsewhere I have claimed that Zechariah 8 is a digest and revision of the oracles of the first seven chapters of the book, recapitulating the prophecies that the prophet had previously expressed, sometimes by the use of quotations and similar wording, and sometimes by condensing the concept without resorting linguistically to the original oracle.1 In this article I will show that the first eight oracles of Zechariah 8 allude to Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption, Jeremiah 30–332 (one of which alludes to an oracle of rebuke by Jeremiah).3 The last two oracles of Zechariah 8 have no E. Assis, “Zechariah 8 as Revision and Digest of Zechariah 1–7,” JHS 10 (2010) article 15, 1–26. See also D. L. Petersen, Haggai, and Zechariah 1–8, A Commentary (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1984), 123; M. R. Stead, The Intertextuality of Zechariah 1–8 (LHBOTS, 506; New York and London: T & T Clark, 2009), 230–231. 2 For Jeremiah 30–33 as a unit, see M. Biddle, “The Literary Frame Surrounding Jeremiah 30, 1 – 33, 26”, ZAW 100 (1988), 409–413; J. R. Lundbom, Jeremiah 1–20 (AB, 21A; New York: Doubleday, 1999), 97–98; Y. Hoffman, Jeremiah (Mikra Leyisra’el; vol. 2; Tel-Aviv and Jerusalem: Am Oved and Magnes, 2001), 567. On the growth of these chapters, see W. L. Holladay, Jeremiah 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah Chapters 26–52 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), 22–23. On the coherence and theology of Jeremiah 30–31 see A. van der Wal, “Themes from Exodus in Jeremiah 30–31,” M. Vervenne (ed.), Studies in the Book of Exodus: Redaction – Reception – Interpretation (BETL, 76; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996), 559–566; B. Becking, Between Fear and Freedom: Essays on the Interpretation of Jeremiah 30–31 (OtSt, 51; Leiden: Brill, 2004), esp. pp. 273–302. 3 Some connections between Zechariah and Jeremiah have been indicated by 1

1

2

ELIE ASSIS

parallels in Jeremiah, but have direct affinity with words of Second Isaiah.4 After demonstrating the affinity between the oracles in Zechariah and those in Jeremiah, I shall attempt to determine the chronological order of the oracles. For purposes of convenience when writing the analogies I refer to Jeremiah as an earlier source to Zechariah, in accordance with the way the Masoretic Text orders these prophets. After examining various findings, I examine the question of the historical background of the sources.

scholars. See W. A. M. Beuken, Haggai-Sacharja 1–8: Studien zur Überlieferungsgeschichte der Frühnachexilischen Prophetie (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1967), 176–177; A. Petitjean, Les oracles du Proto-Zacharie: Un programme de restauration pour la communauté juive après l’exil (Etudes bibliques; Paris: J. Gabalda, 1969), 373–374; 380; Sinclair identifies one layer that was added to the Book of Zechariah that shares close affinity to the prose sections of Jeremiah, and to Ezekiel. He includes in this group: 1:2–6; 7:11– 14; 7:8–10; 8:4–8; 8:14–17; 8:20–23. See L. A. Sinclair, “Redaction of Zechariah 1– 8”, BR 20 (1975), 36–47; esp. pp. 42–45. See also R. Mason, The Books of Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi (CBC; Cambridge: University Press, 1977), 69; Petersen, Haggai, and Zechariah 1-8, 309; J. E. Tollington, Tradition and Innovation in Haggai and Zechariah 1–8 (JSOTSup, 150; Sheffield, Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 205–206; Nurmela has offered the most comprehensive treatment of the allusions between Zechariah and other prophets. However, he did not notice all the allusions between Zech 8 and Jeremiah’s prophecies of restoration in chapters 30–33. Thus he did not conclude that Zechariah 8 heavily relies on those chapters of Jeremiah. R. Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue: Inner-Biblical Allusions in Zechariah 1–8 and 9–14 (Åbo: Åbo Akademis Förlag, 1996), 78–90. Boda demonstrated how deeply Zech 1:1–6, and 7:1–8:23 are rooted in the traditions of Jeremiah, especially to the Dtr prose sections of the Book. M. J. Boda, “Zechariah: Master Mason or Penitential Prophet”, R. Albertz and B. Becking (eds.), Yahwism After Exile: Perspectives on Israelite Religion in the Persian Era (Studies in Theology and Religion, 5; Assen: Van Gorcum, 2003), 49–69. The most extensive treatment of the analogies between Zechariah 8 and Jeremiah 30–31, was carried out by Stead, The Intertextuality of Zechariah 1–8, 241–243. However, he mentioned analogies of Zechariah 8 only with Jeremiah 30–31. I will indicate further connections with Jeremiah 32–33. Stead’s main argument is that the parallels between Zechariah 8 and Jeremiah 30–31 reinforce the idea that stands behind parallels between Zechariah and Deuteronomy and Haggai. All these parallels in his opinion are meant to stress the theme of covenant between the people and God. 4 See also W. Rudolph, Haggai-Sacharja 1–8 - Sacharja 9–14 - Maleachi (KAT, 13; Gütersloh: Mohr, 1976), 152; Petersen, Haggai, Zechariah 1–8, 316–320; M. A. Sweeney, The Twelve Prophets, Volume Two (Berit Olam; Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2000), 654.

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH

3

AFFINITIES BETWEEN ZECHARIAH 8:2–19 AND JEREMIAH The first of the ten oracles, Zech 8:2, is concerned with God’s jealousy for Jerusalem. In accordance with similar content in Zech 1:14–15 it refers to God’s wrath on the nations who have harmed Judah.5 ‫אתי ָלּה‬ ִ ֵּ‫דֹולה ִקנ‬ ָ ְ‫דֹולה וְ ֵּח ָמה ג‬ ָ ְ‫אתי ְל ִצּיֹון ִקנְ ָאה ג‬ ִ ֵּ‫ִקנ‬ I am jealous for Zion with great jealousy, and I am jealous for her with great wrath.

And in 1:14–15 the prophet says: ‫ וְ ֶק ֶצף גָ דֹול ֲאנִ י ק ֵֹּצף ִַעל ִַהגֹויִם‬.‫ירּושלִַ ם ּולְ ִצּיֹון ִקנְ ָאה גְ דֹולָ ה‬ ָ ִ‫אתי ל‬ ִ ֵּ‫ִקנ‬ ‫ִַה ִַש ֲאנִַ נִ ים ֲא ֶשר ֲאנִ י ָק ִַצ ְפ ִתי ְמ ָעט וְ ֵּה ָמה ָעזְ רּו לְ ָר ָעה‬ I am very jealous for Jerusalem and for Zion. And I am extremely angry with the nations that are at ease; for while I was only a little angry, they made the disaster worse.

These words of Zechariah are very similar to the words of consolation of Jeremiah in 32:37, except that in Jeremiah, God’s wrath was on Judah: ‫ּוב ֶק ֶצף גָ דֹול‬ ְ ‫ּוב ֲח ָמ ִתי‬ ִַ ‫ִהנְ נִי ְמ ִַק ְב ָצם ִמ ָכל ָה ֲא ָרצֹות ֲא ֶשר ִה ִַד ְח ִתים ָשם ְב ִַא ִפי‬ ‫וִַ ֲה ִשב ִֹתים ֶאל ִַה ָמקֹום ִַהזֶ ה וְ ה ִַֹש ְב ִתים ָל ֶב ִַטח‬ I am going to gather them from all the lands to which I drove them in my anger and my wrath and in great indignation; I will bring them back to this place, and I will settle them in safety.6

The second oracle, in Zech 8:3 describes the return of God to Jerusalem, that is also called “the mountain of the Lord of hosts,” “the city of truth,” and “the holy mountain.”

5 See also H. G. Mitchell, Haggai, Zechariah (ICC; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1912), 206; C. L. Meyers and E. M. Meyers, Haggai, Zechariah 1–8 (AB, 25B; New York: Doubleday, 1987), 411; L. Redditt, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 84. See, however, R. Mason, Preaching the Tradition: Homily and Hermeneutics After Exile (Cambridge: University Press, 1990), 222–223. 6 In no prophetic book beside Jeremiah and Zechariah, is the term ‫קצף גדול‬ employed. Beside the occurrences above, it appears in Jer 21:5; Zech 1:15; 7:12. Outside the prophetic literature it occurs twice, in Deut 29:27; 2 Kgs 3:27.

4

ELIE ASSIS ‫רּוש ִַלם ִעיר ָה ֱא ֶמת וְ ִַהר‬ ָ ‫רּוש ָלם וְ נִ ְק ְר ָאה ְי‬ ָ ְ‫ִַש ְב ִתי ֶאל ִצּיֹון וְ ָש ִַכנְ ִתי ְבתֹוְך י‬ ‫יְ הֹוָ ה ְצ ָבאֹות ִַהר ִַהק ֶֹדש‬ I will return to Zion, and will dwell in the midst of Jerusalem; Jerusalem shall be called the faithful city, and the mountain of the Lord of hosts shall be called the holy mountain.

These epithets for Jerusalem that come in the context of the return to the holy city are similar to those used for Jerusalem in Jer 31:22 [ET 31:23]: ‫בּותם‬ ָ ‫שּובי ֶאת ְש‬ ִ ‫ּוב ָע ָריו ְב‬ ְ ‫הּודה‬ ָ ְ‫אמרּו ֶאת ִַה ָד ָבר ִַהזֶ ה ְב ֶא ֶרץ י‬ ְ ֹ ‫עֹוד י‬ ‫ָיְב ֶר ְכָך יְהֹוָ ה נְ וֵּ ה ֶצ ֶדק ִַהר ִַהק ֶֹדש‬ Once more they shall use these words in the land of Judah and in its towns when I return their fortunes: “The Lord bless you, O abode of righteousness, O holy mountain!”7

While the Zechariah source talks of the return of God to Jerusalem, Jeremiah talks of the return of the people by God. The third oracle in Zech 8:4–5 prophesies the quality of life of the residents of Jerusalem: ‫רּוש ָלם וְ ִאיש‬ ָ ְ‫כֹה ָא ִַמר יְ הֹוָ ה ְצ ָבאֹות עֹד יֵּ ְשבּו זְ ֵּקנִ ים ּוזְ ֵּקנֹות ִב ְרחֹבֹות י‬ ‫ ְּורחֹבֹות ָה ִעיר י ִָמלְ אּו יְלָ ִדים וִ ילָ דֹות ְמ ִַש ֲח ִקים‬.‫יָמים‬ ִ ‫ִמ ְש ִַענְ תֹו ְביָ דֹו ֵּמר ֹב‬ ‫יה‬ ָ ‫ִב ְרחֹב ֶֹת‬ Thus says the Lord of hosts: Old men and old women shall again sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with staff in hand because of their great age. And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in its streets.

In this description there are a number of motifs taken from Jer 30:18–19 ‫ּומ ְש ְכנ ָֹתיו ֲא ִַר ֵּחם וְ נִ ְבנְ ָתה ִעיר‬ ִ ‫יִַעקֹוב‬ ֲ ‫כֹה ָא ִַמר יְהֹוָ ה ִהנְ נִי ָשב ְשבּות ָא ֳה ֵּלי‬ ‫תֹודה וְ קֹול ְמ ִַש ֲח ִקים‬ ָ ‫ וְ יָ ָצא ֵּמ ֶהם‬.‫ִַעל ִת ָלּה וְ ִַא ְרמֹון ִַעל ִמ ְש ָפטֹו יֵּ ֵּשב‬ ‫וְ ִה ְר ִב ִתים וְ לֹא י ְִמ ָעטּו וְ ִה ְכ ִַב ְד ִתים וְ לֹא יִ ְצ ָערּו‬ For this analogy see also Stead, The Intertextuality of Zechariah 1–8, 241. Besides the two sources mentioned above, the expression ‫ הר קדש‬appears only in Dan 9:20. 7

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH

5

Thus says the Lord: I am going to restore the fortunes of the tents of Jacob, and have compassion on his dwellings; the city shall be rebuilt upon its mound, and the citadel set on its rightful site. Out of them shall come thanksgiving, and the sound of merrymakers )‫(משחקים‬. I will make them many, and they shall not be few; I will make them honored, and they shall not be disdained.8

This description also talks about the return of Judah to Jerusalem from captivity and the quality of life in the city which is expressed in terms of the number of the city’s citizens, as well as the life of gladness. The rare expression of people “making merry” [‫ ]משחקים‬also appears in Jer 31:3 [ET 31:4]: ‫תּולת יִ ְש ָר ֵּאל עֹוד ִַת ְע ִדי ֻת ִַפיִ ְך וְ ָיָצאת ִב ְמחֹול ְמ ִַש ֲח ִקים‬ ִַ ‫עֹוד ֶא ְבנֵּ ְך וְ נִ ְבנֵּ ית ְב‬ Again I will build you, and you shall be built, O virgin Israel! Again you shall take your tambourines, and go forth in the dance of the merrymakers )‫(משחקים‬.9

The fourth oracle of Zechariah, in 8:6 also relates to the oracles of redemption in Jeremiah: ‫ּיָמים ָה ֵּהם גִַ ם‬ ִ ‫כֹה ָא ִַמר יְ הֹוָ ה ְצ ָבאֹות ִכי י ִָפלֵּ א ְב ֵּעינֵּ י ְש ֵּא ִרית ָה ָעם ִַהזֶ ה ִַב‬ ‫ְב ֵּעינִַ י ִי ָפלֵּ א נְ ֻאם יְ הֹוָ ה ְצ ָבאֹות‬ Thus says the Lord of hosts: Even though it seems impossible to the remnant of this people in these days, should it also seem impossible to me, says the Lord of hosts?

Most commentators interpret this verse as a rhetorical question whose meaning is that nothing is too hard for God to do, including the redemption of the people – similar to what is said in Jer 32:17: ‫ית ֶאת ִַה ָש ִַמיִם וְ ֶאת ָה ָא ֶרץ ְבכ ֲֹחָך ִַהגָ דֹול‬ ָ ‫ֲא ָהּה ֲאד ֹנָי יְ הֹוָ ה ִהנֵּ ה ִַא ָתה ָע ִש‬ ‫ּובזְ ר ֲֹעָך ִַהנְ טּויָה לֹא י ִָפלֵּ א ִמ ְמָך ָכל ָד ָבר‬ ִ

For this analogy, see Mason, The Books of Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi, 69. The use of the word ‫ משחקים‬in this form is unique to Jeremiah and Zechariah. It appears also in Jer 15:17. In a different meaning and in the singular form the word is used in Hab 1:10. 8 9

6

ELIE ASSIS Ah Lord God! It is you who made the heavens and the earth by your great power and by your outstretched arm! Nothing is impossible for you.

See also Jer 32:27: ‫ֹלהי ָכל ָב ָשר ֲה ִמ ֶמנִ י י ִָפלֵּ א ָכל ָד ָבר‬ ֵּ ‫ִהנֵּ ה ֲאנִ י יְהֹוָ ה ֱא‬ See, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh; is anything impossible for me?10

The fifth oracle, Zech 8:7–8, is concerned with the ingathering of the exiles to Jerusalem, which follows the description in the second oracle of the entry of God there. With the return of God and the people to Jerusalem (in 8:7) the fifth oracle talks of the renewal of the covenantal relationship between God and the people in 8:8. The concept behind this oracle and its wording is based on Jeremiah’s prophecy of redemption, Jer 32:37–38.11 Zechariah 8:7–8

Jeremiah 32:37–38

‫מֹוש ִַיע ֶאת ִַע ִמי ֵּמ ֶא ֶרץ‬ ִ ‫ִהנְ נִ י‬

)3(

‫ּומ ֶא ֶרץ ְמבֹוא ִַה ָש ֶמש‬ ֵּ ‫ִמזְ ָרח‬

‫ִהנְ נִי ְמ ִַק ְב ָצם ִמ ָכל ָה ֲא ָרצֹות‬

)73(

‫ּוב ֲח ָמ ִתי‬ ִַ ‫ֲא ֶשר ִה ִַד ְח ִתים ָשם ְב ִַא ִפי‬ ‫ּוב ֶק ֶצף גָ דֹול‬ ְ

‫אתי א ָֹתם וְ ָש ְכנּו ְבתֹוְך‬ ִ ‫וְ ֵּה ֵּב‬

)3(

‫רּוש ָלם‬ ָ ְ‫י‬

‫וִַ ֲה ִשב ִֹתים ֶאל ִַה ָמקֹום ִַהזֶ ה‬

)73(

‫וְ ה ִַֹש ְב ִתים ָל ֶב ִַטח‬ ‫וְ ָהיּו ִלי ְל ָעם וִַ ֲאנִ י ֶא ְהיֶה ָל ֶהם‬ ‫אֹלהים‬ ִ ‫ֵּל‬

‫וְ ָהיּו ִלי ְל ָעם וִַ ֲאנִ י ֶא ְהיֶה ָל ֶהם‬ ‫אֹלהים‬ ִ ‫ֵּל‬

‫ּוב ְצ ָד ָקה‬ ִ ‫ֶב ֱא ֶמת‬ 7 I will save my people from the 37 See, I am going to gather them east country and from the west from all the lands to which I drove country; them in my anger and my wrath and in great indignation; 8 and I will bring them to live in I will bring them back to this place, 10 The connection between these sources was indicated by Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue, 78–79. 11 This is the conclusion of Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue, 80.

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH Jerusalem.

7

and I will settle them in safety.

They shall be my people and I will 38 They shall be my people, and I be their God, in faithfulness and in will be their God. righteousness. The word faithfulness in the context of the concept of the return to Zion appears also in Jer 32:41: ‫ּוב ָכל‬ ְ ‫אֹותם ּונְ ִַט ְע ִתים ָב ָא ֶרץ ִַהזֹאת ֶב ֱא ֶמת ְב ָכל ִל ִבי‬ ָ ‫יהם ְל ֵּה ִטיב‬ ֶ ‫וְ ִַש ְש ִתי ֲע ֵּל‬ ‫נִַ ְפ ִשי‬ I will rejoice in doing good to them, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all my heart and all my soul.

The phase “They shall be my people, and I will be their God” appears twice more in the redemption chapters of Jeremiah to express the renewal of the covenantal relationship between the people and God, 30:22; and 30:25. The sixth oracle in 8:9–13 is concerned with the economic bounty of the people after the establishment of the Temple. Jeremiah also concerns himself with the abundance of the crop, though he does not connect it with the building of the Temple, Jer 31:4, 11, 13. Below I will relate to the difference between the two sources. The wording of the opening of the seventh oracle, Zech 8:14–17 is taken from Jer 32:37–42 as shown by the following table:12 Zechariah 8:14–15 Jeremiah 32:37–42 ‫כ ֹה ָא ִַמר יְהֹוָ ה ְצ ָבאֹות ִַכ ֲא ֶשר‬ ‫ְב ִַה ְק ִציף‬

‫לָ ֶכם‬

‫לְ ָה ִַרע‬

)42(

‫ִכי כֹה ָא ִַמר יְ הֹוָ ה ִַכ ֲא ֶשר‬

)24(

‫זָ ִַמ ְמ ִתי‬

‫אתי ֶאל ָה ָעם ִַהזֶ ה ֵּאת ָכל‬ ִ ‫ֵּה ֵּב‬

‫ֲאב ֵֹּת ֶיכם א ִֹתי ָא ִַמר יְ הֹוָ ה ְצ ָבאֹות‬

‫דֹולה ִַהזֹאת‬ ָ ְ‫ָה ָר ָעה ִַהג‬

:‫וְ לֹא נִ ָח ְמ ִתי‬ ‫יהם ֶאת ָכל‬ ֶ ‫ֵּכן ָאנ ִֹכי ֵּמ ִביא ֲע ֵּל‬ ‫ֵּכן ִַש ְב ִתי זָ ִַמ ְמ ִתי ִַבּיָ ִמים ָה ֵּא ֶלה‬

)41(

‫יהם‬ ֶ ‫ּטֹובה ֲא ֶשר ָאנ ִֹכי ד ֵֹּבר ֲע ֵּל‬ ָ ‫ִַה‬

‫רּוש ִַלם וְ ֶאת ֵּבית‬ ָ ‫יטיב ֶאת ְי‬ ִ ‫לְ ֵּה‬ ‫הּודה‬ ָ ְ‫י‬ :‫ִַאל ִת ָיראּו‬ 12 On

this analogy see Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue, 84–86.

8

ELIE ASSIS

‫וְ ֶאת ִי ְר ָא ִתי ֶא ֵּתן ִב ְל ָב ָבם‬

)24(

‫ְל ִב ְל ִתי סּור ֵּמ ָע ָלי‬ ‫יהם ְל ֵּה ִטיב‬ ֶ ‫וְ ִַש ְש ִתי ֲע ֵּל‬

)24(

‫אֹותם ּונְ ִַט ְע ִתים ָב ָא ֶרץ ִַהזֹאת‬ ָ ‫ּוב ָכל נִַ ְפ ִשי‬ ְ ‫ֶב ֱא ֶמת ְב ָכל ִל ִבי‬ 42 For thus says the Lord: For thus says the Lord of hosts: Just as I purposed to bring disaster upon you, when your Just as I have brought all this ancestors provoked me to wrath, great disaster upon this people, and I did not relent, says the Lord of hosts, so I will bring upon them all the so again I have purposed in these good fortune that I now days to do good to Jerusalem and promise them. to the house of Judah;

do not be afraid.

40 and

I will put the fear of me in their hearts, so that they may not turn from me. 41 I will rejoice in doing good to them, and I will plant them in this land in faithfulness, with all my heart and all my soul.

The seventh oracle in Zechariah 8 is an oracle with a promise for the future. This is the only oracle in which a condition appears that good will befall the people if one behaves well toward his fellow man, though the condition also hints at its opposite – that if one does not behave well towards others, evil, and perhaps catastrophe, will befall the people. Therefore, it is reasonable to look for a parallel for this oracle outside of the collection of Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption. The seventh oracle in Zech 8:14–17 is based on the oracle of rebuke in Jer 9:1–7 [ET 9:3–8]. The subject of both oracles is the speaking of truth between man and his fellow and the avoidance of deceit and lies. The words “truth” and “lies” are keywords in both oracles, and in both the word “peace” occurs.

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH

Zechariah 8:16–17

Jeremiah 9:1–7 [ET 9:3–8]

‫) ֵּא ֶלה ִַה ְד ָב ִרים ֲא ֶשר ִַת ֲעשּו‬

41(

‫ִַד ְברּו ֱא ֶמת ִאיש ֶאת ֵּר ֵּעהּו ֱא ֶמת‬

‫וִַ ּיִַ ְד ְרכּו ֶאת ְלשֹונָ ם ִַק ְש ָתם‬

:‫ּומ ְש ִַפט ָשלֹום ִש ְפטּו ְב ִַש ֲע ֵּר ֶיכם‬ ִ ‫וְ ִאיש ֶאת ָר ִַעת ֵּר ֵּעהּו ִַאל‬

)43(

)4(

‫ֶש ֶקר וְ לֹא ֶל ֱאמּונָ ה‬ ‫ִאיש ֵּמ ֵּר ֵּעהּו ִה ָש ֵּמרּו וְ ִַעל ָכל‬

)7(

‫ּוש ֻב ִַעת ֶש ֶקר‬ ְ ‫ִַת ְח ְשבּו ִב ְל ִַב ְב ֶכם‬

‫ָאח ִַאל ִת ְב ָטחּו ִכי ָכל ָאח ָעקֹוב‬

‫ִַאל ֶת ֱא ָהבּו‬

:‫יִַ ְעקֹב וְ ָכל ֵּר ִַע ָר ִכיל י ֲִַהֹלְך‬ ‫יְה ֵּתלּו וֶ ֱא ֶמת לֹא‬ ָ ‫וְ ִאיש ְב ֵּר ֵּעהּו‬

)2(

‫יְ ִַד ֵּברּו ִל ְמדּו ְלשֹונָ ם ִַד ֶבר ֶש ֶקר‬ :‫ִַה ֲעוֵּ ה נִ ְלאּו‬ ‫ִש ְב ְתָך ְבתֹוְך ִמ ְר ָמה ְב ִמ ְר ָמה‬

)1(

...‫אֹותי נְ ֻאם יְ הֹוָ ה‬ ִ ‫ֵּמ ֲאנּו ִַד ִַעת‬ ‫) ֵּחץ ָשחּוט ְלשֹונָ ם ִמ ְר ָמה ִד ֵּבר‬

3(

‫אתי‬ ִ ֵּ‫ִכי ֶאת ָכל ֵּא ֶלה ֲא ֶשר ָשנ‬

‫ְב ִפיו ָשלֹום ֶאת ֵּר ֵּעהּו יְ ִַד ֵּבר‬

:‫נְ ֻאם יְ הֹוָ ה‬

:‫ּוב ִק ְרבֹו יָ ִשים ָא ְרבֹו‬ ְ

These are the things that you shall do: Speak the truth to one another, render in your gates judgments that are true and make for peace, 17 do not devise evil in your hearts against one another, and love no false oath; 16

2They

bows;

bend their tongues like

they have grown strong in the land for falsehood, and not for truth; for they proceed from evil to evil, and they do not know me, says the Lord.

9

10

ELIE ASSIS

3Beware

of your neighbors, and put no trust in any of your kin; for all your kin are supplanters, and every neighbor goes around like a slanderer. 4They

all deceive their neighbors, and no one speaks the truth; they have taught their tongues to speak lies; they commit iniquity and are too weary to repent. 7Their

tongue is a deadly arrow; it speaks deceit through the mouth. They all speak friendly words to their neighbors, but inwardly are for all these are things that I hate, planning to lay an ambush. says the Lord. In the eighth oracle, (8:19) the prophet prophesies that the fast days on which the people mourned the destruction of the Temple will become days of joy and gladness. ‫יעי וְ צֹום‬ ִ ‫ישי וְ צֹום ִַה ְש ִב‬ ִ ‫יעי וְ צֹום ִַה ֲח ִמ‬ ִ ‫כֹה ָא ִַמר יְהֹוָ ה ְצ ָבאֹות צֹום ָה ְר ִב‬ ‫ֹובים וְ ָה ֱא ֶמת‬ ִ ‫ּולמ ֲֹע ִדים ט‬ ְ ‫הּודה לְ ָששֹון ּולְ ִש ְמ ָחה‬ ָ ְ‫ָה ֲע ִש ִירי י ְִהיֶה ְל ֵּבית י‬ ‫וְ ִַה ָשלֹום ֱא ָהבּו‬ Thus says the Lord of hosts: The fast of the fourth month, and the fast of the fifth, and the fast of the seventh, and the fast of the tenth, shall be seasons of joy and gladness, and cheerful festivals for the house of Judah: therefore love truth and peace.

Jeremiah, of course, could not speak about these fast days before the Temple was destroyed, and therefore there is no parallel oracle. Nevertheless Zechariah’s vocabulary and promise that eventually there would be gladness are based on Jer 31:12: ‫יִַח ָדו וְ ָה ִַפ ְכ ִתי ֶא ְב ָלם ְל ָששֹון‬ ְ ‫ּוב ֻח ִרים ּוזְ ֵּקנִ ים‬ ִַ ‫תּולה ְב ָמחֹול‬ ָ ‫ָאז ִת ְש ִַמח ְב‬ ‫וְ נִ ִַח ְמ ִתים וְ ִש ִַמ ְח ִתים ִמיגֹונָ ם‬

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH 11 Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow.

A further parallel oracle can be found in Jer 33:11 ‫קֹול ָששֹון וְ קֹול ִש ְמ ָחה קֹול ָח ָתן וְ קֹול ִַכ ָלה קֹול א ְֹמ ִרים הֹודּו ֶאת יְ הֹוָ ה‬ ...‫ְצ ָבאֹות ִכי טֹוב‬ The voice of joy, and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom, and the voice of the bride, the voice of them that shall say, Praise the LORD of hosts: for the Lord is good…

PARALLEL BETWEEN ZECHARIAH 8: 20–23 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH The two last oracles in this group, the ninth and the tenth, 8:20–22 and 8:23 are concerned with the gentiles accompanying the Jews on their journey to Jerusalem in order to call on the Lord and implore His favor. These oracles emphasize the recognition by the gentiles of the Jews as the people of the Lord and the Lord as God, and Jerusalem as the place where God dwells. There is no parallel or similarity between these two oracles and the various prophecies of redemption in the Book of Jeremiah or anywhere else in the Book. However this subject is found in the words of the anonymous prophet whose prophecies appear in Isaiah 40–66.13 Isa 56:3 and 56:8 describe, as does Zechariah, the gentiles who accompany the Jews on their return to Jerusalem. The oracle in Isaiah promises these gentiles that they will be welcome in the House of God, that the Lord will make them glad, and their sacrifices and their prayers will be acceptable before God.14 This source refers to the gentiles attaching themselves to the Temple and community of God. The city of Jerusalem, which is mentioned explicitly as the destination of gentiles in Zechariah, is not mentioned in Isa 56:8 but is explicit in Isa 66:18–21. This source describes the coming of the gentiles to 13 See

above n. 4 On the topic of the temple in Jerusalem as a house of prayer for all peoples, see M. Greenberg, “A House of Prayer for All Peoples”, A. Niccacci (ed.), Jerusalem: House of Prayer for All Peoples in the Tree Monotheistic Religions, Proceedings of a Symposium Held in Jerusalem, February 17–18, 1997 (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 2001), 29–37. On the reliance of Zechariah on the material in Isaiah, see pp. 34–35. On this universalistic approach see D. Hanson, The Dawn of Apocalyptic: The Historical and Sociological Roots of Jewish Apocalyptic Eschatology (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979), 385–386. 14

12

ELIE ASSIS

assemble on the Holy Mountain so as to see the Glory of the Lord in Jerusalem. A description of gentiles coming to the Temple in Jerusalem is also found in Isa 60:10–14 though the emphasis here is on their coming to serve in the Temple in Jerusalem. The gentiles’ recognition of and prayers to God, which occur at the end of Zechariah 8, are also found in Isa 45:14. A similar idea is found in Isa 2:1–4,15 and duplicated in Mic 4:1–3.16

EVALUATION OF THE FINDINGS We have seen, then, that the first eight oracles in Zech 8:2–19, are based on the ideas and vocabulary of Jeremiah, while the last two oracles, vv 20–23, have no parallel in Jeremiah, but correspond to oracles of the anonymous prophet in Isaiah 40–66. The date of the prophecies of redemption in Jeremiah 30–33, is disputed among scholars.17 It is not possible within the framework of this paper to review the vast amount of research that has been conducted on these chapters, but it can be stated that the prevalent opinion is that they were written after the events of 586 BCE, and not by Jeremiah himself.18 In 15 Mitchell, Haggai, Zechariah, 216. See also Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue, 87–90; H. G. M. Williamson, Isaiah 1–27 (ICC; London and New York: T & T Clark, 2006), 177. However it is a matter of dispute if the passages in Isa 2:1–4 and Mic 4:1–4 are original. On the question of the date of this prophecy, see the survey in: H. G. M. Williamson, Isaiah 1–27, 174–179. It is assumed by many that these passages are post-exilic. See A. Weiser, Das Buch der zwölf Kleinen Propheten, I (ATD, 24; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1967), 263. Gray, emphasizes, that the allusion of Zech 8:20–22, to Isaiah 2 proves that the date of Isaiah 2 is not later than 520 BCE. See G. B. Gray, The Book of Isaiah (ICC; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1912), 44. Hillers believes that the prophecy was written in the 8 th century, see Hillers, Micah, 53. For the origin of the Zion tradition in the Davidic-Solomonic period, see J. J. M. Roberts, “The Davidic Origen of the Zion Tradition”, JBL 92 (1973), 329–344. For Jerusalem as a pilgrimage site for all nations see H. Wildberger, “Die Völkerwallfahrt zum Zion”, VT 7 (1957), 62–81. 16 For the relationship between Isa 2:2–4 and Mic 4:1–4, see H. Wildberger, Jesaja (BKAT, 10/1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1980), 78–80. D. R. Hillers, Micah (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 51–53. Sweeney has claimed that the text in Zechariah is a citation of the Mican source, and deliberately differs from Isa 2:2–4. M. A. Sweeney, Form and Intertextuality in Prophetic and Apocalyptic Literature, (Tübingen: Mohr, 2005), 231. 17 For a detailed treatment of a scholarly debate see S. Böhmer, Heimkehr und neuer Bund: Studien zu Jeremia 30–31 (GTA, 5; Göttingen 1976), 11–20; W. McKane, Jeremiah, vol. II (ICC; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1996), clvii–clxiii. 18 T. M. Raitt, A Theology of Exile: Judgment/Deliverance in Jeremiah and Ezekiel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977), 110–112.

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH 13 the opinion of Carroll, for instance, it is hard to suppose that Jeremiah, who prophesied the complete destruction of the city, could make such a complete volte-face and also prophesy the redemption of the people and the city of Jerusalem.19 However, I do not see why one prophet should not speak both of the destruction of the Temple on account of sins being committed at the present, while also prophesying redemption in the future, believing the destruction to be of a temporary nature.20 It may be assumed that the prophet did not intend to prophesy the total destruction of the people, but rather a temporary destruction. It is also possible that Jeremiah himself authored these prophecies of redemption after the destruction. Some scholars hold that the affinity between these chapters and the oracles of Deutero-Isaiah, is further reason for a late dating of Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption.21 Other scholars are of the opinion that Deutero-Isaiah is later than the Book of Jeremiah and quotes from it.22 I will demonstrate how the affinity between Zechariah 8 and Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption supports the assumption that Deutero-Isaiah refers to material in Jeremiah, and that in the discussions on the dating of Jeremiah 30–33 scholars did not take into account their affinity with Zechariah 8.23 In order to understand the way Zechariah 8 uses Jeremiah’s work it is necessary also to examine what topics of redemption in Jeremiah are absent in Zechariah. Another issue to be addressed is the idea behind the affinities between the universal prophecies in Zech 8:20–23 and their parallels in R. Carroll, The Book of Jeremiah, A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1986), 569. Carroll is of the opinion that the oracles in Jer 30–33 were composed by anonymous writers from the exilic or postexilic times. See Carroll, Jeremiah, 569. For the various opinions as to the time of Jeremiah 30–33, see McKane, Jeremiah, clvii–clxiv. 20 See S. R. Driver, An Introduction to the Literature of the Old Testament (Cleveland: Meridian Books, 1956), 261. 21 See D. B. Duhm, Das Buch Jeremia (KHC, XI; Tübingen und Leipzig: Mohr, 1901), 240; Carroll, Jeremiah, 578. J. Lust, “‘Gathering and Return’ in Jeremiah and Ezekiel”, P.-M. Bogaert, et. al (eds.), Le livre de Jérémie (BETL, 54; Leuven: University Press, 1981), 119–142 (132–133). 22 See e.g. Driver, Introduction; J. R. Lundbom, Jeremiah 21–36, (AB, 21B; New York: Doubleday, 2004), 390; J. A. Thompson, The Book of Jeremiah (NICOT; Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans), 557. This possibility is also raised and not rejected by W. L. Holladay, Jeremiah (Hermeneia; Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 1989), 156. P. Tull Willey, Remember the Former Things: The Recollection of Previous Texts in Second Isaiah (SBLDS, 161; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 273–279. 23 Stead, The Intertextuality of Zechariah 1–8, 242–243. 19

14

ELIE ASSIS

Second Isaiah. Can the absence of prophecies of this type in Jeremiah be explained? The dependence of Zechariah on the pre-exilic prophets stems first and foremost from the fact that Zechariah wanted to impress on his audience the message that he is continuing in the steps of the classical prophets, which he refers to as “the Former Prophets.”24 Zechariah’s perception that he was continuing in the path of the Former Prophets is mentioned explicitly in 1:4–6 and 7:4–14. Four times in these verses Zechariah refers to the prophets who preceded him, and each time summarizes their rebukes and directs similar rebukes to the people of his own generation, together with a veiled threat that if they copy the behavior of their ancestors their fate is likely to be similar to theirs. So as to strengthen this assertion, Zechariah uses, throughout his prophecies, the messages used by the Former Prophets together with their style and even direct quotations from their words. Indeed, the continuity created between Zechariah and Jeremiah leads Boda to the conclusion that Zechariah is a ‘Second Jeremiah’.25 Apart from this, Zechariah wanted to convey to his audience that Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption were in the process of fulfillment.26 A further dimension can be added to this concept. Jeremiah is primarily identified as a prophet of doom, whose prophecies of woe and calamity were fulfilled. To this same prophet were also ascribed prophecies of redemption. Zechariah’s allusions to Jeremiah were also designed to strengthen the belief of his audience in his own prophecies of redemption. Zechariah uses the latent claim that if Jeremiah’s prophecies of woe were fulfilled, now it must also be believed that his prophecies of redemption will also come to pass. Therefore, Zechariah, the majority of whose prophecies are prophecies of redemption, is seeking to assure the trustworthiness of his words by basing them on those of Jeremiah. The need to reinforce the credibility of the words of the prophet stems primarily from the fact that the strong expectations of the people had not been realized (indeed there is evidence that Zechariah had to prove his credibility, see Zech 2:13, 15; 4:9; 24 See also A. Petitjean, Les oracles du Proto-Zacharie, 441. For analogies between Zechariah and pre-exilic prophecy see Nurmela, Prophets in Dialogue, 39–103; Stead, The Intertextuality of Zechariah 1–8, 2–6. 25 M. J. Boda, “Zechariah: Master Mason or Penitential Prophet?,” R. Albertz and B. Becking (eds.), Yahwism after the Exile : Perspectives on Israelite Religion in the Persian Era, Papers read at the First meeting of the European Association for Biblical Studies, Utrecht, 6–9 August 2000 (Studies in theology and religion, 5; Assen: Van Gorcum, 2003), 66. 26 On this subject see Stead, The Intertextuality of Zechariah 1–8, 261–262.

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH 15 6:15). It should be noted that Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption are prophecies of the future. In a similar way Zechariah’s prophecies are also prophecies of the future. In this way the prophet seeks to establish that although Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption have not yet been realized, they have not changed, and their fulfillment in the future should still be anticipated, in Zechariah’s new wording. Despite Zechariah’s attempt to present himself as Jeremiah’s successor and his prophecies as having a similar import to those of Jeremiah, it is evident that there are significant differences between the two prophets. These are the result of different historical circumstances. The first difference is between the attitude of Zechariah to prosperity in the sixth oracle of chapter 8 vv 9–13 as opposed to the parallels of this oracle in Jer 31:4, 11. It can be seen here that although Zechariah draws from Jeremiah’s prophecy he updates it. Prior to the Destruction no prophet had made prosperity dependent on the building of the Temple, but rather on the performance of God’s commandments. Haggai is the first prophet to make the connection between economic prosperity and the building of the Temple; Zechariah here is following his example.27 These prophets made economic prosperity dependent on the building of the Temple in order to strengthen its status that was being undermined by the people. This is a good example of how the prophet worked: he hinted at the words of Jeremiah, but changed them and added to them to fit the circumstances of his times. If Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption were composed after the exile it might well be possible to find a similar connection between economic prosperity and the reconstruction that we find in Haggai and Zechariah. Such a connection exists also in Ezek 47:12. A much more significant subject that differentiates between Jeremiah and Zechariah is their treatment of the Davidic monarchy. In Jer 30:9 there is a clear and explicit promise that the monarchy will be renewed: “But they shall serve the Lord their God, and David their king, whom I will raise up 27 On

this topic see G. A. Anderson, Sacrifices and Offerings in Ancient Israel: Studies in their Social and Political Importance (HSM, 41; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987, 102– 104; V. A. Hurowitz, I have Built You An Exalted House: Temple Building in the Bible in Light of Mesopotamian and Northwest Semitic Writings (JSOTSup, 115; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992), 322–323; M. J. Boda, “From Dystopia to Myopia: Utopian (Re)visions in Haggai and Zechariah 1–8,” E. Ben Zvi (ed.), Utopia and Dystopia in Prophetic Literature (PFES, 92; Helsinki and Göttingen: Finnish Exegetical Society and Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006), 211–248, esp. 240–247; E. Assis, “The Temple in the Book of Haggai”, JHS 8/19 (2008), 1–10, available online at http://www.jhsonline.org and reprinted in E. Ben Zvi (ed.), Perspectives in Hebrew Scriptures V (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2009).

16

ELIE ASSIS

for them.” The renewal of the monarchy is not referred to in this way in Zechariah 1–8, and especially in chapter 8, which summarizes the oracles of the previous chapters. Jeremiah 33:15–17 also refers to the return of the Davidic monarchy: “In those days, and at that time, will I cause a righteous Branch to spring forth for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days shall Judah be saved, and Jerusalem will dwell securely; and this is the name by which it will be called: ‘the Lord is our righteousness’. For thus says the Lord: David shall never lack a man to sit on the throne of the house of Israel.” Zech 3:8 also makes reference to ‘the Branch of David’: “Hear now, O Joshua the high priest, you and your friends who sit before you; for they are men of good omen: behold, I will bring forth My servant the Branch.” It is also cited in Zech 6:12–13: “and say to him, ‘Thus says the Lord of hosts, Behold, a man whose name is the Branch, for he shall grow up in his place, and he shall build the temple of the Lord. It is he who shall build the temple of the Lord, and shall bear the royal honour, and shall sit and rule upon his throne. And there shall be a priest by his throne, and peaceful understanding shall be between them both.” Some scholars are of the opinion that the “Branch” in Zechariah is not Zerubbabel.28 The prevalent view is that these oracles reflect Zechariah’s understanding that Zerubbabel is a descendant of David who will fulfil the prophecies of the earlier prophets, in particular those of Jeremiah, and will sit on the Davidic throne.29 Although I agree with the opinion of many 28 Baker believes that Zemah refers to Joshua the high priest. M. Baker, “The Two Figures in Zechariah,” HeyJ 18 (1977), 38–46. Bič believes that Zemah refers to an eschatological messiah, see M. Bič, Die Nachtgesichte des Sacharja: Eine Auslegung von Sacharja 1–6 (Biblische Studien, 42; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1964), 38. Rudolph believes that Zechariah at first thought that Zerubbabel was to take the throne, but when Zechariah realized Zerubbabel’s failure he thought that one of his descendents would fulfill the expectations of the renewal of the line of David. See Rudolph, Haggai-Sacharja 1–8, 130–131. According to Tollington and Rose “Zemah” is not identified with Zerubbabel, but a future figure, see Tollington, Tradition and Innovation, 144–145, 172; Rose, Zemah and Zerubbabel, 248– 249. 29 S. Mowinckel, He That Cometh (trans. G. W. Anderson; Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1956), 120–121. R. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration: A Study of Hebrew Thought of the Sixth Century BC (London: SCM Press, 1968), 190; Carroll, When Prophecy Failed, 163; Mitchell, Haggai, Zechariah, 104; A. Laato, Josiah and David Redivivus: The Historical Josiah and the Messianic Expectations of Exilic and Postexilic Times (ConBOT, 33; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1992), 231–259. According to Laato, Zechariah, like Haggai, reflects the people’s expectations that Zerubabbel is the Davidic leader that Jeremiah and Ezekial predicted. However, when these

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH 17 scholars who hold that the “Branch” is Zerubbabel, nowhere does Zechariah speak explicitly of the restoration of the House of David. Nowhere in the Book of Zechariah and not even in the Book of Haggai is Zerubbabel called “king.” Although Haggai prophesies about Zerubbabel he does not mention that he is a descendant of David, and does not speak explicitly of the monarchy (Hag 2:20–23).30 Admittedly Zechariah uses royal vocabulary, as Boda has convincingly demonstrated.31 I accept the opinion that Zechariah speaks about Zerubbabel sitting on the royal throne, 6:12– 13: “Thus says the Lord of hosts: Here is a man whose name is Branch: for he shall branch out in his place, and he shall build the temple of the Lord. It is he that shall build the temple of the Lord; he shall bear royal honor, and shall sit and rule on his throne. There shall be a priest by his throne, with peaceful understanding between the two of them.”32 However, his position as king is weakened not only because kingship is not specifically mentioned, but also because, for the first time in biblical literature, a priest will sit on a throne beside the king.33 Moreover, the main royal task mentioned is the future building of the temple.34 One may argue that these prophets refrained from speaking explicitly about the Davidic kingship as long as Judea was a weak province under the rule of the Persian monarchy. However, this cannot explain why Haggai or Zechariah do not mention any affinity between Zerubbabel and David, or refer to him specifically as a scion of the House of David.35 expectations dashed, the prophecies about Zerubbabel in Zechariah were reinterpreted as the coming of a future Messiah. For a similar position see J. J. M. Roberts “The Old Testament’s Contribution to Messianic Expectations”, J. H. Charlesworth, et. al. (eds.), The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 1992), 39–51, esp. 50; M. J. Boda, “Oil, Crowns and Thrones: Prophet, Priest and King in Zechariah 1:7–6:15,” JHS 3/10 (2001) available at http://www.jhsonline.org and republished in E. Ben Zvi (ed.), Perspectives in Hebrew Scriptures (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2006), 379–404. 30 See also, W. H. Rose, Zemah and Zerubbabel: Messianic Expectations in the Early Postexilic Period (JSOTSup, 304; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000, 249–250. 31 See Boda, “Oil, Crowns and Thrones: Prophet, Priest and King in Zechariah 1:7–6:15.” 32 See also Petersen, Haggai and Zechariah 1–8, 275–278; M. H. Floyd, Minor Prophets, Part Two (FOTL, 22; Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2000), 406–407; Boda, “Oil, Crowns and Thrones: Prophet, Priest and King in Zechariah 1:7–6:15,” 18 and n. 55. 33 Mitchell, Haggai, Zechariah, 188. 34 Mason is right when he comments that Zerubbabel is called to build the temple like David and Solomon. Mason, Preaching the Tradition, 209–210. 35 See also Tollington, Tradition and Innovation, 144; See also Miller and Hayes

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In view of the explicit mention by Jeremiah of the ‘Branch’ as a descendant of David, who will sit on his throne, and in view of the many affinities between Zechariah and Jeremiah, the contrast between the two on this subject is significant. The difference in the way Zechariah and Jeremiah relate to the Davidic monarchy is based on the different circumstances in the two periods in which these two prophets functioned. If we accept the assumption that Jeremiah prophesied about ‘the Branch of David’ prior to the exilic period, but after he had prophesied the devastation of the country and the fall of the Davidic monarchy, it can be understood why he also prophesied the renewal of the monarchy as part of the future redemption. However, it would seem that by the days of Zechariah, the hope that the monarchy would be restored was recognized as being unrealistic, and so in Zechariah 1–6, the prophet speaks of ‘the Branch’ but does not reiterate Jeremiah’s prophecy of the restoration of the monarchy, nor is there a mention of David.36 It seems to me that Zechariah 8 was composed later than who note “If Zerubbabel had been a member of the Davidic family line, it seems almost unbelievable that neither Ezra. Nehemiah, Haggai, nor Zechariah noted this”. In their opinion Zerubbabel was not from the line of David, but was regarded so only by the Chronicler, in order to maintain continuity of the Davidic leadership. Cf. J. M. Miller and J. H. Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah (London: SCM Press, 1986), 456. I think that he was a descendent of David; however, indeed these sources do not indicate that in line with the realization that he will not be a monarchic ruler. See also K. E. Pomykala, The Davidic Dynasty Tradition in Early Judaism: Its History and Significance for Messianism (SBLEJL, 7; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995), 46–53. 36 Many scholars make the claim that Zechariah initially predicted Zerubbabel to be the heir of the Davidic kingship, but after this hope was disappointed, Zechariah abandoned this idea and replaced it by other more realistic hopes. Some think that priesthood was perceived as the royal Messiah. See, for instance, J. Wellhausen, Sketch of the History of Israel and Judah (3rd ed., London: A. & C. Black, 1891), 129. Against the understanding that the hope for the renewal of the house of David was transferred to priesthood, see recently A. R. Petterson, Behold Your King: The Hope for the House of David in the Book of Zechariah (LHBOTS, 513; New York and London: T & T Clark, 2009), 46–62. In his opinion, looking at the book of Zechariah in its final form demonstrates the Messianic hope through a Davidic king. See the conclusion of the book, pp. 246–252. Carroll points out that Zechariah 1–8 demonstrates the failure of Zerubbabel, and that Zechariah 9–14 was added later in order demonstrate the future hope for a renewal of the house of David (9:9; 12:7– 9, 10–14; 13:1, while other passages claim that in the future God would be king. See R. Carroll, When Prophecy Failed: Reactions and Responses to Failure in the Old Testament Prophetic Traditions (London: SCM Press, 1979), 162–171.

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH 19 Zechariah 1–7, when Zerubbabel had already disappeared from the scene. In chapter 8, that repeats some main ideas of chapters 1–7, even the notion of the return of ‘the Branch’ is not found. This discussion also has implications for dating Jeremiah 33:14–26. It is more difficult for those scholars who date these verses as late as the postexilic period to explain a prophecy of the restoration of the Davidic monarchy at a time when this seems far beyond the realm of possibility.37 As we have seen many scholars are of the opinion that at first Zechariah thought that Zerubbabel would be king and would sit on the throne of David, and later, when this hope failed to materialize, the oracles of Zechariah were rewritten. If this is indeed the case, it is necessary to ask how was it that in the Masoretic Text of Jeremiah exactly the opposite had taken place, and an extra oracle, on the renewal of David’s monarchy, was actually added to it. This all leads to the conclusion that these verses of Jeremiah were in fact written prior to the events of 586 BCE, and by Jeremiah himself.38 We can now offer an explanation why Jer 33:14–26 is absent from the Septuagint. In the same way that many scholars claim that Zechariah was rewritten once it became clear that Zerubbabel was not ‘the Branch’ of the House of David and would not sit on David’s throne, one can understand the change that took place in the Hebrew vorlage of the Septuagint to Jeremiah 33. Assuming that the wording of the Masoretic Text was composed prior to 586 BCE, it is understood that the promise concerning the royal House of David is to be found in it. If indeed we 37 For those who consider 33:14–26, as a postexilic addition see C. H. Cornill, Das Buch Jeremia (Leipzig: Tauchnitz, 1905), 359; Volz, Der Prophet Jeremia (KAT, 10; Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1928), 314–316; W. Rudolph, Jeremia (HAT; Tübingen: Mohr, 1968), 217; Holladay, Jeremiah, vol. 2, 228–230; Carroll, Jeremiah, 637. The claim that Jer 33:14–26 is post-exilic is problematic, as this text is so explicit about the restoration of the Davidic monarchy. In an extensive treatment, Mark Leuchter finds arguments for a composition prior to the 586 BCE events, and even for Jeremianic authorship. However he also points to some later signs in the text, especially in vv 19–22. He thus suggests a more complicated process of composition. See M. Leuchter, The Polemics of Exile in Jeremiah 26–45 (Cambridge: University Press, 2008), 72–81. 38 This opinion is held by E. Tov, “Some Aspects of the Textual and Literary History of the Book of Jeremiah”, P.-M. Bogaert, et. al (eds.), Le livre de Jérémie (BETL, 54; Leuven: University Press, 1981) 145–167 (154); J. Unterman, From Repentance to Redemption: Jeremiah’s Thought in Transition (JSOTSup, 54; Sheffield: Academic Press, 1987), 144; Lundbom, Jeremiah 21–36, 542; and defended by Pomykala, The Davidic Dynasty Tradition in Early Judaism: Its History and Significance for Messianism, 42–44. See also Sweeney, Form and Intertextuality, 107–122.

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accept that the Septuagint came subsequently, the translator (or the author of the Hebrew vorlage of the Septuagint) erased the prophecy concerning the House of David, thereby also reducing the emphasis on the House of David in the oracles of Zechariah. I have now touched on the central idea that appears in Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption that is absent from Zechariah 8. On the other hand it is evident that in Zechariah 8 there is another basic idea which has no parallel in Jeremiah. All of the first eight oracles are based on parallel oracles in Jeremiah 30–33. However, as we have said, the ninth and tenth oracles in Zechariah 8, talk about gentiles joining the Jews in their pilgrimage to Jerusalem, with the intention of beseeching the Lord there, and recognizing the Judeans as the people of God. There is no mention whatsoever in Jeremiah of these concepts that are parallels of oracles in Second Isaiah. The subject of the mixing of Jews and gentiles, whether with a positive or a negative connotation, begins specifically in the exilic and post-exilic literature.39 In the Books of Ezra, Nehemiah and Malachi we find opposition to inter-marriage (Ezra 9–10; Neh 9:1–3; 10:28; 13; Mal 2:10–16). In Second Isaiah, and in Zechariah, we find, on the other hand, a positive attitude to the mingling of Jews with gentiles. Both the positive and negative aspects are the result of the mixing of Jews among gentiles in exile after the events of 586 BCE. As a consequence the prophets and the leaders of the people were obliged to turn their attention to this matter. The prophets were aware of the latent problem of the negative influence of gentiles on Jews through inter-marriage, but we also find that in this assimilation there were those who saw the realization of the ideal of the propagation of the name of God among the gentile nations. Living in the reality of his time Zechariah struggled with this problem, but found no relevant material in the work of Jeremiah from which he quotes a great deal, and so he adopted the universal stance from Second Isaiah. It is evident that Zechariah used his sources in a sophisticated way, adjusting the words of his predecessors to the circumstances of the period in which he lived. Returning now to Jeremiah, we can perhaps understand why his prophecies of redemption contain no universal orientation. If Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption were created during the exilic or post-exilic periods, as many scholars hold (see above), we might have expected to see The difference between the universalistic attitude during the first temple period as an utopian ambition versus the universalistic approach as a realistic one during the restoration period see M. Weinfeld, “Universalistic and Particularistic Trends During the Exile and Restoration,” M. Weinfeld, Normative and Sectarian Judaism in the Second Temple Period, London and (New York: T & T Clark, 2005), 251–266. 39

ZECH 8 AND ITS ALLUSIONS TO JER 30–33 AND DEUTERO-ISAIAH 21 the sort of universal approach that we find in Second Isaiah and Zechariah. Or we might have expected to see the opposite approach, such as we find in Ezra and Nehemiah. But it is difficult to understand why the subject finds no expression in Jeremiah if his prophecies were created after 586 BCE. But if we accept the position that the tidings of redemption belong to the period prior to the Destruction, it becomes understandable, since Jeremiah never experienced the mingling of the Jews among the gentiles in the exile, with its ramifications, and so he never needed to make any sort of pronouncement on this subject. We can therefore conclude that Zechariah 8 borrowed heavily from Jeremiah 30–33, though Zechariah adjusted the words of his predecessor and updated them to fit the period in which he lived. And so the tone of the renewal of the Davidic monarchy, which is a key subject in Jeremiah’s prophecies of redemption, is expressed in a more subtle way, in all probability because it seemed to be very removed from the new reality. On the other hand, Zechariah had to relate to the subject of the influence of the Jews on the gentiles, or vice versa, as indeed Second Isaiah did, though this subject was beyond Jeremiah’s vision in the pre-exilic period.40

40 I

thank Michael Avioz, Mark Boda, and Rimon Kasher for reading this article and for their valuable comments.

“SOME WORTHLESS AND RECKLESS FELLOWS”: LANDLESSNESS AND PARASOCIAL LEADERSHIP IN JUDGES BRIAN R. DOAK HARVARD UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION This essay is an attempt to explore certain aspects of three provocative tales in the book of Judges—the rise to power of Abimelek in ch. 9 and Jephthah in ch. 11, and the actions of the landless Danites in ch. 18—and to interpret these stories in light of what evidence we possess regarding the existence of so-called habiru1 groups in the 2nd millennium BCE and in light of some anthropological theory regarding the behavior of “parasocial” bands in the formation of (at least) short-term political and military structures in the For the sake of standardization and convenience, I have rendered this term as “habiru” throughout the essay. The nature of the cuneiform script could produce various permutations of this term, and thus possible readings include ‘abiru, ‘apiru, ḥabiru, ḥapiru, ḫabiru, and ḫapiru (in Akk. cuneiform, ḫ could represent three distinct guttural sounds, ḥ, ḫ, and ‘, and the ab sign could also be read as ap). Although some Egyptian and Ugaritic evidence suggests that the second consonant was a “p” and the first letter was an ‘ayin (thus, ‘apiru), Bottéro (“Ḫabiru,” RLA 4, [1972], 14–27) points to several instances where the cuneiform can only be rendered as ḫabiru. All lines of argumentation in this regard have been met with opposition, and there is currently no consensus on the spelling or etymology of the term. See M. Salvini, The Ḫabiru Prism of King Tunip–Teššup of Tikunani (Roma: Istituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali, 1996), 10–11; M. Greenberg, The Ḫab/piru (AOS, 39; New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1955), 2–11; O. Loretz, Ḫabiru - Hebräer: eine sozio–linguistische Studie über die Herkunft des Gentiliziums ‘ibrî vom Appelativum habiru (BZAW 160; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1984), 18–88; N. P. Lemche, “Habiru, Hapiru,” ABD vol. 3, ed. D. N. Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 6–7; W. H. C. Propp, Exodus 19–40 (AB, 2A; New York: Doubleday, 2006), 748. 1

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Near East.2 The preponderance of ideological readings of Judges in the last 20 years may leave one with the mistaken impression that the book has value only as a kind of cultural or theological foil, meant to demonstrate the disastrous results of violence and power in a “backwards” ancient context.3 As stimulating as these studies are, commentators have sometimes ignored important historical and anthropological data embedded within the book of Judges’ depiction of certain figures and institutions, which, despite their overtly theological and legendary coloring in the present form of the book, provide a glimpse into the chaotic world of a nation in the process of political and social stabilization.4 In this study, therefore, I argue that the presentation of bands of mercenaries, brigands, landless groups, and the careers of some preI borrow the category of the “parasocial” leader from the Assyriologist M. B. Rowton, the meaning of which is discussed in detail below. 3 See, e.g., M. Bal, Death & Dissymmetry: The Politics of Coherence in the Book of Judges (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1988); R. Ryan, Judges (Readings: A New Biblical Commentary; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix, 1997); B.G. Webb, The Book of Judges: An Integrated Reading (JSOTSup 45; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1987). For a collection of studies on narrative criticism, deconstructive, structuralist, postcolonial, and gendered reading of Judges, see the essays in Judges & Method: New Approaches in Biblical Studies, 2nd edition, ed. G. A. Yee (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007), and for a study on the reception history of the book in medieval and modern periods, see D. M. Gunn, Judges (Blackwell Bible Commentaries; Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2005). 4 In general, I follow those who, like J. A. Hackett (“‘There Was No King in Israel’. The Era of the Judges,” in The Oxford History of the Biblical World, ed. M. D. Coogan [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998], 132–64) and S. Niditch in her new commentary (Judges [OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008], 6– 8), take the book of Judges seriously as an historical source for pre-monarchic Israel. See also the cautious comments of B. Tidiman in Le Livre des Juges (Vaux-surSeine: Édifac, 2004), 22–25, 33–39, and the still useful, though somewhat dated, studies in Judges, Vol. III of The World History of the Jewish People, ed. B. Mazar, esp. 129–63, and also J. A. Soggin, Judges (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1981), 169, who thinks that the story of Abimelek in 9:1–6 contains “important historical information.” Other scholars still deeply concerned with history may, of course, not see the book of Judges as (primarily) preserving accurate memories of the premonarchic period; cf. T. Römer, The So–Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 136, where Römer asserts that the period of the Judges “is nothing other than a literary invention of the Deuteronomic school,” and M. Brettler, The Book of Judges, (Old Testament Readings; London: Routledge, 2002), where the book is read as a political tract in favor of the Davidic kingship. 2

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monarchic leaders have instructive parallels with what we know (or may surmise) regarding the activities of habiru-like bands in the Amarna letters, the Idrimi inscription, and other texts, and that the activities of such groups in Syria-Palestine at the close of the 2nd millennium are reflected in the narrative of the book of Judges.5 It would be something of an For a strong denial of the continuity between habiru and Hebrew, see A. Rainey’s reviews of N. K. Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh, and O. Loretz, Ḫabiru– Hebräer, both in JAOS 107 (1987), 541–43 and 539–41, respectively. Rainey’s more recent statements on the topic appear in “Whence Came the Israelites and Their Language?,” IEJ 57 (2007), 41–64 and “Shasu or Habiru: Who Were the Early Israelites?,” BAR 34/6 (2008), where Rainey asserts that the habiru-Hebrew connection is “silly,” and the result of “absurd mental gymnastics” by “wishful thinkers who tend to ignore the reality of linguistics.” Rainey’s basic linguistic critique, which seems perfectly valid as far as it goes, is that the only possible root for the 2nd millennium term is *’-p-r, and the lack of elision of v2 in the cuneiform examples demonstrates either v1 or v2 was long, thus nullifying the supposed development of the stative *’abiru > ‘ēber, ‘ibrî (on analogy with Arab. malik, Phoen. milk, Akk. malku/maliku, pl. malkū); as Rainey points out, this linguistic argument had already been made by Borger in 1958. See Rainey’s review of Loretz, 541. Cf. F. M. Cross, From Epic to Canon: History and Literature in Ancient Israel (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), 69 n. 57. One may, of course, sidestep the linguistic issue by arguing that either the term “Hebrew” is some kind of uniquely (or imperfectly) derived form of the word habiru that does not adhere to certain rules of consonant change, or that the terms existed simultaneously in Palestine in such a way as to facilitate their conflation on a social level. The term “Hebrew” (‫ם‬/‫ )עברי‬appears 34 times in the HB, in 32 different verses (if one accepts Na’aman’s emendation for 2 Sam 20:14, then 35x in 33 verses; see his “Ḫabiru and Hebrews: The Transfer of a Social Term to the Literary Sphere,” in idem, Canaan in the Second Millennium B.C.E. [Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005], 262–69); eighteen times in speaking of “the Hebrews” in the mouths of foreigners (always Egyptians or Philistines), or spoken by “Hebrews” as a self-identification to foreigners, or by the narrator in the context of identifying Hebrews vis-à-vis foreigners (Gen 39:14, 17; 40:15; 41:12; 43:32; Exod 1:15, 16, 19; 2:6, 7, 11, 13; 1 Sam 4:6, 9; 13:19; 14:11; 29:3; Jon 1:9); six times when speaking of stipulations for owning a “Hebrew” slave (Exod 21:2; Deut 15:12[2x], Jer 34:9[2x],14); six times YHWH is called “the God of the Hebrews” (Exod 3:18; 5:3; 7:16; 9:1,13; 10:3); and four times in other circumstances: (a) in Gen 14:13, Abram is called “Abram the Hebrew”; (b) in 1 Sam 13:3, Saul blows a trumpet and wants all “the Hebrews” to hear of Jonathan’s victory over the Philistines; (c) in 1 Sam 13:7, “some Hebrews” cross the Jordan and go over to Gad and Gilead, apparently in fear of the Philistines (?), and earlier in 1 Sam 13:6, “the Israelites” are mentioned, suggesting that “the Hebrews” are a group separate from “the Israelites”; (d) in 1 Sam 29:3, the Philistines call David and his men “Hebrews,” but 5

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understatement to affirm that the questions regarding the relationship between the term “Hebrew” (‫ )עברי‬and the habiru are complex and have been the occasion for profound disagreement over the past century.6 There are those who have, on linguistic grounds, pointed to the very real problems in the Hebrew-habiru connection, though, as A. Kuhrt aptly argues, the linguistic link between the two terms should have never been the linchpin for the sociological and literary comparisons among disaffected groups in the 14th–12th century BCE setting.7 Of course, the landmark studies of G. Saul is then referred to as the king of “Israel” (but cf. 1 Sam 4:6,9; 13:19; 14:11?); and (e) 1 Sam 14:21 clearly distinguishes the Hebrews from the Israelites. Thus, the Bible itself indicates variation in the use of the term, suggesting confusion or tension within the corpus over time. 6 Besides the studies of Gottwald and Mendenhall (cited below), Assyriologists and biblical scholars have attacked the problem from many different angles. See, e.g., M. Liverani, “Farsi Ḫabiru,” Vicino Oriente 2 (1979), 65–77; M. Weippert, The Settlement of the Israelite Tribes in Palestine: A Critical Survey of Recent Scholarly Debate, trans. J. D. Martin (Naperville: SCM Press, 1971), 63–126; Greenberg, 92; Loretz; R. Borger, “Das Problem der ‘apiru (‘Habiru’),” ZDVP 74 (1958), 121–32; E. Chiera, “Habiru and Hebrews,” The American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literatures 49/2 (1933), 115–24; R. de Vaux, “Le Problème des Hapiru après Quinze Années,” JNES 27 (1968), 221–28; J. C. L. Gibson, “Observations on Some Important Ethnic Terms in the Pentateuch,” JNES 20 (1961), 217–38; E. Lipinski, “L’esclave hébreu,’” VT 26 (1976), 120–24; J. L. Myres, “The Habiru, the Hebrews, and the Arabs,” Man 47 (1947), 78–79; J. Wansbrough, “Gentilics and Appellatives: Notes on Aḥābīš Qurayš,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 49 (1986), 203–10; K. Koch, “Die Hebräer vom Auszug aus Ägypten bis zum Großreich Davids,” VT 19 (1969), 37–81. 7 See A. Kuhrt, The Ancient Near East, c. 3000–330 BC, vol. II (Routledge: London, 1995), 436: “what scholars have stressed increasingly in recent years is that the [habirus became Hebrews] hypothesis does not depend crucially on the linguistic link. Rather, what is important is that the evidence for the existence of groups of social outcasts, such as the ‘apiru/habiru, provides the basis for a more fruitful analysis of the origins of Israel which solves many of the problems raised by the other two approaches [i.e., conquest and “peaceful infiltration” theories] and is more consistent with current sociological analyses. It also makes it possible to set Israel’s development within the general context of socio-political change in the wider world of the Near East.” Along these same lines, see also the comments of M. Chaney, “Ancient Palestinian Peasant Movements and the Formation of Premonarchical Israel,” D. N. Freedman and D. F. Graf (eds.), Palestine in Transition: The Emergence of Ancient Israel, ed. (Sheffield: The Almond Press, 1983), 57. Though Rainey prefers to correlate the early Israelites with Shasu moving out of the steppeland of Midian—a proposition that is at least equally problematic as the habiru-Hebrew connection—he has also recently stated that, “sociologically, it can

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Mendenhall and N. Gottwald seized upon just such sociological comparisons, particularly regarding the putative transformation of the habiru (or similar groups) into Hebrews at the beginning of Israel’s existence in the hill country of Israel in the 13th – 12th centuries BCE.8 Apparently, according to the biblical texts, bands of social outcasts, debtors, mercenaries, and malcontents survived well into the period of the monarchy (see 1 Sam 22:1–2; 2 Sam 20; 1 Kgs 11:23–24), demonstrating the fluidity with which the formal monarchic structure could be adopted—or become unglued. Though David’s rise to power and connection to gangs of brigands has been amply studied, far less attention has been given to the appearance of similar groups and phenomena in the book of Judges; past studies comparing habiru-like bands with groups in the Hebrew Bible have not delved deeply enough into the details of the narratives in Judges, leaving important aspects of short-term parasocial leadership, geography, and mythic or folkloric patterns underexplored.9 This essay, then, seeks to fill be said that Jephthah and his militia had become like the Late Bronze Age ‘apîru men” (A. Rainey and S. Notley, The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World [Jerusalem: CARTA Jerusalem, 2006], 140). For examples of the complicated relationship between the way Egyptian scribes used the designations habiru and Shasu, see, N. Na’aman, “The Town of Ibirta and the Relations of the ‘Apiru and the Shasu,” Göttinger Miszellen 57 (1982), 27–33. 8 The prevalence of habiru elements in the 14 th cen. BCE Amarna Letters, combined with the decay and collapse of the LB city states in the 13th cen. and the rise of Israel in the 13th –12th cen., led some, including Mendenhall and Gottwald, to correlate the withdrawal of “peasants” from putatively oppressive Canaanite political structures with the beginning of the formation of the Israelite tribes. See G. Mendenhall, “The Hebrew Conquest of Palestine,” BA 25 (1962), 66–87; N. K. Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh: A Sociology of the Religion of Liberated Israel, 1250–1040 B.C.E. (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1979). For Mendenhall, Israel’s emergence was a “specifically religious” phenomenon (86), and the early Israelite communities “regarded sociological factors and economic or political power as of secondary concerns of human beings” (87), whereas, for Gottwald (passim), economic factors play the prominent role and Yahwism grows out of the egalitarian, revolutionary nature of Israelite social and economic structures. 9 Some exceptions which have proven influential regarding my formulation of this topic and the ideas presented here are L. Stager’s “The Archaeology of the Family in Ancient Israel,” BASOR 260 (1985), esp. pp. 24–28, and Na’aman’s “Ḫabiru and Hebrews.” See also Na’aman’s most recent statement on the topic, “David’s Sojourn in Keilah in Light of the Amarna Letters,” VT 60 (2010), 87–97, as well as “Ḫabiru–Like Bands in the Assyrian Empire and Bands in Biblical Historiography,” JAOS 120 (2000), 621–24. Note that Liverani (“Farsi Ḫabiru”) was one of the first to point out the similarity between habiru groups and some

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these gaps with a close examination of the relevant biblical materials. My argument will proceed in three parts. First, I review three stories in Judges wherein apparently landless, peripheral actors come to occupy the main stage of military action and power. Next, I engage with the problem of habiru bands and other disaffected groups in the ancient Near East as a background for the final portion of the paper, where I return to the Judges narratives in question to argue that characters such as Abimelek and Jephthah can be instructively categorized as parasocial leaders whose existence fits nicely within known categories of social change in the Levant. By extension, I contend, the narrative of the book of Judges may be read as the most sustained literary product in the ancient Near East depicting a world of habiru-like actors generating political transformation.

THREE BANDS IN JUDGES In Judges 9, 11, and 18, we encounter three distinct narrative scenes in which a band of mercenaries or socially peripheral individuals plays a key function. A brief examination of these scenes will allow us a glimpse into what we will come to identify as “parasocial elements” in the rise of individual leaders in Judges, and also provide some demonstration of the formative role these elements are said to provide in fomenting short-term, local, charismatic leadership structures in the biblical narrative.

ABIMELEK’S MERCENARIES AND GAAL’S KINSMEN Judges 9 narrates some tumultuous events in the putative three-year premonarchic monarchy of Gideon’s (Jerubaal’s) son Abimelek. The extent to which Judges chs. 8–9 attempt to present either Gideon or Abimelek as a true “king,” a ‫מלך‬, is somewhat ambiguous. For example, consider the extended narrative in which Gideon pursues the Midianites in ch. 8. After receiving no help from the residents of Succuth and Penuel in his military quest—for which the inhabitants of the two towns are subsequently punished (8:16–17)—Gideon captures the Midianite kings Zebah and Zalmunna and interrogates them regarding the whereabouts of the men they supposedly killed at Tabor (8:18). Zebah and Zalmunna respond by describing the appearance of the slain men: “They are just like you, like the appearance of the sons of the king (‫)מלך‬.”10 Indeed, the men killed at Tabor resemble Gideon physically, for, as Gideon informs us, they were his brothers (8:19). The reference to a ‫ מלך‬in v. 18 foreshadows the request that follows upon Gideon’s victories: in 8:22, the Israelites demand that social configurations in the Bible. 10 Or perhaps, “…like royalty.”

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Gideon take on a more exalted leadership role. The repeated use of the verb ‫“( משל‬rule”) instead of ‫ מלך‬in the demand (and in Gideon’s negative response) only barely hides the fact that the people are asking for a hereditary, monarch-like series of rulers in Gideon and his sons (‫גם אתה גם‬ ‫)בנך גם בן בנך‬.11 Gideon piously refuses the offer and his progeny quickly descend into a struggle for ascension. The opportunist Abimelek succeeds in convincing the Shechemites that they must choose between appointing a single ruler (viz., Abimelek) or face the vicissitudes of a seventy-man council of rulers (comprised of Abimelek’s brothers) (9:2).12 The citizens of Shechem are quick to oblige. Abimelek is explicitly made king (‫ )מלך‬with relatively little fanfare in 9:6, and Abimelek receives seventy pieces of silver from the local Ba’al Berith temple treasury. “Some worthless and reckless fellows” (‫אנשים‬ ‫)ריקים ופחזים‬13 are promptly hired, and these individuals presumably aid 11 Note

that the verb ‫ משל‬is used to describe the rule of a king in Isa 19:4. ‫ אבימלך‬was originally conceived as a theophoric PN (possibly “my father [=YHWH] is king,” as correctly noted by Boling, Judges [AB 6A; Garden City: Doubleday], 162–63). But, as Niditch (115) points out, the title is doubly ironic, since Abimelek cannot claim divine legitimation for his role as king from any divine ‫מלך‬, and his human father, Gideon, had refused the title of ‫מלך‬. For the motif of seventy descendents elsewhere in Judges, see 12:14. One cannot help but connect the scene here in 9:1–6 with that in 2 Kgs 10:1–7, where Ahab’s seventy sons are killed and delivered over to Jehu. See also the 8th cen. BCE Panamuwwa II inscription (KAI 215, line 3), where 70 heirs to the throne are exterminated, as pointed out by Soggin, 168. As Na’aman, “David’s Sojourn,” 91–92, notices, the phrase X ‫“( בעלי‬lords of X”) is a decidedly negative label in the Hebrew Bible (e.g., Judg 20:5; Josh 24:11; 2 Sam 21:12), and so the description of the Shechemite council as the ‫ בעלי שכם‬in Judg 9:2, 6 already colors these figures pejoratively. 13 Soggin translates this phrase as “adventurers”; Boling, Judges (165) goes with “idle mercenaries,” and Niditch (112) notes that the Vaticanus (which is Kaige in Judges) tradition has “cowardly,” which is only partially correct, since the full reading is ανδρας κενους και δειλους (“empty/morally vacant and cowardly men”). Furthermore, Niditch asserts that the Old Latin has “fearless” here, though this reading is not clear to me; in the marginal notes of Brooke/McLean (The Old Testament in Greek, Vol. I Part IV. Joshua, Judges and Ruth [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1917]), 826, the OL is listed as uagos (“vagrant, wandering, roaming”), whereas the Ethiopic translates as “in/of the fields” (i.e., “peasants”?). At any rate, the awkwardness in the MT—reflected by the various interpretations given in non-Hebrew traditions—is to be preferred, and we will return to some more specific possibilities for what ‫ אנשים ריקים‬may be below. 12

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Abimelek in murdering the seventy competing brothers in 9:5 (Jotham alone escapes the slaughter and fatally curses Abimelek for his tactics in 9:7–20). The phrase ‫ אנשים ריקים ופחזים‬appears only here (in 9:4),14 and very little is said regarding the origin or identity of this motley band of Abimelek’s hired followers.15 One might suppose these mercenaries had already lived in the vicinity and formed a private army for Abimelek at Arumah, where we find the king dwelling at the beginning of rival banditleader Gaal ben Ebed’s attempted insurrection.16 The identity of Gaal and his kinsmen (‫ )אחיו‬is also ambiguous. Are these “kinsmen” literally relatives, or do they, too, comprise some kind of recruited army? Things end badly for both Abimelek and Gaal (and not without the help of YHWH’s “evil

‫ אנשים ריקים‬on its own appears in Judg 11:3 (discussed below) and 2 Chr 13:7, where the description is used in parallel with ‫“( בני בליעל‬scoundrels,” as in Deut 13:14; Judg 19:22, 20:13; 1 Sam 2:12, 10:27, 25:17; 1 Kgs 21:10, 13, etc.). ‫“( פחזים‬reckless ones”) occurs only here and in Zeph 3:4; cf. Gen 49:4 and Jer 23:32. 15 J. L. McKenzie, The World of the Judges (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice–Hall, 1966), 138, makes the interesting suggestion that Abimelek’s band of hired men were remnants of a band already hired and used during the life of his father, Gideon (see Judg 8:4). 16 Some translations (e.g., NJPS, RSV) have chosen to read the MT’s ‫( בתרמה‬a hapax legomenon) in 9:31 as a reference to a location, “at Tormah” (see also Niditch, 113), which is probably incorrect. Note that the reading in the Lucianic and Hexaplaric traditions, μετα δωρων (“with gifts,” which agrees with the OL, cum muneribus), probably does not make sense here (as noted by Soggin, 187), though the agreement of the OL and the Lucianic tradition suggests μετα δωρων was in fact the OG reading. Vaticanus has εν κρυφη (“in secret”), which is possibly an attempt to translate ‫ בתרמה‬as if it were to be derived from ‫“( תרמית‬deceit,” as in Jer 8:5, 14:14, Zeph 3:13; see G. F. Moore, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Judges [ICC; New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1895], 259 n. 31) or the reading of an original Heb. text that had ‫( בסתר‬as in 2 Sam 12:12), which would make sense within the narrative (i.e., Zebul does not want Gaal to find out that he is acting subversively to overthrow Gaal as ruler of Shechem). As pointed out by C. F. Burney, The Book of Judges (New York: Ktav Publishing House, 1970), 281 n. 31, it may be best to simply amend ‫ בתרמה‬to ‫( בארומה‬see 9:41). Thus, Abimelek does not travel from the mysterious Tormah to Arumah, but rather he simply is to be found at Arumah in v. 41. See also the thorough note, with sources, in W. Richter, Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zum Richterbuch (Bonn: Peter Hanstein Verlag, 1963), 255 n. 40. 14

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spirit” in 9:23), as Gaal is driven out of Shechem in 9:40–41 and Abimelek falls at the sword of his servant—or so he would have us say—in 9:53–54.

JEPHTHAH’S OUTLAWS Much could be said, and indeed much has already been written, about the Jephthah narrative in Judges 11. Jephthah’s infamous vow, shrewd political dealings, and musings on history and theology all make for interesting commentary, but here we are interested only in 11:1–3, where Jephthah’s seemingly inauspicious background is described. Because Jephthah is the son of Gilead17 and a prostitute (‫—)אשה זונה‬and/or because he is a ‫חיל‬ ‫—?גבור‬his presence proves to be upsetting to the “natural” sons born of Gilead and his unnamed wife, prompting the brothers to send Jephthah into exile and thus shrewdly narrowing the pool of male inheritors.18 Jephthah flees to the land of Tob, where he becomes the leader of a band of outlaws (‫אנשים ריקים‬, “worthless fellows”).19 Jephthah’s merry men promptly form an apparently self-sustaining community of bandits; the force of the verb ‫ יצא‬in the phrase ‫ויצאו עמו‬, “they went out with him” (11:3), would seem to imply that “they went out raiding/pillaging with him.”20 17 Boling, Judges (197) thinks “Gilead” here could refer to either a person named Gilead or anyone from the territory Gilead, citing Josh 17:1, 3, as does Soggin (204). 18 Soggin’s claim (204) that the explanation in v. 2 is “banal” and that the “verse can be deleted without affecting the context” is too dismissive. See the further analysis of Jephthah’s situation as a social and mythical reflex of an historical pattern of (dis)inheritance in the ANE below. The fact that Jephthah “had no patronym, and no Gileadite future,” as rightly noted by Boling, Judges (197) is indeed important to our story. 19 Judg 11:3: ‫ויתלקטו אל יפתח אנשים ריקים‬. The root ‫ לקט‬is only elsewhere used to speak of gathering grain, with the exception of 1 Sam 20:38 and Gen 47:14 (where objects are gathered up like grain). See Exod 16:4, 17, 21, Lev 19:9, 23:22, Num 11:8, 2 Kgs 4:39, Ruth 2:2, 3, 16, 17. Thus, ‫ ויתלקטו‬may hint at something of the power of Jephthah’s leadership abilities in such a situation, i.e., these socially peripheral individuals were quickly gathered, like sheaves of grain, into Jephthah’s orbit (though it is not clear that these individuals represented “the dregs of society,” as asserted by Boling, Judges, 197). Vaticanus translates ‫ אנשים ריקים‬here fairly literally (ανδρες κενοι, as in 9:4 above), but it is interesting to note that the OL has latrones (“mercenary soldiers”) and another Greek manuscript (cursive w, Athens, Bibl. Nat. 44) has λησται (“robbers, bandits,” or even “revolutionaries, insurrectionists”). 20 So NRSV. Boling (Judges, 196) simply translates: “They went with him.” To be sure, more common (and specific) terminology for raiding parties and

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As the story goes, the elders of Gilead beg Jephthah to come back, and Jephthah returns from Tob to become “head” (‫ )ראש‬of the Gileadites in their struggle against the Ammonites (11:4–11);21 after a lengthy speech (11:12–27) and the ill–fated vow (resulting in the sacrifice of his own daughter), Jephthah leads the people to victory. The tale then comes to a rather ignominious end, culminating in the inter-tribal war between Gilead and Ephraim and Jephthah’s unremarkable death (12:1–7).

THE LANDLESS DANITE MOB Judges 18 opens by briefly describing a strange situation concerning the tribe of Dan.22 After the narrator informs us that there was no king in Israel during those troublesome times,23 we find out that “in those days the Danite tribe was looking for a permanent territory for itself in which to dwell, since, up until that time, no territory had come to them among the (other) tribes of Israel.”24 The Danite solution to this problem sounds familiar to the story told in Josh 19:40–47, though the form that appears in Judges is more detailed. Here, the Danites send five individuals to spy out prospective land. Having set their sights on Laish, a spacious, rich, isolated, plundering in the HB includes the verbs ‫גדוד( גדד‬, “raiding party,” as in 1 Sam 30:15, 23; 2 Sam 4:2; 2 Kgs 6:23), ‫( פשט‬strip, raid; see Judg 9:33, 20:37; 1 Sam 27:8; Job 1:17; 1 Chr 14:9–13, 25:13), ‫בזז‬, ‫שלל‬, etc. But compare the use of ‫ יצא‬in military contexts in, e.g., Gen 14:8; Exod 17:9; Num 1:3; Deut 20:1, 10, 24:5, 28:7, 29:6; Josh 11:4; Judg 2:15, 5:4, 20:20; 1 Sam 18:30, 19:8, 29:6; 2 Sam 11:1, 18:2, 6; 2 Kgs 19:9; Isa 37:9; Amos 5:3, etc., and also Phoenician yṣ’, “to march out,” as in a military expedition: nṣḥt ‘t sby hyṣ’m w’zrnm, “I defeated my enemies who came forth (to fight me) and their allies” (C. R. Krahmalkov, Phoenician-Punic Dictionary [Studia Phoenicia XV; Leuven: Peeters, 2000]), 213. Cf. BDB, 422. 21 As noticed by V. Matthews, Judges & Ruth (NCBC; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 118, the elders first offer to make Jephthah their ‫( קצין‬war chief or military commander), but after the initial refusal, Jephthah’s promised status is upgraded to ‫ראש‬, a more exalted title. 22 Note that Dan is called a “clan” (‫ )משפחה‬in Judg 13:2. 23 This narrative device also appears in Judg 17:6, 19:1, and 21:25, and reminds us that, in the present form of the book, the narratives concentrated in chs. 17–21 are associated with the pressing issue of kingship—a need already expressed in the story of Gideon and Abimelek in chs. 8–9. On the role of kingship and leadership more generally in Judges, see Y. Amit, The Book of Judges: The Art of Editing, trans. J. Chipman (Leiden: Brill, 1999), esp. 59–117. 24 Cf. Judg 1:34, where it is said that the Amorites had denied the Danites access to the ‫עמק‬, thus forcing them into the hill country.

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and vulnerable territory (18:7,10), the Danites muster a six-hundred man mob (18:11),25 kidnap Micah’s Levite priest (18:5–20), and annihilate the inhabitants of Laish (18:27). The area is then renamed “Dan,” “after their ancestor, Dan” (18:29). Why we need to be told the reason for the Danites naming the territory “Dan”—the rationale for the name would seem obvious, and no other such explanation is given for the naming of any other tribal territory—is a bit of a mystery.26 If we look only to the biblical materials, then it is difficult to determine why it is that the tribe of Dan does not have a landholding like the other tribes.27 At first glance, Dan would seem to fall regularly into Israel’s history with its own normally allotted place in the lists of tribes; the eponym Dan is the son of Rachel’s maid, Bilhah, in Gen 30:4–6, and Dan is mentioned in the putatively archaic blessings of Gen 49:16–17 and Deut 33:22. The name of the Danite tribe made its way into the stereotyped geographical formulation “from Dan to Beersheba”28 and Dan is the site of one of Jeroboam’s reviled golden calves and cult-sites in 1 Kgs 12:29–30. In the census of Numbers 1, Dan (1:38–39) proves to have the second most fighting men (behind Judah), and in the list of encampments in Num 2:31, the camp of Dan was to set out last in the order or marching regiments (see also Num 10:25). Perhaps most interesting, and most pertinent for our problem, is the material in Joshua 19. When lots are cast to determine tribal landholdings in Joshua 18–19, Dan receives the seventh lot in 19:40. Inexplicably, however, Josh 19:47 laconically reports that the territory of Dan “went out (‫ )יצא‬from them” (= was stolen?) .To regain the land, Dan is said to have marched over to Lashem (not Laish, as in Judges 18), annihilating the inhabitants of the city and renaming the territory “Dan,” “after the name of their ancestor, Dan” (just as in Judg 18:29). The number 600 is a schematic representation of a decently sized fighting force, especially for relatively small–scale operations; see Judg 3:31, 20:47; 1 Sam 13:15, 14:2, 23:13, 27:2, 30:9; 2 Sam 15:18. 26 But see the explanation given by M. Garsiel, Biblical Names: A Literary Study of Midrashic Derivations and Puns ((Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University, 1991), 69–70. 27 See the very good note in Moore, 387 n. 1. 28 Judg 20:1; 1 Sam 3:20; 2 Sam 3:10, 17:11, 24:2, 15; 1 Kgs 5:5; “Beersheba to Dan” in 1 Chr 21:2 and 2 Chr 30:5. This formula need not imply that the territory of Dan was fixed at an early date, but may rather point to the religious significance of the location when the phrase was fixed, as pointed out by N. Wazana, All the Boundaries of the Land: The Promised Land in Biblical Thought in Light of the Ancient Near East [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 2007), esp. ch. 2. I came to this study by way of the review by S. E. Holtz, RBL 09/2008 (accessed online at http://www.bookreviews.org). 25

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It hardly seems plausible (from either an historical or literary standpoint) that the Danites would find themselves without land twice, and be forced to exterminate the inhabitants of two different cities.29 To be sure, such variances between Joshua and Judges are not unknown elsewhere—see the admissions of defeat in Judg 1:19–36, as opposed to the impression of total victory in given in Joshua 12, and the like. In fact, in Judg 1:34 we are told that the Amorites forced the Danites back into the hill country, and this explanation is perhaps meant to provide the bridge over to the situation that occurs in Judges 18. The author of Judg 2:20–23 seems to make a theological virtue of historical necessity on a much grander scale, claiming that YHWH had voluntarily decided not to drive out the inhabitants of the land (due to the peoples’ sin, no doubt [2:1–3:6]). The problem with the Deuteronomistic explanation in Judg 1:34 is even more apparent when we realize the author of Judges 18 betrays no knowledge of the putatively earlier situation in either Joshua 19 or Judg 1:34.30 The 29 Both Laish and Lashem have a ‫ ל‬and a ‫ ש‬in the name, though it is not certain whether textual errors have artificially obscured the identity of one of the names (i.e., that they were originally identical). 30 I assume, with the majority of commentators, that the theological framework in Judg 1–3:6, as well as various other statements in the book, are Deuteronomic additions to an earlier core of materials. For a summary discussion of these issues, see, e.g., the essays in G. N. Knoppers and J. G. McConville (eds.), Reconsidering Israel and Judah: Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2000), esp. 112–259; R. Boling, “Judges, Book of,” ABD, vol. 3, ed. D. N. Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), esp. 1115–16; Niditch, 10–11; Römer 1–44 (where the history of a “Deuteronomistic History” is nicely reviewed). At any rate, the story in ch. 9 shows no obvious trace of Deuteronomistic activity (J. Gray, at least, sees two pre-Deuteronomic strands in Judg 9:1–27; see Joshua, Judges and Ruth [London: Nelson, 1967], 97), whereas the stories in chs. 11 and 18 are thought to bear Deuteronomistic influence. See A. F. Campbell and M. A. O’Brien, Unfolding the Deuteronomistic History: Origins, Upgrades, Present Text [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000], 189, 197, 207. For Judges 9 specifically, cf. E. Jans, Abimelech und sein Königtum: Diachrone und synchrone Untersuchungen zu Ri 9 (St. Ottilien: EOS Verlag, 2001). For M. Noth’s important statement on DtrH as a whole, see Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien. Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament, 3rd ed. (first published in 1943; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1967). According to Boling, Judges (258), the Danite migration is a Deuteronomic device, “presented as the providential solution to the problem of Micah’s establishment” (that is to say, retribution for the idolatry of Micah and his household in ch. 17). See also E. A. Mueller, The Micah Story: A Morality Tale in the Book of Judges (Studies in Biblical Literature 34; New York: Peter Lang, 2001), 76, 125.

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Danites must seek out land, and indeed, as the narrator explicitly states in 18:1, they had not even been given an allotment in the first place.

PARASOCIAL GROUPS AND THE HABIRU PHENOMENA The three preceding stories from the book of Judges all prominently demonstrate the presence and decisive impact of socially disaffected individuals and groups. In the Gideon and Jephthah narratives, we read of individuals who rely on bands of supporters who appear, at least at first glance, to be mercenaries or socially peripheral elements (perhaps criminals or outcasts of some kind), and the story in Judges 18 presents an entire segment of Israel’s core tribal configuration, the tribe of Dan, in a state of wandering landlessness. For our purposes here, it will be useful to characterize the propertyless or mercenary elements in these three stories with the phrase “parasocial groups,” a description first proposed for various elements of ancient Near Eastern society (including the habiru) over thirty years ago by M. B. Rowton.31 It must be clearly noted at the outset that our use of the term “parasocial” in this context is not to be confused with the use of the same term in the field of social-psychology, though there are possibly some interesting (albeit nebulous) points of contact between modern psychological studies of parasocial interaction and our material at hand. In current sociological and psychological discourse, “parasocial interaction” describes a pattern of correspondence in which an individual treats a “mediated representation of a person” (e.g., an image on a computer or television screen) as if the person him/herself were actually present in the representation.32 In our use of “parasocial” here, the “para-” 31 See M. B. Rowton, “Dimorphic Structure and the Parasocial Element,” JNES 36 (1977), 181–98; “Dimorphic Structure and the Problem of the ‘apiru–’ibrim,” JNES 35 (1976), 13–20. The former article, where the “parasocial” label is first proposed, is the thirteenth in a series of sixteen essays exploring the issue of dimorphism and the interaction between tribal and urban society in the ancient Near East; see the full list of essays in “Dimorphic Structure and Topology,” Oriens Antiquus 15 (1976), 17–18, n. 4. The viability of Rowton’s characterization of the “parasocial element” has been affirmed more recently by J. D. Schloen in “The Exile of Disinherited Kin in KTU 1.12 and KTU 1.23,” JNES 52 (1993), 210, though there have been very few studies that use Rowton’s terminology for understanding biblical texts. 32 See the early study of D. Horton and R. R. Wohl, “Mass Communication and Para-Social Interaction: Observation on Intimacy at a Distance,” Psychiatry 19 (1956), 215–229, and the more recent work of S. Rafaeli, “Interacting with Media: Para-Social Interaction and Real Interaction,” in B. D. Ruben and L. A. Lievrouw (eds.), Mediation, Information, and Communication: Information and Behavior (vol. 3, New

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element may indicate a position “from the side of,” or “outside of,” or originating from the periphery of, what one might see as the “normal,” organized social sphere.33 In the spirit of the Greek παρα, we may also invest the term “parasocial” with another nuance appropriate to our three passages in Judges, viz., para- can denote a person or direction from which action proceeds, or indicate one who originates or directs social change. Indeed, even a cursory reading of Gideon’s or Jephthah’s actions reveals a parasocial leader as the mediator of change, who conveys a message or action or socio-political arrangement between two parties. This element of mediation combined with placelessness is essential to Rowton’s definition of “parasocial,” of which more must be said later.34

THE 2ND MILLENNIUM HABIRU PHENOMENA Before proceeding to a deeper examination of the origins and function of parasocial movements in Judges, some space must be devoted to understanding the rise and significance of one such prominent parasocial group in the ancient Near East, the so-called habiru groups in Mesopotamia and Syria-Palestine in the 2nd millennium. Indeed, any discussion of parasocial elements in the Levant must be based, to some extent, on a proper assessment of the scholarly progress made over the past century in elucidating the origin and function of individuals/groups characterized as “habiru” in the cuneiform record. In what follows, then, I will not provide a radically new view of any particular aspect of the habiru phenomena, but rather, I attempt to give a précis of the important aspects of the debate toward illuminating a connection between the behavior of such parasocial Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Press, 1990), 125–81, as well as the discussion and other sources cited in E. Schiappa, P. Gregg, Peter, and D. Hewes, “The Parasocial Contact Hypothesis” (paper presented at the annual meeting of the International Communication Association, New Orleans Sheraton, New Orleans, LA, May 27, 2004), http://www.allacademic.com/meta/p112503_index.html, accessed 10/9/08 and C. Nass and S. Shyam Sundar, “Is Human–Computer Interaction Social or Parasocial?,”(published online, 1994), http://www.stanford.edu/group/ commdept/oldstuff/srct_pages/Social–Parasocial.html, accessed 10/9/08). 33 The assumption of a “normative,” static social sphere—against which one may define abnormal, parasocial groups—is admittedly an oversimplification. 34 In “Dimorphic Structure and the Parasocial Element,” Rowton (181) characterizes the parasocial element as one aspect of an “uprooted social element of tribal as well as urban origin…It is not easy to define that social element with precision. It had one foot in tribal society, the other in urban society, and did not fully belong either to one or the other. In a sense it is both peripheral and intermediate between the two…”

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groups and the appearance of certain kinds of stories and descriptions in Judges. The West Semitic designation ḫab/piru first came to modern scholarly attention in 1888, when the Amarna Letters were discovered. H. Winckler was quick to identify the habiru specifically with people in the Amarna letters designated logographically as SA.GAZ,35 but later discoveries soon showed that references to the habiru were to be found in many 2nd millennium ancient Near Eastern texts. Over 250 sources mention the habiru,36 and the habiru phenomenon seems to have died out at the end of the 2nd millennium BCE. Geographically, references have been found from Egypt (the last references to contemporary habiru are from Ramses IV, c. 1166–60 BCE)37 to Anatolia, Iran, and Sumer. The habiru first appear in texts from the Assyrian trading outpost at Kanesh (19th century BCE), where they are prisoners or palace staff members, but it is impossible to say whether the habiru were considered part of the local population or Assyrians.38 Some texts explicitly presented the habiru as outlaws, such as at Mari, where they were considered a serious problem and even conquered an entire city,39 while other OB sources portray habiru as mercenaries or dependents of some kind.40 At Nuzi, the term is most frequent in private contracts where the habiru has no firm juridical status and must bind himself to a citizen of Nuzi for service.41 In Alalakh, the habiru are “Die Hebräer in den Tel-Amarna-Briefen,” in Semitic Studies in Memory of Ref. Dr. Alexander Kohut (Berlin: S. Calvary & Co., 1897), 605–09; on the SA.GAZ logogram, see also Greenberg, 88–90. 36 Most passages are listed and translated in Greenberg, 15–60. 37 Ibid., 56–57, and the brief reference in Propp, 748. 38 Lemche, 7. 39 Greenberg, 18. Na’aman (“Ḫabiru and Hebrews”) discusses several Mari letters that seem to illuminate the habiru in an interesting way. In ARM 14.50, a certain Ami-ibal is accused of being a deserter, but claims to have migrated (ḫbr) away from his homeland because of an invading army, and had only recently returned. ARM 14.72 presents the case of Addu-šarrum, who is accused of defecting from the Babylonian army after his troops came to Mari, but Addusharrum claims he was actually a habiru, i.e., a voluntary migrant (defection is a crime, migration is not). Na’aman (“Ḫabiru and Hebrews,” 256–57) thus claims to differentiate between the terms munnabtum and habiru; the former term is more general, and denotes “various types of runaways, even slaves who ran away from their masters,” while the latter “were regarded as migrants” and thus not criminals. 40 See Salvini, 10–11. 41 The role of the habiru as “client” may have come to dominate the meaning of the term in some time periods and regions. In From Epic to Canon (69 n. 57), Cross 35

38

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portrayed as foreigners or even outlaws, as in the Idrimi text, where Idrimi claims to have spent seven years living with the habiru (discussed further below). Over a century of research on the topic has shown that it is probably unwise to correlate the habiru with a single social status, ethnicity, or label for all regions throughout the 2nd millennium.42 Though the term was initially thought to be solely an ethnic designation, the Egyptologist W. Spiegelberg long ago suggested the habiru were a social entity, viz. nomads living in the Syrian desert and Syro–Palestine.43 The social nature of the term was confirmed by B. Landsberger and J. Bottéro, who translated “habiru” as “fugitives” or “refugees”;44 the Sumerian SA.GAZ (SAG.GAZ, GAZ) is most likely the equivalent of the Akk. šaggāšu(m), “murderer” (or, it is simply translated into Akk. as ḫabbātu(m), “brigand”), and most Assyriologists currently consider “habiru” as a social designation for fugitives who lived outside their home states, and/or outlaws who lived in bands of brigands. Whether and when “habiru” was ever a purely ethnic designation is unclear, but the term certainly comes to be a pejorative social marker for those who are refugees, fugitives, and outlaws. Those who escaped from debt slavery (either illegally or through a release edict) may have comprised a large portion of the habiru, and the large number of petty states in the LB age may have contributed to habiru-like bands, since criminals or debt–slaves could easily escape to nearby, yet distinct, political entities for asylum from their captives. Many treaties of the Late Bronze age attest to a growing phenomenon of refugees and escapees, as many such documents provide for extradition of habiru elements.45 Other reasons for argues that “‘apiru means ‘client,’ or ‘member of the client class.’” In Weberian terminology (M. Weber, Ancient Judaism, trans. H. G. Gerth and D. Martindale [New York: The Free Press, 1952], 32–36) it is the metic (resident alien in the Greek city states), i.e., the ger (‫ )גר‬that plays the role of the client, the foreigner who has no rights and who attaches himself to a patron for provision and legal protection. 42 See Chaney, 79: “The Amarna ‘apiru are better served by recognition of…intrinsic ambiguity than by attempts to force them into a straightjacket of political, social, or lexicographical consistency.” This statement could be applied to habiru in most texts and time periods. 43 “Der Name der Hebräer,” OLZ 10 (1907), 618–20. 44 See Bottéro, Le Problème, 160. 45 Documents from Ugarit and Anatolia attest to the status of habiru as either foreigners or brigands, and a treaty between the kings of Ugarit and the Hittites mentions an agreement to “extradite citizens who have deserted their own state to seek refuge in territories known as ḫabiru/ḫapiru land. Such entities in the political treaties become quite frequent in this period; the phenomenon testifies to a

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becoming a habiru may have been wars, natural disasters, famine, prolonged military service, or any other social catastrophe.46 The Amarna letters provide the most important evidence of the habiru (comprising nearly half of all known references to the group), at least concerning their activity in Syria-Palestine.47 Two schools of thought have emerged regarding the habiru in the Amarna texts. Most argue that the status and activity of the habiru were similar to those of habiru elsewhere in the ancient Near East. In favor of this argument is the fact that references to the habiru indicate they are concentrated in certain territories, mostly around mountainous regions, and thus the habiru comprise a distinct, recognizable group. Others, however, argue the term is used in the Amarna letters as a pejorative label for social outcasts and for those who stand in opposition to the Egyptian government in the region.48 This latter option has the advantage of explaining the fact that the Amarna Letters refer to habiru not as fugitives or foreigners per se, but rather as members of rival states, or heads of those rival states; thus, the author of the letters simply sees the habiru as enemies, or wishes to portray them as outlaws. An Egyptian text from the 14th century references an Egyptian military campaign against habiru living around Beth-Shan (ANET3, 255), and the growing concern because of the increasing number of persons who chose to live as ḫabiru/ḫapiru” (Lemche, 8). 46 Na’aman, “Ḫabiru and Hebrews,” 253. 47 See Moran, The Amarna Letters (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992). The term ‘Apiru (as Moran transliterates it) appears about 104 times, in 53 different letters (listed here by EA number): 67:17; 68:18; 71:21, 29; 73:29, 33; 74:29, 36; 75:10, 27; 76:18; 77:24, 29; 79:10, 20; 81:13; 82:9; 83:17; 85:41, 73, 78; 87:21; 88:34; 90:25; 91:5, 24; 104:54; 111:21; 112:46; 116:38; 117:58, 94; 118:38; 121:21; 130:38; 132:21; 144:26, 30; 148:43, 45; 179:22; 185 (passim); 186 (passim); 189 rev. 11, 17–8; 195:27; 197:4, 11, 30; 207:21; 215:15; 243:20; 246 rev. 7; 254:34; 271:16; 272:17; 273:14, 19; 274:13; 286:19, 56; 287:31; 288:38; 289:24; 290:13, 24; 298:27; 299:18, 24, 26; 305:22; 313:6; 318:11. For studies of the habiru in the Amarna letters, see, e.g., Greenberg, 32–49; Bottéro, Le Problème, 85–118; shorter studies include W. F. Albright and W. Moran, “Rib-Adda of Byblos and the Affairs of Tyre (EA 89),” JCS 4 (1950), 163–68; G. Mendenhall, “The Hebrew Conquest of Palestine,” BA 25.3 (1962), 66–87; W. Moran, “Join the ‘Apiru or Become One?,” D. M. Golomb and S. T. Hollis (eds.), “Working with No Data”: Semitic and Egyptian Studies Presented to Thomas O. Lambdin (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns), 209–12. 48 See, e.g., G. Mendenhall, The Tenth Generation: The Origins of the Biblical Tradition (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973), 122–41, and Liverani, “Farsi Ḫabiru.”

40

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sheer number of references to the habiru in the Amarna texts would seem to indicate that the habiru phenomena was widespread and significant.49 These references to habiru in the Amarna texts (most of which were written during the reign of Amenhotep IV, c. 1353–36 BCE) are particularly revealing regarding the extent to which the habiru were perceived as a powerful military and social force. Many different local rulers complain of imminently threatening habiru activities, such as Rib-Hadda, who is constantly worried that everyone is “joining” the habiru (e.g., EA 68:18),50 or that all of his towns have joined the habiru and are now hostile to his rulership (116:38) (a similar complaint is made by Zimreddi of Sidon in 144:26). The gravity of the habiru threat comes through not just in the claims of the Syro-Palestinian vassals, but also in a list of captured cities mentioned by Mayarzana of Ḫasi (185). The habiru were apparently not simply a Gutianesque marauding force, but rather were open to negotiation and persuasion. Effort was expended to “gather together” or rally habiru forces (85:78; ‘Abdi-Aširta is accused of rallying habiru in 74:23–30), and at least two letters (104:54, 298:27) demonstrate that covenants and deals were made with the habiru, implying some organized, formal leadership structure among these bands with which one might negotiate. Other references indicate that the habiru could be hired (112:46), and the sons of a certain Labayu—who apparently created an autonomous kingdom for himself, with habiru aid (289.24), based out of Shechem—were accused of hiring habiru (246 rev. 7, 287:31) (though Labayu claims not to have known of such activities in 254:34).

DETRIBALIZATION AND PARASOCIAL GROUPS In the work of M. B. Rowton we find a fascinating and provocative attempt to understand the 2nd millennium habiru phenomena as part of a broad pattern of social and topographical change in Syria-Palestine and the ancient Near East generally. Rowton’s main interest is to explore the manner in which parasocial elements arise not just from the collapse of urban structures, or from the frustration of urban outcasts (pace Mendenhall et al.), As also noted by Lemche, 8. EA and line numbers here refer to Moran’s edition. See also Moran’s short article, “Join the ‘Apiru or Become One?” in D. M. Golomb (ed.), Working with No Data: Semitic and Egyptian Studies Presented to Thomas O. Lambdin, Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1987), 209–12, where Moran takes up the problem of translating the oft–repeated phrase nenpušu ana (SA.)GAZ(.MEŠ) in the letters. Though some have suggested the expression is an Egyptianism, meaning “to be transformed into/become an habiru,” Moran affirms his translation “to be joined to/gained for the habiru.” 49 50

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but also from de-tribalized elements of a society. Old alliances can dissolve and new tribes can coalesce in conditions of major societal disruption and discontinuity. The communal associations formed during such times can be rather fluid; legends form quickly, leaders rise and fall on the waves of volatile sentiments, as can entire states. A fascinating example of the rapidity with which parasocial leaders can take power and of the speed with which legends can form around their actions is given by Rowton regarding a certain Bacha Saqqao, “Son of a Water–carrier.” When the actions of pre– WWII Afghani leader Amanullah Khan (ruled 1919–1929) created “profound tribal unrest,” Bacha Saqqao seized upon the situation and garnered tribal support, capturing the throne and ruling for nine months as “king Habibullah.” Less than a generation after Bacha Saqqao died, literary accounts of his insurrection had already embellished his actions into tribal legend.51 For Rowton, habiru bands are best described in terms of detribalization, though it should be duly noted that this dichotomy between tribal and urban (non-tribal) societies is often overdrawn.52 However, one may easily overlook the fact that, in Rowton’s analysis (and to his credit), reintegration of the supposed detribalized elements is also an important part of the detribalization scheme, thus mitigating the stark contrast that would seem to be drawn between “tribal” and “non-tribal” groups.53 Rowton’s Rowton, “Dimorphic Structure and the Parasocial Element,” 193, and L. Duprée, Afghanistan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973), 120, 452 (cited by Rowton). 52 A better evaluation of the Iron Age data is given in L. Marfoe’s important article, “The Integrative Transformation: Patterns of Sociopolitical Organization in Southern Syria,” BASOR 234 (1979), 1–42. For Marfoe (35), “culture change should not be seen so much in terms of ‘breaks’ and ‘continuities’ as in shifts in balance between dynamic social systems…change should not be viewed as alternation between phases of static equilibrium, each characterized by a dominant sociopolitical structure, but in terms of sociopolitical organisms composed of small units, which are continually changing and which are tied politically by a variety of elastic sociocultural bonds.” The putatively fluid transfer of allegiance from city state to habiru bands in the Amarna period (hinted at above, and noted by Marfoe, 9) provides a good example of the shifts and balances that could influence sociopolitical power at the end of the LB period. See also Rowton’s comments to this effect in “Dimorphic Structure and Topology,” 29–30, and the modern anthropological study of P.C. Salzman, Culture and Conflict in the Middle East (Amherst, N.Y.: Humanity Books, 2008), 176–97. 53 See Rowton, “Dimorphic Structure and the Parasocial Element,” pp. 183–90. For a brief critique of Rowton’s tribal/non-tribal dichotomy, see J. D. Schloen, “The Exile of Disinherited Kin,” 210. The implications of this dichotomy have 51

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underlying insistence, it seems, is simply that there were indeed important differences between urban and rural life, and that parasocial leaders act as mediators between those who existed as ill-defined fringe elements in newly constituted parasocial tribal structures and urbanites whose political control, while not completely non-tribal and not unconnected to rural zones, stands in tension with parasocial elements and their leaders. “Parasocial element” is thus a kind of shorthand for tribal society in flux, and the parasocial leader is the genius of capitalizing upon socio-political change.54 Taking up some of Rowton’s themes, N. Na’aman has observed that what is “common to all the people designated as ‘Ḫabiru’ is the fact that they were uprooted from their original political and social framework and forced to adapt to a new environment.”55 Economically disenfranchised tribal members (even in sedentary communities) are often willing to leave the tribe to find work and food elsewhere, forming small bands (often with a mostly egalitarian structure, but perhaps with a single, strong leader) that then commit predatory acts. Na’aman claims these bands would have subsequently become “mainstream,” in a sense, and settled down with been felt in the study of the emergence of Israel’s monarchy, where it is sometimes assumed that “alien,” “pagan” monarchic structures intruded upon pristine tribal life and disrupted tribal socio-political structures. See e.g., a typical statement of G. Mendenhall (Ancient Israel’s Faith and History: An Introduction to the Bible in Context, ed. G. A. Herion [Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001], 103–04): “The centralization of political control was facilitated by a process we might call ‘sacred politics’…a religious value system that had once provided a basis for unity among a large group of diverse people from different tribes and clans was disappearing, being replaced by a more cynical attitude that only the political monopoly of force could coerce people into uniformly ‘correct’ behavior,” so that religious values under the monarchy merely “legitimized the new political order.” Cf. the more nuanced views in Stager, “The Archaeology of the Family,” 24–28 and sources cited therein. There was nothing inevitable about Israel’s transition to having a fulltime ‫( מלך‬as noted by A.D.H. Mayes, Judges [Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1985], 89) and one does not need a precipitous decline in pure YHWHism to account for change in ancient Israel. 54 In Rowton’s words, “during their formative period, for at least a few generations…[newcomers to the re-integrated tribal structure] would hardly amount to genuine tribes. At their inception most would be little more than a band, often a predatory band, the larger groups a tribal rabble of heterogeneous splinter groups and individual families” (Rowton, “Dimorphic Structure and the Parasocial Leader,” 183–84, 192). In these situations, the parasocial leader becomes an important figure. 55 Na’aman, “Ḫabiru and Hebrews,” 253.

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families, etc., and even re-tribalized themselves or entered into the service of a larger state. “In general,” Na’aman concludes, “the phenomenon of the Ḫabiru can be described as a circular process, one in which people were uprooted from the society in which they were born, lived for a while as foreigners in another country, and then were absorbed into their new environment.”56 Moreover, as Stager has pointed out, we need not imagine all of the seemingly disaffected militants of the Iron Age as rebellious “peasants.” Social and agricultural conditions in the rapidly closing frontier of the pre-monarchic period hill country were such that even younger sons of prominent, wealthy families may have run into significant troubles in securing free land and property for themselves vis-à-vis the strict implementation of primogeniture laws in such families.57 Some of these aggressive “soldiers of fortune”—which Stager compares to the juventus of 12th century CE France—may have had their roots in powerful families and clans, but their status within the family made bands of young men (such as the one rallied by David in 1 Sam 22:2) an attractive option for the acquisition of wealth in a situation wherein certain individuals were denied the benefits of inheritance, either by reason of their age-rank among the sons of the family or some other reason.58

RE-EXAMINING JUDGES 9, 11, AND 18 AS DEPICTIONS OF LEVANTINE PARASOCIAL GROUPS I am now prepared to return to Judges 9, 11, and 18 and offer some comments regarding the affinities between parasocial groups and the situation of Abimelek, Jephthah, and the Danites summarized earlier. To begin, we might reconsider the meaning of the interesting phrase ‫אנשׁים‬ ‫( ריקים‬translated tentatively as “worthless fellows” above) in both the story of Abimelek and Jephthah.59 Here, the plural adjective ‫( ריקים‬from ‫ריק‬, Ibid., 255. Stager, “The Archaeology of the Family,” 25–27. Cf. the comments of Chaney, 71–73, who prefers to see habiru-like activity (especially in the Amarna letters) as part of a broader paradigm of “social banditry” among the mobile contingents of peasant society. For this analysis, Chaney points to the following studies of E. J. Hobsbawn: Primitive Rebels: Studies in Archaic Forms of Social Movement in the 19th and 20th Centuries (New York: Norton, 1965); Bandits (New York: Delacorte, 1969); “Social Banditry,” H. A. Landsberger (ed.) Rural Protest: Peasant Movements and Social Change (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1973). 58 Stager, “The Archaeology of the Family,” 26–27. Regarding the comparison with the 12th cen. French juventus, note that Stager relies on the work of G. Duby in The Chivalrous Society, trans. C. Postan (Berkeley: University of California, 1980). 59 As noted earlier, in Judg 9:4 the full phrase is ‫אנשים ריקים ופחזים‬. 56 57

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[physically] “empty”) may indeed carry the adjectival and nominal meaning of “worthlessness,” “vanity,” “a trifling matter,” and so on—a somewhat idiomatic force that can be found in many other passages where the term is used.60 However, in Judg 9:4 and 11:3 we should read the designation as something more concrete, reflecting the literal force of ‫ריק‬:61 ‫= אנשים ריקים‬ “empty men,” i.e., landless, or unemployed men.62 For this meaning, one may compare ‫ ריק‬with the Akk. râqu, “to be empty, to be idle, to lack work,” or the adj. rāqu, “empty,” but also “without work,” “unemployed,” and “empty handed,” i.e., having nothing.63 Thus, the phrase may have originally indicated those without property, while it could also, by extension, be transferred to the ethical realm of values to refer to moral emptiness or a vacancy of social value generally.64 If so, we would thus have an instance where a term indicating an individual of a low social status was simultaneously used (or came to be used) as a pejorative description of

See, e.g., Lev 26:20; Deut 32:47; Isa 30:7; Isa 30:7, 49:4, 65:23; Jer 51:58; Hab 2:13; Pss 2:1, 4:3, 73:13; Job 39:16; Prov 12:11, 28:19. 61 As in Gen 37:24, 41:27; Judg 7:16; 2 Kgs 4:3; Isa 29:8; Jer 51:34; Ezek 24:11; Neh 5:13, etc. 62 Schloen, “The Exile of Disinherited Kin,” 210 n. 9 translates the phrase as “propertyless men” though no explanation is given for this reading, and Burney, 308–09 n. 3, suggests that ‫ ריקים‬here may refer to those who “lack the qualities which command success in the leading of a regular life…and possibly also…a lack of material goods such as property and tribal status.” Note also the study of G. Mobley, The Empty Men: The Heroic Tradition of Ancient Israel (New York: Doubleday, 2005), who also draws on this image of the ‫ אנשים ריקים‬as warriors and brigands. 63 CAD vol. 14 (R), 176–78. 64 Words designating “full,” “empty,” etc., often take on moral connotations. It is preferable to have a “high” standing over a “low” one, to be “enlightened” rather than “in the dark,” and to be “full” (of a good thing!) rather than “empty.” Admittedly, the concept of emptiness (as in an empty jar or an empty city) is not always an appropriate equivalent to the idea of owning nothing, and other terminology is used in the HB to speak of the propertyless. Burney, 309 n. 3, notes that in post-biblical Hebrew ‫“ ריק‬comes to denote intellectual vacuity,” or is used as a general form of contempt (e.g., Matt 5:22, Ρακα = ‫)ריקא‬. Burney, 271 n. 4, also points to the Arabic and Aramaic equivalents of ‫( פחז‬Judg 9:4), which mean “be insolent” and “be lascivious,” respectively, thus suggesting “that the original idea may have been to overpass bounds, be uncontrolled” (see the reference to water in Gen 49:4). 60

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individuals who would supposedly behave in a similar manner as the “lowclass” individual.65 This understanding of the individuals in Abimelek’s and Jephthah’s respective bands (i.e., that they are landless or otherwise dispossessed) comports well with Stager’s analysis of the developing situation in premonarchic Israel, where the problem of disaffected and landless males is given an important place in the system of patrimonial authority and religion.66 Abimelek’s patrimonial competition with his brothers forces him into an underdog position from which he must cajole and kill his way into prominence, reflecting the disastrous problems of inheritance and succession of authority inherent in large, wealthy families. When one cannot count on one’s own family, town, or clan for assistance, turning to parasocial groups was a viable and attractive option; apparently, some of the Amarna period vassals found themselves similarly stranded, at which point payment to and agreements with habiru bands were the quickest road to stability and power. In this respect, the warlord battle between Abimelek and Gaal over the city of Shechem, instigated by Gaal in Judg 9:26–29, is reminiscent of the struggle involving Labayu and his sons to gain control over the exact same territory revealed in the Amarna texts (see also EA 289).67 The story of Jephthah’s rise to power offers some interesting parallels to Abimelek’s own actions, and, though lacking some of the gritty details of Abimelek’s dealings, the sparse account of Jephthah’s background in 11:1–3 is nonetheless a striking description of the typical parasocial leader (even if only in literary terms) in the ancient Near East.68 Consider, for example, the 65 See, for instance, the only other use of this phrase outside of Judges, in 2 Chr 13:7 (as noted above), where the phrase does not seem to refer to the landless, but rather is a simply pejorative term to refer to individuals hostile to the Davidic line. In English, the word “peasant” may be comparable to the phenomenon under consideration here—“peasant” has (or had) a technical, socio-economic meaning, but can also be used as a derogatory metaphor for one without manners or education. Michal’s dismissal of David’s wild dancing in 2 Sam 6:20 also employs the designation ‫רק‬/‫ ריק‬when Michal claims David has revealed himself “like one of the ‫ רקים‬is uncovered,” which could perhaps be translated, loosely, as “like a naked blundering peasant.” 66 Note that Stager (“The Archaeology of the Family,” 25–27) also points to other organizations serving as a “safety valve” for a society’s excess of young/unmarried males (who need not all be “disaffected” or “landless”), such as the office of the “steward” (‫ )נער‬and also the priesthood. 67 See also the comments in Soggin, 170. 68 For a nice statement of the literary and structural affiliations between

46

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inscription of Idrimi (c. 1500 BCE), in which the pattern of rejection, exile, contact with a parasocial group, and return is narrated in a tantalizingly brief format.69 An unnamed “evil” (mašiktu)70 forces Idrimi’s family to leave their paternal home (the bīt abīya, as Idrimi calls it in the first-person narrative) and reside at Emar with maternal relatives (lines 3–6).71 At Emar, conflict arises, presumably regarding issues of inheritance (the brothers, who are all older than poor Idrimi, are apparently concerned with becoming the mār ašarēdi rabi, the “pre-eminent son” or “primary heir”) and Idrimi is forced to flee. In the land of Canaan, Idrimi dwells with the habiru for seven years (line 27), and in the seventh year gathers up an army and returns (with the help of the brothers?) to claim the throne in Alalakh. Whereas the elders of Gilead invite Jephthah back because of the Ammonite threat (Judg 11:4– 11), it is not clear whether Idrimi’s actions are overtly aggressive or whether

Abimelek’s and Jephthah’s careers, see T. J. Schneider, Judges (Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 2000), 164–65, and also McKenzie, 145. On the mythic and folkloristic aspects of Jephthah’s story, see the brief comments in Matthews, 117. The basic pattern of flight, recognition by kin, formation of a band of men, and the transformation from fugitive to leader upon return home is a literary structure present in several stories, notably Idrimi of Alalakh, David, and Jephthah (as pointed out by Matthews and also E. L. Greenstein and D. Marcus, “The Akkadian Inscription of Idrimi,” JANESCU 8 [1976], 76–77). 69 The authoritative edition is M. Dietrich and O. Loretz, “Die Inschrift der Statue des Königs Idrimi von Alalaḫ,” UF 13 (1981), 201–268; see also G. H. Oller, The Autobiography of Idrimi: A New Text Edition with Philological and Historical Commentary (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1977). For further commentary, see, e.g., N. Na’aman, “A Royal Scribe and His Scribal Products in the Alalakh IV Court,” Oriens Antiquus 19 (1980), 107–16; J. M. Sasson, “On Idrimi and Šarruwa, the Scribe,” in D. I. Owen and M. A. Morrison (eds.), Studies on the Civilization and Culture of Nuzi and the Hurrians in Honor of Ernest R. Lacheman (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1981), 309–24; and H. Klengel, “Historischer Kommentar zur Inschrift des Idrimi von Alalaḫ,” UF 13 (1981), 269–78. 70 Besides meaning “bad,” “evil,” or “badness,” masiktu/mašiktu could even refer to a “bad reputation,” thus suggesting the reason the mašiktu is not specified is because the family is somehow at fault. See CAD vol. 10 pt. 1, 323–24, e.g., [ina pî] nišēšuma ma-sik-ta isi, “he has a bad reputation among his own people.” In the Idrimi text lines 10–16, the author makes it seem as though Idrimi’s flight is voluntary and calculated (and that he is the only one thinking about inheritance rights), though one gets the distinct impression that the opposite must be the case. 71 Recall that in Judg 9:1–3, Abimelek’s appeal to the elders of Shechem is an appeal to his maternal uncles, and to the entire clan of his mother’s family. Also noted by Soggin, 169–70.

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there is some collusion with the brothers and other individuals to organize his triumphant return (the former seems more likely). J. D. Schloen sees a mythological reflex of this pattern, which he calls “the exile of disinherited kin,” in the Ugaritic texts KTU 1.12 and 1.23. Here, one can detect a motif of hostility between Ba’l (a high-status member of ‘El’s divine household) and disinherited divine maidservants.72 The astral deities Dawn and Dusk play the role of the parasocial element and seem to rebel against ‘El (the passages in question are quite obscure), though in the end Schloen argues that even disinherited and rebellious kin are still kin, and thus are not to be harmed.73 The connections among disinheritance, flight, and conflict for interested parties within the family seem to be deeply-embedded elements of ancient Near Eastern storytelling in the second half of the 2nd millennium, indicating something of their increasing social relevance during the Late Bronze and early Iron Age Levant and the role of the parasocial element as a powerful factor in negotiating these conflicts of power. One particular geographical element of Jephthah’s exile deserves further comment in light of our discussion of habiru-like elements Judges: his location of exile in Judg 11:3, Tob.74 It is only in this chapter and in 2 Sam 10:6 that the land of Tob is mentioned, and, interestingly, the story in 2 Samuel 10 paints a similar picture of Tob’s inhabitants.75 David’s attempt at political reconciliation after the death of the Ammonite king ended in humiliation, as David’s messengers were sent away in a state of half-shaven and half-clothed disgrace (10:4). Fearing possible reprisal from David, the Ammonites attempt to shore up their military by hiring help, viz., 20,000 Schloen, 217. Ibid., 219–20. Notice that Jephthah’s brothers do not physically harm him in Judges 11, nor does Jephthah enact retribution upon his family when he returns. For an analysis of disinherited kin—Jephthah in particular—in ANE law, see the older study of I. Mendelssohn, “The Disinheritance of Jephthah in the Light of the Lipit–Ishtar Code,” IEJ 4 (1954), 116–19. 74 Heb. Ṭôb is to be identified with eṭ–Ṭayibeh, southeast of Edrei/Der’ā and northeast of Ramoth-gilead in Aram. Tob (Ṭubu) replies favorably to the Pharaoh’s request for supplies in EA 205, and is known from a geographical list of Thutmose III (no. 22). See Rainey and Notley, 140. 75 See the brief comments on Tob and this Aramean conflict in B. Mazar, “The Aramean Empire and Its Relations with Israel,” BA 25 (1962), 98–120. Compare Jephthah’s role as traveler/mediator between the outlying area of Tob and Gilead with Rowton’s comments about the role of parasocial leaders in this capacity in “Dimorphic Structure and the Parasocial Element,” 185, 195, and Na’aman’s remarks on the need for habiru-like bands for a stable home-base in “David’s Sojourn,” 95. 72 73

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soldiers from the Arameans of Beth-rehob and Zobah, one thousand men from the king of Maacah, and 12,000 men from Tob (10:6). Whereas earlier in the Deuteronomistic narrative a band from Tob (i.e., Jephthah and his men) was called into action against Ammon, the Ammonites were later able to employ mercenaries from this same area against the Israelites. Indeed, Tob may have been a difficult area to control for either Israelite or Aramean powers, due to its position 20 miles east of the Jordan and due to topographical factors. In his study of the role of topography in the habiru phenomenon—the first (and only, to my knowledge) study of its kind regarding the habiru—Rowton proposed that the preponderance of woodland (high shrub-land, i.e. Italian macchia or French maquis) areas in Syria-Palestine, especially in the 2nd millennium, would have made military control of many areas difficult or impossible.76 The density of such woodland realms has proven to be a formidable factor even for modern equipment, much less Bronze Age tools, and Rowton points to correlations between pockets of habiru activity in the Amarna period (in areas such as Shechem, northern Lebanon, and the area between Beth-Shan and Shechem) and the presence of densely wooded areas near these locations.77 It seems impossible to say with certainty whether Tob provided such a wooded environment above and beyond other nearby locales, but it is certainly the case that Shechem continued to be a stronghold because of its geographical position and topographical features (so much the better for habiru purposes), and it is not unreasonable to surmise that Tob’s location allowed it to remain un-cleared or un-cultivated (and thus un-eroded) longer than other areas further west in Israel’s highlands. Therefore, one simple conclusion based on the reference to Tob in these two contexts and in light of Rowton’s thesis is that Tob was a known staging ground for parasocial groups, i.e., a type of uncontrolled, boundary area where the socially disenfranchised could live in a relatively autonomous fashion. Finally, what are we to make of the origins of the tribe of Dan in light of their violent activities and landless position in Judges 18? Is it possible to suggest that the Danites were originally an independent type of parasocial group, assimilated directly into Israel’s story of settlement and tribal structure? To be sure, there are significant differences between the presentation of the Danites vis-à-vis the other episodes we have been considering; as I have already mentioned, Dan’s status as a landed tribe among the other tribes is ambiguous, and the Danites have no named leader in the biblical narrative. Many commentaries shrewdly avoid the topic of 76 M. B. Rowton, “The Topological Factor in the Ḫapiru Problem,” AS 16 (1965), 376. 77 Ibid., 381, 383.

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Dan’s origin or sociological status, and Dan’s place within Israel’s history has remained an open topic for conjecture since (at least) Y. Yadin’s 1968 article, wherein it was argued that the Danites were a Greek element (the Danuna, Homer’s Danaoi, a contingent of Sea Peoples listed in accounts of Ramses III).78 Such arguments have faltered, however, on the archaeological data, which show no evidence of the occupation of Sea Peoples at Tel Dan during the specific time periods in question.79 Other problems exist with Yadin’s thesis, to be sure, and yet the topic is a difficult one that calls for either theories that go beyond the biblical text itself or a reexamination of the biblical materials for new angles. One such attempt, made by Stager, relies on an alternative translation of the short saying regarding Dan in the putatively archaic “Song of Deborah”: ‫ודן למה‬ ‫יגור אניות‬. Following Robertson Smith’s analysis of ‫ גר‬as kinship terminology, Stager translates the phrase as “And Dan, why did he serve as client on ships?”80 That is to say, the Danites were serving as ‫גרים‬, a “clienttribe” perhaps along the lines of the habiru who could be defined in terms of their status of dependency on an economic or social patron of some kind.81 Like Asher, then, the Danites would have been in a position of “economic dependence on non-Israelite groups in the maritime trade,” thus explaining their reluctance to join the Israelite highlanders in battle against

Y. Yadin, “And Dan, Why Did He Remain in Ships?,” Australian Journal of Biblical Archaeology (1968), 9–23. See, earlier, M. C. Astour, Hellenosemitica: An Ethnic and Cultural Study in West Semitic Impact on Mycenaean Greece (Leiden, E.J. Brill, 1965), 45–53, 69–112. Yadin’s theory is taken up anew by O. Margalith, The Sea Peoples in the Bible (trans. O. and S. Margalith; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1994), and see also some comments by M. Sakellariou, “Who Were the Immigrants?” in G. Cadogan and J. Langdon Caskey (eds.), The End of the Early Bronze Age in the Aegean (Leiden, Brill: 1986), 130–31. Cf. B. J. Stone’s critique of Margalith’s work in this regard in JQR 88 (1997), 108–112. 79 See L. Stager, “Archaeology, Ecology and Social History: Background Themes to the Song of Deborah,” in J.A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume: Jerusalem 1986 (Leiden: Brill), 221–34. 80 L. Stager, “The Song of Deborah: Why Some Tribes Answered the Call and Others Did Not,” BAR 15 (1989) (accessed online at http://www.basarchive.org). The question of the relationship between the Danites and ships (‫ )אניות‬is unclear. If the Danites represent some connection with a Mediterranean migration (see Astour, cited above), then the memory of their arrival or departure on, and association with, ships could be preserved in Judg 5:17 (which, nevertheless, does not speak of such things directly). 81 See note 41 above. 78

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Canaanite lords.82 The fact that Dan is mentioned at all in Judges 5, however, would seem to indicate that they were viewed as part of the Israelite tribes in some sense at the time of the poem’s composition (which may have been as early as one to three centuries after the first “Israelites” were established in the hill country). And yet Dan’s place in the early poetry reveals a group with a proclivity to violence, whose origins and existence, like the habiru and other parasocial groups, are bound up with their ability to crouch by the roadside (Gen 49:17) and leap forth like a lion (Deut 33:22).

CONCLUSION Although a few bands of landless men running around in the book of Judges do not, in and of themselves, constitute sound evidence for a habiru revolution and the concomitant historicity of these kinds of stories in the book of Judges, the social and literary parallels between the actions of characters in Judges 9, 11, and 18 and known parasocial elements in the ancient Near East are striking and deserve serious consideration. It is possible that these stories of parasocial activity and subversive military maneuvers were constructed to provide an apologetic literary model for David’s similar actions and rise to power in 1 Samuel, but it is equally plausible that the stories of David’s parasocial days fell in line with memories of a well-known pattern of comparable leaders and activities stemming from Israel’s earliest existence in the land. I would argue that the latter is more plausible, and toward this end, this study has sought to show how some details of these three tales in Judges can be brought into a mutually illuminating dialogue with what is currently known about the existence of certain changes following the collapse of societal structures in the ancient Near East (particularly the pan-Mediterranean and Near Eastern collapse of the Late Bronze systems). The objective here has thus not been to demand that the textual materials in Judges 9, 11, and 18 require some vaguely historical connection to the late 2nd millennium habiru phenomena, but rather that close attention to the narrative details regarding Gideon’s and Jephthah’s rise to power and the acquisition of land by the Danites can be made historically relevant and meaningful in light of what we can surmise regarding the historicity and anthropology of habiru-like groups in Israel-Palestine during the premonarchic period (c. 1200–1000 BCE).83 My goal here has simply been to Stager, “The Song of Deborah.” Consider the words of Paul Ricoeur, quoted by Stager in “The Archaeology of the Family,” 1, regarding the task of historians vis-à-vis texts: one should not 82 83

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show that these “worthless and reckless fellows” served a more decisive and formative role in the pre-monarchic period than some have previously recognized, as their violent actions would provide the model for the rise of the monarchy’s most transformative figure, David, the last great parasocial warlord at the end of the 2nd millennium. The actions of these landless individuals and their charismatic leaders in Judges was indeed a “normal” aspect of transitional life on the frontier of the Levant in the late 2nd millennium, and the constant presentation of the book of Judges and the actions of its characters as abnormal or degenerate by some commentators obscures the important fact that, normally, transitions of the type described in Judges are brutal or even obscene.84 The Abimeleks, Jephthahs, and Danites run rampant through such landscapes of terror and change, and the authors of Judges acutely recognized the inevitability of the failure and dissolution of old systems—indeed, of all organized systems—whether they be political, social, or economic. In its most poignant moments, the book of Judges presents violence and social upheaval as a creative force in the birth of new social, political, and religious realities; the tribes—even under the monarchy—form, at their most stable, an “ordered anarchy,” to borrow a phrase from Evans-Pritchard’s famous description of the Nuer political system.85 If some version of the habiruHebrew hypothesis is accurate on the sociological level, and if the origins of the biblical and the historical Israel lie with the indigenous hill country population of Canaan at the beginning of the Iron Age, then it is the book of Judges (and its continuation into Samuel), in its depiction of banditry, parasocial leaders, and land-grabs, that provides the Hebrew Bible’s best glance into the historical beginnings of the nation in its pre-monarchic condition.86 succumb to “the methodological illusion whereby the historical fact is held to exist in a latent state in documents and the historian to be the parasite of the historical equation. To counter this methodological illusion, one must assert that in history the initiative does not belong to the document but to the question posed by the historian. The latter has logical precedence in the historical inquiry.” 84 See, e.g., the typical comment by D. I. Block, Judges, Ruth (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1999), 245: “The Book of Judges portrays a degenerate Israelite society. Little that transpires in the book is normal or normative.” 85 E. E. Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer: A Description of the Modes of Livelihood and Political Institutions of a Nilotic People (first published in 1940; New York: Oxford University Press, 1969), 5. 86 I owe a debt of gratitude to the anonymous reviewers, and to my colleagues Jonathan Kline and Adam Strich, for the helpful suggestions they offered in response to earlier versions of this paper. All remaining errors are my own.

STRUCTURE AND MEANING IN THE THIRD VISION OF AMOS (7:7–17) MARTHA E. CAMPOS AZUSA PACIFIC UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION There is structure and meaning in Amos’s third vision (Amos 7:7–17), a text often considered obscure and problematic. It has a skillful and intricate design, and its poetics lead to the answer of its wordplay. The text is “deuteronomistic” because it renders the northern kingdom’s demise: the sin of Jeroboam. Besides the books of Kings, it also has parallels with Jeremiah. It criticizes the northern kingship and priesthood and compares them to the southern prophetic role.1 Such contrasts are elaborated. As Adele Berlin wrote: The potential success of rhetorical criticism lies in the fact that the devices and symmetries that are present in a poem are not merely decorations—esthetically pleasing ornaments surrounding the meaning—but are pointers or signs which indicate what the meaning is. To understand how a poem is constructed is to begin to understand what it expresses.2

The story is told in two episodes: the vision report (vv. 7–9) and the Amaziah narrative (vv. 10–17). The events of the narrative follow those of The vision shows what Marvin Sweeney wrote about the book of Amos: that it “presents a Judean political and religious critique of the north and a statement concerning the future course of the nation, i.e., it must return to Judean rule and religious observance.” M. A. Sweeney, The Twelve Prophets, (Berit Olam, vol. 1; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 2000), 251. 2 A. Berlin, “The Rhetoric of Psalm 145,” A. Kort and S. Morschauser (eds.), Biblical and Related Studies Presented to Samuel Iwry (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1985), 17–22 (17–18). 1

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the vision, and the narrative tells the fulfillment of the vision. There is an interim in which Amos prophesied the curse of Jeroboam. After reporting it to the king, Amaziah the priest “curses” the prophet. Amos returns those curses magnified. This dynamic is displayed in a chiastic structure (vv. 11c– 17). In addition to demonstrating the above, the present analysis offers data and solutions for previously discussed problems including: what Amos saw, the vision’s interpretation, the hapax legomena ʾănāk and bôlēs, Amos’s “denial,” the “placement” and anomaly of the Amaziah narrative, the location of v. 9, the abruptness of v. 10, the extra length of v. 17, why Assyria is not mentioned, and that Jeroboam II did not die by the sword.

STRUCTURE IN THE VISION REPORT (VV. 7–9) OUTLINES OF THE VISION REPORT (VV. 7–9) The vision proper (v. 7) and the ensuing dialogue between YHWH and Amos (v. 8) have been outlined generally as: I. Vision (7) A. Introductory Clauses (7a–b) B. Image: the Lord, a wall, and ʾănāk in his hand (7c–e) II. Dialogue (8) A. YHWH’s Question: What do you see? (8a–b) B. Amos’s Answer: ʾănāk (8c–d) C. YHWH’s Interpretation: He is setting ʾănāk in the midst (8e–g) D. Concluding Clause: Never again will I pass over (pardon) him (8h)3 3 H. W. Wolff, Joel and Amos: A Commentary on the Books of the Prophets Joel and Amos (trans. W. Janzen, S. D. McBride, Jr. and C. A. Muenchow; Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977), 294–5; trans. of Dodekapropheten, II: Joel und Amos (BKAT 14.2; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1969). J. Jeremias, The Book of Amos: A Commentary (trans. D. W. Stott; OTL; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox, 1998), 130; trans. of Der Prophet Amos (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995). S. M. Paul, Amos: A Commentary on the Book of Amos (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 233. Shalom Paul also described the components although not as similarly as Wolff and Jeremias.

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The vision proper is of the Lord standing by a wall.4 The wall is of ʾănāk, and there is also ʾănāk in his hand. Asked what he saw, Amos answers: ʾănāk. YHWH then explains that he is setting ʾănāk in the midst of his people, Israel. The next statement, “never again will I pass over him,” is considered by some to be the conclusion of the vision report.5 However, I include v. 9 in the dialogue and outline the vision report further as: II. Dialogue (8–9) ...

D. Divine Oath Refrain: Never again will I pass over (pardon) him (8h) E. Prophecy of the Fulfillment of the Curse of Jeroboam (9) 1. Desolation of high places (9aA) 2. Ruin of sanctuaries (9aB) 3. YHWH will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword (9b)

The location of v. 9 has been debated. Because it is the prophecy Amos is to announce, revealed to him during the time of the vision, I locate it within the vision report.

THE PROBLEM OF THE LOCATION OF VERSE 9 The problem of the location of v. 9 is whether it belongs to the vision report, the narrative, or is an insertion between them.6 Shalom Paul located v. 9 within the vision report according to context.7 He saw in v. 9 the details 4

It has also been interpreted by some as YHWH standing “on” or “over” the

wall. 5 Wolff, Joel and Amos, 294–295. There is discussion about the boundaries of the third and fourth visions. I label v. 8h a refrain because of its repetition in the fourth vision (8:2). 6 H. G. M. Williamson, “The Prophet and the Plumb-Line: A Redaction-Critical Study of Amos vii,” A. S. van der Woude (ed.), In Quest for the Past: Studies on Israelite Religion, Literature and Prophetism (OTS, 26; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1990), 101–121 (103– 104). M. Dijkstra, “‘I am neither a prophet nor a prophet’s pupil’: Amos 7:9–17 as the Presentation of a Prophet like Moses,” J. C. de Moor (ed.), The Elusive Prophet: The Prophet as a Historical Person, Literary Character and Anonymous Artist (OTS, 45; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2001), 105–128. C. Lombaard, “What is Isaac Doing in Amos 7?,” E. Otto and J. LeRoux (eds.), A Critical Study of the Pentateuch: An Encounter between European and African (ATM, 20; Münster: Lit Verlag, 2005), 152–159. 7 Paul, Amos, 236.

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of the vision’s punishment to come. Gene Tucker appears to have located it within the vision report when he proposed that the narrative was placed adjacently because of the common use of “Jeroboam” and the theme of judgment against his house.8 Most scholars worked on the premise that the narrative was inserted.9 Upon noting that verbal link (“Jeroboam”) and others (“sword,” “Isaac,” “Israel,” “house,” “sanctuaries”), several scholars came to see v. 9 as part of the narrative and not the vision. Also, the similar structures of the first and second, and third and fourth vision reports make v. 9 and the narrative anomalous.10 Peter Ackroyd located v. 9 within the narrative for that reason.11 However, in the pattern of the character speeches, v. 9 does not fit in Amaziah’s speech report (vv. 10–11); it is not Amaziah speaking. Also, the style of v. 9 does not fit the narrative’s style.12 The first two cola are parallel and form a chiasm as displayed in table 1.13 A B1 B2 B1’ B2’ A’

Table 1: The Chiastic Structure of v. 9a and will be made desolate the high places of Isaac and the sanctuaries of Israel will be ruined

9aA 9aB

Not seeing much parallelism in the vision (vv. 7–8), H. W. Wolff thought the parallelism of v. 9 distanced it from the vision.14 He G. M. Tucker, “Prophetic Authenticity: A Form-Critical Study of Amos 7:10– 17,” Int 27 (1973), 423–34 (425–426). 9 For examples of opinions on the placement of the narrative, see R. Gordis, “The Composition and Structure of Amos,” Poets, Prophets, and Sages: Essays in Biblical Interpretation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1971), 217–229. See also Williamson, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 103. 10 First vision: 7:1–3. Second: 4–6. Third: 7–8[9][17]. Fourth: 8:1–2[3]. Fifth: 9:1[–6]. Delimiters vary by opinion. 11 P. R. Ackroyd, “A Judgment Narrative Between Kings and Chronicles? An Approach to Amos 7:9–17,” G. W. Coats and B. O. Long (eds.), Canon and Authority: Essays in Old Testament Religion and Theology (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977), 71–87. 12 Wolff thought v. 9’s style does not match the vision report’s, but it does not match the narrative’s either, Joel and Amos, 295. 13 F. I. Andersen and D. N. Freedman, Amos: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 24A; New York: Doubleday, 1989), 755, 760. Paul, Amos, 236 n. 87. 14 Wolff, Joel and Amos, 295. 8

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suggested that v. 9 was inserted as a transition from the vision to the narrative.15 Andersen and Freedman described it as a “bridge,” and Jörg Jeremias, a “hinge” connecting the vision and the narrative.16 The verbal links between v. 9 and the narrative do not necessitate that either of them be later insertions adjacent to the vision proper. There are verbal links between vv. 7–8 and the narrative also, and they lead to further information about the vision and events taking place, filling in the gaps.17 It has been thought that what Amos was to announce is YHWH’s setting ʾănāk (v. 8). Rather, he announced the prophecy of v. 9. Verse 9 follows naturally in the vision report sequence. YHWH speaks in the first person beginning in v. 8 and then in v. 9b, and not afterward. After telling Amos that he will never again pass over, or pardon, the northern kingdom (v. 8h), YHWH states the merited curses: there will be desolation and ruin of the cult sites, and he will rise against Jeroboam’s house (v. 9). Then the narrative (vv. 10–17), or second episode, shows that Amos had indeed, in the interim, prophesied to the effect of v. 9.

THREADS BEGINNING IN THE VISION REPORT There are links and threads that extend from the vision report (vv. 7–9) into the narrative (vv. 10–17) and form the vision’s wordplay, carry themes, and connect events in the story (vv. 7–17). In describing structures of conjunction, Jerome Walsh distinguished that “links” normally connect successive units and “threads” serve more to unify a theme.18 I will use the term “thread” for the links and threads that extend, or thread, from the vision report into the narrative. THE VISION’S WORDPLAY

The third vision was not generally thought by scholars to contain a wordplay, although, as Alan Cooper noted, Friedrich Horst did characterize it a Wortspielvision in 1900.19 Similarities between the third and fourth visions Ibid., 295, 300–301. Andersen and Freedman, Amos, 754. Jeremias, Amos, 142. Jeremias also saw links with Hosea. 17 Terry Collins suggested that verbal links lead further along in the text to certain conclusions, “Threading as a Stylistic Feature of Amos,” J. C. de Moor (ed.), The Elusive Prophet: The Prophet as a Historical Person, Literary Character and Anonymous Artist (OTS, 45; Leiden: E.J. Brill, 94–104 (95). 18 J. T. Walsh, Style and Structure in Biblical Hebrew Narrative (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2001), 176. 19 A. Cooper, “The Meaning of Amos’s Third Vision (Amos 7:7–9),” M. Cogan et al. (eds.), Tehillah le-Moshe (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1997), 13–21 (17). 15 16

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were noted more, and following the consensus that the fourth vision is a wordplay vision, some began to search the third vision for a wordplay also.20 The words of the fourth vision’s wordplay are the assonant qāyiṣ (“summer fruit”) and qēṣ (“end”). The first word of the third vision’s wordplay is commonly agreed to be ʾănāk. The problem has been in finding the second word. Because the second word of the fourth vision is held in YHWH’s interpretation (8:2), most have searched for the second word of the third vision in its interpretation also (v. 8e–g). The first word, ʾănāk, is repeated there, so many considered ʾănāk to be the second word also, which remained a perplexity. Some suggested emendations for ʾănāk in v. 8, and also in v. 7.21 H. G. M. Williamson, however, suggested that the second word might be ʾānōkî, which is repeated three times in the narrative (v. 14).22 The two words are assonant and, as shown below (in bold text), the threadpoints form a six-point thread: v. 7 ... ʾădōnāy niṣṣāb ʿal ḥômat ʾănāk ûbĕyādô ʾănāk v. 8 ... wāʾōmar ʾănāk ... v. 14 . . . lōʾ-nābîʾ ʾānōkî wĕlōʾ ben-nābîʾ ʾānōkî kî-bôqēr ʾānōkî ... Each of the thread-points occurs at the very end of its phrase. A fourth instance of ʾănāk occurs in YHWH’s interpretation (v. 8g), but is central in the phrase: “Look, I am setting ʾănāk in the midst of my people, Israel.” This is in YHWH’s voice whereas each of the six thread-points is in Amos’s voice. Also, the three ʾănāk end-of-phrase thread-points are separated from the fourth instance of ʾănāk by the second “look” (hinĕnî) that introduces YHWH’s interpretation (v. 8f). The probability that the end-of-phrase pattern occurs in two sets of three, each set contained within one or two verses, and that the two words are written the same except for the extra yôd in ʾānōkî should The fourth vision’s wordplay is in 8:1–2. Williamson, “Prophet and PlumbLine,” 118. Cooper, “Meaning,” 16–18. 21 They are discussed in the section on the meaning of ʾănāk. 22 Williamson, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 117. 20

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59

support that the composer intended this design and wordplay.23 On the consonantal level, the difference between qāyiṣ and qēṣ is also one yôd, which further supports intention and that the ʾănāk/ʾānōkî wordplay is as original as the fourth vision’s qāyiṣ/qēṣ.24 Differences between the third and fourth vision reports indicate that the third was originally intended to be longer than the fourth, and that the second word of the wordplay was meant to be farther along, in the narrative. The words of the fourth vision’s wordplay occur a total of only three times.25 ʾĂnāk, which I hold is only the first word, is used four times, and, unlike in vision four, is repeated in the interpretation.26 The third vision has a second “look” (hinĕnî) (v. 8f) and the fourth does not. The Lord is present in the third vision proper and not in the fourth, and the interpretation of the fourth vision (8:2), that the end has come, is more succinct. EVENT THREADS IN YHWH’S INTERPRETATION

YHWH’s interpretation (v. 8) leads to corresponding events in the narrative that show the vision and interpretation fulfilled, that is, YHWH having set ʾănāk in Israel’s midst. There are two threads: “in the midst of” (vv. 8g, 10), and “my people, Israel” (vv. 8g, 15), and a link to the wordplay. “My people, Israel” occurs in both the third and fourth visions’ interpretations (v. 8g; 8:2), and we can compare their uses.27 In both visions, YHWH explains an event to happen to “my people, Israel.” In the fourth vision, Amos sees a basket of “summer fruit” (qāyiṣ) that is explained by “the end” (haqqēṣ) coming upon them. In the third vision, Amos sees YHWH standing by an ʾănāk wall with ʾănāk in his hand. YHWH explains that he is setting ʾănāk in their midst. The ʾănāk in the interpretation links to the six-pointed thread and wordplay, and we will see that they lead to Amos.28 “My people, Israel” leads from YHWH setting ʾănāk (v. 8) to YHWH having told Amos See ‫ אנך‬and ‫אנכי‬. See ‫ קיץ‬and ‫קץ‬. 25 Qāyiṣ is used twice: once in the vision proper and once in Amos’s answer to what he saw. The second word, qēṣ, occurs once. 26 ʾĂnāk is used twice in the vision proper, once in Amos’s answer to what he saw, and once in the interpretation. 27 The term “my people, Israel” used by YHWH occurs in Amos 7:8, 15; 8:2; 9:14; and in various locations in Samuel, Kings, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Chronicles. The Gospel of Matthew has it in a citation from Micah 5:2. 28 Williamson suggested that ʾănāk ultimately signifies Amos himself, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 118. 23 24

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to prophesy to “my people, Israel” (v. 15).29 The thread connects the setting of ʾănāk with Amos’s commission to prophesy. The second thread, “in the midst,” also leads to Amos’s commission. Amos had prophesied “in the midst” of the bêt of Israel and his words were unbearable (v. 10). This also explains the abrupt change of style at v. 10 and Amaziah’s sudden appearance. Amos had announced the prophecy (v. 9) in the interim, and the second episode begins with Amaziah’s reaction to it (v. 10). THE PROPHECY

The prophecy of v. 9 is the base of four threads. The repetitions of “Jeroboam” (vv. 9, 11) and “by the sword” (vv. 9, 11) form two. The other two threads, composed of Leitwörter, begin in v. 9, cross in v. 13, and end in v. 16.30 One is composed of “high places of Isaac” (bāmôt yiśḥāq), “temple of the kingdom” (bêt mamlākâ), and “house of Isaac” (bêt yiśḥāq). The other is composed of “sanctuaries of Israel” (miqdĕšê yiśrāʾēl), “sanctuary of the king” (miqdaš-melek), and “. . . Israel” (yiśrāʾēl). Table 2 shows the Leitwörter and their immediate pairing. Table 2: Leitwörter in vv. 9, 13, and 16 v. 9 Cursed are: bāmôt yiśḥāq miqdĕšê yiśrāʾēl  v. 13

Bethel is:

v. 16

Priest prohibited prophesying against:

miqdaš ubêt ...

-melek mamlākâ yiśrāʾēl

bêt

yiśḥāq

Words are repeated (yiśḥāq, miqdaš, yiśrāʾēl, bêt), orders switched, and there is an ellipsis. There is also further pairing. Bāmôt (v. 9) is paired with bêt (v. 16) as each are first paired with “Isaac.” These are the only occurrences of “Isaac” in the book of Amos. “Isaac” is paired with “Israel” both times, so their immediate pairing with bāmôt and bêt can also be assumed to be intentional. “Isaac” and “Israel” show assonance as both begin with “yiś,” and bāmôt and bêt are assonant.31 29 Cooper suggested this link noting its implicitness in the interpretation (v. 8g), “Meaning,” 16. 30 Robert Alter explained the Leitwört concept of exploring semantic ranges by repeating a word in different forms, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981), 94–95. 31 “Isaac” is spelled here in vv. 9 and 16 with ‫ ש‬and not the usual ‫צ‬.

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61

Paired vertically, the repetitions form a pattern on the macro-structural level, as shown in table 3. Table 3: Leitwört Thread-points in vv. 9, 13, and 16 in Vertical Pairs

v. 9 v. 13 v. 16

bāmôt ûbêt

miqdĕšê miqdaš

melek mamlākâ

bêt

yiśrāʾēl yiśrāʾēl

yiśḥāq

yiśḥāq

The center of the formation of the Leitwörter is on the king and kingdom, possibly emphasizing them. We can assume a primary reference to the northern kingdom because Bethel is the sanctuary and temple of the king and kingdom (v. 13). I include bāmôt as a Leitwört in the bêt column, also because both words are paired conceptually in Kings in reference to Bethel and Jeroboam.32

STRUCTURE IN THE NARRATIVE (VV. 10–17) OUTLINES OF THE NARRATIVE (VV. 10–17) Scholars have outlined the narrative (vv. 10–17) according to its characters’ speech reports. James Mays demarcated three primary speech units: the priest’s report to the king (vv. 10–11), the priest’s command to the prophet (vv. 12–13), and the prophet’s reply to the priest (vv. 14–17).33 Tucker noted the same primary divisions and also distinguished two events: Amaziah’s report to Jeroboam (vv. 10–11), and his confrontation with Amos (vv. 12–17).34 Some noting poetic features also outlined the narrative according to its speeches. Harper and Jeremias each demarcated two units (vv. 10–13; 14–17) by distinguishing Amaziah’s speech from Amos’s.35 32 1 Kgs 12:31; 13:32. In 2 Kgs 23:19, Josiah destroyed the houses of the high places that remained in Samaria. 33 J. L. Mays, Amos: A Commentary (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1969), 134. 34 Tucker noted that vv. 10–11 and 12–17 report two events and cited “Wolff, Dodekapropheten, p. 354, and Grosch, Der Prophet Amos, p. 19,” Tucker, “Authenticity,” 427 n 5. Only Tucker’s major divisions are listed here, ibid., 426– 27. 35 W. R. Harper. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Amos and Hosea (ICC, Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1905), 168. Harper also distinguished similar triple divisions in both parts: six, three, and six lines each. Jeremias, Amos, 137. Jeremias

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Bovati and Meynet also distinguished the two characters’ speech, but in four units and ordered chiastically (vv. 10–11 // 16–17, 12–13 // 14–15).36 The speeches are complex as the priest and prophet quote themselves and others.37 First Amaziah quotes Amos to Jeroboam, and then confronts Amos. Amos answers Amaziah, and then quotes YHWH, who had told him to prophesy. Amos repeats to Amaziah his prohibition of prophesying, as part of YHWH’s word. Finally, Amos announces curses to Amaziah, quoting YHWH.

CURSE UNITS (VV. 10–11; 12–17) The theme of punishment is not sufficiently represented in an outline of the characters’ speeches. Curse units can also be delineated: the king’s (vv. 10– 11) and the priest’s (vv. 12–17). The death of the respective character is mentioned at the end of each curse unit (vv. 11b, 17e), with a phrase about exile following it (vv. 11c, 17f).38 The phrases about exile are identical (“wĕyiśrāʾēl gālô yigle(h) mēʿal ʾadmātô,” “And Israel will surely go into exile away from his land”) and serve as structural markers. Threads from v. 9 extend into each curse unit. Yārobʿām (“Jeroboam”) and bḥrb (“by the sword”) (v. 9b) crisscross into the king’s curse unit (v. 11). Into the priest’s curse unit (vv. 13 and 16), crisscross v. 9a’s bāmôt, miqdĕšê, yiśḥāq, and yiśrāʾēl. Bāmôt transforms into bêt (vv. 9; 13), capturing themes from Kings. The people sacrificed at the high places (bāmôt) until the Jerusalem temple (bêt) was built (1 Kgs 3:2). To continue to do so after the temple was built was sin (2 Kgs 15:35). Also, Jeroboam I appointed a temple at Bethel for the high places (1 Kgs 12:31; 13:33–34). Bêt and miqdaš, in our v. 13, describe Bethel. Although the priest is cursed in his unit, the theme of Jeroboam’s sin is carried throughout. Jeroboam I appointed priests of the high places (1 Kgs 12:31–32), and the succeeding northern kings continued in his sins.

THE PRIEST’S CURSE UNIT’S CHIASTIC STRUCTURE (VV 11C–17) Amaziah is cursed after having opposed Amos in the priest’s curse unit (vv. 11c–17). The unit is structured chiastically and has a plot reversal as displayed in table 4. noted that the two parts are almost equal in length. 36 P. Bovati and R. Meynet, Le livre du prophète Amos (Paris: Cerf, 1994), 297. 37 Jeremias explained the complexity of the discourses, Amos, 137. See also Andersen and Freedman, Amos, 782. 38 Williamson saw these points as framing Amos and Amaziah’s discussion. “Prophet and Plumb-Line” 116–117.

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Table 4: The Chiastic Structure and Plot Reversal of 7:11c–17 A

Inclusio: Exile

B 1 2 3 4 C

Priest curses prophet seer flee to Judah eat bread there prophesy there Priest prohibits prophet

D D’

Amos not a prophet Amos to prophesy not a prophet not a son of a prophet a herdsman a fig-plucker taken (plucked) away from the flock spoken to by YHWH go, prophesy

1 2 3 4 4 3 2 1 C’

Priest prohibits prophet

B’ 1 2 3 4 A’

11c

Prophet curses priest wife will prostitute children will fall by sword (not flee) (bread-making) land apportioned priest will die on unclean land Inclusio: Exile

12

13 14 15 (14)

(15)

16 17a–e

17f

The priest “curses” the prophet by accusing him of seeking gain and prohibits him from prophesying at Bethel. The prophet recites the prohibition and curses the priest in return. The curses correspond in parallel phrases. Within the plot reversal, Amos explains his commission, also in chiastic order (vv. 14–15). A/A’: AN INCLUSIO ABOUT EXILE

The phrase about exile (wĕyiśrāʾēl gālô yigle(h) mēʿal ʾadmātô) (11c; 17f) functions structurally in three ways. First, it concludes the characters’ immediate speech: what Amaziah said that Amos said against Jeroboam (v. 11), and Amos’s recitation of what YHWH said against Amaziah (v. 17). It also concludes the king’s and priest’s curse units (vv. 10–11; 12–17). Thirdly, it frames the extended chiasm in the priest’s curse unit (vv. 11c–

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17).39 The repetition is identical, which qualifies it as an inclusio according to Karl Möller’s criteria.40 Regarding framing inclusions, Walsh noted that they are “relatively separate from the subunits they enclose.”41 The phrase about exile, wĕyiśrāʾēl gālô yigle(h) mēʿal ʾadmātô, refers generally to the kingdom, and specifically to Jeroboam and Amaziah as officials of that kingdom. Verses 11c and 17f form the A/A’ correspondence. B/B’: THE PRIEST “CURSES” THE PROPHET AND THE PROPHET CURSES THE PRIEST

In B/B’, the priest “curses” the prophet and the prophet curses the priest. Each phrase used by Amaziah to repudiate Amos’s legitimacy (v. 12) corresponds to a parallel and intensified curse that he receives in return (v. 17). The correspondences are assonant as well as conceptual. Andersen and Freedman raised the issue of the extra length and “lack of parallelism” of v. 17.42 Recognizing the chiastic structure we see that v. 17 is parallel to v. 12. From there we can see the phrasal correspondences. The extra length of v. 17 is due to its intensification of v. 12 where the priest first confronts the prophet. In B1, Amaziah calls Amos a ḥōze(h) (“seer”). In return, Amos says that Amaziah’s wife will tizne(h), that is, be a prostitute (B’1). The concept is synonymous because both are said to be selling themselves. Amaziah accuses Amos of prophesying for gain, which is also in the wider context. In the following B phrases, Amaziah tells Amos to go back to Judah to earn a living by prophesying there. In v. 14, Amos’s argument is that he does not need to prophesy in order to earn a living. By calling Amos a seer, Amaziah attacks his legitimacy. The insinuation is that he is a professional prophet, going to the north to sell his prophetic services. The corresponding curse is that Amaziah’s wife will have to sell herself through prostitution, and he will not be able to provide for her. The two words are assonant, each having two syllables, a ‫ז‬, and ending in ‫ֶה‬.43 The next phrase, lēk bĕraḥ-lĕkā (“go, flee for yourself”), contrasts the next curse, ûbānêkā ûbĕnōtêkā baḥereb yippōlû (“your sons and your daughters by the sword will fall”). The prophet can flee for his life, but the priest’s children cannot flee for theirs. Rather than escaping the captor’s sword, Extending beyond two verses, the chiasm can be described as “extended.” K. Möller, A Prophet in Debate (JSOTSup, 372; London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 64–67. 41 Walsh, Style and Structure, 64. 42 Andersen and Freedman, Amos, 777. 43 Although we cannot be certain about the vowels or sounds, this match is likely. 39 40

STRUCTURE AND MEANDING IN THE THIRD VISION OF AMOS

65

they will fall under it.44 “Flee” (‫ )ברח‬and “sword” (‫ )חרב‬contain the same letters, in opposite order. ‫ כ‬is repeated twice in each phrase: ēk and ĕkā, êkā and êkā. The second êkā is in “and your daughters,” which serves to intensify the curse both assonantly and conceptually. ‫ ב‬occurs once in the B2 phrase and three times in the B’2 phrase. Amos is shooed to “the land of Judah,” which is shown in contrast to Amaziah’s personal land and the “unclean” land upon which the priest will die. In B3, Amaziah tells Amos to return to Judah to “eat bread there” (weʾĕkol šām leḥem). The corresponding curse regards Amaziah’s own land (ʾadmātĕkā) that “by line will be apportioned” (baḥebel tĕḥullāq) (B’3).45 Amaziah’s own greed influences him to suspect Amos of prophesying for gain. He is the one gaining wealth because his land produces much bread; it is large enough to be apportioned! The assonance is perhaps not enough evidence on which to claim intention if this were the only instance. However, the other parallels support the reading. Besides the common ‫ ל‬in ‫ אכל‬and ‫חלק‬, are the ‫ כ‬and ‫ח‬, and a ‫ק‬. According to Amaziah, Amos should instead prophesy in Judah (wĕšām tinnābēʾ) (B4). By contrast, Amaziah cannot serve as priest on an unclean land and will die there (ʿal-ʾădāmâ ṭĕmēʾâ tāmût) (B’4).46 The “t” sound is repeated, occurring once in tinnābēʾ and three times in ṭĕmēʾâ tāmût. The curse is intensified in the latter, and the sound may be also. C/C’: THE PRIEST PROHIBITS THE PROPHET

C is echoed and multiplied into two in C’. Amos is prohibited from prophesying by Amaziah (v. 13), and then quotes the prohibition with an additional phrase (v. 16). “No longer (are) you to prophesy” (lōʾ-tôsîp ʿôd lĕhinnābēʾ) becomes “do not prophesy” (lōʾ tinnābēʾ) and “do not preach” (lōʾ taṭṭîp). Lōʾ taṭṭîp is assonant with lōʾ-tôsîp, as is lōʾ tinnābēʾ with lĕhinnābēʾ. The prohibition is the reason for the priest’s curse, the accusation in the announcement of punishment against Amaziah (v. 16).47 The Leitwörter threads stemming from v. 9 cross and end in vv. 13 and 16, which further distinguishes the C/C’ chiastic correspondence. Miqdaš and bêt (v. 13) are in reverse order from bāmôt and miqdĕšê (v. 9). Yiśrāʾēl and 44 Not being able to escape is a theme carried through the book, perhaps culminating at 9:1. 45 “Line,” “lot,” “portion,” etc. are possible here for ‫חבל‬. 46 As Sweeney pointed out, the unclean land would lack the presence of an Israelite sanctuary, “Twelve Prophets,” 261. 47 C. Westermann, Basic Forms of Prophetic Speech (Cambridge: Westminster/John Knox, 1991), 130–131.

66

MARTHA E. CAMPOS

yiśḥāq (v. 16) are in reverse order also, from yiśḥāq and yiśrāʾēl (v. 9). The two multiplied phrases provide room for the yiśḥāq/yiśrāʾēl pair. D/D’: AMOS IS NOT A PROFESSIONAL PROPHET BUT AN APPOINTED ONE

The chiasm’s center and the plot’s pivot point are in the D/D’ correspondence.48 D/D’ has, in effect, its own chiasm and subplot that continue the wider chiastic order. It is Amos’s rebuttal of Amaziah’s accusation of seeking personal gain. The sub elements describe Amos’s prophetic commission and legitimacy. In D, Amos explains that he is not a professional prophet because he earns his living from two trades (v. 14). In D’, he explains that YHWH took him from his work and sent him to prophesy (v. 15). The plot pivots on this.49 The two trades are described by hapax legomena: bôqēr and bôlēs. That bôqēr signifies “herdsman” is not much contested, but bôlēs is more discussed. Context for a possible definition of bôlēs is provided by the chiasm. Amos’s rebuttal begins, “Not a prophet (am) I” (lōʾ-nābîʾ ʾānōkî). The problem of Amos’s denial begins here as he appears to be saying that he is not a prophet.50 Parallels and contrasts made by the chiasm provide data for the problem. They allow me to take the position that the implied tense is present and Amos is not a professional prophet. First I will describe the chiastic correspondence. “Not a prophet (am) I” (D1) corresponds with YHWH’s commission at the end of v. 15: “Go, prophesy to my people, Israel” (lēk hinnābēʾ el-ʿammî yiśrāʾēl) (D’1). Paul, and Bovati and Meynet noted that “not a prophet” and “go, prophesy” are parallel.51 Lōʾ may contrast lēk. This is the apparent contradiction: Amos is “not” (lōʾ) a prophet, and YHWH told him to “go” (lēk) prophesy. By “prophet,” Amos means a professional one, for hire or by trade. Lōʾ-nābîʾ and lēk hinnābēʾ also show assonance. The remaining words, ʾānōkî and ʿammî yiśrāʾēl, have their own structural purpose as thread-points leading from the vision to these central phrases about Amos’s appointment and legitimacy. Walsh described a double-centered structure (e.g., ABCC’B’A’) as “chiastic,” distinguishing it from a single-centered “concentric” structure (e.g., ABCB’A’), Style and Structure, 13. 49 Tucker saw the importance of this point in the narrative and wrote: “The center of the story and its key are found in v. 15, Amos’s affirmation of his vocation and commission,” “Authenticity,” 428. 50 Gary Smith provided a summary of the possibilities. G. V. Smith, Amos: A Commentary (LBI; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989), 239. Andersen and Freedman listed some early references, Amos, 777. 51 Paul, Amos, 249 n 98. Bovati and Meynet, Le livre, 302. I translated from their French “non prophète” and “va, prophétise.” 48

STRUCTURE AND MEANDING IN THE THIRD VISION OF AMOS

67

The problem of the “denial” would be less difficult if Amos were stating that he was not a prophet, and then YHWH sent him.52 The problem with this is that the same tense would then likely be implied for the next phrase.53 Wĕlōʾ ben-nābîʾ ʾānōkî (D2) would be, “and I (was) not a son of a prophet.” Amos does not appear to have become a son of a prophet. The point of the D2/D’2 contrast is that having been sent directly by YHWH, Amos is not a son of a prophet. In the chiastic order, the next phrase is “and YHWH said to me” (wayyōʾmer ʾēlay YHWH) (D’2). It contrasts “son of a prophet,” which alludes to the northern prophetic guild described in Kings. Trained by their mentors, the “sons” were also sent on tasks by them. The northern guild is also at times expected to receive some type of recompense for prophesying. Amos, not part of such a guild, nor having inherited his prophetic role, was sent directly by YHWH. The parallelism in D (v. 14) evidences that Amos is saying that he is not a professional prophet. Four D elements show that he is not a prophet by trade. Two pairs are formed conceptually and assonantly: lōʾ-nābîʾ and lōʾ ben-nābîʾ, and bôqēr and bôlēs. The statements “I am not a prophet (by trade) and I am not a son of a prophet (by trade)” (D1–2) fit the inner and outer contexts of earning a living or gain. They are what Amos is not. The next pair describes what Amos is: a herdsman (by trade) (bôqēr) and a fig-plucker (by trade) (bôlēs) (D3–4). Amos is not a professional prophet or a son of a prophet for he is a herdsman and fig-picker (D1–4). The next chiastic correspondence (D3/D’3) is between “for a herdsman (am) I” (kî-bôqēr ʾānōkî) and “flock” (ṣōʾn). There is no assonance, but “herdsman” and “flock” are conceptually parallel.54 In the plot reversal, Amos the herdsman was taken away from his flock. The D4/D’4 correspondence is bôlēs and wayyiqqāḥēnî (“and he took me”). It is the center of the chiasm and where the plot reversal pivots. Like plucking a fig, YHWH “takes” Amos away from his flock. A definition for bôlēs “fig-plucker” or “fig-picker” is supported by the context developed by the chiasm. We know that bôlēs is one of Amos’s trades and has to do with figs.55 In modern English Bibles it is usually translated “dresser” or “grower.”56 Wolff translated it, “who slits mulberry figs,” and defined ‫בלס‬ See Smith, Amos, 239. See also Andersen and Freedman, Amos, 778. See Ackroyd and his citations of other arguments, “Judgment Narrative,” 85 ns 43–46. 54 Paul, and Bovati and Meynet noted the parallel. Paul, Amos, 249 n 98. Bovati and Meynet, Le livre, 302. I translated from the French “bouvier,” and “bétail.” 55 Paul, Amos, 248. 56 The RSV, NRSV, and JPS used “dresser.” The REB translated bôlēs “grower” and the KJV, “gatherer.” 52 53

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as “one who slits, tends,” and “to slit.”57 Douglas Stuart used “sycamore fig slitter” in his translation.58 Many supposed that Amos was a fig slitter because of the common practice in ancient Egypt to scrape figs in order to hasten their ripening.59 T. J. Wright noted that the practice is not known in modern Israel nor necessary because the figs ripen quickly there.60 According to a commentary by Theodoret of Cyrus, however, scraping was practiced there around the fifth century CE.61 The chiasm indicates, rather than scraping figs, the task of picking or plucking them. “Pluck” better describes the action of pulling something away from its environment, such as Amos being sent from the south to the north.62 The English KoehlerBaumgartner lexicon did include “picker of sycamore figs” in its discussion of bôlēs.63 According to Andersen and Freedman, the Roman Catholic Douay version of 1609 used “plucking.”64 The King James Version used “gatherer.” “Fig-plucker” (bôlēs) will correspond with “taking” (‫ )לקח‬Amos away from his flock (D4/D’4). The two words are not assonant, but the same is the case for D3/D’3. The D’4 verb, ‫לקח‬, can mean, “to take away from.”65 It is used for plucking fruit and also for divine commission. In the sense of plucking fruit, Eve “took” (‫ )לקח‬from the tree (Gen 3:6). Then the man was expelled “lest he put forth his hand, and ‘take’ also from the tree of life” (Gen 3:22). The cupbearer “plucked” (‫ )לקח‬grapes from their branches (Gen 40:10– 11).66 In the sense of divine commission, being “taken” “from the flock” Wolff, Joel and Amos, 307, 307 n h, 314. D. Stuart, Hosea–Jonah, B. M. Metzger (ed.) (WBC, 31; Waco: Word Books, 1987), 374, 377. 59 As mentioned above, Wolff’s translation used: “who slits mulberry figs,” and he gave the following definitions for ‫בלס‬: “one who slits, tends,” “to slit,” Joel and Amos, 307, 307 n h, 314. Stuart used “sycamore fig slitter” in his translation, HoseaJonah, 374, 377. 60 T. J. Wright, “Amos and the ‘Sycamore Fig,” VT 26 (1976), 362–68. 61 That is the time of the commentary in which Theodoret of Cyrus says he heard someone from Palestine “recounting how there fruit does not ripen unless first given a tiny incision beforehand.” Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Twelve Prophets (trans. Robert Charles Hill; Commentaries on the Prophets, 3; Brookline, Mass.: Holy Cross Orthodox, 2006), 123. 62 It is more common to use “pick” than “pluck” in English in regard to harvesting fruit. In German, a verb used for picking fruit is “pflücken.” 63 L. Koehler, W. Baumgartner, J. J. Stamm, “‫בלס‬,” HALOT 1:134. 64 Andersen and Freedman, Amos, 778. 65 F. Brown, S. R. Driver, C. A. Briggs, “ ‫ ָל ַקח‬,” BDB 542–44. 66 Ibid. 57 58

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also happened to David. He was chosen and taken from the folds of the flock (Ps 78:70). Paul noted that “took” (‫ )לקח‬and “chose” (‫ )בחר‬are used together in the psalm, and that overtones for ‫ לקח‬are “to select, elect.”67 Both David and Amos were “taken” (‫ )לקח‬from following the flock (2 Sam 7:8; Amos 7:15).68 David was taken and chosen to be king over “my people.” Amos was taken and sent to prophesy to “my people.”

THE MEANING OF ʾĂNĀK The hapax legomenon, ʾănāk, has at least three levels of meaning in the third

vision: the word’s literal meaning, what Amos saw in the vision, and what it means in the interpretation (what YHWH explained it to mean).

THE LITERAL MEANING OF ʾĂNĀK The literal meaning of ʾănāk has been widely understood to be a metal. In

the LXX it is translated “adamant,” a hard metal or substance. Medieval rabbis translated it as “tin” or “lead” according to their Arabic knowledge and studies; ʾanuk described both metals.69 Yehuda Ibn Quraysh, in his late ninth or early tenth century Risāla, translated ʾănāk as Arabic qazdir, which usually means “tin.”70 In his tenth century biblical lexicon, Menahem ben Saruq, questioning the root, compared ʾănāk to Hebrew ‫נכים‬ (“destroyed”).71 Dunash ben Labrat responded that the correct definition is the same as the Arabic for “lead.”72 Rashi went further in his commentary to write that ʾănāk “is an Arabic expression for the plumbline.”73 By the 19th century, Assyriologists found ancient Semitic words similar to ʾănāk meaning “tin.”74 In 1965, Benno Landsberger wrote that the Akkadian Paul, Amos, 249 n 102. Ackroyd cited Hermann Schult on the similar form, “Judgment Narrative,” 83 n 42. 69 Williamson, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 111. Also, tin and lead are paired, as are silver and gold, and bronze and iron in the Bible: Num 31:22; Ezek 22:18, 20; 27:12. 70 Alan Cooper, private communication. 71 A. Sáenz-Badillos and J. Targarona Borrás, La academia rabínica de Córdoba: Gramáticos hebreos de al-Andalus (Siglos x–xii) (Cordova, Spain: El Almendro, 2003), 56. I translated the Spanish “destruidos.” 72 Ibid. 73 A. J. Rosenberg, ed., Twelve Prophets: A New English Translation, Translation of Text, Rashi, and Commentary, vol. 1 (New York: Judaica, 1991), 154. 74 B. Landsberger, “Tin and Lead: The Adventures of Two Vocables,” JNES 24 (1965), 285–96. 67 68

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anaku means “tin” specifically and proposed that in Amos 7, ʾănāk be translated “tin.”75 The Akkadian Hymn of Ishtar supports the “tin” definition by its phrase, “the tin of bronze am I,” because tin is an alloy of bronze.76 The hymn also has a wordplay very similar to the ʾănāk/ʾānōkî wordplay: anāku anāku (“tin am I”). Besides the Akkadian “tin” definition, we are also fortunate to have an extant witness of this type of wordplay. Emendations for ʾănāk were recommended and I list a few, but opine that emendation is not necessary. The omission of the first instance of ‫אנך‬, the one that describes the wall, was suggested in the critical apparatus of the BHS (K. Elliger).77 The ancient versions, however, show all of the four instances of the word. The apparatus also suggested that “the Lord standing by a wall of ʾănāk” be read, “‫ אנך‬standing by a wall.”78 Emendations of the word itself were also suggested. Cooper noted that Lev. Rab. 33.2 reads ʾănākâ (“[metal] overlay”).79 Andersen and Freedman noted that b. B. Meṣiʿa 59a reads the fourth instance of ʾănāk as “grief.”80 “I will put grief in the midst of my people Israel.”81 Prätorius proposed ʾānōk (“I”) reading: “I am setting ‘the I’ in the midst of my people Israel.”82 One suggestion by D. L. Petersen was ʾōnōk (“you”): “I am setting you in the midst . . .”83 I argue that no emendation is absolutely required because the wordplay is intact as the text stands.

WHAT AMOS SAW The second question is what Amos sees in the vision—what the wall and ʾănāk in YHWH’s hand are. In the Targum Amos, the wall is described as

Ibid., 287. Cited by Jeremias as col. 41, lines 23–24 after A. Falkenstein: anāku anāku anāk siparri [anāku], “Tin am I, the bronze of tin [am I].”‘ Amos, 133 n 27. See also Landsberger’s citation of Ishtar, in Inanna and Ebih 86, where she speaks of “tinores” and their “mines,” “Tin and Lead,” 285–96. 77 See BHS, n 7c–c. 78 Ibid., n 7a–a. 79 See Cooper, “Meaning,” 19 n 22. 80 The wall is of wrongs and in his hand were the wrongs. Andersen and Freedman provided this definition for the Mishnaic word: “grief, wrong, oppression,” Amos, 759. 81 It is generally noted that Amos’s name means “burden” and a play on it might be made in v. 10: “the land is not able to bear all of his words.” 82 Cooper, “Meaning,” 18–19. The translation from the German is mine. 83 D. L. Petersen, The Roles of Israel’s Prophets (JSOTSup, 17; Sheffield: JSOT, 1981), 78. 75 76

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being of “judgment” and the Lord is “exercising judgment.”84 In the Vulgate, the wall is a “plastered wall” (murum litum) and the other three instances of ʾănāk are a “trowel” (trulla cementarii). Theodoret of Cyrus used the LXX translation, “adamant.”85 Ibn Quraysh and Dunash thought the ʾănāk in YHWH’s hand to be a “plumb-line” and were followed by Rashi and others.86 The wall was thought to be made by a plumb-line, and the plumb-line to test the wall’s straightness. The medieval plumb-line interpretation, still in use today, is a good deduction based on the Arabic cognate and biblical context.87 Ibn Quraysh compared Amos’s third vision with Isa 28:17 in which measuring instruments, one taken to be a plumbline, will “set” judgment.88 However, in 1966, Gilbert Brunet argued that no plumb-line is referred to.89 Other biblical verses were also considered that were thought to speak of a “plummet,” such as 2 Kgs 21:13, which similarly refers to the punishment of the northern kingdom, and Zech 4:10. Those interpretations have also been refuted. Brunet alternatively suggested that the tin in YHWH’s hand is a sword, the tin wall being the prime material for its manufacture.90 Jeremias suggested YHWH is standing on the tin wall with a weapon in his hand.91 However, it is not a weapon or sword but tin used for the wall’s construction. I am showing that YHWH is setting the wall and that the tin wall is a metaphor for the prophet Amos.92 The narrative (vv. 10–17) and chiastic structure (vv. 11c–17) play it out.

WHAT ʾĂNĀK MEANS IN THE INTERPRETATION (V. 8G) Because Amos sees a tin wall and tin in YHWH’s hand, he answers: “tin,” when asked what he sees. YHWH explains that he is setting tin in the midst K. J. Cathcart and R. P. Gordon, eds., The Targum of the Minor Prophets: Translated, with a Critical Introduction, Apparatus, and Notes (ArBib, 14; Wilmington, Del.: Michael Glazier, 1989), 90–91. 85 Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentaries, 122. 86 Rosenberg, Twelve Prophets, 154. 87 Such as Ibn Quraysh, Dunash, Rashi, Radak and others. 88 Ibn Quraysh made the comparison in his explanation of the vision in the Risāla. Alan Cooper, private communication. 89 Gilbert Brunet proposed that the line is a measuring cord and the plummet, a scale. The translation from the French is mine. G. Brunet, “La vision de l’étain, réinterprétacion d’ Amos 7:7–9,” VT 16 (1966), 387–95 (389 n 5). 90 Brunet located v. 9, with its topics of destruction and the sword, within the vision report, ibid., 394–5. 91 Jeremias, Amos, 131–33. 92 Williamson requested the outworkings for Amos as a tin wall, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 121. 84

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of his people, Israel (v. 8g). YHWH acts metaphorically, setting the tin wall with a block or the form of tin he has in his hand. Perhaps the obvious is lost when comparing it to Amos’s answer in the fourth vision: “a basket of summer fruit” (kĕlûb qāyiṣ) (8:2).93 The basket, the container, is included in Amos’s answer in the fourth vision report, but not in the third. Amos does not answer, “a tin wall,” which would include the container or destination of the tin in YHWH’s hand, but only “tin.” This does not exclude the wall. YHWH stands by it because he is constructing it. He is setting the wall with the tin in his hand, whether layering it with a trowel or building it block by block. It is more likely for him to set a tin wall “in the midst” than a single block “in the midst.” One can say, “I am placing goldfish in the center of the table,” and it would be assumed that the goldfish would be in their container, the bowl. By responding, “tin,” Amos means both the wall and the tin in YHWH’s hand in the answer to the question of what he saw. Referring to the tin wall and the tin in YHWH’s hand that he is setting the wall with, ʾănāk facilitates the wordplay.94 In the interpretation (v. 8g), ʾănāk links to the ʾănāk/ʾānōkî (tin/I) thread/wordplay (vv. 7–8, 14). The six-pointed thread entails the tin wall (v. 7) and Amos (v. 14).95 Perhaps there is also play in the question that points to Amos: “What do you see, Amos?” (v. 8b), and in the answer, ʾănāk (v. 8c), which could be understood, by sound or common knowledge of an ʾănāk/ʾānōkî wordplay, as “myself.” It is revealed to Amos in the vision that he himself is the tin wall that YHWH is setting in order to prophesy to his people. The interpretation’s other two threads (v. 8g) also lead to the fulfillment of this. By the beginning of the second episode, Amos had already prophesied “in the midst” (v. 10). In his rebuttal to Amaziah, Amos explains that he had been sent by YHWH to prophesy to “my people” (v. 15).

METALLIC WALLS AND THEIR DYNAMISM The metaphor of a prophet made into a metallic wall is also used in the book of Jeremiah.96 As a bronze wall, Jeremiah can prophesy and stand against the kings, princes, priests and people of the southern kingdom (Jer 1:18). He will be fought against, but his opponents will not prevail (Jer 15:20; cf. 1:18–19). Similarly, Amos prophesies against the king, priest, and For example, Petersen thought that the basket of summer fruit is not significant, other than to facilitate the wordplay, and so the same should be true of the tin wall, Roles, 78. 94 Ibid. 95 Williamson proposed that Amos is the ʾănāk, and that the plumb-line interpretation fits the context. “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 116. 96 Ibid., 121. 93

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kingdom, not of the south but of the north. When opposed by Amaziah, like a tin wall, Amos resists, deflecting the repudiation. The dynamic of the chiastic structure (vv. 11c–17) simulates the function of the tin wall. Enemy arrows striking a metallic wall of defense will deflect back toward the shooter. They will return even hotter. In the chiasm, Amaziah shoots a barrage of slurs against Amos (B1–4) and, like a wall of tin, Amos reflects and magnifies them (B’1–4). Amaziah calls Amos a seer and emphatically tells him to leave (v. 12). Attacking the southern prophet’s authority to prophesy in the north, the priest also rejects the union under YHWH of the north and south. Next Amaziah accuses Amos of prophesying in the north for personal gain, and that he should do so in the south instead. In C (v. 13), Amaziah prohibits Amos from prophesying at Bethel, further striking at his true appointment. In D (v. 14), Amos knows what Amaziah is attacking and refutes it. He is not a professional prophet, nor is he of such a guild, but has two trades. Having struck at YHWH’s setting, or appointment, of Amos, the barrage begins to bounce off the wall (D’) (v. 15). Amaziah’s own words turn on him as Amos tells Amaziah that his prohibition is the reason for his curses (C’) (v. 16). The priest’s barrage returns to him, now quite horrific (B’) (v. 17).

AMOS’S THIRD VISION (VV. 7–17) IS DEUTERONOMISTIC Amos’s third vision (vv. 7–17) is deuteronomistic because, not only does it contain links to Kings and Jeremiah, it is built on their concepts.97 There are also transformations. The prophecy (v. 9) is a transformation of the curse of Jeroboam I, possibly following a “priestly” curse outline. Like Jeremiah, Amos criticizes the kingship and priesthood, albeit the north’s. W. H. Schmidt proposed deuteronomistic redaction in the book of Amos, but the phrases and style in the few verses hypothesized only persuaded some scholars.98 Wolff and Jeremias proposed deuteronomistic redaction in the book, but not in our text.99 Both saw the visions as early 97 By “deuteronomistic” I mean carrying themes particular to Deuteronomy and the Early Prophets. 98 The reference to Schmidt’s work here is Möller’s: W. H. Schmidt, “Die deuteronomistische Redaktion des Amosbuches: Zu den theologischen Unterschieden zwischen dem Prophetenwort und seinem Sammler,” ZAW 77 (1965), 168–93. K. Möller, “Reconstructing and Interpreting Amos’s Literary Prehistory: A Dialogue with Redaction Criticism,” C. Bartholomew et al. (eds.), “Behind” the Text: History and Biblical Interpretation (SHS, 4; Carlisle: Paternoster; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2003), 397–441 (402). 99 Möller summarized works of Schmidt, Wolff, Willi-Plein, and Jeremias, “Reconstructing,” 402–406.

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and the narrative as before the deuteronomists.100 Williamson noted the themes in our narrative of prophetic role and authenticity, and exile, in common with Kings.101 He proposed that the deuteronomists inserted vv. 9–17. Miguel Alvarez Barredo, dating parts of v. 9 and the narrative later than Wolff, identified them as deuteronomistic redactions.102 He saw the phrase about exile (vv. 11; 17) as being from the Babylonian exilic period.103 Because of the repetition of “Isaac” and “by the sword,” he saw vv. 9 and 16–17 as inserted frames.104 Alvarez Barredo thought “house of Israel” (v. 10) refers to Jeroboam II. Noting further structure and meaning in vv. 7– 17, I posit that the whole text is deuteronomistic and that redaction was unnecessary. Besides the obvious references to Jeroboam and the northern temple and cult at Bethel, Amos’s third vision links to and transforms parts of Kings.105 We have seen several of the links so far. We saw the bāmôt to bêt theme that runs through Kings threaded in the third vision (vv. 9, 13, 16). The development in Kings from bāmôt to bêt (high places to temple) and the bêt bāmôt (temple of the high places) that Jeroboam I appointed at Bethel are played on by Leitwörter beginning in our v. 9. Amaziah makes the correlation when he interprets Amos’s prophecy against the bāmôt and miqdĕšê (v. 9) to be against Bethel itself (v. 13). The “midst” that Amos was sent to is Bethel (vv. 8, 10, 13), and both Amos’s third vision and 1 Kgs 13 share the perspective that it is the center for the sin of Jeroboam.

THE CURSE OF JEROBOAM Amos 7:9b transforms the curse of Jeroboam I (1 Kgs 13:34) into the curse of the northern kingship. The first curse, that Jeroboam I’s house would be cut off and destroyed from the face of the earth for his appointing a temple Ibid., 403, 405. Williamson, “Prophet and Plumb-line,” 113–121. 102 M. Alvarez Barredo, Relecturas deuteronomísticas de Amós, Miqueas y Jeremías (Serie Mayor, 10; Murcia, Spain: Instituto Teológico Franciscano, Espigas, 1993), 16. 103 Alvarez Barredo, Relecturas, 81, 53. We saw that these phrases frame an extended chiasm. 104 Ibid., 80–81. We saw “Isaac” and other terms forming threads starting in v. 9. “By the sword” in v. 17 is not necessarily linked with v. 9 since it is not about Jeroboam’s death. It is linked rather with its chiastic correspondence (v. 12). The translations from the Spanish are mine. 105 Other than in Kings and Chronicles, a “Jeroboam” is named only in the superscriptions of Hosea (1:1) and Amos (1:1), and in Amos’s third vision (7:9, 10, 11) (MT). 100 101

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of the high places and priests at Bethel, was fulfilled in 1 Kgs 15:25–30. Amos said, “rise against” (v. 9b) and to Amaziah it rings of conspiracy against the king (v. 10).106 He reports it to Jeroboam and quotes Amos as having said that, “Jeroboam will die by the sword” (vv. 10–11). It sounds of the practice common in Kings of conspirators smiting kings in order to take over their thrones.107 Amaziah misinterprets what Amos said because Amos is not in a conspiracy to kill Jeroboam for the usurpation of the throne. We saw that he also misperceives Amos’s motive for prophesying (v. 12). Perhaps instead of having said that Jeroboam will die by the sword (v. 11), Amos said that YHWH will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword (v. 9). Which Jeroboam is referred to is another question. Furthermore, it is not recorded that either Jeroboam died by the sword. Although Jeroboam I and II were not attacked and killed (1 Kgs 14:20; 2 Kgs 14:29), both of their sons were, losing their thrones to conspirators that way (1 Kgs 15:27–28; 2 Kgs 15:10). The dynasties of both Jeroboams did not end with them but with their sons. In this context, Amaziah hears “rise against,” “house of Jeroboam,” and “with the sword,” and suspects conspiracy against Jeroboam II. He should instead fear conspiracy against Jeroboam’s son. He does so by abstraction. The king in reign is Jeroboam II, according to Amos 1:1.108 The correlation that a son of a Jeroboam was conspired against transforms, or typifies, Jeroboam II into a “son” of Jeroboam I. In 1 Kgs 13:2, the prophet calls Josiah a “son” of the “house of David.” Although the northern dynastic lines were broken by conspiracy, because all the kings followed in the sin of Jeroboam I, Jeroboam I can be typified as their “father,” and they as “sons” of the “house of Jeroboam.”109 The “house of Jeroboam” in our v. 9 is therefore the whole northern kingly line. If it is inferred in v. 11 that Amos did say that Jeroboam will die by the sword, then Jeroboam II is still typified as the “son” of Jeroboam I and in the narrative symbolizes the northern kingly line or office that will “die,” See especially 1 Samuel 22:13 that besides using “rise against,” also used “conspired,” “sword,” and “bread.” 107 Ackroyd noted that the theme of conspiracy is “particularly characteristic of the narratives of the books of Kings” and listed citations in the footnote, “Judgment Narrative,” 77 n 23. 108 It is supported by the exorbitant wealth described in the book and Amaziah’s greed in the narrative. 109 First Kings says they walked in the way and sins of Jeroboam: 15:26, 34; 16:2, 19, 26; 22:52. Second Kings adds that they did not depart from them: 3:3; 10:29, 31; 13:2, 6, 11; 14:24; 15:9, 18. By contrast, Josiah did not depart from the way of David (2 Kgs 22:2). Ackroyd described an “overall pattern,” “Judgment Narrative,” 79. 106

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that is, be extinguished by the curse of v. 9b. Although Amaziah feared conspiracy against Jeroboam II, when Amos said that YHWH would rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword, he was announcing the curse of Jeroboam, the end of the northern kingship.

VERSE 9 AFTER LEVITICUS 26:30–33? The curses of v. 9 may follow an outline of the curses in Lev 26:30–33.110 Stuart and Paul noted the similarities in vocabulary and threats of punishment.111 The high places and sanctuaries will be ruined in both our v. 9 and Lev 26:30–31. Miqdaš (“sanctuary”) occurs only once in the Deuteronomistic History (Josh 24:26), but is common in the priestly texts, Later Prophets, and Writings.112 Our v. 9 uses it in parallel with “high places” (bāmôt). In Lev 26:30–31, “high places” and “sanctuaries” are also used in parallel, although extended. The high places are the first objects to be ruined (26:30), and the sanctuaries are the last objects to be desolated (26:31). “Desolation” (šāmēm) and “sword” are also common to our v. 9 and Lev 26:31–33. YHWH will “rise against” with the sword in our v. 9, and he will “draw out” the sword in Lev 26:33. Stuart also called attention to Lev 26:25 in which, due to covenant infidelity, YHWH will “bring a sword upon . . .”113 He saw our v. 9 as an announcement of curse fulfillment.114 The northern kingship and cult are cursed due to the sin of Jeroboam. The structure of v. 9 follows this outline of Lev 26:30–33. Cola 9aA and 9aB are parallel, use “high places,” and then, “sanctuaries.” In colon 9b, YHWH will use “the sword,” against the house of Jeroboam. Amos 7:9 contains both priestly and deuteronomistic language and concepts.

AN ALLUSION TO THE DEUTERONOMIC PRIESTLY RULE The illegitimacy of the northern priesthood is highlighted by Amaziah’s owning land. Representing that office, he is dedicated to the wealth provided by the kingdom and not truly to YHWH. The B3/B’3 chiastic correspondence alludes to these concepts in the deuteronomic priestly rule that the priests and Levites not own land and accumulate wealth from it With his JEPD chronology, Richard Friedman thought the deuteronomists were familiar with the priestly texts. R. E. Friedman, Who Wrote the Bible? (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1987), 208. 111 Stuart, Hosea–Jonah, 373–4. Paul, Amos, 237. 112 Rottzoll saw v. 9 as a “priestly-deuteronomistic redaction.” Möller, Prophet, 111–112 n 37. 113 Stuart, Hosea–Jonah, 373–4. 114 Ibid. 110

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(Deut 18:1; cf. Num 18:20). Besides conceptual allusions, two words are used from the deuteronomic rule. Amaziah’s land being “apportioned” (‫( )חלק‬v. 17) contrasts Amos’s being able to “eat” (‫ )אכל‬bread (v. 12). According to Deut 18:1, the Levites should have no “portion” (‫)חלק‬, but “eat” (‫ )אכל‬the offerings instead. The two words are repeated in the last verse of the rules: the Levites who come to the chosen place “shall have like “portions” (‫ )חלק‬to “eat” (‫ )אכל‬. . .” (Deut 18:8).

THE USE OF THE TERM “MY PEOPLE” IS A DEUTERONOMISTIC ALLUSION The term “my people, Israel” is also a deuteronomistic allusion. First it alludes to the Deuteronomistic History and then to the Later Prophets. The term occurs first in 1 Sam 9:16 (MT). It is used in Samuel and Kings where YHWH makes an appointment of someone to some type of office in service of “my people, Israel.”115 In Jeremiah and Ezekiel, it is used where punishment and restoration are brought to his people.116 In the book of Amos, the term seems to be used for both appointment and punishment/restoration. In the vision report, YHWH sets ʾănāk in the midst of “my people, Israel” (v. 8g), which is the appointment of Amos to prophesy to them. In the narrative, Amos recounts that he was commissioned to prophesy to “my people, Israel” (v. 15). The third vision may be unique among the Later Prophets in using the term in an appointment of someone, alluding to the Early Prophets. The term is repeated in the fourth vision’s interpretation (8:2) that is also about the punishment of the northern kingdom. However, “my people, Israel” will see restoration in Amos 9:14. In Jer 30:3, “my people, Israel” will see restoration also, and they are the exiled of both the northern and southern kingdoms.

THE EXILIC STATEMENT FROM 2 KINGS The inclusio about exile, wĕyiśrāʾēl gālô yigle(h) mēʿal ʾadmātô (vv. 11c; 17f), is

most likely from Kings. Williamson and Meindert Dijkstra noted the similarity with 2 Kgs 17:23 and 25:21.117 The first four words of 2 Kgs 17:23 are used in our phrase, but a cognate construction, gālô yigle(h), is 1 Sam 9:16; 2 Sam 3:18, 7:11; 1 Kgs 8:16, 14:7, 16:2. In 2 Sam 7:10, the place for “my people, for Israel” to dwell is appointed. “His people” is used in 2 Sam 7:23. “My people, Israel” is also used in Chronicles. 116 Jer 7:12, 30:3; Ezek 14:9, 25:14, 36:12, 38:16, 39:7. 117 Williamson, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 120. Dijkstra, “Neither a prophet,” 124. 115

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added and so the order of the verb (“exile”) and “Israel” is switched. Second Kings 17:23 is also about the northern kingdom: wayyigel yiśrāʾēl mēʿal ʾadmātô aššûrâ ʿad hayyôm hazze(h) (“and was exiled Israel from upon his land to Assyria until this day.”)118 The perfect tense changes to imperfect. Kings states the past: “and was exiled Israel from upon his land . . . ,” and Amos the future: “and Israel will surely be exiled from upon his land.” The wording of 2 Kgs 17:23 is used also in 25:21 but it is about the southern kingdom instead: wayyigel yĕhûdâ mēʿal ʾadmātô. Our text refers to yiśrāʾēl both times. If indeed taken from Kings, then a reason is provided for the lack of explicit reference to Assyria in the book of Amos. There is no need to add that the northern kingdom’s exile will be to Assyria because it is already stated in 2 Kgs 17:23, to which vv. 11 and 17 apparently link.

A KINGS’ NARRATIVE STYLE The affinity of vv. 7–17 with Kings and Jeremiah explains the narrative style of vv. 10–17 and its anomaly among the vision report structures. The narrative (vv. 10–17) was designed to follow the narratives of Kings. Verses 9–17 have been thought to be closer to books such as Kings and Jeremiah than to the book of Amos.119 In addition to considering the narrative an insertion, which was almost the unanimous view, some suggested “original” or “better” locations for it.120 J. A. Soggin, for example, expected the narrative to be at the beginning of the book, in line with the commission theme.121 Because v. 10 was considered abrupt and not an appropriate introduction, some thought the narrative was a fragment. Ackroyd suggested it might have originated in another book.122 Earlier, Riedel thought the verbal link, “Jeroboam,” is why the narrative is placed after the third vision report.123 By the latter half of the 20th century, the catchword principle gained acknowledgement and scholars agreed on that and other What I translated “his” in ʾadmātô is usually translated “its” or “their.” Ackroyd, “Judgment Narrative,” 76. 120 Gordis summarized, “All critics are agreed that [the narrative] is not in its proper place, but there is no unanimity as to its original position,” “Composition and Structure,” 217. See also Williamson, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 102–103; 116; 121. 121 J. A. Soggin, Introduction to The Old Testament: From Its Origins to the Closing of the Alexandrian Canon (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox, 1989), 284. 122 Ackroyd, “Judgment Narrative,” 84. Ackroyd also improvised reconstructions for the opening, ibid., 81–82. 123 This is according to Harper, Amos and Hosea, 168. Harper cites Riedel’s book in his bibliography on page xxvii as: Alttestamentliche Untersuchungen, Part I. (1902), 1– 36. 118 119

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verbal links. By the end of the century, Jeremias stated, “the narrative cannot be fully understood without that context.”124 We have seen that the vision report (vv. 7–9) and the narrative (vv. 10–17) are best understood together. The prior episode, the vision report, introduces the narrative. The reason the narrative is anomalous is because it was designed to imitate the narratives of Kings. Signs and words of the prophets through YHWH are shown fulfilled beginning around 1 Kgs 13. In Amos, the ʾănāk vision is shown fulfilled in our narrative. Amos was set like a tin wall in Bethel. As Ackroyd pointed out, our narrative is the only narrative in the book of Amos.125 He also noted several affinities between our narrative and Kings, Jeremiah, and Chronicles.126 Tucker noted parallels between our narrative, “a story of prophetic conflict,” and those in Jer 26 and 28.127 Claus Westermann showed parallel structures between Amos’s announcement of punishment against Amaziah (vv. 16–17), 1 Kgs 21:18– 19, and 2 Kgs 1:3–4.128 He also showed that the judgment speeches to individuals are in Samuel, Kings, Chronicles, and, in the Later Prophets: our narrative, Isaiah (from Kings), several in Jeremiah, and one in Ezekiel.129

AFFINITIES WITH JEREMIAH We have seen some affinities with Jeremiah. Besides the metallic wall metaphor, both our vv. 7–17 and Jer 1:1–19 contain wordplay visions and are about the prophet’s commission. Aaron Schart thought it “safe to assume a direct literary dependence” of Jeremiah on Amos’s third and fourth visions.130 However, it appears that Amos’s third vision did not influence Jeremiah, but that it was the other way around—Jeremiah influenced Amos’s third vision. Jeremiah’s commission has more detail; he will be made as not only a bronze wall, but also a fortified city and iron pillar (Jer 1:18). The third vision is more of an abstraction, as it is with Kings. There is also a possible indication of Babylonian influence. The two metals that occur in the Akkadian Hymn of Ishtar wordplay, tin and bronze, are the two metals that make up the walls of Amos and Jeremiah.131 Jeremias, Amos, 137. Ackroyd, “Judgment Narrative,” 71. 126 Ibid., 76–86. 127 Tucker, “Authenticity,” 430. 128 Westermann, Basic Forms, 130–132. 129 Ibid., 137. 130 A. Schart, “The Book of Jeremiah and the Visions of Amos,” RevExp 101 (2004), 267–286 (268). 131 Also, according to Landsberger, tributes of tin were “imposed by the Assyrians on their defeated foes.” “Tin and Lead,” 293. A question raised is 124 125

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Regarding possible composition by deuteronomists, Williamson wrote that the metallic wall instances in Jeremiah (Jer 1:18, 15:20) are in “Deuteronomistically influenced passages.”132 The spelling of Isaac also links Amos’s third vision to the book of Jeremiah. Outside of vv. 9 and 16, “yiśḥāq” is found only in Jer 33:26 and Ps 105:9 (MT). It is used in reference to the patriarchal covenant in the psalm (Ps 105:6–9). The covenants of both the patriarchs and David are referred to in Jer 33. Given the other affinities also, the date of composition may be closer to Jeremiah’s than thought. Yiśḥāq’s parallelism with yiśrāʾēl in our text disallows that its spelling with ‫ ׂש‬be a simple redaction. The rare spelling in the terse poetry of the Leitwörter threads (vv. 9, 13, 16), the shared theme of covenant, and the biblical formulaic use of “Isaac,” make the link possible.133 Also thematic to Jer 33 is the endurance of the southern kingship and priesthood (vv. 17–18, 21–22, 26). Thematic to Amos’s third vision are the endurance of the southern prophets and the extinction of the northern kingship and priesthood. Amos is able to return to the south and continue prophesying, but Amaziah will die on an unclean land. Jeroboam, who symbolizes the kingship, will die by the sword. Set in the time of Jeroboam II, Amos’s third vision tells of the exile of the northern kingdom.134 Jeremiah 33:7 tells of return from exile, for both the northern and southern kingdoms.

CONCLUSION The third vision of Amos (7:7–17) transforms the sin of Jeroboam I—the appointment of the temple of the high places and their priests at Bethel— into the curse of the northern cult and kingship. Whereas Jeremiah criticizes the southern kingship and priesthood, Amos’s third vision criticizes the north’s. The king and priestly characters’ deaths symbolize the end of their respective offices. The southern prophetic role endures and Amos’s resiliency is YHWH’s appointment. Verbal links and a chiasm portray Amos as the tin wall. The wordplay vision is replete with poetics that form structure and meaning, and shows a sophisticated and dynamic design.

whether the use of “tin” in Amos’s third vision might allude to Assyria, the captor of the northern kingdom and suzerain. 132 Williamson, “Prophet and Plumb-Line,” 121. 133 Ackroyd listed the uses of “Isaac” and the phrase, “Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” “Judgment Narrative,” 74. 134 Whether the third vision also alludes to the Babylonian exile is a question for further study.

THE BOOK OF THE WATCHERS (1 ENOCH 1–36): AN ANTI‐MOSAIC , NON‐MOSAIC, OR EVEN PRO‐MOSAIC WRITING? VERONIKA BACHMANN UNIVERSITY OF ZURICH INTRODUCTION Among the different sections of the First or Ethiopic Book of Enoch, the so-called Book of the Watchers (BW) (1 Enoch 1–36) is probably the catchiest one. It tells the story of angels who decided to transgress the boundaries of the cosmic order established by God. The consequences of their transgression are described as disastrous: the heavenly angels intrude into the worldly and human sphere causing chaos and suffering. The BW, however, is not just a story about these angels, their “fall,” and the world thrown out of order. On a narrative level, the story is told by Enoch, one of the human forefathers mentioned in Genesis 5:18–24. The entire BW is presented as his “words of blessing” addressing a distant generation (1 Enoch 1:1–2). Furthermore, Enoch tells us of his own role within the resolution of the story: He is told to act as a messenger between God and the angels, and to announce and underline God’s condemnation of the angels and their sin. Having in mind the BW’s pseudepigraphic character and the fact that Enoch plays an important role within the plot, it seems appropriate to adopt the common labelling of the writing and to call the BW an “Enochic writing.” From such a perspective, the qualifier “Enochic” basically highlights the narrative weight given to the fictive figure of Enoch by a set of writings. However, some scholars go even further: they call the BW “Enochic” claiming that the writing offers clues to trace back to a social group within Judaism which they call “the Enochians.” In their opinion, this group is a dissent movement, which no longer belongs to the predominant stream of 81

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Judaism, but opposes it. Against this background, the meaning of “Enochic” obviously turns into an ideological issue. “Enochic” becomes a label opposed to labels such as “Mosaic” or “Zadokite.” According to Gabriele Boccaccini, who prominently argues for the existence of an “Enochic Judaism,”1 such a movement originates from conflicts between priestly groups after the return from the Babylonian exile. While the “Zadokites” became the dominant priestly group, the religious authorities of the Second Temple period, the “Enochians” became the defeated dissidents, adopting a priestly and anti-priestly attitude at the same time. Accordingly, scholars claiming an “Enochic Judaism” assume that the BW expresses both this priestly and anti-priestly character. The idea of an “Enochic Judaism” is not without controversy.2 Nevertheless, it became quite common to characterize the BW as an antipriestly as well as an anti-mosaic or at least non-mosaic writing. In addition, many scholars tend to assume a somewhat common “Enochic” ideology shared by all writings centering on the figure of Enoch.3 Such an 1 Cf. Gabriele Boccaccini, Beyond the Essene Hypothesis: The Parting of the Ways between Qumran and Enochic Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998); idem, Roots of Rabbinic Judaism: An Intellectual History, from Ezekiel to Daniel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002); idem, “Enochians, Urban Essenes, Qumranites: Three Social Groups, one Intellectual Movement,” idem and John J. Collins (eds.), The Early Enoch Literature (JSJSup, 121; Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2007), 301–27. Boccaccini’s work is influenced by Paolo Sacchi’s contributions on Second Temple Judaism(s), cf. Paolo Sacchi, Jewish Apocalyptic and Its History (JSPSup, 20; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997). How Sacchi’s assumptions in turn became interwoven with Boccaccini’s sharpened thoughts about the “Enoch literature” becomes clear in Paolo Sacchi, “The Book of the Watchers as an Apocalyptic and Apocryphal Text,” Henoch 30 (2008), 9–26. 2 Cf. the caveats uttered by different scholars in part five of Gabriele Boccaccini (ed.), Enoch and Qumran Origins: New Light on a Forgotten Connection (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005). Evaluating the contributions published in Gabriele Boccaccini and John J. Collins (eds.), The Early Enoch Literature, Florentino García Martínez underlines the exigency “to verify the existence of a sociological community behind the literary compositions which are the Enochic works, or to disprove totally its existence and dismiss it as a scholarly construct.” [Idem, “Conclusion: Mapping the Threads,” Gabriele Boccaccini and John J. Collins (eds.), The Early Enoch Literature (JSJSup, 121; Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2007), 329–35 (334).] 3 Some of the above said scholars and their assumptions are mentioned in the following chapter. For recent contributions assuming that the BW raises priestly issues, cf. Martha Himmelfarb, “Temple and Priests in the Book of the Watchers, the Animal Apocalypse, and the Apocalypse of Weeks,” in The Early Enoch Literature, 219–35; Grant Macaskill, “Priestly Purity, Mosaic Torah, and the

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interpretation has a long history, whereby the influence of scholars such as G. H. Dix is unmistakable: In the twenties of the last century, Dix published his famous article “The Enochic Pentateuch.” Here, he describes the composers of 1 Enoch as “religious rebels,” as “spiritual revolutionaries,” and as “the non-conformists of their day.”4 As the title of the article suggests, Dix speaks of an “Enochic Pentateuch.” In his view, this Pentateuch formed “another Torah, framed upon the model of the Mosaic Torah…”5 The aim of the present paper is to examine the question of whether it is adequate to speak of the BW as an anti- or non-mosaic writing. Do the characteristics of the narrative allow for such conclusions? The question has

Emergence of Enochic Judaism,” Henoch 29 (2007), 67–89; David W. Suter, “Temples and the Temple in the Early Enoch Tradition: Memory, Vision, and Expectation,” in The Early Enoch Literature, 195–218; Luca Arcari, “Autodefinizione sacerdotale e polemica contro i detentori del culto templare nel giudaismo del Secondo Tempio (enochismo e Qumran) e nel protocristianesimo (Ap),” Ricerche storico bibliche 21 (2009), 83–125; Helge S. Kvanvig, “Enochic Judaism: A Judaism Without the Torah and the Temple?,” Gabriele Boccaccini and Giovanni Ibba (eds.), Enoch and the Mosaic Torah: The Evidence of Jubilees (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 163–77; Annette Y. Reed, “Enochic and Mosaic Traditions in Jubilees: The Evidence of Angelology and Demonology,” Enoch and the Mosaic Torah: The Evidence of Jubilees, 353–68. A more cautious stance is, for instance, taken by Pierluigi Piovanelli, “‘Sitting by the Waters of Dan,’ or the ‘Tricky Business’ of Tracing the Social Profile of the Communities that Produced the Earliest Enochic Texts,” in The Early Enoch Literature, 257–81 (278); James C. VanderKam, “Mapping Second Temple Judaism,” in The Early Enoch Literature, 1–20, 20; John J. Collins, “How distinctive was Enochic Judaism?,” Meghillot V–VI (2008), *17–*34, esp. *26–*29, *33, and Erik W. Larson, “Worship in Jubilees and Enoch,” in Enoch and the Mosaic Torah: The Evidence of Jubilees, 369–83, (382–83). For an extensive discussion of this topic, see the excursus “Die Engel als Priester?” in Veronika Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand: Eine Untersuchung zu Aussagegehalt und Theologie des Wächterbuches (1 Hen 1–36), (BZAW, 409; Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2009), 131–48. Most recent contributions presenting the BW as reflecting a distinctive, not Torah centred form of Judaism include Collins, “How distinctive was Enochic Judaism?” and Helge S. Kvanvig, “Enoch—From Sage to Visionary Apocalyptist,” Henoch 30 (2008), 48–51. Corrado Martone, “The Enochic Tradition and the Diversity of Second Temple Judaism,” Henoch 30 (2008), 51–55 (53) even questions whether one can speak of the Enochic theology manifest in the Enochic literature as a Jewish theology. 4 G. H. Dix, “The Enochic Pentateuch,” JTS 27 (1926), 29–42 (32). 5 Dix, “The Enochic Pentateuch,” 31.

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already been raised from a critical point of view by Kelley Coblentz Bautch.6 She cautiously concludes: For those who understand the Enochic community to be ambivalent toward the Mosaic legacy, it would seem that still more evidence would be helpful in order for us to clearly discern a divide between the developing Enochic tradition and that of Mosaic Judaism. On the other hand, for those who understand the Enochic corpus as further proof of covenantal nomism or as consisting of works that attest to the same kind of Judaism as presented in Ezra or Ben Sira, it would seem more substantial evidence that establishes a direct relationship between the Enochic works and Mosaic law is a desideratum.7

Bautch herself thus remains rather indecisive. Exploring a “mosaic” understanding of the BW, she mainly juxtaposes two approaches: On the one hand, she refers to E. P. Sanders work “Paul and Palestinian Judaism.” According to Sanders, the several Enochic writings forming 1 Enoch8 share the religious pattern he calls “covenantal nomism,” a pattern under which he finally subsumes all ancient Jewish writings. In his view, Paul was the first to establish “an essentially different type of religiousness from any found in Palestinian Jewish literature.”9 On the other hand, Bautch surveys the different attempts of scholars to detect particular legal concerns within the text. In this regard, she rightly states that “[g]enerally speaking, the text is concerned with lawful behaviour, but it is difficult to determine what constitutes law for the author.”10 In recent years, Mark A. Elliott started to promote anew the idea that covenantal thinking underlies the BW. In his book “The Survivors of Israel,” he challenges the conventional nationalistic view of election theology referring to pre-Christian Jewish groups.11 In fact, he intends to Cf. Kelley Coblentz Bautch, A Study of the Geography of 1 Enoch 17–19: “No One Has Seen What I Have Seen” (JSJSup, 81; Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2003), 289–99. See also Paul Heger’s recent contribution “1 Enoch—Complementary or Alternative to Mosaic Torah?,” JSJ 41 (2010), 29–62. 7 Bautch, Geography of 1 Enoch 17–19, 299. 8 Sanders actually does not further consider the so called Similitudes (1 Enoch 37–71) in his study. 9 E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion (London: SCM, 1977), 543. 10 Bautch, Geography of 1 Enoch 17–19, 298. 11 Mark A. Elliott, The Survivors of Israel: A Reconsideration of the Theology of PreChristian Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000); cf. idem, “Covenant and Cosmology in the Book of the Watchers and the Astronomical Book,” Henoch 24 6

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show “that a Jewish theology of special election existed well in advance of the New Testament period.”12 It is within this agenda that he ascribes a covenantal trait to the BW. In Elliott’s opinion, the BW stems from one of the “Remnant Groups” representing such a view of special election, whereby the latter is expressed by a conditional view of covenant and a soteriological dualism. The “Remnant Groups”, according to Elliott, consisted of pious Jews who were confronted with transformations within their religion.13 As a result, he sees the BW as “the reaction of pietists to perceived apostasy in Israel.”14 Similar to Sanders’s view, Elliott’s position remains disputed among scholars. Concerning our main question, it indeed appears that both scholars tend to interpret the Enochic writings under strong guidance of their overall assumption. Furthermore, like many scholars advocating a non- or an antimosaic trait of the BW, they sum up the particularities found in the different Enochic writings instead of tracing the individual narrative and theological profiles of the different writings. The question remains open whether an examination of the BW itself could support labelling the BW as “covenantal” or even “mosaic.” In order to explore this question, I will begin with a review of the most common arguments leading to the notion that the BW is a non- or an anti-mosaic writing. Such a review should allow to better recognize the presuppositions underlying this conclusion and to raise some methodological questions. The second part, focusing on the BW’s way of presenting the present times as a “time out of order” and the book’s notion of knowledge and law, will be dedicated to the question whether and how an alternative reading is possible.

THE BW, ENOCH AND MOSES As I already mentioned, the BW is not just considered as having a non- or anti-mosaic character by supporters of an “Enochic Judaism,” but by a much greater number of scholars. Accordingly, the line of argument can differ considerably from one scholar to another. The aim of the following is to focus on the most common points made. Before going straight into the arguments, it might be helpful to recall the content of the BW in more detail (cf. the table below): Chapters 1–5 form the introductory part, presenting the whole writing as a blessing speech of Enoch addressing a distant generation. A future judgment by (2002), 23–38. 12 Elliott, The Survivors of Israel, 640. 13 In this respect, Elliott underlines the influence of Hellenism prior to the reign of Antiochus IV; cf. idem, The Survivors of Israel, 191–196, 202, 208–213. 14 Ibid., 236.

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God on Mount Sinai is announced—for the benefit of the righteous and holding accountable those who acted against God’s will, the sinners. The introduction is followed by the “Story of the Watchers,” a narrative explaining how in ancient times the worldly order was disturbed by the deeds of a group of so called Watcher angels. These angels took for themselves human wives, fathered voracious giants and spread knowledge among humans which had been until then unknown to humankind. The story culminates in the depiction of a great affliction. Chapters 9–11 form the first sequel of this story, focusing on the reactions in heaven. Highranking angels ask God what to do; God’s answer reveals that he has clear plans against the evil-doers. The second sequel of the Watcher’s story focuses on Enoch as the messenger between the rebel angels and God. A petition asking for forgiveness is refused by God. This closing section confirms God’s plans and the fact that he is able and willing to prosecute any transgression of the order he established as the great creator and ruler of the universe. Content and Literary Structure of the Book of the Watchers (1 Enoch 1–36) 1–5 Introduction Enoch’s speech of blessing (addressing a distant generation) Announcement of God’s judgment on Mount Sinai 6–8 “Story of the Watchers” Some Watcher angels mix with human • Exposition (6,1–7,2) women and reveal knowledge to • Complication (7,3–8,4) humankind Disastrous outcome of the angels’ deeds 9–11 First Sequel Reactions in “heaven”; God reveals his • Resolution I (9–11) plan to the high-ranking angels Michael, Sariel, Rafael and Gabriel 12–36 Second Sequel Enoch mediates between the rebel • Resolution IIa (12,1–13,3) angels and God; endorsement of God’s • Challenge of the plan against the Watchers and their Resolution (13,4–10) accomplices • Resolution IIb (14–36)

In order to underline the non- or anti-mosaic trait of the BW, many scholars point to the universal scope of the work. Indeed: • Enoch is not an “Israelite figure” in the strict sense, but an antediluvian forefather of the entire humankind. • According to the BW, the troubles described affect the whole world and all of its inhabitants.

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• Finally, the BW suggests that every single creature is supposed to live

according to the order established by the one God. For humans, this means that Israelites and non-Israelites are likewise obliged to follow the rules he established for them. But it also means that every human being—whether Israelite or not—is able to forfeit God’s favour by ignoring and transgressing these rules. According to James VanderKam, the composers of the BW (and of 1 Enoch at large) consciously avoided any reference to Israelite law. In his view, they intended to impart a basic law significant for all humans. He further argues that affiliating oneself with the tradition of Enoch meant to accept the revelations of Enoch as guidelines for life. Or as he puts it: The Enochic tradition (…) finds its cornerstone not in the Sinaitic covenant and law but in events around the time of the flood. (…) The primary revelations to which the tradition appealed were those disclosures given to Enoch before the flood. At that time, an extraordinary wisdom and an understanding of the course of human history were disclosed to him. On the basis of those disclosures the pious person in this tradition was to live. 15

Unlike VanderKam, George W. Nickelsburg is one of those scholars who notice that the perspective of the BW is not merely universal.16 In fact, the text for instance, announces that God will appear on Mount Sinai (1 Enoch 1:4). Although the name “Sinai” is not mentioned again, it is likely that the text also refers to this site of God’s descent to earth in chapter 18 (v. 8) and in chapters 24–25.17 From the fact that the judgment will take place on Mount Sinai, Nickelsburg concludes that according to the BW “the Torah 15 James C. VanderKam, “The Interpretation of Genesis in 1 Enoch,” Peter W. Flint (ed.), The Bible at Qumran: Text, Shape, and Interpretation (Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 129–148 (142– 143). 16 For Nickelsburg’s discussions of the relationship of the writings of 1 Enoch to the “Mosaic Torah,” cf. idem, “Scripture in 1 Enoch and 1 Enoch as Scripture,” Tord Fornberg and David Hellholm (eds.), Texts and Contexts. Biblical Texts in Their Textual and Situational Contexts. Essays in Honor of Lars Hartman (Oslo: Scandinavian University Press, 1995), 333–354; idem, “Enochic Wisdom. An Alternative to the Mosaic Torah?,” Jodi Magness and Seymour Gitin (eds.), Hesed ve-emet: Studies in Honor of Ernest S. Frerichs (BJS 320; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), 123–132; idem, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1–36; 81–108 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001), esp. 50–53, 57–61; idem, “Enochic Wisdom and Its Relationship to the Mosaic Torah,” in The Early Enoch Literature, 81–94. 17 Cf. Bautch, Geography of 1 Enoch 17–19, 107–114, 120–126.

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given on Sinai would be the basis of that judgment.”18 Such a statement suggests that Nickelsburg does not differentiate between Enochic and Sinaitic law as VanderKam does. However, Nickelsburg clearly adheres to the idea that all in all 1 Enoch—he likes to speak of “Enochic wisdom”—is “non-mosaic.” What he means by this, however, especially with regard to the BW, is not expressed very clearly. For instance, he not only points to 1 Enoch 1:4 in order to substantiate that the Torah given on Sinai would be the basis of the great judgment announced by Enoch; he also refers to the same passage arguing that the authors intended to depreciate the character of Moses by placing “in the mouth of Enoch a text that was modelled after the Blessing of Moses (Deuteronomy 33).”19 The reasons for such an intention of the authors are not elaborated. Nor is further explained how this judgment fits with the first statement.20 As a proponent of the idea of an “Enochic Judaism,” the German New Testament scholar Andreas Bedenbender, advances a view based on the combination of the observations made by VanderKam and Nickelsburg.21 Bedenbender assumes that the BW was originally composed as a “non-mosaic” writing, which then underwent a process of “Mosaisierung.” The BW was made “mosaic.” According to Bedenbender, this process temporally coincides with the persecution under Antiochus IV 167 BCE. He therefore concludes that the introductory chapters of the BW, 18 Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1, 145. The idea that the mentioning of Mount Sinai in 1 Enoch 1:4 calls for a conversion to Torah has already been put forward by Lars Hartman, Asking for a Meaning: A Study of 1 Enoch 1–5 (ConBNT 12; Lund: Gleerup, 1979). Hartman states that “[b]oth the universal responsibility and the covenant obligation are certainly ideas that are of importance” in this passage (ibid., 44). 19 Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1, 52. 20 In the introduction of his commentary on 1 Enoch 1–36 and 81–108, he downplays the role of the Sinaitic law and writes more cautiously than in the quotation above: “Since God will judge ‘all flesh’ (i.e., Jews and Gentiles) (…), the Sinaitic covenant and Torah cannot be the only point of reference.” (Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1, 50.) 21 Cf. Andreas Bedenbender, Der Gott der Welt tritt auf den Sinai: Entstehung, Entwicklung und Funktionsweise der frühjüdischen Apokalyptik (Arbeiten zur neutestamentlichen Theologie und Zeitgeschichte 8; Berlin: Institut Kirche und Judentum, 2000) and especially idem, “Als Mose und Henoch zusammenfanden: Die Entstehung der frühjüdischen Apokalyptik als Reaktion auf die Religionsverfolgung unter Antiochus IV. Epiphanes,” Hermann Lichtenberger and Gerbern S. Oegema (eds.), Jüdische Schriften in ihrem antik-jüdischen und urchristlichen Kontext (Studien zu den Jüdischen Schriften aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit 1; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2002), 182–203; idem, “The Place of the Torah in the Early Enoch Literature,” in The Early Enoch Literature, 65–79.

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chapters 1–5, were added only around that time, with the purpose of a rapprochement between Enochic and Mosaic Judaism. The introductory chapters and especially the mentioning of Mount Sinai, in Bedenbender’s view, document the “Weg des Henochgottes zum Sinai.”22 He argues that such a rapprochement was reasonable for both sides in order to cope with the situation. In sum, similar to Nickelsburg, Bedenbender includes the mentioning of Mount Sinai into his reasoning about the relationship of the BW to the “Mosaic” stream of Judaism. Unlike Nickelsburg, he clearly considers the reference to Mount Sinai as indicating a positive reference, not a depreciation of Moses. Concurring with VanderKam, Bedenbender assumes that the remaining parts of the BW are “non-mosaic.” Unfortunately, he does not provide clear arguments for this last assumption, but rather draws on the scholarly consensus. Gabriele Boccaccini’s contributions offer further hints. As I mentioned in the beginning, he assumes the opposition of two priestly movements in post-exilic times, whereby the BW represents the ideology of the Enochic dissent movement. Boccaccini emphasizes that the Zadokites understood themselves as “the faithful keepers of the cosmic order.”23 With this self-image in mind, the present was supposed to represent the divine order and stability. For the Enochians, in contrast, “God’s past order has been replaced by…disorder.”24 Boccaccini sees this understanding expressed by the “Story of the Watchers” and by the corresponding depiction of history: Due to the Watcher’s deeds in the far past, the worldly order (the present time, respectively) is still fundamentally corrupt. Boccaccini writes about the consequences: For the Enochians, the power that the house of Zadok claims is mere illusion, if not the guilty pretentiousness of evil usurpers. Evil and impurity are uncontrollable, and human beings, including the proud priests of Jerusalem, are powerless. The only hope is in God’s intervention.25

And he adds that the Enochians “completely ignore the Mosaic torah and the Jerusalem temple, that is, the two tenets of the order of the universe.”26 Summarizing the positions hitherto mentioned, the following picture emerges: 22 Bedenbender, 23 Boccaccini,

Ibid. Ibid., 74. 26 Ibid. 24 25

Der Gott der Welt tritt auf den Sinai, 234. Beyond the Essene Hypothesis, 73.

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VERONIKA BACHMANN • Scholars such as VanderKam and Boccaccini assume a non-mosaic character observing that some figures and institutions are not mentioned within the BW. From this observation they more or less directly conclude that the composers intended to ideologically dissociate themselves from groups behind texts attributing more significance to such figures and institutions. • Furthermore, we saw that Boccaccini emphasizes the BW’s understanding of the present as a time of disorder. In his view, such an understanding seriously challenges the ideology of writings such as Esra, Nehemia, P or Chronicles and therefore must point to a different author- and readership. • Nickelsburg’s observations remain ambivalent. On the one hand, he clearly notices a link to the Sinaitic law. On the other hand, he nevertheless assumes that the figures of Enoch and Moses are played off against each other. • Finally, similar to Nickelsburg, Bedenbender is aware of the ambivalent picture. However, he resolves the tension by identifying different text layers, that is, by applying a diachronic approach: since in his view, the introductory chapters do not fit ideologically with the ideas attributed to “Enochic Judaism,” they must have been added later.

THE BW AND THE “LORD OF SINAI” Among the most recent contributions, we encounter a further interpretation of the BW’s reference to Mount Sinai. Instead of deeming it a clear indication for a “mosaic” trait of the BW, Helge S. Kvanvig, for instance, suggests that the mentioning of Sinai might not draw on the tradition of the giving of the law, but on “the presumably oldest Sinai tradition where Sinai is the abode of God, who reveals himself in theophanies.”27 However, scholars draw different conclusions from this observation. According to Kvanvig, the missing reference to the Mosaic Torah should not be seen “as a deliberate denial of its legitimacy.” For in his view, the Torah as a literary construct, known from passages such as Nehemia 8–10, “had not yet gained broad authority” at the time of its

27 Kvanvig, “Enochic Judaism,” 171. Or as Collins states: “(…) a mere reference to Sinai does not in itself establish a reference to covenantal law-making. Sinai was the mountain of theophany long before it was associated with the giving of the Law.” (Collins, “How distinctive was Enochic Judaism?,” *30.)

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composition.28 John J. Collins, in contrast, embeds the same interpretation of 1 Enoch 1:4 into his overall picture of the “Enoch literature”: The understanding of the relationship between the elect and God may be covenantal, in the sense that it is based on laws which entail reward or punishment as their consequences, but it is not based on the Mosaic covenant, which was so widely accepted as the foundation of Jewish religion in the Hellenistic period.29

Kvanvig’s and Collins’s interpretation of 1 Enoch 1:4 reminds us to be very careful when exploring the range of meanings a reference is able to evoke.30 Indeed, it would be inadequate to interpret the reference to Mount Sinai as exclusively referring to the narration of the giving of the law at Mount Sinai. In several texts, YHWH is portrayed as what we could call the “Lord of Sinai:”31 As such, YHWH majestically appears on earth, and the earth is shaken by the deity’s powerful appearance. All of these texts further specify the power of God: God is depicted as the one who powerfully supports his own people (cf. Deut 33:26–29; Hab 3:13; Judg 5:5) or, more generally, his creatures (cf. Ps 68:11) and who brings his or his people’s enemies to justice. Returning to the BW and reconsidering its content and its selfdesignation as a blessing speech, we find that this traditional notion of YHWH fits nicely into the larger picture. The entire writing predominantly underlines that God is committed to his creation and holds accountable any wrongdoers. However, how tenable is it to assume that the reference to Mount Sinai might have triggered merely this old “Lord of Sinai” notion? As Kvanvig and others emphasize, we should certainly refrain from anachronistically assuming an entrenched biblical canon for the 3rd century BCE, the time when the BW was most probably composed.32 Kvanvig, “Enochic Judaism,” 172. In a similar way, Reed, “Enochic and Mosaic Traditions in Jubilees,” 365–366 advises caution against assuming anachronistically an exclusive and central position of the Pentateuch in Second Temple times. 29 Collins, “How distinctive was Enochic Judaism?,” *32. 30 Cf. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1, 144–145, offering important observations in this regard. 31 Cf. Ps 68:9 and Judg 5:5 referring to YHWH as ‫יהוה זה סיני‬/‫אלהים‬, but also texts such as Deut 33 and Hab 3:3–6. For a discussion of recent attempts to date these references to Sinai as late as to Hellenistic times, see Martin Leuenberger, “Jhwhs Herkunft aus dem Süden: Archäologische Befunde – biblische Überlieferungen – historische Korrelationen,” ZAW 122 (2010): 1–19. 32 For further considerations about the dating of the BW see the following 28

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Notwithstanding, most of our models on the growth of the biblical books suggest that the narrative traditions of the Urgeschichte and the narrative traditions about Mount Sinai and about Moses were intertwined at least since late Persian times. This strong consensus in my view makes it difficult to maintain that people in early Hellenistic times were unfamiliar with the story about the giving of the law to Moses at Mount Sinai. On the contrary, such an overall picture suggests that the composers of the BW could indeed presuppose that their addressees were not only familiar with the notion of the “Lord of Sinai,” but also with the story of Moses receiving the laws on Mount Sinai as well as the related narratives. As we will see below, the meaning of the text is reinforced by both references. Scholars who assume that the composers aimed at one reference only would need to further explicate why and by which narrative means readers are prompted to consider only one of the two semantic ranges.

SOME METHODOLOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS After this brief comment on the interpretation of the reference to Mount Sinai in 1 Enoch 1:4, let us return to the other scholarly arguments. The overview above might have revealed that in spite of all the differences, the arguments unfold in a similar manner. Many of the conclusions tend to relate basically to the visibility or non-visibility of particular ideas and the occurrence or non-occurrence of single figures or terms. Relatively little importance is attributed to thoughts about the historical context, and even less to the pragmatics of the text. In many cases, the text and its elements tend to be perceived statically instead of being understood as means of textual communication. Referring to such kind of interpretation, Christof Hardmeier and other scholars, based on communication-oriented linguistics, distinguish between an approach which they call “representationssemantisch” and one which they call “instruktionssemantisch.”33 For them, a text forms a sequence of signs initiating a process of generating meaning on the part of the readers or listeners. Every sign figures as a carrier of semantic instruction and offers a further clue within this process and in this sense channels the reading chapter. 33 Cf. Christof Hardmeier and Regine Hunziker-Rodewald, “Texttheorie und Texterschliessung. Grundlagen einer empirisch-textpragmatischen Exegese,” Helmut Utzschneider and Erhard Blum (eds.) Lesarten der Bibel. Untersuchungen zu einer Theorie der Exegese des Alten Testaments (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2006), 13–44 (offering further references). The distinction builds on the theoretical model developed by Siegfried Schmidt in the seventies of the 20th century.

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process.34 Having such a notion of text in mind, assessing the meaning of a single textual element necessarily implies taking into account the dynamics of the entire lexematic field. Of course, interpreting a text does not in itself require such a communication-oriented perspective.35 However, if we are interested in tracing back to those who might have written and promoted a text (and if we are optimistic enough to find some hints through our sources), such a communication-oriented understanding of literature might be helpful.36 As I will show in the following, such an understanding, as trivial as it sounds, indeed questions some of the prevailing opinions about the BW. Cf. Umberto Eco’s statement addressing readers of Finnegans Wake: “[B]ada che l’autore, che ha tanto faticato ad architettare questa immense macchina per produrre interpretazioni, ha anche cercato di indicarti dei percorsi di lettura. Non si è limitato a ricopiare l’elenco telefonico, in base al quale, grazie alla dovizia di personaggi, ciascuno può costruirsi la Commedia Umana che desidera, ma ha disposto con meditata accortezza ogni pun, ogni incrocio di allusioni, e il suo testo richiede anche quest’atto di rispetto.” [Idem, I limiti dell’interpretazione (Studi Bompiani. Il campo semiotico; Milano: Bompiani, 1990), 106.] Translated into German: “Vergiss (…) nicht, dass der Autor, der soviel Mühe aufwandte, um diese gewaltige Maschine zum hervorbringen von Interpretationen zu bauen, auch versucht hat, dir bestimmte Interpretationswege vorzugeben. Er hat sich nicht darauf beschränkt, das Telefonbuch abzuschreiben, von dem ausgehend sich jeder aus der Unzahl von Personen ganz nach Wunsch eine Menschliche Komödie zusammenstellen kann, sondern hat mit Bedacht jeden pun, jedes Sichüberschneiden von Anspielungen vorbereitet, und sein Text möchte sich auch in dieser Hinsicht gewürdigt sehen.” [Idem, Die Grenzen der Interpretation (3d. ed.; dtv 30168; München: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 2004), 143; the English translation (or rather adaptation, since it differs from the Italian original in many ways) skips this passage.] 35 On this topic, see part one of Lesarten der Bibel. 36 For a fruitful methodological approach based on examining the literary function of the specific manner how certain literary figures are depicted within different writings, see Reed, “Enochic and Mosaic Traditions in Jubilees” (though mainly about Jubilees). Among the few contributions taking into account the literary character on the BW (whereby this approach does not necessarily imply a communication-oriented understanding of literature) figure Lars Hartman, Asking for a Meaning: A Study of 1 Enoch 1–5 (ConBNT 12; Lund: Gleerup, 1979) (examining the introductory chapters); Johan C. Thom, “Aspects of the Form, Meaning and Function of the Book of Watchers,” Neotestamentica 17 (1983), 40–49; Martin Stowasser, “Heil und Gericht im ‘Buch der Wächter.’ Ein Versuch zu einem synchronen Verständnis von 1 Hen 1–36,” Protokolle zur Bibel 13 (2004), 25–47; Helge S. Kvanvig, “Origin and Identity of the Enoch Group,” Henoch 24 (2002), 207–212; Piovanelli, “ ‘Sitting by the Waters of Dan.’” 34

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A READING BEYOND “ENOCHIC” VERSUS “MOSAIC”? It is not possible to provide an extensive close reading of the BW within the confines of the present article.37 In response to the scholarly arguments discussed above, I want to address two selected topics that highlight some of the results of such a reading. However, one question must be answered in advance: When interpreting the BW, it is important to determine which text unit is envisioned. What I am focusing on is the pre-Maccabean version of the BW in its “Enochic” form. In this case, “Enochic” means that I am working with a version which already combines the material about the Watchers with traditions about Enoch. The manuscript evidence allows us to conclude that such a version has circulated as an independent writing in the 3rd century BCE when Palestine was under Ptolemaic dominion.38 4Q201 furthermore allows for the assumption that such a 3rd century version already included the introductory chapters and probably also at least parts of the accounts of Enoch’s journey. Although a general form of such a version may be determined, reflections on the growth of the text remain indispensable. Such reflections for instance led me to conclude that the passages 19:1–2 (ideologically concurring with 8:1 of the Greek Syncellus For such a reading, see Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 63–107. The different scrolls allow the conclusion that at least two of the writings have once circulated and were read as independent writings: the Astronomical Book [at least in a form containing the calendar material, maybe still without being linked to the figure of Enoch; cf. Michael A. Knibb, “The Book of Enoch or Books of Enoch? The Textual Evidence for 1 Enoch,” in The Early Enoch Literature, 21–40 (21–22); Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, “Some Remarks on the Book of the Watchers, the Priests, Enoch and Genesis, and 4Q208,” Henoch 24 (2002), 143–45 (145); idem and Florentino G. García Martínez, “4QAstronomical Enocha-b ar,” Philip Alexander et al. (eds.), Qumran Cave 4 XXVI: Cryptic Texts and Miscellanea, Part 1 (DJD 36; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000), 95–171 (95, 105) and the BW. Concerning the BW cf. 4Q201 and 4Q202, both stemming from the 2nd century BCE and solely witnessing fragments of the BW. Against this latter assumption, Michaël Langlois, Le premier manuscrit du “Livre d’Hénoch:” Étude épigraphique et philologique des fragments araméens de 4Q201 à Qumrân (Lectio divina; Paris: Editions du Cerf, 2008) recently considered that fragments 1l, 1o and 2 of 4Q201 might be attributed to 1 Enoch 93:4–6; 102:7–10 and to the Book of the Giants respectively. Whether Langlois’s reading of the fragments turns out to be more convincing than Milik’s reading remains to be seen; his proposal at least points to the difficulty that several Aramaic fragments are too scanty for drawing clear conclusions. In any case, only 4Q204, 4Q205 and 4Q206 undoubtedly contain fragments of the BW beside other “Enochic” writings within the same scroll. All of these scrolls stem from the 1st century BCE. 37 38

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fragment) and 33:3–36:3 (linking the BW to the contents of an “Enochic” Astronomical Book) might be later additions.39

THE IDEA OF A “WORLD OUT OF ORDER” The first issue to address is the BW’s understanding of the present time as a time of disorder. The BW conveys an understanding of history which along general lines is known from the prophetic literature:40 An ideal “Ur-Zeit” is followed by corrupt times, whereby the present time is understood to be part of this corrupt era. However, a turn in history initiating the restoration of good times is announced. By explaining the negative turn of history with the narrative about the Watcher angels, the BW combines this overall picture with the priestly idea that the decline of history started at a very early stage in human history, in the time of the earliest forefathers of humankind. The angels started trespassing God’s order “in the days of Jared” (1 Enoch 6:6), and it is his son, Enoch, who tells us about these events and about his own involvement (1 Enoch 1–5; 12–36). It is important to see that the BW not only emphasizes that the world was corrupted once the angels challenged God’s order. Reciting the deeds, but also the consequences of such deeds and the destiny of the angels, the BW points to several stages within this corrupt era. The deeds of the angels first lead to a disastrous era even jeopardizing the existence of humanity (1 Enoch 7–8). Thanks to the emergency steps ordered by God (1 Enoch 9– 11), this era leads to another, which coincides with the present of the readers. The latter remains corrupt, but in a more latent sense: Human beings still hand down the tempting knowledge and techniques received from the angels; and moreover, the offspring of angels still bother humans as “evil spirits” (cf. chapter 15). A blessed life for the righteous is still not guaranteed. Only the future great judgment on the wrongdoers among all creatures will bring about a restored good era. If we pay attention to the pragmatics, it turns out that the BW emphasizes the sovereignty of God and the relevance of his rules through 39 Concerning the assumption that the Astronomical Book was not necessarily linked with traditions about the figure of Enoch in its early version, see the previous note. For further arguments supporting the idea that 1 Enoch 19:1–2 and 33:3–36:3 are later additions, see Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, Prophets of Old and the Day of the End: Zechariah, the Book of Watchers and Apocalyptic (Oudtestamentische studiën 35; Leiden/New York/Köln: Brill, 1996), 157–158, 161–163; Veronika Bachmann, “Rooted in Paradise? The Meaning of the ‘Tree of Life’ in 1 Enoch 24–25 Reconsidered,” JSP 19 (2009), 83–107 (22–25, 39–43). 40 Cf. Klaus Koch, Die Profeten I: Assyrische Zeit (3d. ed.; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1995), 247–48.

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its understanding of history: God remains the great powerful one and his rules remain the only ones preventing his creatures from being judged, although there are times (such as the present one) in which the (Jewish) God and this God’s rules appear less attractive. As a result, the readers are called to reconsider their way of life. They are called upon to decide whether to live as those who respect and appreciate the true ruler of the universe—or to live as the accomplices of the angels, aspiring for more than what God provided for every species.41 By its specific manner of emphasizing the biblically well known call to return to God, the BW combines different theological streams manifest in the religious writings of ancient Israel: Its strong focus on the theme of God’s perfectly established and essentially untouchable order recalls priestly and sapiential ideas. However, it also includes patterns of thoughts manifest in deuteronomistic texts: the BW exhibits that it is possible to forfeit the favour of God. In order to provide an understanding of the present as a “time out of order,” it explains how this had actually already happened in history—with the far-reaching consequences exposed throughout the book. In this regard, it is striking that on the narrative level the BW does not centre on human misconduct, but the misconduct of celestial beings.42 The deeds of such celestial beings are even depicted as the origin of any human misconduct. On a theological level, this not only unburdens God—who remains the creator of a perfect, everlasting universe who never intended to cause any evil—but to some extent also the humans. For such an overall picture allows perceiving them both as offenders and victims. Whereas there is no forgiveness for the angels who sinned (cf. 1 Enoch 13ff.), the BW insinuates that returning to a decent way of life still pays off for humans.43

The angels desired women; although as eternal beings, they do not need to procreate like the mortal humans (cf. 1 Hen 15); likewise, the knowledge and the techniques disseminated among the humans can be interpreted as creating the desire for representing and having more than God provided; see in greater detail Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 68–69. 42 At this point, many scholars turn to an allegorical reading, assuming that by mentioning the angels the authors actually referred to human priests or a to a specific priestly group. Against such a reading, see Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 131–48. Although the BW centres on the misconduct of celestial beings, it also mentions human misconduct. In fact, human wrongdoing is addressed in every of its literary parts (cf. 1 Enoch 1–5; 8; 9:8; 16:3; 22; 27). 43 Such reading of course remains barred for those scholars who adhere to the assumption that the rebel angels refer to priests. 41

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According to the proposed reading, the depiction of the present as a “time out of order” proves to be one important element generating the strong appellative character of the BW. The question remains what the BW means by God’s rules that are not to be transgressed. As we saw, some scholars assume a set of “Enochic laws” which differ from the Sinaitic or Mosaic law. The second question I shall therefore address is what it means to speak of Enoch’s revelations or knowledge, or even of Enoch’s “wisdom.”

GOD’S RULES AND ENOCH’S KNOWLEDGE First, it is striking that the BW itself makes no explicit claim to convey wisdom. We should therefore be very cautious when using terms such as “Enochic wisdom.” If we analyze the book’s use of the term “wisdom” and if we carefully observe the different ways of how knowledge plays a role within the writing, we discover that the BW’s notion of wisdom is quite particular.44 On one hand, the BW adheres in a traditional manner to the idea that wisdom implies well-being for the righteous (cf. 1 Enoch 5). On the other hand, we saw that the BW depicts the present as a disturbed era in which righteous people are not necessarily rewarded with a good fortune. The composers of the BW apparently resolved this tension by separating “knowledge” from “wisdom.” Whereas knowledge is depicted as being available through all times, wisdom is tied to the good eras of history: Wisdom strikes roots as soon as God’s order is established and permanently maintained.45 Once having adduced this notion of wisdom, the notion of knowledge or revelation may be better traced. Scholars often observe that the BW contrasts “good” or “salvific” and “bad” knowledge. The latter is the knowledge revealed by the Watchers. The text suggests that this knowledge is bad not only because of its negative effects, but primarily due to the fact that God never intended to impart it to humankind. Concerning the “good” or “salvific” knowledge, a closer look is necessary. As we have seen before, the pragmatics of the text point to an understanding of the BW as addressing readers who might be attracted to another way of life than what is considered to be the traditional “Jewish” way of life. If this is true, it is also clear why the basic “good knowledge” is not further specified: It is the On this topic, see Bachmann, “Rooted in Paradise?” and idem, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 186–203. 45 Cf. the tree imagery of 1 Enoch 24–25. As I outlined in Bachmann, “Rooted in Paradise?” and in idem, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 89–96, this particular tree imagery should be linked to wisdom instead of being linked to the story of Genesis 2–3 as it is mostly done. 44

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knowledge the readers are supposed to know or to rediscover. Perhaps we can call it the Torah or the Mosaic or Sinaitic law.46 But maybe it is more appropriate to describe it in a broader sense as the cultural “Jewish” heritage that emerged during the Persian period, a “Jewish” way of life which can even differ in detail.47 As the BW insinuates, humans become the precious agents for maintaining the true universal order by adhering to such a way of life. They are no longer the companions of angels like Shemihazah (the chief of the angels who decided to mix with humans) or Asael (the key figure responsible for the revelation of knowledge), but the companions of great angels such as Michael, Sariel, Rafael and Gabriel. They have nothing to fear with regard to the announced judgment. The question remaining is how Enoch’s revelations relate to this good or salvific knowledge. The introductory chapters of the BW make clear: Just as the “good knowledge” is provided by God, likewise Enoch’s whole message is authorized by God. Nevertheless, Enoch’s message to the “distant generation”/the readers is a separate issue. It might be most accurate to interpret it as a kind of additional salvific knowledge that undergirds the importance of the basic salvific knowledge. As such, it belongs among other religious writings which are written, promoted and appreciated in order to strengthen what is considered as being the kernel of the religious tradition or—in a broader sense—of the cultural heritage. Admittedly, the BW is outstanding by presenting itself as a sort of Cf. Heger, “1 Enoch,” 54. Such a conclusion concurs to some extent with readings offered already by Marie‐Theres Wacker, Weltordnung und Gericht: Studien zu 1 Henoch 22 (FB 45; Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 1982), esp. 313–15, or Rainer Albertz, Religionsgeschichte Israels in alttestamentlicher Zeit. Vol. 2: Vom Exil bis zu den Makkabäern (Grundrisse zum Alten Testament 8; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992), 652–59. For a recent contribution stressing anew the BW’s historical context of hellenisation, see Annette Y. Reed, “The Origins of the Book of the Watchers as ‘Apocalypse’ and Its Reception as ‘Apocryphon,’” Henoch 30 (2008), 55–60. Whereas in her dissertation published in 2005, Reed still concluded that there were “few hints of any animosity towards Hellenistic culture or Hellenized Jews within the Book of the Watchers, and the polemical concerns that we do find speak less to the encounter between Judaism and Hellenism than to internal debates within the scribal/priestly stratum of Judaean society” [idem, Fallen Angels and the History of Judaism and Christianity: The Reception of Enochic Literature (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 60], in this more recent article, she underlines that “the Book of the Watchers’ preoccupation with the corrupting power of false knowledge proves particularly poignant when read as a defense of Israel’s intellectual heritage in the face of the growing prestige of Greek wisdom.” (Reed, “The Origins of the Book of the Watchers,” 58.) 46 47

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revelatory literature of mixed character which we can barely assign to any established genre due to the lack of contemporary parallels.48 However, we will see below that even this formal peculiarity allows us to some degree to draw conclusions about the historical setting of the BW. In sum, if we interpret the BW as a revelatory writing conveying a kind of salvific knowledge undergirding the importance of the basic salvific knowledge, to assume a competing relationship between Enoch’s message and the latter becomes obsolete. Enoch’s message pursues its own goal. Introduced and authorized as the blessing speech of one of the forefathers of all humankind, the writing can be understood as explaining to its readers that what appears to be good in present times—the “modern lure”— actually proves to be the fruit of the perversion once initiated by the Watchers’ wrongdoing.

CONCLUSIONS The above examination of the BW’s way of presenting the present times as a “time out of order” and the book’s notion of knowledge and law reveals that it is unnecessary to assume that the composers intended to polemically oppose two figures (be it Enoch and Moses). Once the antagonism of “Enochic” versus “Mosaic” is left behind, the literary context becomes the touchstone for determining the meaning and function of single textual elements. In many ways the resulting overall picture differs from the assumptions initially outlined. Such a context focused reading prevents from attributing undue significance to the BW’s understanding of the present as a time of disorder. This understanding indeed plays an important role, but first and foremost as one of the means for emphasizing the relevance of the traditional way of life.49 Furthermore, the proposed reading sheds new light on the introductory chapters. On one hand, once an antagonistic reading is left behind, there is no further need for artificially cutting off the introductory chapters from the main body of the text. The introduction emerges as a crucial passage for the reading of the BW already in its 3rd century version. On the other hand, it is unnecessary to interpret the reference to Mount Sinai in 1 Enoch 1:4 as either evoking the “old Sinai traditions” or the story about the giving of the law to Moses. The meaning of the text is strengthened by both references: as we have seen above, the BW depicts 48 See the discussion of the different proposals made by scholars in Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 47–62. 49 For a more detailed examination of time related characteristics of the BW, see Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 150–70.

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God not only as the one who powerfully supports his people and creatures and who brings both of his and their enemies to justice. It also depicts God as the one who sets the specific rules for every species (cf. 1 Enoch 2–5; 15:3–7) and who intervenes in case of transgressions. These three aspects are encompassed by both traditions.50 As we have seen, presenting Enoch as a messenger addressing his distant descendants allowed the composers to revamp an old concern, the return to YHWH. The specific manner of revamping allows drawing further conclusions concerning the historical context and the purpose of the writing. The chosen form of the text and its rhetorical dynamics, the composers’ choice to focus on the figure of Enoch as well as on the Story of the Watchers become meaningful in particular in the context of a historical setting in which the Jewish population was to a large part exposed to noticeable changes in mentality and practice. However, the strong appellative character of the writing suggests that these changes were not necessarily perceived negatively by the addressees. The readers were to be convinced that the time in which they lived was not a good one. It would therefore be inadequate to characterize the BW as a writing supporting its readers in overcoming an experienced crisis as it is often proposed, a view which has induced many scholars to describe the authors of the BW as members of a (geographically) peripheral and (ideologically) marginalized group. If we go further and pose the question of who could have promoted such a text, it seems less convincing to speak of “priestly dissidents” or even a (proto-)sectarian group within Judaism.51 In contrast, we have to As regards the story about Moses and the other Israelites at Mount Sinai, we should not, for instance, ignore Ex 32, the incident with the golden calf. Further biblical passages (cf. Deut 9:8–21; Ps 106:19–23; Neh 9) as well as post-biblical texts prove its perception as a quasi archetypal rebellion against God [cf. Pekka Lindqvist, Sin at Sinai: Early Judaism Encounters Exodus 32 (Åbo: Åbo Akademis Förlag, 2006)]. 51 Cf. Pierluigi Piovanelli, “Was there Sectarian Behaviour Before the Flourishing of Jewish Sects? A Long-Term Approach to the History and Sociology of Second Temple Sectarianism,” David J. Chalcraft (ed.), Sectarianism in Early Judaism: Sociological Advances (Bible world; London: Equinox, 2007), 156–79 who, building on Bryan R. Wilson’s typology on religious sectarianism, adheres to a “community behind the Enoch literature” as a group “clearly proto-sectarian (…) displaying revolutionist, manipulationist, thaumaturgical, and spiritualist attitudes” (ibid., 166) and which is not to be located “among the members of the Jerusalem clergy” (ibid., 165) due to a differing approach to the sacred, for instance. It would have been interesting to know more about Piovanelli’s ideas about the nature of a “proto-sectarian group” and about the term’s heuristic value. 50

1 ENOCH 1–36: ANTI-MOSAIC, NON-MOSAIC, OR PRO-MOSAIC? 101 think of a group of people who might have had good reasons to be concerned about a loss of influence observing that social and cultural values were changing and who therefore aimed for a broad audience.52 Carrying further this conclusion, the religious establishment itself comes into consideration. Even the course of history as it is depicted in the BW may now be historically contextualized.53 Reworking Nickelsburg’s proposal to a certain extent to link 1 Enoch 6–11 to the experience of the wars of the Diadochoi (323–302 BCE),54 we could assume more than just a link of the “present time of latent corruption” to the era under Ptolemaic dominion, a time entailing many changes on both the economic and cultural level. As Nickelsburg proposes, we might indeed see the violent turn in history as mirroring the experience of the wars mentioned. However, in the context of the final form of the BW, this violent era now clearly turns into a past event. The ideal era before the angel’s transgressions may eventually be interpreted as reflecting the positive (nostalgically idealized?) perception of the Persian second temple period from a priestly perspective.55 Such an analogy would imply the statement that the Jerusalem temple will figure 52 It might be further explored whether the fact that the BW was written in Aramaic could support such an assumption. Cf. in that direction in a general sense Elias Bickermann, The Jews in the Greek Age (Cambridge/London: Harvard University Press, 1988), 51, related to the BW and to 1 Enoch respectively Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 222 (esp. note 297), 259; Heger, “1 Enoch,” 43. Heger confidently states that it is “evident that the Aramaic text was created for the masses and the Hebrew writing for the intellectual segment of society” (ibid. 43–44, note 53). 53 The following proposal admittedly reaches a highly hypothetical level. It mainly provides an answer to the common proposals of historical contextualisations of the BW. For a further discussion of the proposal presented here, see Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 169–70, 261. 54 Cf. George W. E. Nickelsburg’s characterization of the angels’ prayer in 1 Enoch 9 as “more than a literary device by which the author makes an academic statement on the problem of evil. It is the bitter and desperate cry of our author’s own people, who query about the problem of evil because they are experiencing it. It is they who are the victims of the giants of this earth—the mighty who devour the fruits of the earth, murder them, and make war on one another.” [Idem, “Apocalyptic and Myth in 1 Enoch 6–11,” JBL 96 (1977), 383–405, (388–89); cf. idem, 1 Enoch 1, esp. 168 and 170]. Unfortunately, some scholars adopted this view without further noticing that Nickelsburg is referring to an early version of the BW, not to the BW in its final form. 55 Cf., for instance, the depiction of such a positive stance on the Persian period in Konrad Schmid, Literaturgeschichte des Alten Testaments. Eine Einführung (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2008), 144–45.

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again as the unchallenged centre of the world in the future (cf. 1 Enoch 25:5–6; 26), as it did in Persian times.56 As a last point, I would like to return to the notion of law in the BW. As outlined above, for many scholars the BW’s rather unspecified notion of law is a sign of its non-mosaic character. Although he generally tends to agree with this view, Collins cautiously takes into consideration the possibility that the BW may link the commandments given to Israel to the law of creation or nature, respectively, which figures prominently in the writing. Or as he writes, “…the law emanating from Sinai may be viewed as a formulation of the law of nature, as appears to be the case in Ben Sira 24 and in Philo.”57 Indeed, we should not hastily disregard this option. On one hand, we saw that for pragmatic reasons the BW emphasises the notion of God as the great creator and sovereign ruler of the universe. On the other hand, we saw that “God’s rules,” when addressing humans, are to be linked to the traditional “Jewish way of life.” Accordingly, the notion of “(Jewish) law” and the notion of the “order of creation” must be closely connected As my conclusions indicate and as further explained in Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 245–48, 261, I don’t think that the composers of the BW should be geographically located in the region of Galilee as many scholars suggest. According to the BW, the region around Mount Hermon has a clear negative connotation: not only is it the place where the Watchers started to spread their negative influence on earth (1 Enoch 6:6), it is also the region where Enoch reveals God’s irrevocable verdict about their deeds to them (1 Enoch 13:7–9). Historical data reveal that the place has a long “sacred history” (cf. Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch 1, 238–47). In the early Hellenistic times, a strong Phoenician influence can be observed. In my view, the BW’s negative portrayal of the region as well as the fact that the region figured as a prominent place of “foreign sacredness” speak less to a polemic attitude against the Jerusalem temple than to polemics against a site appropriated by wrong numinous forces. Against this background, the report about Enoch’s incubation experience of being brought from Dan directly before the throne of the Jewish God (1 Enoch 13:7–14:24) shows an audacious trait. Such a scenario must have questioned the power of the local cults—and might have impressed a Jewish audience. 57 Collins, “How distinctive was Enochic Judaism?,” *30; cf. idem, “Theology and Identity in the Early Enoch Literature,” Henoch 24 (2002), 57–62 (62). A similar point has already been made by Christoph Münchow, Ethik und Eschatologie: Ein Beitrag zum Verständnis der frühjüdischen Apokalyptik mit einem Ausblick auf das Neue Testament (Berlin: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1981). According to Münchow, the BW clearly witnesses an understanding of Torah “als ethisches und zugleich kosmisches Gesetz” which can be explained as a “Weiterbildung weisheitlicher Vorstellungen unter Aufnahme von Gedanken der stoisch‐platonisch geprägten Popularphilosophie” (ibid., 25). 56

1 ENOCH 1–36: ANTI-MOSAIC, NON-MOSAIC, OR PRO-MOSAIC? 103 under the BW. Other than Jubilees, the BW does not yet present an elaborate solution of how such a connection should be envisioned. Neither is this its point. As scholars noticed, attempts of grasping the revealed Torah in a universal way do not first emerge with Ben Sira, Jubilees, or Baruch (cf. Baruch 3:9–4:4), but may already be detected within pentateuchal texts.58 Having this overall picture in mind, the BW turns into an important writing among the sources we still know: After all, it appears to be the first writing basing its overall message on the notion of such a close tie between law and creation.59 If we compare the BW with older and contemporary writings, it is without doubt that in the BW, we encounter a writing which conveys rather unfamiliar contents in an unfamiliar manner. But does this fact allow for the conclusion that “the Enoch literature reflects a distinctive form of Judaism”?60 I propose that it does not. In my view, it is less helpful to search for distinctive forms of Judaism when interpreting the BW than to raise the question why the BW appears rather untraditional in spite of its purpose of actually promoting traditional values and a traditional way of life.61 Given the situation in which “tradition” loses its significance and even its credibility, I would say that the composers had few choices: they had to find new ways to draw attention to their message. And they were brave enough to break new ground.

58 Cf. John J. Collins, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster/John Knox, 1997), 54–55; Thomas Krüger, “Gesetz und Weisheit im Pentateuch,” Irmtraud Fischer et al. (eds.), Auf den Spuren der schriftgelehrten Weisen: Festschrift für Johannes Marböck anlässlich seiner Emeritierung (BZAW, 331; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003), 1–12; Thomas Krüger, “Weisheit/Gesetz,” Angelika Berlejung and Christian Frevel (eds.), HGANT (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2006), 60–65. 59 As discussed in Bachmann, Die Welt im Ausnahmezustand, 196–203, 244–45, 256, the engagement with Hellenistic thoughts might have played a major role prompting such innovation. 60 Collins, “How distinctive was Enochic Judaism?,” *33. 61 See also Martha Himmelfarb’s answer to the question whether the BW ignores or even rejects the Torah, concluding that the BW’s “reticence about the laws of the Torah is a function of genre, not of distance or discomfort.” [Martha Himmelfarb, A Kingdom of Priests: Ancestry and Merit in Ancient Judaism (Jewish culture and contexts; Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006), 41.]

DAVID’S ELITE WARRIORS AND THEIR EXPLOITS IN THE BOOKS OF SAMUEL AND CHRONICLES MOSHE GARSIEL BAR-ILAN UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION In this article,1 I intend to elaborate and update my previous publications dealing with King David’s heroes and their exploits as recorded and recounted in the book of Samuel and repeated—with considerable changes—in the book of Chronicles.2 In Samuel, most of the information is included in the last part of the book (2 Sam 21–24), defined by previous This article was inspired by my paper delivered at a conference on “The Shaping of the Historical Memory and Consciousness in the Book of Chronicles” that took place in the spring of 2010 at Bar-Ilan University. 2 See my Hebrew publications: M. Garsiel, The Kingdom of David: Studies in History and Inquiries in Historiography (Tel Aviv: Don, 1975; Heb.), 26–40, 55–57; Idem, The Rise of the Monarchy in Israel: Studies in the Book of Samuel, vol. 3 (2d ed.; Raanana: The Open University of Israel; Heb.), 135–165; Idem, “The Four Sons of Rephaim who Fell in Combats with David and his Heroes,” Beit Mikra 54 (2009), 39–61 (Heb.; Eng. Summary p. 7*); See also my English articles: M. Garsiel, “The Water Retrieval Mission of David’s Three Warriors and its Relationship to the Battle of the Valley of Refaim,” M. Heltzer & M. Malul (eds.), Teshurot LaAvishur: Studies in the Bible and the Ancient Near East, in Hebrew and Semitic Languages—A Festschrift Presented to Prof. Yitshaq Avishur on the Occasion of his 65 th Birthday (Tel Aviv/Jaffa: Archaeological Center Publication, 2004), 51–62; Idem, “The Valley of Elah Battle and the Duel of David with Goliath: Between History and Artistic Theological Historiography,” G. Galil, M. Geler, and A. Millard (eds.), Homeland and Exile: Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honour of Bustenay Oded (VTSup, 130; Leiden/Boston: Brill, 2009), 391–426. 1

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scholars as an “Appendix.”3 Today, several scholars have reservations about such a definition and replace it with “epilogue” or “conclusion,” inasmuch as these four chapters contain links among themselves as well as with the main part of the book.4 In any event, according to my recent research, most of the material in the epilogue—including the parts regarding David’s heroes—was gleaned, edited and added at a later stage of the book of Samuel’s composition by the second author. That author adopted the earlier, short version of the book that had been composed by his predecessor, omitted from it some material, but added to it a lot more. Who, then, are the two separate authors of the book of Samuel and how did this book come into being? According to my recent research,5 the former author was probably one of the Prophet Nathan’s disciples who wrote the initial book about David’s story and history. This book was not intended to serve mainly as a political propaganda glorifying David or Solomon against their opponents, as viewed by various scholars; it concentrated, rather, primarily on the theological principle of God’s providence, which rewards people or punishes them in accordance with their deeds. This earlier work, which included David’s story from his appearance at the king’s court up to his old age and Solomon’s accession,6 See, e.g., M. H. Segal, The Books of Samuel: Edited and Interpreted with a Detailed Introduction (Jerusalem: Kiryat-Sefer, 1964; Heb.), 362–363; A. A. Anderson, 2 Samuel (WBC 11; Dallas: Word, 1989), 247–248. 4 See, e.g., J. G. Baldwin, 1 and 2 Samuel: An Introduction and Commentary (TOTC; Leicester, UK: InterVarsity, 1988), 282–283; R. P. Gordon, I & II Samuel: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Regency Reference Library, 1986), 45, 298; H. H. Klement, II Samuel 21–24: Context, Structure and Meaning in the Samuel Conclusion (Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 2000), passim; R. Polzin, David and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History, Part Three; Idem, 2 Samuel (Bloomington/Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1993), 202–214; D. G. Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel (AOT 8; Nottingham/Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2009), 501–503. 5 See my recent articles: M. Garsiel, “The Book of Samuel: Its Composition, Structure and Significance as a Historiographical Source,” JHS 10 (2010), article 5 (electronic); Idem, “Ideological Discordance between the Prophets, Nathan and Samuel, as Reflecting the Divergence between the Book of Samuel’s Authors,” G. Galil et al. (eds.), The Ancient Near East in the 12th–10th Centuries BCE: Culture and History (AOAT; Münster, forthcoming). 6 Cf. G. Keys, The Wages of Sin: A Reappraisal of the Succession Narrative (JSOTSup, 221; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), passim, who regards only 2 Sam 10–20 as belonging thematically to the “sin and punishment” cycle. In my judgment, the earlier composition initially contained the whole of David’s story and history, including Solomon’s accession story. These sections are thematically joined together and are committed to the sin and punishment motif. One should bear in 3

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was probably written at an early stage of Solomon’s reign. However, at a later stage of Solomon’s reign, when disillusion from the king’s hedonistic way of life and resentment of compulsory work that he had imposed upon his people intensified and developed into a threatening opposition, a second author—probably one of the sages and a skilled scribe—wrote a different version of the book. He omitted entirely from the earlier version the section dealing with David’s old age and Solomon’s accession to the throne with the vital help of the Prophet Nathan; but he added to the earlier version the stories about Eli and his sons, stories about Samuel and his sons, and parts of Saul’s story, as well as most of the epilogue’s materials. Hence, one may assume that the book of Samuel’s material concerning David’s elite warriors might contain significant information that should not be discarded as late and unreliable legends.7 In the book of Chronicles, however, which was composed a few years after the middle of the fourth century BCE, there are considerable changes in the parallel texts as well as in Chronicles’ contexts. In this article, I will discuss both versions, compare them to each other, and try as well to draw some conclusions about their historical, historiographical and socio-theological significance.

DAVID’S WARRIORS FIGHTING THE GIANTS IN THE PARALLEL SOURCES

In 2 Sam 21:15–22, the second author of the book recounts four episodes related to various periods in which David and his warriors combated four Philistine giants from Gath who are dubbed “sons of Rapha,” that is, Rephaim. The latter is an etiological and mythological attributive to giants who are regarded as descendants of deities who, as a result of theomachy, fell from heaven to earth and became mortals, one of whom was Og, king of Bashan (Deut 3:11; Josh 12:4; 13:12).8 These giants, also known as Nephilim (Gen 6:2–4), are ironically described in this text as meeting their destiny by the same verb root of ‫“ נפל‬fall”: “Those four were descended from the Raphah in Gath and they fell by the hands of David and his men” (2 Sam 21:22).9 mind that all the characters in the section of Solomon’s accession are rewarded in accordance with their deeds, and most of these deeds are narrated in various parts of David’s story and history. 7 See Garsiel, “The Book of Samuel: Its Composition, Structure and Significance,” passim. 8 For further discussion on the Rephaim issue and bibliography, see Garsiel, “The Four Sons of Rephaim who Fell in Combats with David and his Heroes,” 42– 44. 9 Biblical quotations usually follow the NJPS translation, sometimes with small

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The book of Joshua attributes the extermination of most of the giants to Moses and Joshua, and concludes: “No Anakites [= giants] remained in the land of the Israelites, but some remained in Gaza, Gath and Ashdod” (Josh 11:22). At first glance, it seems that the “implied author” of the episode in Samuel sets an analogy between David and his warriors and Moses and Joshua; both groups successfully smote the autochthonic, formidable giants. Furthermore, it might even seem that the section of David and his warriors killing the giants aimed to be a continuation of David’s war stories, since they served as a fulfillment of Nathan’s oracle promising David that, in terms of military achievements, he would be granted “great renown like that of the greatest men on the earth” (1 Sam 7:9).10 However, a close comparative reading of the text leads the reader to an entirely different conclusion: While Moses and Joshua almost completely exterminated the dangerous giants from most of the land (except for three Philistine cities, one of which is Gath), David and his warriors killed only four of the giants of the city of Gath alone. The earlier leaders, Moses and Joshua, attained—or so the text indicates—better military achievements in combat against the giants than the king and his warriors. The second author of the book of Samuel emphasizes here once again why the kingdom of the Almighty God ruled by God’s representative leaders (like Moses and Joshua) is preferable to a leadership of a human king, even one like David.

FIRST EPISODE (2 SAM 21:15–17) The first of the episodes in the book of Samuel (2 Sam 21:15–17) deals with a battle with the Philistines that became complicated and endangered David’s life: ‫יִ ְּׂש ָר ֵאל וַ יֵ רד ָדוִ ד וַ ֲע ָב ָדיו ִעּמֹו‬-‫עֹוד ִמ ְּל ָח ָמה ַל ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִתים את‬-‫וַ ְּת ִהי‬ :‫ ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִתים וַ יָ ַעף ָדוִ ד‬-‫וַ יִ ָל ֲחמּו את‬ ‫וְּ יִ ְּשׁ ִבי (ק') ְּבנב ֲאשׁר ִב ִיל ֵידי ָה ָר ָפה‬ ‫ּומ ְּשׁ ַקל ֵקינֹו ְּשֹׁלשׁ ֵמאֹות ִמ ְּשׁ ַקל נְּ חֹשׁת וְּ הּוא ָחגּור ֲח ָד ָשׁה‬ ִ :‫ ָדוִ ד‬-‫וַ יאמר ְּל ַהּכֹות את‬ ‫יתהּו‬ ֵ ‫יְּמ‬ ִ ַ‫ ַה ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִתי ו‬-‫ ְּצרּויָ ה וַ יַ ְך את‬-‫ישׁי בן‬ ַ ‫לֹו ֲא ִב‬-‫וַ יַ ֲעזָ ר‬ ‫ ָדוִ ד לֹו ֵלאמר‬-‫ ַאנְּ ֵשׁי‬-‫ָאז נִ ְּשׁ ְּבעּו‬ :‫נֵ ר יִ ְּׂש ָר ֵאל‬-‫ ֵת ֵצא עֹוד ִא ָתנּו ַל ִּמ ְּל ָח ָמה וְּ לֹא ְּת ַכבה את‬-‫לֹא‬ Yet another war broke out between the Philistines and Israel, so David and the men with him went down and fought the Philistines. David amendments. 10 Cf. M. Avioz, Nathan’s Oracle (2 Samuel 7) and its Interpreters (Bern et al.: Peter Lang, 2005), 48.

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grew weary, Ishbi Benob tried to kill David; he was a descendant of the Raphah, his bronze spear weighed three hundred shekels and he was girded with a new sword. But Abishai son of Zeruiah came to David’s aid; he attacked the Philistine and killed him. It was then that David’s men swore him an oath, “You shall not go with us into battle anymore, lest you extinguish the lamp of Israel!”

Since none of the four battles was set up within a chronological framework, one may wonder when the first episode took place. One should rule out the periods of David’s service in Saul’s army, his wandering in the land of Judah, or when he settled in Ziklag. At all these occasions, David’s presence in battle was vital and his men could not afford to take a vow that he would not be their leader and military commander.11 Indeed, later on, when David served seven and a half years as king of Judah, we read that he was absent in at least two battles (2 Sam 2:12–32; 3:22). However, it is clear that at these times there was no vow to prevent him from leading his troops against the Philistines in the valley of Rephaim, when he already served as the king of all Israel (5:17–25). The most plausible time, then, for most of the episodes at issue is the middle of the first decade of David’s reign in Jerusalem. At this time, David opened the last operative stage aimed at subjugating Achish’s kingdom and turning it into his vassal. During this endeavor, several battles took place in Judah’s lowland, the Negeb, and in the vicinity of Gath. In some of these wars or skirmishes, giant members of the Philistine guild of Rephaim took part. Therefore, the first episode opens with the note that again there was another war against the Philistines, implying that there were earlier wars of this kind. The Hebrew word ‫“ עוד‬again” is common to the opening of the episode and to the vow taken by the people. From the vow’s language, one may also deduce that, until then, David used to lead his troops in wars. Since the description delineates David and his troops as going down to fight, one may also assume that the Israelites were descending from Jerusalem and the hill country toward a lower region that was under Philistine rule. The giant who nearly overpowered David is referred to as “Ishbi benob” (‫)ישבי בנב‬. It seems that the first word refers to his name. Nevertheless, following the K version, some ancient exegetes12 and LXXL have it as a verb: ‫ וישבו‬from the root ‫“ שב''ה‬take a prisoner”. Some modern scholars follow this lead and interpret the phrase with slight variations as an action taken by the Philistine to capture David and kill him.13 However, this Cf., e.g., 1 Sam 23:3–5; 27:8–9; 28:1–2; 29:1–11. BT, Tractate Sanhedrin, 91a. 13 Cf., e.g., P. K. McCarter, II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes 11 12

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interpretation is problematic, since 4QSama supports the Q reading ‫וישבי‬.14 Furthermore, in the following episodes, we have the giant’s names or, at least in one episode, his description. Hence, Ishbi should refer to the giant’s proper name and not to his action.15 As for the second word ‫בנב‬, I have suggested elsewhere the reading ‫בן‬ ‫[א]ב‬, namely, Ishbi was a son of a person whose name is Ob.16 The father’s name probably means a magician who specializes in raising the spirit of the dead (1 Sam 28:3 et al.). In our text, however, it might also subtly connote a midrashic name connection to the Rephaim, the descendants of dead heroes who were the offspring of deities who fell from heaven to earth and became mortals, as we have explained above. Ironically, the narrator finds in the father’s name an ominous suggestion that the giant son is doomed. Yet, since in other episodes in the larger context the narrator also points to the battle scene, there is also the possibility that “be-Nob” refers to a place name: “at Nob.” However, if it refers to the priests’ holy city, we would expect a place close to Jerusalem (Isa 10:32).17 Moreover, it is rather unlikely that the Philistines arrived so close to David’s capital after their two defeats at the Rephaim valley. Furthermore, David and his people are depicted as “descending” towards the Philistines. Therefore, the battle place should be found near Philistia. Indeed, the Sages suggest that there is a village there known as Nob.18 The problem is that there is no other evidence to substantiate this claim. We have, therefore, no alternative but to postulate a corrupt text in the above place name. Some scholars suggest the reading of “Gob” instead of “Nob,” since Gob is mentioned as well in the two following episodes.19 However, it is highly unlikely that the three battles happened at the same place, and that a copyist would make an error only in the first episode, while in the next two he would get it right. In any event, I and Commentary (AB; Garden City: Doubleday, 1984), 447–448; Gordon, 1 & 2 Samuel, 302. 14 See F. M. Cross et al., Qumran Cave 4, XII, 1–2 Samuel (DJD XVII; Oxford: Clarendon, 2005), 179. 15 See also Anderson, 2 Samuel, 254; Firth, 1 & 2 Samuel, 508. 16 See Garsiel, “The Four Sons of Rephaim who Fell in Combats with David and his Heroes,” 46. 17 For various identification, see Y. Aharoni, The Land of the Bible: A Historical Geography (2nd ed.; Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1979), 393; A. F. Rainey, The Sacred Bridge: Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World (Jerusalem: Carta, 2006), 147. 18 BT, Tract. Sanhedrin, 95a. 19 See H. P. Smith, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Samuel (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1951), 378; H. W. Hertzberg, I & II Samuel: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM, 1964), 385–386.

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shall shortly cast doubt if there is any place at all carrying the name of “Gob” in Philistia and its vicinity. Therefore, it seems most likely to me that the word ‫ בנב‬is misspelled and should be amended to ‫בנ[ג]ב‬. The battle probably took place at “the Negeb of the Cherethites” (1 Sam 30:14), somewhere in the western Negeb that turned into a war zone between the Israelites and the Philistines in the time of Saul and David. What is the significance of this battle and how did it happen that Ishbi and David encountered each other? The text here leaves a wide gap. Y. Yadin interprets the stories of the encounters between Joab’s twelve warriors and Abner’s twelve warriors (2 Sam 2:12–32) as well as the one between David with Goliath (1 Sam 17) as an agreement between the rival armies to have one-on-one combat of which the results should determine the outcome of the whole war. Yadin also suggests that the episodes in 2 Sam 21:15ff are demonstrations of single combats which are designed to function in a similar way.20 However, Yadin’s theory at its core is open to doubts that have been raised elsewhere.21 As for the first of these episodes, one cannot consider it as an instance of one-on-one combat since Abishai came to help David. It looks like a case in which one of two rivals (or even both of them) attempts to encounter his opponent in order to gain the glory of killing a prominent foe. Ishbi was well equipped with a long and heavy bronze spear and girded with a belt and new sword;22 and he tried to fight David in order to win the glory of killing the adversary’s king. Other combat scenes should probably be viewed along the same lines: as incidental combats between mighty fighters who were seeking their special adversaries in the middle of the war. Even though the encounter resulted in a happy ending, David’s men were worried and decided to change their strategy Up to this point, they expected the king to go “before” the troops, leading them to war as their commander-in-chief.23 Now, however, after the near disaster, they took a See Y. Yadin, “Let the Young Men I Pray thee Arise and Play before Us,” J. Liver (ed.), The Military History of the Land of Israel in Biblical Times (Tel-Aviv: Maarachoth, Israel Defense Forces, 1970; Heb.), 166–169, esp. p. 169, n. 7; Cf. also G. N. Knoppers, I Chronicles 10–29: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB; New York et al.: Doubleday, 2004), 735. 21 See A. Rofé, “The Battle of David and Goliath: Folklore, Theology, Eschatology,” J. Neusner, B. A. Levine and E. Frerichs (eds.), Judaic Perspectives on Ancient Israel (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1978), 132–134; M. Garsiel, “The Valley of Elah Battle and the Duel of David with Goliath,” 411–415. 22 Cf. Cross et al., Qumran Cave 4, XII, 1–2 Samuel, 179–180. 23 Cf. 1 Sam 8:20; 2 Sam 3:17–19; 5:1–3. 20

112

MOSHE GARSIEL

vow prohibiting the king from going out to war with the troops. They decided that they needed a king as their national leader more than as a military field commander who takes part in actual fighting.24 The significance of preserving the king’s life is demonstrated in the metaphor: “You shall not go with us into battle any more, lest you extinguish the lamp of Israel!” Indeed, even later, David went out with his troops in special battles or just joined the army at the last stage of the war in order to be part of the glory of victory. However, he probably stayed well protected in a rear command camp.25 This first episode well serves the anti-monarchial approach of the second author, inasmuch as the main motivation for anointing a king was that he would lead the people to war; this point was emphasized on many occasions regarding both kings, Saul and David.26 Ironically, however, this episode of the vow prohibiting the king from going to battle completely undermines the earlier security conception. The people at this point came to the opposite conclusion: A king is not so crucial in leading his troops in war. Sometimes it is the other way around; the king should stay at home or behind the battle zone rather than risk his life in actual fighting. Another point should be taken into consideration. In the earlier version of David’s history, the first author did not miss any opportunity to criticize Joab and Abishai, sons of Zeruiah, for their brutal behavior; that author also saw justice done in Joab’s execution.27 The second author, however, by adding the episode of Abishai’s coming to the king’s defense, bestows Abishai with the credit of saving King David’s life. We shall soon examine additional instances of where the sons of Zeruiah are depicted in a favorable light in the second version of the book of Samuel. The difference between the two authors’ treatment of the sons of Zeruiah can be explained by those authors’ socio-political and theological difference of opinion. The first one was a follower of the Prophet Nathan and, as such, a supporter of King Solomon and a bitter opponent to Joab who supported Adonijah. The second author, however, took a different stand. He was very critical of both King Solomon and the whole concept of kingship and, consequently, did not hesitate to relate the story of the vow 24 In Absalom’s revolt, the people refused the king’s request to accompany the troops in actual fighting and they urged him to stay protected within the fortified city of Mahanaim (2 Sam 18:2–3). 25 See Garsiel, The Kingdom of David, 101–105; Idem, The Rise of the Monarchy in Israel, vol. 4, 36–42. 26 See 1 Sam 8:19–20; 9:16; 12:12; 15:17–18; 18:8; 2 Sam 5:1–3; 19:10–11. 27 See 1 Sam 26:8–12; 2 Sam 3:22–39; 11:14–25; 16:9–13; 18:9–15; 19:22–23; 20:4–14; 1 Kgs 1:7, 19, 41; 2:5–6, 28–34.

DAVID’S WARRIORS IN SAMUEL AND CHRONICLES

113

regarding David’s participation in battle when it became clear that the Israelites do not need a king to serve as a field commander; they need, rather, military leaders like the sons of Zeruiah. Unlike his predecessor, the second author chose to omit the whole section of Solomon’s accession to the throne; that author also restored some of the glory due to the sons of Zeruiah in parts of his epilogue. This dialectic process continues to the third author, the Chronicler. The episode under discussion was deliberately omitted from the parallel unit in Chronicles. The Chronicler constantly glorifies David, inasmuch as he was the king who initiated, planned and began the preparations to build the Jerusalemite temple. Hence, the Chronicler omits the episode at issue as he consistently does in other portions that damage David’s reputation.

SECOND EPISODE (1 CHR 20:4 AND 2 SAM 21:18) The second episode in the book of Samuel and the first one in Chronicles appear with a few changes in the parallel sources as follows: 1 Chr 20:4

2 Sam 21:18

‫ ֵכן‬-‫וַ יְּ ִהי ַא ֲח ֵרי‬

‫ ֵכן‬-‫וַ יְּ ִהי ַא ֲח ֵרי‬

-‫וַ ַת ֲעמד ִמ ְּל ָח ָמה ְּבגזר ִעם‬ ‫ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִתים‬

‫עֹוד ַה ִּמ ְּל ָח ָמה ְּבגוב‬-‫וַ ְּת ִהי‬ ‫ ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִתים‬-‫ִעם‬

-‫ָאז ִה ָּכה ִס ְּב ַכי ַה ֻח ָשׁ ִתי את‬ ‫ִס ַפי‬

-‫ָאז ִה ָּכה ִס ְּב ַכי ַה ֻח ָשׁ ִתי את‬ ‫ַסף‬

:‫ִמ ִיל ֵדי ָה ְּר ָפ ִאים וַ יִ ָּכנֵ עּו‬

:‫ֲאשׁר ִבילִ ֵדי ָה ָר ָפה‬

2 Sam 21:18 After this, fighting broke out again with the Philistines, at Gob; that was when Sibbecai the Hushathite killed Saph, a descendant of the Rapha. 1 Chr 20:4 After this, fighting broke out with the Philistines at Gezer; that was when Sibbecai the Hushathite killed Sipai, a descendant of the Rephaim, and they were humbled.

114

MOSHE GARSIEL

This episode is short and concise, as the second author of the book of Samuel is not interested in the exploit as such, nor in the battle and its implications. It seems as if the author recounts four military contests between the Rephaim giants and David and his warriors, concluding that the latter was consistently victorious. This impression results from the fact that, in Samuel’s version, nothing is told about the outcome of the wars in all four incidents, and the summary at the end of this portion concentrates only on the four Rephaim who fell in battle with David and his servants (2 Sam 21:22). At first sight, it seems that the author probably adopted an ancient, archival roster dealing with heroes and their exploits. However, as part of the epilogue of Samuel, the portion contains elements that support the anti-monarchial attitude of the second author, as we have seen above and will witness below. The Chronicler, however, adds at the end of this episode, a significant word regarding the “humbling” of the Philistines (‫ )ויכנעו‬before the Israelites. This one word changes the whole meaning of the episode and has an impact as well on the following episodes. It regards the combat between the warriors as a trigger to a comprehensive Israelite triumph and a Philistine surrender. It also makes a point that Nathan’s oracle about “humbling” (‫ )והכנעתי‬David’s enemies (17:10) comes true.28 According to Samuel’s version, the battle took place at Gob (‫)גוב‬. This same place name is mentioned as the place of battle also in the following episode in Samuel’s version. In the parallel version in Chronicles, however, as well as in the whole Hebrew Bible, the name Gob is not mentioned at all. Neither is it mentioned near the battle zones in extra-biblical sources of the time.29 Therefore, since the Chronicler reads in the parallel episode “Gezer” instead of “Gob” in Samuel’s version, and since there is no theological reason for this kind of change, it is plausible to assume that the Chronicler adopted the reading of a more reliable text of Samuel’s version on this issue.30 In the following episode, however, not having access to the battle’s place name, he preferred to ignore it. The suggested amendment of “Gob” to “Gezer” in Samuel’s second episode is plausible for another reason: Since the fortified city of Gezer controls part of an important road that leads from Philistia to the central hill country and to David’s capital in Jerusalem and is part of the international road that led from Egypt to Syria See Knoppers, I Chronicles 10–29, 735–736. Gob is mentioned only at the end of the Tannaitic period as located within the city Ashkelon’s zone (Tosefeta Ohaloth 18:15). 30 See J. M. Myers, I Chronicles: Translated with an Introduction and Notes (AB; Garden City: Doubleday, 1965), 141; Segal, The Books of Samuel, 371; McCarter, II Samuel, 448. 28 29

DAVID’S WARRIORS IN SAMUEL AND CHRONICLES

115

and Mesopotamia, it is, therefore, reasonable to maintain that battles between the Israelites and Philistines took place in the vicinity of the fortified city of Gezer. In modern scholarship, some other suggestions regarding Samuel’s place name have been offered. One is to read “Gibton” (‫ )גבתון‬instead of “Gob”;31 another is to read either “Geba” (‫ )גבע‬or “Gibeon” (‫ )גבעון‬instead of “Gob”.32 But these latter two cities are located very close to the City of David, and it is highly unlikely that, at such a late stage, the Philistines penetrated to a location so close to David’s capital. Moreover, the text relates that David and his men descended to encounter the Philistines; namely, the Israelite troops left the hill country downward, probably to the lowlands of Judah. Recently, Nadav Na’aman has suggested identification of Gob (a Philistine city, according to Na’aman) with Khirbet Queiyafa, the location of which is on the northern ridge that controls from the north the narrow ravine of Elah near the western entrance to the ravine, rather close to Azeqah. Na’aman adopts a scholarly suggestion that Samuel’s first three episodes refer to one place—Gob; only the last one occurred at Gath.33 As I wrote above in the first episode, it does not make sense that the copyist would replace “Gob” with “Nob,” while in the second and the third episodes he copied “Gob” correctly. Therefore, we have adopted for Samuel’s second episode the Chronicler’s reading—“Gezer.” Furthermore, Samuel’s third episode, as we shall show below, refers to the story of David and Goliath. However, in the elaborated story (1 Sam 17), the suggested place name of Gob is not mentioned at all. Since this name is neither mentioned in this story nor in the rest of the Bible or extra-biblical sources, there is no escape but to maintain that in Samuel’s second and third episodes the place name “Gob” should be amended. The amendment in the third episode will be discussed presently.

31 See A. Malamat, “Aspects of the Foreign Policies of David and Solomon,” idem (ed.), The Kingdoms of Israel and Judah (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1961; Heb.), 42, and in n. 53 references to the suggested readings above. 32 Suggestions cited by B. Halpern, David’s Secret Demons: Messiah, Murderer, Traitor, King (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 148, n. 7; 150–151, 321. 33 N. Na’aman, “In Search of the Ancient Name of Khirbet Qeiyafa,” JHS 8 (2008), article 21; Idem, “Shaaraim—the Gateway to the Kingdom of Judah,” JHS 8 (2008), article 24. .

116

MOSHE GARSIEL

THIRD EPISODE (1 CHR 20:5 AND 2 SAM 21:19) The third episode in Samuel and the second one in Chronicles appear with significant differences in the parallel sources as follows: 1 Chr 20:5 ‫ ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִתים‬-‫עֹוד ִמ ְּל ָח ָמה את‬-‫וַ ְּת ִהי‬

2 Sam 21:19 ‫ ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִתים‬-‫עֹוד ַה ִּמ ְּל ָח ָמה ְּבגֹוב ִעם‬-‫וַ ְּת ִהי‬

)’‫ יָ ִעיר (ק‬-‫וַ יַ ְך א ְּל ָחנָ ן בן‬

‫ארגִ ים ֵבית ַה ַל ְּח ִמי‬ ְּ ‫יַ ְּע ֵרי‬-‫ בן‬-‫וַ יַ ְך א ְּל ָחנָ ן‬

‫ ַל ְּח ִמי ֲא ִחי גָ ְּליָת ַהגִ ִתי‬-‫את‬

‫ֵאת גָ ְּליַת ַהגִ ִתי‬

:‫ארגִ ים‬ ְּ ‫וְּ ֵעץ ֲחנִ יתֹו ִּכ ְּמנֹור‬

:‫ארגִ ים‬ ְּ ‫וְּ ֵעץ ֲחנִ יתֹו ִּכ ְּמנֹור‬

2 Sam 21:19 Again there was fighting with the Philistines at Gob; and Elhanan son of Jaare-orgim the Bethlehemite killed Goliath the Gittite, whose spear had a shaft like a weaver’s bar. 1 Chr 20:5 Again there was fighting with the Philistines, and Elhanan son of Jair killed Lahmi, the brother of Goliath the Gittite; his spear had a shaft like a weaver’s beam.

Samuel’s version comes as a surprise, since the killing of Goliath is attributed to Elhanan, while in the main story (1 Sam 17) and other short references, it is attributed to David. This discrepancy is probably what motivated the Chronicler to attribute to Elhanan the killing of Lahmi, the brother of Goliath. In early midrashim, it was suggested that Elhanan is David’s nickname, since God graciously bestowed him (‫ )חננו‬with courage and skills.34 This is the line of interpretation of early translators and commentators like Rashi and the Aramaic translation attributed to Jonathan. The identification of Goliath’s killer becomes even more complicated with the reading of the main story in 1 Sam 17.35 The Philistine giant is fully introduced by his name Goliath as well as his hometown Gath (v. 4). In the rest of the story, however, he is only once more referred to by this explicit identification (v. 23). Otherwise (27 times), he is referred to only by his ethnic indentification “the Philistine,” and several more times by a personal See, e.g., Ruth Rabba, portion 2. See M. Garsiel, “The Valley of Elah Battle and the Duel of David with Goliath,” 391–426. 34 35

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pronoun. However, in two other episodes, the giant is referred to again as ‫“ גלית הפלשתי‬Goliath the Philistine” (21:10; 22:10).36 The fact that in the main story Goliath’s name is mentioned only twice, and in the appendix his killer is called Elhanan has led many scholars and modern commentators to offer two different reconstructions. The first suggestion is that, indeed, the one who smote Goliath was another Bethlehemite whose name was Elhanan. But during David’s kingship, according to this view, the king capitalized on his high status, attributing to himself the exploit of killing Goliath.37 The second is that, indeed, young David killed an unnamed Philistine giant, but Elhanan was the one who killed Goliath. Later on, however, the name “Goliath” was transferred to the story of David’s exploits.38 These kinds of reconstructions are rather speculative, since the former moralist author, who wrote David’s history from a prophetical outlook, had access to reliable written and oral sources, and did not hesitate to reprove David on many occasions. It does not seem logical, therefore, that he would let David steal someone else’s glory. It is, consequently, reasonable to adopt the solution already offered by ancient commentators and modern scholars who have suggested identifying Elhanan with David. We suggest reconstructing the process as follows: When Jesse’s eighth son was born, he called the infant Elhanan, “God bestowed me” (‫ )האל חנני‬i.e., “God bestowed me with another son” (cf. Gen 33:5).39 This youngest son, Elhanan, killed Goliath, and gradually became an admired, high-ranking commander in Saul’s army. This popular officer at some point was given a nickname, David, which means “beloved one.” Indeed, the author of the first version of Samuel plays on the related root ‫“ אהב‬love” (cf. Song 3:1–4) by stating that everybody “loved” David: 36 In the first episode, Ahimelech the high priest of Nob explicitly attributes the killing of Goliath to David. However, in the latter episode, when Doeg the Edomite briefed Saul, he omitted David’s exploit, since he did not want to antagonize his king by reminding him of David’s courageous fighting. 37 See F. Stolz, Das erste und zweite Buch Samuel (ZBK, AT 9; Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1981), 203; C. S. Ehrlich, "Goliath," The Anchor Bible Dictionary, II (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 1073–1074; S. Herrmann, A History of Israel in Old Testament Times, (Revised and enlarged ed., translated from the German; London: SCM, 1981), 138–139. 38 See Segal, The Books of Samuel, 138–139; P. K. McCarter, I Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes & Commentary (AB; Garden City: Doubleday, 1980), 291; A. F. Campbell, I Samuel (FOTL VII; Grand Rapids/Cambridge, Eerdmans, 2003), 177. 39 Epigraphic evidence from various ancient cites related to the tenth–ninth centuries BCE (Timnah, Beth-shemesh, Tel Rehob) contain the name Hanan.

118

MOSHE GARSIEL

Saul (1 Sam 16:21), Jonathan (18:1–3), Michal (ibid., vv. 20, 28), Saul’s officers (ibid, v. 22), all Israel and Judah (ibid., v. 16). These are examples of a midrashic name derivation playing on David’s nickname. The first author of Samuel continued to use this wordplay on Solomon’s nickname, Jedidiah, which is interpreted by its synonymous verb of ‫אה''ב‬: “The Lord loved him” (2 Sam 12:24–25). At a later stage, the nickname “David” turned into his regnal name.40 The dialectic process of the epilogue’s composition is also very interesting. While in his main story, the first author described David’s military exploits very favorably, the latter author, who added most of Samuel’s epilogue, made a clear distinction between the elder King David and the younger David-Elhanan. While the younger David, when he was still known by his original name Elhanan, killed Goliath, the elder King David grew tired and was almost killed himself. In this general context of the epilogue, the whole notion of the king as a military leader who joins the troops, leading them to victory after victory suffered a severe blow. Furthermore, Abishai, the famous commander, who was very much hated by the first author—a moralist and one of Nathan’s disciples—is depicted here by the second author as David’s savior. One may find that the latter author, in his additions to the epilogue, is very favorable toward both commanding brothers, the sons of Zeruiah. In a later stage, however, when the two psalms were added to the epilogue, the impression that King David was not needed anymore as a field commander was considerably diminished. Our identification of Elhanan with David is strengthened by additional considerations. The story suffered a few text corruptions, the first of which is in the introduction: “Again there was fighting with the Philistines at Gob” (2 Sam 21:19). The fact that this opening copies exactly the one in the previous episode has caused some scholars to wonder if it is not an unnecessary redundancy due to an editor’s interpolation or a copyist’s mechanical error. Furthermore, as we have said above, the place name Gob is unknown elsewhere in the Bible or in extra-biblical sources, and even the Chronicler did not mention this place name in either parallel episode. The best way to deal with the problem, in my mind, is to read here ‫“( בגיא‬in the ravine”) instead of ‫בגוב‬. This reconstructed place name appears twice in the main story of David and Goliath. It refers to a narrow section of the Elah brook that is bordered by two hill ridges. On one of the northern hilltops near the western entrance to the ravine, at the modern cite of Khirbet Qeiyafa, the city of Shaʿarayim )‫ )שעריים‬was built either by King See A. M. Honeyman, “The Evidence for Regnal Names among the Hebrews,” JBL LXVII (1948), 13–25. 40

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Saul, or a decade later by King David.41 On the southern ridge, on a central hilltop, the city of Socoh (‫ )שוכה‬was located. The ravine (‫ )גיא‬separated both armies: The Israelite troops were deployed on the northern ridge and the Philistines on the southern one (1 Sam 17:3). From the Elah brook in this ravine, David (Elhanan) chose five smooth, round stones and advanced toward Goliath (v. 40). The encounter between the two combatants took place in this ravine (‫)גיא‬, and from here the Israelites began chasing the retreating Philistines, slaying them along the Shaʿarayim road (v. 52), which refers to the road leading from the city of Shaʿarayim (Khirbet Qeiyafa) to Gath (or vice versa), along the Elah brook.42 Moreover, the name of Elhanan’s father in Samuel’s version is ‫יערי‬ ‫אֹרגים‬, which is regarded by many commentators as corrupt. First, orgim is a redundancy (dittography) from the same word mentioned as a simile for Goliath’s heavy spear at the end of the same verse. Secondly, the first component of the construct yʿaray means “wood” (plural) which does not make sense as a personal name. Hence, I tend to accept the suggestion that the latter component is a corruption from ‫“ ישי‬Jesse”, the name of David’s father.43 The hero of the third episode is, therefore, none other than Elhanan-David, Jesse’s youngest son. Noteworthy is the father’s local definition, ‫“ בית הלחמי‬the Beth-lehemite”, a kind of possessive definition to this city which is attached elsewhere in the Bible only to Jesse (cf. 16:1, 18; 17:58); other personalities who came from the same locality are mentioned just as coming from Beth-lehem, without a possessive suffix (cf., e.g., Jud 12:8; 17:7–9; 2 Sam 23:24). This distinction supports the reconstruction of the hero’s father as Jesse the Beth-lehemite. Furthermore, the final summary of this literary unit is valid only if we identify Elhanan with David: “These four were descended from the Raphah in Gath, and they fell by the hands of David and his men” (2 Sam 21:22). See Y. Garfinkel and S. Ganor, “Khirbet Qeiyafa: Sha’arayim,” JHS 8 (2008), article 22. For a different identification, cf. G. Galil, “King David’s First Decade as King of Jerusalem and his Relation with the Philistines in Light of the Qeiyafa (=Netaʿim) Excavation and Inscription,” E. Baruch, A. Levy-Reifer and A. Faust (eds.), New Studies on Jerusalem, vol. 16 (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan, 2010), 21–71 (Heb.; Eng. Sum p. 22*; a full Eng. article is forthcoming). I prefer the former identification that fits better the text of 1 Sam 17. 42 For more details on this battle, see M. Garsiel, “The Valley of Elah Battle and the Duel of David with Goliath,” 391–426. When I completed the article, I was still unaware of the excavations at Khirbet Qeiyafa, the results of which support my suggested analysis. 43 So Honeyman, “The Evidence for Regnal Names among the Hebrews,” 23– 25. 41

120

MOSHE GARSIEL

According to the four episodes, the giants’ killers were Abishai, Sibechai, Elhanan and Jonathan; in his summary, however, the narrator says explicitly that the four giants fell to the hands of David and his underlings. If we do not maintain the identification of Elhanan with David, the narrator cannot attribute to David a part in these exploits. One cannot argue that these exploits are also attributed to the king, like other comprehensive triumphs that are eventually attributed to the king (cf. 2 Sam 12:24–31), since the literary unit under discussion deals with personal exploits, each of which is attributed to an individual known by his name. There is no escaping the conclusion that Elhanan is David’s previous name before he became king. Moreover, as we have explained earlier, the second author made a point of telling us that after David became king, he was no longer fit to take part in actual fighting, so the Israelites vowed to ban his participation. Yet, as a young boy, he excelled in killing Goliath. As we said before, the latent comparison between the two episodes undermines the Israelites’ claim for a king who would lead the people to war, which serves well the second author’s anti-monarchial outlook.

FOURTH EPISODE (1 CHR 20: 6–8 AND 2 SAM 21:20–22) The fourth episode in Samuel and the third in Chronicles have only minor differences: 1 Chr 20:6–8

2 Sam 21:20–22

‫עֹוד ִמ ְּל ָח ָמה ְּבגַ ת‬-‫וַ ְּת ִהי‬

‫עֹוד ִמ ְּל ָח ָמה ְּבגַ ת‬-‫וַ ְּת ִהי‬

‫וַ יְּ ִהי ִאישׁ ִמ ָדה‬

)'‫וַ יְּ ִ ִ֣הי ִאישׁ ָמדֹון (ק‬

‫עתיו‬ ָ ‫וְּ א ְּצ ְּב‬

‫ וְּ א ְּצ ְּבעֹות‬-‫וְּ א ְּצ ְּבעת יָ ָדיו‬ ‫ַרגְּ ָליו‬

‫וָ ֵשׁשׁ ע ְּׂש ִרים וְּ ַא ְּר ַבע‬-‫ֵשׁשׁ‬

‫ֵשׁשׁ וָ ֵשׁשׁ ע ְּׂש ִרים וְּ ַא ְּר ַבע‬ ‫ִמ ְּס ָפר‬

:‫נֹולד ְּל ָה ָר ָפא‬ ַ ‫הּוא‬-‫וְּ גַ ם‬

:‫הּוא יֻ ַלד ְּל ָה ָר ָפה‬-‫וְּ גַ ם‬

‫יִ ְּׂש ָר ֵאל‬-‫וַ יְּ ָח ֵרף את‬

‫יִ ְּׂש ָר ֵאל‬-‫וַ יְּ ָח ֵרף את‬

‫ ִשׁ ְּמ ָעא‬-‫וַ יַ ֵּכהּו יְּ הֹונָ ָתן בן‬ :‫ֲא ִחי ָדוִ יד‬

‫ ִשׁ ְּמ ָעא‬-‫וַ יַ ֵּכהּו יְּ הֹונָ ָתן בן‬ :‫(ק') ֲא ִחי ָדוִ ד‬

DAVID’S WARRIORS IN SAMUEL AND CHRONICLES

‫נּולדּו ְּל ָה ָר ָפא ְּבגַ ת‬ ְּ ‫ֵאל‬

‫ ַא ְּר ַב ַעת ֵאלה יֻ ְּלדּו‬-‫את‬ ‫ְּל ָה ָר ָפה ְּבגַ ת‬

:‫ ֲע ָב ָדיו‬-‫ּוביַ ד‬ ְּ ‫ ָדוִ יד‬-‫וַ יִ ְּפלּו ְּביַ ד‬

:‫ּוביַ ד ֲע ָב ָדיו‬ ְּ ‫ ָדוִ ד‬-‫וַ יִ ְּפלּו ְּביַ ד‬

121

2 Sam 21:20–22: Once again there was fighting at Gath. There was a giant of a man, who had six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot, twenty-four in all; he too was descended from the Raphah. When he taunted Israel, Jonathan, the son of David’s brother Shimei, killed him. These four were descended from the Raphah in Gath, and they fell by the hands of David and his men. 1 Chr 20:6–8 Once again there was fighting at Gath. There was a giant of a man who had twenty four fingers [and toes], six [on each hand] and six [on each foot]; he, too, was descended from the Raphah. When he taunted Israel, Jonathan, son of David’s brother Shimea, killed him. These were descended from the Raphah in Gath, and they fell by the hands of David and his men.

This fourth episode in Samuel and third in Chronicles is the only one in which the battle theatre’s name is identical in the parallel sources: Gath, the hometown of the giants. There are, however, some small, insignificant differences which are tangential to our topic, so we will move to the concluding formula. The author of Samuel points to the total score of four personal victories, while the Chronicler omits the number, probably because he omitted the first episode and did not see any point in changing the reduced total to three. He even kept Samuel’s version in which the giants fell into David and his warriors’ hands, even though none of the episodes in Chronicles’ text is related to David’s personal exploits, since the author of Chronicles did not adopt the identification of Elhanan with David. Yet the Chronicler probably had in mind the original story of David and Goliath (he introduces Lahmi as Goliath’s brother), so he latently preserves David’s share in the concluding formula. Besides the textual differences in the parallel sources, it is worthy to evaluate them in their various general contexts. The second author of the book of Samuel put together the four warrior episodes and dovetailed them in the epilogue sections. At first sight, it looks like a small catalogue roster of four encounters between David and his warriors and four Philistine

122

MOSHE GARSIEL

giants that resulted in Israelite victories. The encounters took place in various locations (western Negeb, Gezer, the ravine of Elah, and Gath) and at different times ranging from the time of Saul’s battle against the Philistines at the ravine of Elah to King David’s attack on the Philistine’s royal city of Gath. However, a thorough analysis of this section in the context of the whole book of Samuel reveals that the second author added this section in order to challenge the first author’s thesis concerning the necessity of a king who would lead the troops in war. Young Elhanan (later to be known as David) indeed slew Goliath, but he did it when he was very young and not yet a king. Much later, however, when he became king and the nickname David became his royal name, he was almost killed in another encounter with a Philistine giant, so the troops vowed to ban him from joining them in future wars. Furthermore, it becomes evident that even other heroes can match David’s successes in killing Goliath. This was well demonstrated by the three warriors who killed the other three giants who shared with Goliath membership in the guild of Rephaim’s descendants. The most important reason for establishing a kingship in Israel, namely, that the king would lead his people in war, is obsolete. Moreover, Samuel’s second author grants Abishai an honorable mention for saving his king’s life, a comment directed against the first author’s tendency not to miss any opportunity to denounce the sons of Zeruiah. These changes in text and context in Chronicles seem to be moving in different directions. The story about David’s near death and the troops’ vow to ban the king from joining them in war was omitted. The Chronicler does not share the second author of Samuel’s negative opinion on the necessity of the king’s presence in war. On the contrary, prior to the three episodes on the encounters with the Philistines, the Chronicler depicts King David as taking personal, leading roles in important wars (1 Chr 18:1–6; 19:16–18), but staying in Jerusalem for others (18:12; 19:8–15). Like the first author of Samuel, the Chronicler views David as a king who takes part in some important wars, but sends the sons of Zeruiah to launch other wars, while remaining in Jerusalem whenever he regards the operations as less important. But unlike the first author of King David’s history, the Chronicler favors the sons of Zeruiah and sees in Joab and Abishai loyal commanders who helped David win wars. Unlike the second author of Samuel who added to the earlier version the epilogue’s sections and composed the warriors’ anecdotes in a nonchronological order, the Chronicler positioned the three episodes as a conclusion to all of King David’s wars. Even so, as I have analyzed elsewhere, all the Philistine wars antedated the wars against the eastern and

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123

northern enemies.44 This might be another reason why the Chronicler did not want to mention explicitly the David and Goliath story, since it happened long before David’s kingship, so he placed these events as David’s concluding wars. As we said before, the Chronicler does not regard the encounters just as personal achievements of courageous warriors, but as exploits that overpowered the Philistines’ deployment, which caused them to yield. This change was made by adding in his opening episode just one word referring to the outcome of the general war: ‫“ ויכנעו‬and they [the Philistines] were subdued” (1 Chr 20:4). This change, combined with the section’s context at the end of all of David’s wars, bestow the warfare against the Philistines an importance that is way beyond just personal encounters between heroes.45 Yet the Chronicler probably preferred a literary structure based on a parallel between opening and conclusion (inclusio) rather than an accurate, historical chronology of David’s wars. He opens David’s war cycle with a general statement about David’s smiting the Philistines, subduing them and capturing Gath (18:1). He concludes with the last episode of killing the third of the Rephaim giants, which took place at Gath, concluding that all these Rephaim giants born at Gath fell into the hands of David and his warriors (20:6–8).

DAVID’S ELITE COMPANY AS LISTED IN THE PARALLEL SOURCES Another section in the epilogue of the book of Samuel deals with the elite unit entitled “David’s heroes” (2 Sam 23:8–39) and its modified parallel was interwoven in the main part of Chronicles’ description of David’s enthronement and the comprehensive support he got from all ranks of warriors (1 Chr 11:10–12:41). We shall now discuss the first section in the parallel sources that deals with the unit’s commanders. The following table presents interesting variations between the parallel sources:

44 See Garsiel, The Kingdom of David, 65–71; Idem, The Rise of the Monarchy in Israel, vol. 3, 170–193. 45 Cf. Sara Japhet, I & II Chronicles: A Commentary (OTL; London: SCM, 1993), 366, 368.

124

2 Sam 23:8–23 Commander’s name 1. Joshebbasshebeth, a Tahchemonite 2. Adino the Eznite 3. Eleazar son of Dodo son of Ahohi 4. Shammah son of Age 5. Abishai, the brother of Joab, son of Zeruiah

6. Benaiah son of Jehoiada

MOSHE GARSIEL

His rank A chief of thirty

1 Chr 11:11–25 Commander’s name 1. Jashobeam son of Hachmoni

His rank A chief of thirty

-----

2. - - - - -

He was one of the three warriors -----

3. Eleazar son of Dodo, the Ahohite 4. - - - - -

He was one of the three warriors

He was head of the three. He won a name among the three. Since he was the most highly regarded among the three, he became their leader. However, he did not attain to the three. He had a name among the three warriors. He was highly regarded above the thirty, but did not attain the three.

5. Abshai the brother of Joab,

He was head of the three. He won a name among the three. Among the three, he was more highly regarded than the other two, and so he became their commander. However, he did not attain to the other three. He won a name among the three warriors. He was highly regarded above the thirty, but he did not attain the three.

6. Benaiah son of Jehoiada

-----

-----

A close study of the parallel sources raises significant questions: A. The section about the elite warriors in Samuel consists of a roster (including rank definition and exploit anecdotes) of six commanders (three plus three) followed by a somewhat monotonous list of thirty underling warriors. Yet when adding the six with the thirty, the second author of Samuel gives the figure of thirty-seven as its total. Who, then, is the warrior who is missing in both the roster and the list, but included in the total?

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125

B. Before both the roster of commanders and the list of privates, Chronicles adds the story of Jerusalem’s conquest by Joab (1 Chr 11:5– 6). Is there any deliberate connection in this book between the list of heroes and Joab son of Zeruiah who answered David’s challenge, conquered Jerusalem and helped David build it? C. In Samuel, four out of the six in the commander’s roster were described by rank definitions; Adino (no. 2) and Shamma (no. 4) are the exceptions, being described only with a short story about their exploits without any rank definitions. If they are included in the commander’s roster, why does the author not mention their rank as he does with their four colleagues? D. It looks as if both above mentioned commanders, Adino and Shammah, were omitted from the Chronicles’ roster of commanders, which leaves that roster with only four commanders instead of the six in Samuel. Why were those two commanders omitted in the roster of Chronicles? E. What exactly are the various rank definitions that are attributed to the four commanders in Samuel’s roster of six and, in particular, what does it mean, in both parallel sources, that Abishai and Benaiah are described as included in “the three” yet did not attain “the other three?” Who, then, are “the three” among whom Abishai and Benaiah are included, and who are “the other three” among whom both heroes were excluded? F. Why did the Chronicler add, after the two lists of heroes, another list of trans-Jordanian heroes led by a commander named Adina son of Shiza the Reubenite. He then added: “a chief of the Reubenite, and thirty with him.” There follows subsequently a partial list of heroes (1 Chr 11:42–47). What does this addition contribute to the Chronicler’s theme? G. What is the Chronicler’s point in adding, after the Reubenite’s list, a collection of more various lists of warriors who joined David? We intend to address the above issues and, at the same time, try to understand the distinctive structures in the parallel sources and the different tendencies that motivate differences in both books’ presentations of the above issues. We will begin by addressing the first two issues (A and B). It seems to me that, in the ancient archive used by both biblical authors, Joab appeared as a commander who served in David’s early years of reign in both functions: as a top commander of the elite company known as “King David’s heroes” as well as a commander-in-chief of David’s small army.

126

MOSHE GARSIEL

The ancient source probably described the elite unit’s echelon, and Joab appeared at the top of that unit. The story of how King David was anxious to capture Jerusalem in the second year of his reign in Hebron probably appeared in this source near the description of Joab’s high rank.46 The king motivated his warriors with a challenge that the warrior who could accomplish it would be promoted to chief (‫ )ראש‬of his elite heroes as well as chief/minister (‫ )שר‬of his small army. Joab did it, and attained both command positions for several years. The Chronicler adopted the episode and inserted it in a better context (1 Chr 11:4–8). Being the top commander of the heroes’ company, Joab deserved to be positioned in front of the roster and the list enumerating David’s heroes, their commanders and their exploits. Unfortunately, the first author of the earlier version of the book of Samuel had already used the Jerusalem conquest episode elsewhere, and he deliberately omitted Joab’s special contribution to this operation (2 Sam 5:6–9). Being one of the Prophet Nathan’s disciples, the moralist first author loathed Joab for being responsible for Uriah’s death in “obedience” to David’s orders in the Ammonite war. He also was critical of Joab for murdering his adversaries, Abner and Amasa, and for supporting Adonijah in his rivalry with Solomon on the issue of King David’s throne accession. As we said earlier, this author criticizes the sons of Zeruiah for their violent activities, and diminishes their glory wherever and whenever he could get away with it. But the second author, who later provided the book of Samuel with additional material (including most of the epilogue), was torn between caution and fear of Solomon, on the one hand, and his desire to restore the sons of Zeruiah’s glory, on the other hand. In the case of Joab, Samuel’s second author made a cautious compromise. He did not describe Joab explicitly as the chief commander of the elite company. He implicitly There are good reasons to date Jerusalem’s conquest to David’s second year in Hebron, see B. Mazar, Biblical Israel: State and People (Jerusalem: Magness & Israel Exploration Society, 1992), 78–87; Garsiel, The Kingdom of David, 15–16; Idem, The Rise of the Monarchy in Israel, vol. 3, 29–30; H. Reviv, From Clan to Monarchy: Israel in the Biblical Period (Jerusalem: Magness, 1979), 123–124. However, Knoppers argued against Mazar’s early date citing Sara Japhet (I & II Chronicles, 234): “Jerusalem could not have been conquered and built during the very event of the enthronement” (Knoppers, I Chronicles 10–29, 545). But Japhet’s remark was not directed against Mazar’s historical reconstruction. She only dismissed the possibility of applying this chronological reconstruction to the text of Chronicles. In any event, in both biblical parallel sources, both the conquest of Jerusalem and its building were depicted in a non-chronological order but were motivated by different sequence considerations that cannot be elaborated on here. 46

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127

referred to him indirectly on three occasions: when his two brothers are mentioned as Joab’s brothers (2 Sam 23:18, 24) and later when he identified two heroes as Joab’s arms bearers (v. 27). These references imply that Joab was the unit’s chief commander at an earlier stage. I assume that he is the one who completes the total in the epilogue’s roster and list to 37 (which settles question A from above). Devoid of both his predecessors’ inhibitions and hesitations, the Chronicler discloses Joab’s contribution in the conquest of Jerusalem and its building and how he attained his status as chief commander (‫ )ראש‬of the elite unit as well as his rank as a minister of the army (1 Chr 11:4–8). Subsequently, the Chronicler presents his elaborate version of the unit, its commanders and their exploits and the list of its other warriors (vv. 10–41). We shall return to the Chronicler’s special approach below. (Question B is now settled.) We move now to Adino and Sammah, whose ranks are missing in Samuel and even whose names are missing in Chronicles (questions C and D above). It seems to me that neither commander was in control of the initial platoon, i.e., the founders’ platoon of heroes that was established probably as early as David’s period of wandering or in his time at Ziklag. In these periods, most of the elite platoon’s warriors were members of the southern tribes of Judah, Simeon and Dan.47 Yeshbaal, whose name was modified to Jashobeam (son of Hachmoni) in Chronicles, and to Joshebbasshebeth, a Tahchemonite, in Samuel served as the first platoon’s top commander of the “thirty.”48 That last name is probably a very late midrashic name derivation that was based on the verb ‫“ ישב‬sit” and the adjective ‫“ חכם‬sage” and was inserted by a late copyist. The second author of Samuel wanted to devote a memorial list for the founders’ platoon by mentioning its top commander Jashobeam, its lower officers and their hierarchy—Abishai, Eleazar and Benaiah—respectively. He attached anecdotes of the exploits of the four commanders. Subsequently, he added a monotonous list of thirty underling heroes. The original platoon’s structure is now reconstructed, as is demonstrated by the following table.

See Myers, I Chronicles, 90. We read in the parallel texts: ‫“ ראש השלשים‬the head of thirty” (pace N. Na’aman, “The List of David’s Officers (šališim),” VT 38 (1988), 71–79, who reads šališim). 47 48

128

MOSHE GARSIEL

Heroes’ Names The Platoon Commanders 1. Jashobeam 2. Abishai 3. Eleazar 4. Benaiah The Platoon Underlings A list of “thirty” heroes

Their Military Status A top commander of the founders’ platoon Head of the “three” lower officers (equivalent to modern sergeant-major) of the first platoon The second in command of the “three” lower officers The last in command of the “three” lower officers Regular warriors (privates)

After reconstructing the initial platoon, its top commander, its three lower officers as well as its privates, we remain with the same above questions: Who are Adino and Shammah? Why were they also inserted in the epilogue’s roster within a text dedicated to commanders? As for Adino (2 Sam 23:8), I have suggested identifying him with Adina son of Shiza the Reubenite. The latter is described in Chronicles as “a chief of the Reubenites and thirty with him” (1 Chr 11:42). The warrior’s name list in the latter text was recognized as based upon trans-Jordanian warriors.49 It seems to me that Adino/Adina was a top commander of a platoon of thirty trans-Jordanian elite warriors plus its lower officers and, in fact, his rank is equivalent to Jashobeam, the top commander of the first platoon. While the first platoon was made up mainly of the tribe of Judah, neighboring tribes, and other refugees who joined David in his wandering period, at a later stage David added to it another platoon under the command of Adino. This second platoon consisted mainly of transJordanian warriors. The above reconstruction leads us to another probability, that the second commander, Shammah son of Age (‫)אגא‬, was also a top commander of a third platoon that was added at a later stage to David’s elite unit. We shall now explore this hypothesis. The name Shammah (‫)שמה‬ is an abbreviation of various theophoric names that contain the verb ‫שמע‬ plus a deity’s name as suffix, which means that the “deity would heed” the 49 Cf. S. Klein, “The Heroes of King David,” Yediot 7 (1940), 103–104, 106 [Heb.]; B. Mazar, The Early Biblical Period: Historical Studies (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1986), 101–102; S. L. McKenzie, 1–2 Chronicles (AOTC; Nashville: Abington Press, 2004), 127.

DAVID’S WARRIORS IN SAMUEL AND CHRONICLES

129

request of the parents or the wish that he would protect the infant. The full name construction would be, therefore, Ishmaiah (‫)ישמעיה‬, or the like.50 Consequently, it seems plausible to identify the above Shammah (‫שמה‬ ‫ )בן אגא‬of the hill region (‫ (ההררי‬with Ishmaiah of Gibeon (whose place name indicates a hilly site—identified with the modern village of el-Gib) who is mentioned in 1 Chronicles 12:4 as: “a warrior among the thirty, leading the thirty.” The latter is mentioned in this text among other warriors as “kinsmen of Saul from Benjamin” who joined David’s camp when he was still deployed at Ziklag (ibid., vv. 1–4).51 Hence, Sammah/Ishmaiah served as a top commander of the third platoon that joined the elite unit and most of whose warriors were Benjaminites. This enlarged unit became at this stage a company under the commander-in-chief, Joab. The latter, as we have said, is the missing name of the 37 total warriors in Samuel’s roster and list. If our analysis is correct, Samuel’s roster of six commanders contains three top platoon commanders: Jashobeam, Adino and Shammah/Ishmaiah, as well as three lower officers of the first founders’ platoon: Abishai, Eleazar and Benaiah. The partial reconstruction of the whole company based on information supplied by both biblical sources is demonstrated in the following table.

50 See M. Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen im Rahmen der gemeinsemitischen Namengebung (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1928), 39, 138, 185; Encyclopaedia Biblica, vol. 8, entries ‫שמא‬, ‫שמה‬, 69–70. For a further discussion of this name and other information on the later promotions of this commander, see Garsiel, The Rise of the Monarchy in Israel, vol. 3, 143–144. 51 For further discussion of the identification of Shammah with Ishmaiah, see Garsiel, The Kingdom of David, 31–34.

130

MOSHE GARSIEL

The chief commander of the warriors’ company The first platoon (the founders) The “three:” Jashobeam platoons’ top commanders The “three:” 1. Abishai, the first head of the platoon’s “three” lower officers 2. Eleazar, second in command 3. Benaiah, last in command The “thirty:” Detailed lists regular in 2 Sam platoons’ 23:24–39; and 1 warriors Chr 11:27–41. (privates).

Joab son of Zeruiah The transJordanian’s platoon Adino/Adina

The Benjaminites’ platoon

A partial list in 1 Chr 11:42–47.

A small list fragment in 1 Chr 11:2–4.

Shammah/Ishmaiah

We can move now to the various texts at issue in Samuel and Chronicles, solve the rest of the problems presented above, and disclose the various approaches and purposes of the biblical sources toward the heroes and their exploits. As stated above, the second author of the book of Samuel wanted to lessen somewhat the glory of the king as the greatest hero and military leader who takes significant part in actual fighting. This author, who opposes the kingship in general, did it subtly again by adding his memorial roster and list of the commanders and members of David’s elite unit, and by telling anecdotes of their extraordinary exploits. He even combined this with the previous one about David and his heroes who killed four Philistine giants. In both sections, it becomes clear that David’s feat in killing Goliath was not a unique and unimaginable act of heroism, as presented by the first author in his earlier composition. Several other warriors—as the second author in both warrior sections subtly reminds us—matched David’s success in killing giants like Goliath; three of the warriors killed the Rephaim giants, a guild which also includes Goliath. Moreover, whereas the earlier author recounts how young David and his men killed 200 Philistines and cut their male organs (1 Sam 18:25-28), the second author points out that several of David’s warriors out-matched the former and killed alone a

DAVID’S WARRIORS IN SAMUEL AND CHRONICLES

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lot more of their enemies; one of these warriors was no other than the hated (by the earlier author) Abishai son of Zeruiah (2 Sam 23:18). The second author was trying to diminish David’s glory by shifting the focus to the heroic actions of the commanders and a few other warriors—all of whom share the glory of David’s victories. Some of them even fell in war; the second author mentions Uriah the Hittite in the closing list (2 Sam 23:39), which serves also as a reminder of David’s sins. The second author cautiously picked up the information about the first two stages of the development of the elite unit from available, ancient archives. He wanted to focus on the first stage, namely, on the first platoon of the founders, elaborating on its top commander Jashobeam and his three lower officers, Abishai, Eleazar and Benaiah (in this hierarchic order). This second author, however, also wanted to briefly remind the audience of the second stage, when two other platoons joined the unit and it became a company. Instead of elaborating on the second stage, the author presented it with its two top platoon commanders, Adino and Shammah, whom he added to the roster of commanders of the first platoon. At this point, this roster included three top platoon commanders, who were granted the title of being within “the three” of the higher level platoon’s top commanders. However, in order not to disturb the first platoon’s echelon, only Jashobeam was described in the text as “the head of thirty.” His two colleagues, in command of the other later platoons, were not described explicitly by their ranks as heads of thirty, but the narrator implicitly counted them within the upper “three.” This is how we suggest solving question C above. When the second author mentioned the lower officers in a hierarchic order, he was careful not to confuse the “three” of them with the “three” top commanders. Hence, he cautiously described Abishai’s rank as the leader of the “three” officers by adding the the sentence, “However, he did not attain to the three” (namely, the “three” top platoon commanders). As for Benaiah, the author wanted to place him above the regular warriors while in the status of the lower officers. However, once the commander was elevated above the “thirty” regulars, the author added again the same cautious remark that this officer was indeed above the “thirty” and within the lower “three.” Yet that does not mean that he attained the upper “three” status of a platoon’s top commander. This explanation helps us to solve question E above. The memorial section of the elite platoon as well as its commanders’ exploits, including the two top commanders of the two additional platoons, serves the second author of Samuel by diminishing David’s glory as an unmatched, Israelite super-hero. Both of the epilogue’s sections dealing

132

MOSHE GARSIEL

with David’s warriors tell us that other warriors excelled in the fighting as well; they fought against well-equipped giants or against hundreds of foes or penetrated the enemy’s deployment all the way from the besieged fortress of Jerusalem to occupied Bethlehem to bring intelligence information to their king as well as water from the cistern at Bethlehem’s gate.52 Furthermore, it is evident that both of the epilogue’s sections restore respect for Abishai explicitly and Joab implicitly. Abishai saved his king’s life, and he served as the commander in the exploit of the three who brought “water” to his king. In another incident, he killed hundreds of enemies. In disclosing these details, the second author diminishes the hostility toward the sons of Zeruiah who were so criticized by the first author in his earlier version of David’s story and the history of his kingdom. The Chronicler, on the other hand, drew significantly from the second version of Samuel and probably used ancient sources as well. Yet the changes in the texts and in the context of the warriors’ lists and rosters drive these parallel sections in different directions in terms of meaning and message. The Chronicler puts the kingdom and kingship of David and Solomon in the center of Israel’s history. He does this to such an extent that, even though he opens his book with the first human being, Adam, he tells very little or even nothing about the history of Israel in the times of the patriarchs, Moses and the exodus, Joshua and the conquest of Canaan, the judges and the settlement or Saul and his kingship. It looks almost as if the main history of Israel began with David and Solomon, to whom the Chronicler devotes the major part of his book. Moreover, he confines his interest in the northern kingdom to certain joint operations in which both kingdoms cooperated or fought against each other. I have elsewhere addressed several main issues in Chronicles’ literary structure and contents. Following M. Noth’s views, I concluded that the book served as a subtle polemic against the Samaritans who dissented from the Separatist returnees who followed Ezra and Nehemiah’s preaching and actions. The latter bitterly fought against the so-called “people of the land” (‫)עמי הארץ‬. The Separatists continued the campaign against the people of the land, also dubbed “the Samaritans.” The schism eventually brought about a Samaritan counter-building of a temple on Mount Gerizim, which served them as a replacement for the Jerusalemite second temple, attendance and worship in which was denied them. The Samaritans also claimed that they were continuing the traditions of the earlier northern kingdom, and that even the patriarchs had built altars there. The Chronicler, on his part, tried his best to contribute to the bitter theological debate See M. Garsiel, “The Water Retrieval Mission of David’s Three Warriors and its Relationship to the Battle of the Valley of Refaim,” 51–62. 52

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against the Samaritans by making revisions of the history of Israel, in which the Jerusalemite temple became the center of Israelite life. Its builders, furthermore, David and Solomon, became the most prominent figures in the history of Israel.53 The Chronicler’s motivation in writing his book has a bearing on this topic as well. As stated before, three out of four anecdotes in Samuel’s epilogue about David and his warriors killing Philistine giants turned into three major wars against the Philistines. Samuel’s first episode about Abishai saving David’s life was omitted. But the main point is the Chronicles’ context. Whereas these wars were recounted in Samuel as personal encounters intended to glorify the heroes and diminish the king’s image as a military leader, in Chronicles the encounters became a finale to David’s comprehensive wars against the Philistines and other nations. Furthermore, all of David’s wars became instrumental to the building of the Jerusalemite temple, as was subtly stated by the Chronicler: David took the gold shields carried by Hadadezer’s retinue and brought them to Jerusalem; and from Tibbnath and Cun, towns of Hadadezer, David took a vast amount of copper, from which Solomon made the bronze tank, the columns and the bronze vessels. When King Tou of Hamath heard that David had defeated the entire army of King Hadadezer of Zobah, he sent his son Hadoram to King David to greet him and to congratulate him on his military victory over Hadadezer–for Hadadezer had been at war with Tou [he brought with him] all manner of gold, silver, and copper objects. King David dedicated these to the Lord, along with the other silver and gold that he had taken from all the nations: from Edom, Moab, and Ammon, from the Philistines and the Amaleqites. (1 Chr 18:7–11).

Hence, the wars against the Philistines, as well as against other nations, served indirectly for the building of the temple and its implements. King David and King Solomon used the booty of war and other gifts in building the central temple in Jerusalem and furnishing it. Similarly, the second version of Samuel’s list of the elite warrior unit that was intended to glorify the heroes and restore honor to the very much criticized (by the first author) sons of Zeruiah became in Chronicles a part of a comprehensive demonstration of support for David. The Chronicler omits Samuel’s detailed stories about the conflict between Saul and David 53 For a comprehensive survey of this approach, see my article: M. Garsiel, “The Structure and Contents of Chronicles as a Veiled Polemic against the Samaritans,” J. Schwartz et al. (eds.), Jerusalem and Eeretz Israel: Arie Kindler Volume (Ramat Gan & Tel Aviv: The Ingeborg Rennert Center for Jerusalem Studies, BarIlan University & Eretz Israel Museum, 2000), English section, 42–60.

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and between the house of David and the house of Saul. Only a few hints remain of these periods. The Chronicler describes David as achieving the kingship with a vast approval of all the tribes of Israel. Being the king who conquered and built Jerusalem, made it his capital, brought the Ark of the Covenant there and initiated the building of the temple, the Chronicler preferred to describe David as having gained the approval of all of Israel in his kingship, instead of as a controversial king who fought his way to the throne, as recounted in Samuel. In line with this revisionary history of David, the Chronicler used King David’s warriors to describe the wide support of the military for David’s kingship. Within this framework, the Chronicler tried reconstructing the second phase of the elite unit. Unlike Samuel’s second author, who used the unit in its initial stage to glorify the heroes as well as the sons of Zeruiah (with only a hint of its second stage), the Chronicler tried to reconstruct its second stage by naming Adina (=Adino) the Reubenite, who served as the second platoon’s top commander of the trans-Jordanian elite platoon. He could not, however, reconstruct the whole unit, so he sufficed with only a partial list of fifteen warriors. He also mentioned the Benjaminite’s third Platoon Commander, Ishmaiah, among the Benjaminites who joined David. But due to his lack of available sources, he could not reconstruct the third platoon. In any event, the whole description of the many warriors who joined David served in Chronicles to clear David from any suspicion that his kingship was attained by controversial means. The Chronicler needed both David and Solomon to be regarded with the utmost integrity in the history of Israel, inasmuch as they were connected to the building of the temple in Jerusalem, which served the Chronicler’s polemical argument against the Samaritans who built another temple on Mount Gerizim to replace the Jerusalemite one.

THE SHATTERED DREAM THE PROPHECIES OF JOEL: A BRIDGE BETWEEN EZEKIEL AND HAGGAI? TOVA GANZEL BAR-ILAN UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION The observation by Abraham ibn Ezra that “we have no way of establishing to which generation he [Joel] belonged and, according to the plain meaning, he is not the son of Samuel,”1 perhaps encapsulates Ibn Ezra’s understanding that this prophet deliberately hid his era so as to make his prophecy timeless. But for modern scholarship, the inability to unequivocally determine the date or historical background of these oracles hampers comprehension of their prophetic message. Moreover, as evidenced by the widely varying proposals and suggested methods, dating Joel is no simple matter. This article seeks to contribute to this challenging undertaking, notwithstanding the inherent critical difficulties. Many scholars assign Joel’s prophecies to the post-destruction period, mainly on the grounds of (a) the absence of references to a king ruling Judea, a priestly leadership, or the northern kingdoms of Assyria and Babylonia; (b) the language of the book, * It is my pleasure to thank Professor Mark J. Boda both for his generosity in reading a draft of this article and for his incisive comments. I thank Dena Ordan not only for translating the article but also for her assistance in clarifying the argument. All the dates in this article are BCE. Where chapter and verse numbers appear without attribution to a specific work, they refer to Joel. 1 Uriel Simon, Abraham Ibn Ezra’s Two Commentaries on the Minor Prophets: An Annotated Critical Edition (Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1989), 1:135 (Hebrew). See also Abarbanel’s commentary on Joel (Tel Aviv: Torah va-Da’at, 1960), 65.

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including its use of earlier prophecies; (c) the denunciation of the slave trade; and (d) the punishments predicted for Egypt and Edom.2 Within this general frame, this article proposes a dating that is usually ruled out by the assumption that “a functioning cult in Jerusalem excludes the period from 586 to 516, from the destruction of the temple by the Babylonian army to its restoration under the prophetic leadership of Haggai and Zechariah.”3 This article proposes that the oracles in the book of Joel were uttered during the early restoration period in Judah, and more specifically, during the seventeen-year period between Cyrus’s decree (538–537 BCE) and the prophecies of Haggai (520 BCE), in year two to Darius, before the dedication of the Second Temple.4 Moreover, this study views the book of Joel as partly filling the lacuna in prophetic literature between the latest prophecies of Ezekiel, dated to 570 BCE (Ezek 29:17), and the earliest prophecies of Haggai and Zechariah, dated to year two of Darius (Hag 1:1; Zech 1:1). The scholarly proposal closest to this one assigns the book of Joel to the time of Haggai and Zechariah (separate from Malachi), ca. 520 BCE, based on the similarities between Joel and Haggai and Zechariah and their distance from Malachi, who is later.5 A dating of Joel to these years is consistent with the linguistic criteria that guide most scholars to assign this book to the postexilic period. The sole biblical description of the early restoration period, which recounts the building of the altar and the laying of the foundations of the temple, is the retrospective one in Ezra 1–4. The dating of the events described in these chapters is difficult, however. Thus the return described in Ezra 2–3 under the leadership of Zerubabel and Jeshua can be viewed as the immediate continuation of the return of Sheshbazzar (1:11), the chiefs of the clans of Judah and Benjamin, and the priests and Levites (1:5) just after the issuing of Cyrus’s proclamation (Ezra 1). Alternately, it can be understood as testifying to a later wave of return, perhaps during Darius’s reign. This raises additional questions: Was the temple founded and the altar dedicated between the initial return and the second return during the reign of Darius, or did these years pass without any initiation of building? In the latter instance, the events described in Ezra 3 took place at an even later 2 See, for example, James L. Crenshaw, Joel: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 24C; New York: Doubleday, 1995), 21–29. 3 Crenshaw, Joel, 25. 4 My working assumption is of the unity of the book of Joel. For a discussion of the unity of the text, see John Barton, Joel and Obadiah: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 5–14. 5 See Jacob M. Myers, “Some Considerations Bearing on the Date of Joel,” ZAW 74 (1962), 177–95.

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date.6 In either case, the returning priests, who had hoped to resume the sacrificial rites and the rebuilding of the temple, confronted a harsh reality and disappointment at the circumstances so far from their original expectations. Although it is not necessary to argue that the descriptions in Joel reflect a functioning altar in order to date him to the early restoration period, in my opinion this was indeed the case. The historical context for Joel proposed here contributes to the resolution of many puzzling elements in this book and highlights the close affinity between prophecy and its accompanying historical circumstances. The many proposals for dating Joel’s prophecies span five centuries7— ranging from the mid-ninth century, during the reign of Jehoram ben Ahab, to the rise of the Greeks in the fourth century BCE8—and testify to the lack 6 For a discussion of the dating of these events in Ezra, see Jacob L. Wright, Rebuilding Identity: The Nehemiah Memoir and Its Earliest Readers (BZAW, 348; Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2004), 301–3; H. G. M. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah (WBC, 16; Waco, Texas: Word, 1985), 44–45; Jacob M. Myers, Ezra Nehemiah (AB, 14; New York: Doubleday, 1965), xxiv–xxvii. For a recent discussion of the redaction of Ezra and Nehemiah, see Mark J. Boda and Paul L. Redditt (eds.), Unity and Disunity in Ezra-Nehemiah: Redaction, Rhetoric and Reader (Hebrew Bible Monographs, 17; Sheffield: Phoenix Press, 2008). 7 For discussions of the progressive interrelationships in the book that indicate its unity, see Willem S. Prinsloo, “The Unity of the Book of Joel,” ZAW 104 (1992), 66–81; and more recently, Ernst R. Wendland, “Dramatic Rhetoric, Metaphoric Imagery, and Discourse Structure in Joel,” Journal for Semitics 18 (2009), 205–39. For a synchronic reading of Joel, see James R. Linville, “The Day of Yahweh and the Mourning of Priests in Joel,” Lester L. Grabbe and Alice Ogden Bellis (eds.), The Priests in the Prophets: The Portrayal of Priests, Prophets and Other Religious Specialists in the Latter Prophets (JSOTSup, 408; London: T & T Clark, 2004). 8 For a comprehensive survey of the possibilities for dating Joel by biblical scholars until 1974, see John Alexander Thompson, “The Date of Joel,” Howard N. Bream, Ralph D. Heim, and Carey A. Moore (eds.), A Light Unto My Path: Old Testament Studies in Honor of Jacob M. Myers (Gettysburg Theological Studies, 4; Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1974), 453–64. I cite in addition examples of rabbinic approaches, Hebrew studies, and several studies published after Thompson’s article, and note some articles particularly relevant to my proposal. For a mid-ninth century dating of Joel, during the reign of Yehoram ben Ahab, see Rashi (in addition to his identification of Joel as the “son of the prophet Samuel”), Miqra’ot gedolot ha-ma’or: Nevi’im u-ketuvim (Jerusalem: Hamaor Institute, 2000), 120; and Rabbi David Kimhi, ibid., 121. The eighth-century dating, during the reign of Uzziah and Jeroboam ben Joash, relies on this book’s placement between Hosea and Amos in the Minor Prophets, and see the recent article by Aaron Schart, “The First Section of the Book of the Twelve Prophets: Hosea-Joel-

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of a single, agreed upon criterion for determining the date of this book. However, the weight of scholarly opinion assigns Joel’s oracles to the postexilic period, and my proposal is in line with this premise. Previous discussions that placed Joel in the Second Temple period have relied largely on analysis of the linguistic affinities between Joel and Ezekiel and between Joel and Haggai. Based on the outcome of their linguistic arguments,9 the present discussion draws more heavily on topical affinities in order to suggest a closer dating for the book of Joel. Part of the difficulty in unequivocally establishing the date and background of Joel derives from the text itself and its remarkable lack of clarity. I suggest that serious consideration be given to the possibility that Joel was among the returning exiles, or if he remained in the land of Israel that he was exposed to the oracles delivered by Ezekiel in Babylonia.10 Amos,” Interpretation 61 (2007), 138–52. For attribution to the seventh century, during the reign of Manasseh, see Heinrich W. Guggenheimer, trans., Seder Olam: The Rabbinic View of Biblical Chronology (Northvale, N.J.: Aronson, 1998), 176–78, n. 7; or during Manasseh’s early reign or even at the end of Sennacherib’s reign, see Yehezkel Kaufmann, Toledot ha-emunah ha-yisra’elit (Tel Aviv: Mossad Bialik, 1960), 3:331–39; and recently, Duane A. Garrett, Hosea, Joel (New American Commentary, 19A; Nashville: Broadman and Holman, 1997), 286–94. For a sixth-century dating, close to the time of the destruction, see in addition to Maries (n. 44 below), Ben Zion Luria, “The Date of Joel 4,” Bet Mikra 32 (1986/87), 345–49 (in Hebrew). See also Pesiq. Rab Kah.: Nahamu 128b [Braude-Kapstein ed., 295], which includes Joel among the eight prophets who prophesied after the destruction of the Temple. Most scholars date Joel’s oracles to the fifth or fourth centuries, based on linguistic links to other biblical texts assigned to this period. See, for example, Benjamin Uffenheimer, “Qavim le-ofi ha-sifruti u-le-reqa ha-histori shel Yoel 1–2,” H. Gevaryahu, B. Z. Luria, and Y. Melman (eds.), Sefer Biram: Ma’amarim be-heqer hatanakh (Pirsumei ha-hevrah le-heqer ha-miqra be-yisrael, 2; Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1946), 108–15, who dates Joel after the destruction and before the fifth-century expulsion of the Edomites. For a dating to the late sixth century, after the rebuilding and dedication of the Temple (516), during the reign of Darius but before Ezra (458), see Mordechai Cogan, Joel (Mikra leyisra’el; Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1994), 10; and Myers, “Date of Joel,” 177–95; and in his wake Leslie C. Allen, The Books of Joel, Obadiah, Jonah and Micah (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976), 19–25, among many others. For a fifth-century dating, during Ezra and Nehemiah’s day but before the rise of the Greeks, see Crenshaw, Joel, 21–29. For the late fourth century (400 the earliest), see John Barton, Joel and Obadiah: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 14–18. Barton concludes that the second part of Joel is later than the first and is a secondary addition. 9 See n. 45 below. 10 See n. 44 below.

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Placement of Joel in the early restoration period—between the setting up of the altar but before the rebuilding of the temple—has the ability to explain much of the problematic content of the oracles in Joel 1–2. One question relates to identification of what reality underlies the description of the priests performing the altar service as engaging in mourning customs; also, what prevented the offering of the grain and libation sacrifices? Certainly, if viewed against the background of actual difficulties the returnees confronted, this description has a heightened effect. Another question is the unusual absence of moral or social upbraiding in the call for repentance and of any rationale to which to attribute the people’s fate. Furthermore, I wish to suggest that the difficult, future-directed apocalyptic oracles of Joel 3–4, which also call for immediate, radical change, perhaps reflect a narrow time slot, during which—in the context of the return of the exiles, their desire to sacrifice on an active altar, and to realize the license to rebuild the temple— there were expectations for fulfillment of the unique restoration prophecies delivered by Ezekiel in Babylonia, hopes abandoned with the rebuilding of the temple in Haggai and Zechariah’s day. In the context of an article, and given Joel’s textual complexity, this understanding cannot be applied to specific verses but to broader issues alone.

THE EARLY RESTORATION PERIOD: BETWEEN THE ERECTION OF THE ALTAR (537 BCE) AND THE BUILDING OF THE TEMPLE (520 BCE) If correct, the dating of Joel suggested here provides a modicum of missing data regarding a period for which few biblical sources exist for the history of the Jews in either Judea or Babylonia. The sole extant prophecies that can be specifically dated to the post-destruction era, but before the completion of the Second Temple, are found in Ezek 29:17 (570 BCE), Jer 52:31–34 (561 BCE), Hag 1:1–14 (520 BCE), in addition to 2 Chr 36:22–23 and the retrospective description of events after Cyrus’ decree in Ezra 1–4, 6.11 Nor are there significant finds from extrabiblical sources;12 there is no inscriptional evidence and only one document dated to the fifth year of

This is in addition to Deutero-Isaiah’s oracles (which many scholars also date to the post-fall years and before the restoration), Lamentations, and some psalms (125, 137). 12 On archeological finds in Jerusalem and its environs, see, among others, Charles E. Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study (JSOTSup, 294; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 134–62. 11

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Cambyses’ reign has been discovered in Israel, at Tel Mikhmoret.13 For Babylonia, we have a collection of economic documents, which shed scant light on the situation of the Jews living in the Āl-Yahudu (“Town of Judah”).14 The sole description of this period is the retrospective one in Ezra 1–3, which includes: Cyrus’s decree (1:1–5); a description of the returnees (1:5–6); the goods they brought with them (1:7–11); the list of returnees (2:1–70); the setting up of the altar, the offering of sacrifices, and celebration of Sukkot (3:1–7), the appointment of Levites, the laying of the foundations of the temple;15 and finally the rejoicing mixed with the tears of the elderly when the cornerstone was laid (3:8–13).16 What delayed the building of the temple for fifteen years is not entirely clear; the extant sources ascribe it mainly to the interference of the “adversaries of Judah and Benjamin” (Ezra 4:1–5) and to the people’s preference for staying at home in face of the many difficulties (Hag 1:2, 9). I thank Hanan Eshel for bringing this to my attention. See Yosef Porath, Samuel M. Paley, and Robert R. Stieglitz, “Mikhmoret, Tel,” NEAEHL 3:1044. 14 On the socio-economic situation of the Jews of Babylonia under Babylonian and Persian rule in light of Akkadian and cuneiform legal-economic documents, see Ran Zadok, The Jews in Babylonia during the Chaldean and Achaemenian Periods according to the Babylonian Sources (Studies in the History of the Jewish People and the Land of Israel, 3; Haifa: University of Haifa Press, 1979); idem, The Earliest Diaspora: Israelites and Judeans in Pre-Hellenistic Mesopotamia (Publications of the Diaspora Research Institute, 151; Tel Aviv: Diaspora Research Institute, Tel Aviv University, 2002). For their familial setting and acclimation to Babylonian culture in light of two Akkadian documents from Āl-Yahudu, see K. Abraham, “An Inheritance Division among Judeans in Babylonia from the Early Persian Period,” M. Lubetski (ed.), New Seals and Inscriptions, Hebrew, Idumean, and Cuneiform (Hebrew Bible Monographs, 8; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2007), 206–21. 15 As noted earlier, a first group of returnees, which included priests and Levites, came back immediately following the proclamation of Cyrus under the leadership of Sheshbazzar. It is impossible to determine the year of the return under the leadership of Zerubabel and Jeshua. As Jacob M. Myers notes, “The year of the writer’s seventh month [Ezra 3:1] is not specified” (Ezra Nehemiah [AB, 14; Garden City: Doubleday, 1965], 26). 16 To this we can perhaps add Ezra 4:1–6. On the reliability of the description in Ezra, see Rainer Albertz, Israel in Exile: The History and Literature of the Sixth Century BCE (Studies in Biblical Literature; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 120–22 and n. 249 there. On the historicity of the description in Ezra 1–3 in light of the correspondence and scroll found in Darius’ library in Ezra 5–6, see Sarah Japhet, “The Temple in the Restoration Period: Reality and Ideology,” From the Rivers of Babylon to the Highlands of Judah: Collected Studies on the Restoration Period (Winona Lake: Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 183–214. 13

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The cessation of building after the erection of the altar and the laying of the temple’s foundations created a new reality in Judea—a reality that sparked the returnees to question whether God’s presence was among them.17 We can perhaps also identify echoes of this complex reality in the oracles of Haggai and Zechariah which describe the period preceding the completion of the building of the temple, during which sacrifices were offered without a temple (Hag 2:4; Zech 7:3) Note that, in light of the present discussion, these verses are seen as describing the situation after the erection of the altar and not the cultic situation during the fifty years after the destruction of the First Temple.18 A late echo of this complex situation appears in b. Zebah. 62a: “Three prophets went up with them from the Exile: one testified to them about [the dimensions of] the altar, another testified to them about the site of the altar; and the third testified to them that they could sacrifice even though there was no temple.” Neither archeological finds nor literary sources provide a precise picture of the situation in Judea for the interim period between the initial return under Cyrus and later between the setting up of the altar and the building of the temple, and little is known of the immediate historical reality the returnees encountered on their return.19 We can speak in general terms only of the situation in the sixth century BCE, from the destruction of the temple to recovery under Persian rule. After the Babylonian army devastated Judea, its much-reduced population underwent socio-cultural disintegration,20 as attested by the description in Jer 43:2–6, which receives backing from archeological evidence21 and from the absence of Greek ceramics in Judea during that period. 17 Perhaps the returnees’ sense of misery and perception that the divine presence was absent from their efforts (Ezra 3:7) was heightened by the fact that it was through Cyrus’s agency that they undertook their activity in Jerusalem. 18 See Japhet, “The Temple in the Restoration Period,” 217–18. 19 On the Persian regime and its corollaries based on extrabiblical sources, including the granting of the right to the Judeans to return to their land and build a temple during that period, see Albertz, Israel in Exile, 112–25 and the bibliography there, 112-13. 20 Recently, the question of the population of Judea has been the subject of widespread discussion. See Avraham Faust, “Social and Cultural Changes in Judah during the 6th Century BCE,” UF 36 (2004), 157–76; Oded Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 152–54. I lean toward Faust’s stance that the entire land was devastated, including the territory of Benjamin, and that the population was greatly reduced. 21 This description of historical reality is in harmony with the opinion that the destruction sparked an overall crisis for the Judeans who remained behind. See the

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TOVA GANZEL While the local pottery cannot…be securely dated to the period under discussion, there is Greek pottery that is traditionally dated to the 6 th century with great precision. This pottery, however, is practically absent from the Land of Israel, even along the coast. This seems to be of importance both to the reality “on the ground” at the time discussed and to the dating of local pottery…. The lack of imports seems to show that the region was insignificant in the prospering 6th century maritime trade. When compared with the situation in other parts of the Mediterranean, and especially in the Phoenician colonies in the west, the disappearance of imported pottery from the southern Levant is indicative not only of the devastation of the region, but also of the Babylonian policy and economic interests in the region. 22

Judean autonomy was restricted under Persian rule,23 and the population did not increase significantly.24 Notwithstanding scholarly disagreement regarding the scope of settlement during those years, it was undoubtedly small;25 those who remained in Judea saw themselves as a leaderless remnant (Jer 44) and underwent the “rapid social disintegration, so typical of post collapse societies.”26 Finally, we must take into account that the new settlement was slow in gaining stability and that, even after its recovery during the Persian period, Judea never returned to its pre-destruction dimensions. The period has been characterized as “one of great settlement recent treatment by Avraham Faust, “Judah in the Sixth Century BCE: Continuity or Break?,” Eretz-Israel 29 (2009), 339–47 (Hebrew). 22 Avraham Faust, Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period: The Archaeology of Desolation (forthcoming). I thank him for allowing me access to this material prior to its publication. 23 See John W. Betlyon, “Neo-Babylonian Operations Other than War,” Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 263–83. 24 See Carol L. Meyers and Eric M. Meyers, Haggai, Zechariah 1–8: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 25B; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1987), xxxvi; and more recently, Avraham Faust, “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations in Judah from the Late Iron Age to the Hellenistic Period and the Archaeology of Persian-Period Yehud,” Yigal Levin (ed.), A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbors in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods (Library of Second Temple Studies, 65; London: T & T Clark, 2007), 34–46. 25 Charles E. Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study (JSOTSup, 294; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 134ff. and the bibliography there. 26 Faust, “Settlement Dynamics,” 43–46; idem, “Social and Cultural Changes in Judah,” 170.

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decline.”27 Little is known of the identity of the returnees,28 or of the authority granted the Jewish leadership by the Persian regime (even though we know their names).29 Nor do the biblical sources provide a clear picture of this period; the biblical data which cover the destruction period and, later, that of Haggai and Zechariah, leave the early restoration period in obscurity.

JOEL 1–2 AS A REFLECTION OF HISTORICAL REALITY Nonetheless, the available data suggest that the reality confronted by the returnees was difficult. The terrible drought noted in Haggai (1:6), with its concomitant lack of livelihood and economic straits, was no transient event. Precipitating causes for lack of livelihood are not just low rainfall but also the failure to cultivate crops. If Joel belonged to the early restoration period, his prophecies yield some missing data for this period; the harsh disappointment of the returnees and the severe drought and locust invasion30 that destroyed the crops and perhaps took place close to the uttering of the oracle (chs. 1–2).31 Joel’s references to animal husbandry are Faust, “Settlement Dynamics,” 44–51. See John Kessler, “Persia’s Loyal Yahwists: Power Identity and Ethnicity in Achaemenid Yehud,” Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming (eds.), Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 91–121. 29 See Joel Weinberg, The Citizen-Temple Community (trans. Daniel L. SmithChristopher; JSOTSup, 151; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992). 30 On the question of whether the descriptions of the locusts are to be understood as referring to real locusts, as symbolizing the enemy forces, or as apocalyptic imagery signifying the day of the Lord, see Ronald A. Simkins, “God, History, and the Natural World in the Book of Joel,” CBQ 55 (1993), 435–52. For the opinion that they reflect reality, see Garrett, Hosea, Joel, 298–301. The question of to what extent this prophecy reflects reality has implications for our understanding of the verses; thus, for example, some interpret the mention of a “wall” in 2:7, 9 as evidence that the book is late, dating to Nehemiah’s day, when the wall was built around Jerusalem. See Thompson, “Date of Joel,” 459. I find it likely that the description relates to a real locust invasion that took place shortly before Joel uttered his prophecy. 31 An interesting parallel, which indicates that this was a known cyclical reality, comes from letters found in Afghanistan and published by Shaul Shaked, La satrape de Bactriane et son gouverneur: Documents araméens du iv e s. avant notre ère provenant de Bactriane, Pierre Briant (ed.), Conférences données au Collège de France, 14 et 21 mai 2003; Paris: De Boccard, 2004), 15–27. There the locust invasion caused delays to the extent that they were forced to ask for an extension of the building permit granted by the Persian ruler—perhaps something similar 27 28

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not surprising, notwithstanding the lack of pasturage (1:18) and water (1:20) to which Joel refers. This because the returnees reportedly brought many animals with them (Ezra 2:66–67); and, second, because animal husbandry, which requires more land per family than crops, often expands when the population is sparse and more profitable avenues cannot be exploited. Also, as animal husbandry requires less water than crops, it is suitable for drought periods.32 Thus, Joel’s descriptions of the drought and other natural forces that destroy crops but not animals complement Haggai’s descriptions of the situation a decade later. As the returning exiles interpreted it, this difficult situation was a sign that God was not with them (Joel 2:17; Hag 1:13; 2:5); he therefore neither sends rain nor blesses the crops. This gave rise in turn to feelings of ambivalence among the returnees, especially against the background of the choice many made not to return but to settle in Babylonia (Ezra 1:6). Thus the description in Ezra (3:8-13) especially, “Many of the priests and Levites and the chiefs of the clans, the old men who had seen the first house, wept loudly at the sight of the founding of this house. Many others shouted joyously at the top of their voices” (v. 12), supplements Joel’s portrayal of the disappointment and sorrow of the priests who cry, notwithstanding the spark of hope inherent in this situation (1:13–20, 2:12–18). Perhaps this is also the source of the uncertainty regarding the question of whether “YHWH’s day” had arrived,33 as Crenshaw aptly sums up: “Experience failed to confirm traditional belief. Faced with discontinuity between confessional statements about divine compassion and the circumstances confronting Judeans in his day, Joel strove valiantly to hold together competing views of YHWH’s nature.”34 The presence of a sanctified precinct in Jerusalem in the early restoration period is pivotal to this proposal, as it testifies to the ramifications of the difficult situation in Judea during the years in question. occurred in ancient Israel. This finding is in addition to those listed by Crenshaw, Joel, 91–94. 32 See Avraham Faust, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World: Reconstructing the Economic System of the Seventh Century B.C.E.,” BASOR 338 (2005), 76–77. 33 James L. Crenshaw, “Freeing the Imagination: The Conclusion to the Book of Joel,” Yehoshua Gitay (ed.), Prophecy and the Prophets: The Diversity of Contemporary Issues in Scholarship (SemeiaSt; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 134. 34 James L. Crenshaw, “Who Knows What YHWH Will Do? The Character of God in the Book of Joel,” Astrid B. Beck, et al. (eds.), Fortunate the Eyes That See: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Seventieth Birthday (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 196.

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On the one hand, there were priests and Levites among the returnees,35 and the returnees subsequently erected the altar; apparently, daily sacrifices were reinstated even though the temple had not yet been rebuilt. In the wake of Cyrus’s proclamation, the returnees had high hopes for the swift completion of its building. But the reality was far removed from their dream,36 both because of the severe drought (Joel 1:20; Hag 1:10–11) and locust invasion (Joel 1:1–8) that devoured all the crops (1:11–12), and later because of the interference of the adversaries of Judah and Benjamin and the people of the land (Ezra 4:1–5). The lack of crops impacted directly on the cult, preventing the offering of plant sacrifices: “The grain offering and the drink offering are cut off from the house of YHWH. The priests mourn[,] the ministers of YHWH” (1:9), even though those who minister to the altar and the altar are ready to receive these offerings (1:13). The stress on the grain and drink offerings is not fortuitous. Animal sacrifices perhaps continued to be offered on the altar, because the returnees brought cattle (Ezra 1:6) and other animals with them (Ezra 2:66–67), whereas the components of the grain and drink offerings—grain (1:4, 11), grapes (1:5, 12), and oil (1:10)—were unavailable locally. That is why the ministering priests, who stood in the holiest precinct in the temple, wept at its disgrace and sought to obviate the shame of an altar without the grain and drink offerings and of a temple37 whose building was interrupted: “Between the vestibule and the altar let the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep,38 Let

35 For the identity and actions of the returnees after Cyrus’ proclamation, see above. 36 Sacrifices are mentioned in 1:13, 2:14 does not imply that they were offered daily. See Barton, Joel and Obadiah, 15 and n. 31 there. 37 The place where the priests stood is called '‫ בית ה‬in 1:10, 13, 14, which is similar to Jer 41:5, in which the site of the destroyed temple is also called '‫בית ה‬. 38 According to the prevailing explanation, the specification of place—“between the vestibule and the altar” implies that the vestibule is standing. It is also possible that this marked the coordinates for the place where the priests stood and does not necessarily imply that the vestibule has been constructed, but rather that its foundations have been laid and perhaps somewhat more. Cf. Ezek 8:16: “Then he brought me to the inner court of the house of YHWH, and there at the entrance of YHWH’s temple, between the porch and the altar,” which indicates the importance of this locus, the site of the most heinous idolatry in the most sacred spot in the courtyard. Although the Temple was still standing when Ezekiel uttered this oracle, it is perhaps not by chance that the priests in Joel chose the very spot that, some fifty years earlier, Ezekiel had identified as the one where the acts that caused the destruction were carried out.

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them say, ‘Spare your people, YHWH, and do not make your heritage a mockery, a byword among the nations’” (2:17).39 A reality in which there is a functioning altar but no grain or drink offerings because of crop unavailability also sheds light on the subsequent proclamation of mourning customs by the priests and elders: “Put on sackcloth and lament, priests; wail, ministers of the altar. Come, pass the night in sackcloth, ministers of my God! For grain and drink offering are withheld from the house of your God. Sanctify a fast, call an assembly. Gather the elders and all the inhabitants of the land to the house of YHWH your God, and cry out to YHWH” (1:13–14). This appeal to God and the call for a fast by the priests (1:13–14) and the people (2:12) is the outcome of the loss of the joyous hope with which they initiated the building of the house of God (Ezra 3:11) given the halting of construction and the inability to offer certain sacrifices: “Is not the food cut off before our eyes, joy and gladness from the house of our God?” (1:16). Joel requests of God that the current situation not remain in force (2:14), that there be pasturage and water for animals (1:17–20).40 The divine response promises agricultural bounty—granaries filled with grain, vats with wine and oil—and rejoicing by the people of Zion (2:18–27). Wine, oil, and grain (in that order) are the main crops in this region and their production requires a self-supporting agricultural society.41 Thus, as interpreted here, Joel 1–2 reflects the difficult conditions the returnees faced and the promised divine rectification of their situation through assurances of agricultural bounty.42

39 For a discussion of this verse’s paronomasia and its centrality to an understanding of Joel’s prophetic message, see James R. Linville, “Letting the ‘Biword’ Rule in Joel 2:17,” Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 5 (2004–5), available at http://www.jhsonline.org and reprinted in E. Ben Zvi (ed.), Perspectives in Hebrew Scriptures II: Comprising the Contents of Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, vol. 5 (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2007), 13–24. 40 There is perhaps affinity between the mules in Ezra 2:66 and the ‫ פרדות‬in Joel 1:17. 41 Faust, “Judah, Philistia, and the Mediterranean World,” 77. 42 On the uniqueness of the appeal to God in Joel and the divine response in Joel 1–2, see Katherine M. Hayes, “When None Repents, Earth Laments: The Chorus of Lament in Jeremiah and Joel,” Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and Rodney A. Werline (eds.), Seeking the Favor of God (SBLEJL, 21; Atlanta: SBL, 2006), 1:134–37.

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JOEL 3–4: BETWEEN EZEKIEL AND HAGGAI43 If the opening chapters of Joel reflect the historical-economic circumstances of the returnees, the oracles concentrated mainly in chapters 3–4 are future oriented. Despite their complexity, consideration of their content shows that some are unique. At the same time, their affinities to Ezekiel’s prophecies can support my proposed placement of Joel in the restoration period, in line with Maries’ earlier suggestion on this basis that Joel prophesied immediately post-destruction to the remnant in Jerusalem that was not exiled to Babylonia.44 As noted, others have studied the linguistic and stylistic similarities between Joel and Ezekiel, and between Joel and Haggai.45 Before continuing to a thematic treatment, I first note some of these lexical affinities: (1) the abbreviated expression ‫( נשא‬Hag 2:19, instead of ‫ עשה‬or ‫ )נתן‬appears only there and in Ezekiel (17:8; 36:8) and Joel (2:22); (2) the description of YHWH’s day in Joel and Haggai, which exhibits a unique linguistic affinity: Joel’s remarks ‫( וְּ ָר ֲעשּׁו ָשׁ ַמיִם וָ ָארץ וה’ ַמ ֲחסה ְּל ַעּמֹו‬4:16) are ַ … ‫ת־ה ָש ַמיִם‬ ַ ‫וַ ֲאנִ י ַמ ְּר ִעישׁ א‬ in harmony with Haggai’s ‫ּוב ָּמקֹום ַהזה א ֵתן ָשׁלֹום‬ ‫ת־ה ָארץ‬ ָ ‫( וְּ א‬2:6, 9); and (3) the shared expressions ‫( אכול ושבוע‬Hag 1:6; Joel 2:26), and ‫ יצהר‬,‫ תירוש‬,‫דגן‬, ‫( אדמה‬Joel 1:10; Hag 1:11). In subjecting their prophecies to a thematic examination, I again propose reconsideration of the possibility that Joel’s oracles can be understood as reflecting the narrow timespan during which, despite their tribulations, hope remained that the Second Temple would incorporate aspects of the restoration oracles delivered by Ezekiel in Babylonia during the post-destruction years (Ezek 34–48). Perhaps the historical 43 Recent important studies have examined the Minor Prophets as a whole. See, for example, James D. Nogalski and Marvin A. Sweeny (eds.), Reading and Hearing the Book of the Twelve (SBLSymS, 15; Atlanta: SBL, 2000). Nogalski even identifies Joel as “a “literary anchor” for the book of the Twelve” (ibid., 91–109) and notes additional links between Joel and Haggai (ibid., 102–3). Although Nogalski’s discussion is mainly synchronic in nature, my proposed dating for Joel, which belongs to the range to which the Twelve are usually assigned—from the eighthcentury Assyrian period into the postexilic Persian period—perhaps adds a diachronic dimension to his discussion. 44 L. Maries, “A Propos de recentes études sur Joël,” Recherches de Science Religieuse 37 (1950), 121–24. 45 For a comprehensive study of Joel in the broad biblical context, see, for example, Judah Jungman, Yoel ben Petu’el: Iyyun sifruti bi-nevu’otav (Jerusalem: Avivim, 1991), 76–77, 104–7. Regarding linguistic affinities between Joel and Haggai, the restricted corpora of these books (38 verses in Haggai and 73 in Joel) make it difficult to reach definitive conclusions.

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developments that gradually destroyed the hope of immediate realization of these oracles (as reflected in Hag 1–2)46 over the space of a few years contributed to the more reserved nature of Joel’s oracles of a better future.47 Thematically, what unites these three prophets are the returnees’ aspirations for the building of the Second Temple, especially their desire to perceive the divine presence in their midst. As it appears in these three prophets, this vision has five shared features: the outpouring of the divine spirit on the people; YHWH’s day; the spring that will issue from the house of the Lord; the distancing of foreigners from the divine dwelling place; and, finally, the prophecy that God will dwell in God’s city.48 Although the discussion here focuses on comparison of the expectations for restoration in these prophets, there are, however, additional thematic affinities: descriptions of YHWH’s day—for Israel in Joel 4:16, for Egypt in Ezek 30:2; the reference to the contents of the temple using ‫מחמד עיניים‬/ ‫מחמדי‬ ‫( הטובים‬Joel 4:5; Ezek 24:25); and apocalyptic descriptions (Joel 1:16, 3:3; Ezek 30:2–3, 38:22).49 The possibility of evaluating evidence of textual links has been the subject of much study. Leonard proposes the following principles as methodological guidelines: (1) shared language; (2) shared language that is rare or distinctive; (3) shared language in similar contexts; (4) shared phrases; and (5) the accumulation of shared language. He notes in addition that shared language need not be accompanied by shared ideology or a shared form. When texts meet these shared criteria, we can presume a textual relationship.50 In the case of the texts considered here, the first two themes exhibit strong linguistic as well as thematic links between the three prophets, and for the first theme, even share a unique, rare combination. 46 While there is also room for comparison of the oracles of the future in Joel and Haggai with those of Zechariah this is not the place for a comprehensive discussion. 47 On the restrained character of Joel’s oracles of the future as compared to other prophets, see Crenshaw, “Freeing the Imagination,” 137–43. 48 A similar trend is reflected in Mark Boda’s diachronic comparison of Zech 11:4–16 to Ezek 34 and 37 (“Reading between the Lines: Zechariah 11.4–16 in its Literary Contexts,” Mark J. Boda and Michael H. Floyd (eds.), Bringing Out the Treasure: Innerbiblical Allusion in Zechariah 9–14 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 284–88. 49 For the dating of Ezekiel’s post-destruction prophecies, see Moshe Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–20: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 22; Garden City: Doubleday, 1983), 12–17. 50 For a recent study of textual links, see Jeffery M. Leonard, “Identifying Innerbiblical Allusions: Psalm 78 as a Test Case,” JBL 127 (2008), 241–65.

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The motif of water emerging from the temple is not found in other prophets, and finally the themes of the distancing of foreigners and God’s return to the city are shared. Although the strongest links, according to these suggested criteria, are found only for the first two examples, it appears that taken as a whole it can be argued that these prophetic texts exhibit textual links.

OUTPOURING OF THE DIVINE SPIRIT ON THE PEOPLE One feature of post-exilic oracles is the expectation of the absence of prophets as intermediaries of the divine word. In Joel, this is reflected by the unique shift predicted following Joel’s oracle on agricultural plenty, ִ ‫;)א ְּשׁפֹוְך את‬ which says, “I will pour out my spirit on all flesh (‫רּוחי ַעל ָּכל ָב ָׂשר‬ your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions; and even on the male and ִ ‫( ”)א ְּשׁפֹוְך את‬3:1–2). female slaves, in those days, I will pour out my spirit (‫רּוחי‬ These verses detailing the future outpouring of the divine spirit on the entire people, so that all will be prophets, indirectly explain the absence of prophets as future intermediaries between the people and the divine word; the people as a whole are granted the gift of prophecy.51 Although not explicitly found elsewhere in prophetic literature, the seeds of this promise can be identified in the conclusion of Ezekiel’s restoration oracles, prior to his vision of the future temple: “I will never again hide my face from them, for I will pour out My spirit upon the House of ִ ‫—) ָשׁ ַפ ְּכ ִתי את‬declares the Lord God” (Ezek Israel (‫רּוחי ַעל ֵבית יִ ְּׂש ָר ֵאל‬ 39:29). In a certain sense then the starting point for Joel’s oracle of the future is where Ezekiel’s left off—in his prophecy Joel affirms and even elaborates on the pouring out of the divine spirit found in Ezekiel’s oracle and the two prophets share the use of the unique, rare combination of the words ‫שפיכת הרוח‬. In Haggai’s oracles, on the other hand, God affirms the existence of the divine presence in the midst of God’s people; in this passage, however, the divine spirit is not poured out on the people, but stands among them: “‘And be strong, all you people of the land.’—Oracle of Yahweh. ‘Indeed I will be with you.’—Oracle of Yahweh of Hosts… ְּ ‫רּוחי עֹמדת ְּב‬ ִ ְּ‫ ;)ו‬do not fear’” (Hag ‘My spirit is standing in your midst (‫תֹוככם‬ 2:4–5).52 See Crenshaw, Joel, 165–66; Barton, Joel and Obadiah, 94–96. Elie Assis, “A Disputed Temple (Haggai 2,1–9),’ ZAW 120 (2008), 590–91. The continuation of the verse “the word/covenant I made with you when you came out of Egypt” requires separate discussion of the relationship between Haggai and Exodus. 51 52

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Another possible echo of the premise that prophetic abilities will be bestowed on the entire people comes from the fact that Ezra, like Joel, nowhere mentions contemporary prophets as intermediaries for conveying the word of God.53 This is grounded in the assumption that the leadership function of Zerubabel and Jeshua differed from that of the First Temple prophets. In Ezra, priests and Levites preside over the temple dedication ceremony and approach God through musical instruments and praise (Ezra 3:8–11). In Joel as well, the priests and elders appeal to God directly (1:13– 14). To this we must add the absence of explicit mention of “king” in the verses treating the future leader, which serves to date the book. As in Ezra 1–3 the functionaries include the elders (Joel 1:2, 14) and the inhabitants of the land (Joel 1:2), and the priests, the ministers of God (Joel 1:9, 13; 2:17).54 In Ezekiel as well the post of the king as a leader is missing.55 In the context of the proposed, narrow timeframe for their prophecies this could be interpreted as proof of the expected imminent realization of these oracles.56

YHWH’S DAY Another feature found in Joel, Ezekiel, and Haggai are the literary parallels between the descriptions of the upheavals that accompany YHWH’s day, a motif shared by many prophets. Thus, in the context of the punishment of the nations and the granting of peace to Israel,57 both Joel and Haggai mention the shaking of the earth and the heavens, using similar terminology: ‫( ְּל ָפנָ יו ָרגְּ זָ ה ארץ ָר ֲעשּׁו ָשׁ ָמיִם‬2:10); ‫ָר ֲעשּׁו ָשׁ ַמיִם וָ ָארץ וה’ ַמ ֲחסה‬ ‫( ְּל ַעּמֹו‬4:16). Compare to Haggai’s ‫ּוב ָּמקֹום ַהזה א ֵתן ָשׁלֹום‬ ַ ... ‫וַ ֲאנִ י ַמ ְּר ִעישׁ‬ ‫ת־ה ָארץ‬ ָ ‫ת־ה ָש ַמיִם וְּ א‬ ַ ‫( א‬Hag 2:6, 21). It is possible to discern a link between these oracles and Ezekiel’s, also apocalyptic in nature. Others have noted Joel’s reliance on Ezekiel—Zimmerli, for example, who writes, “The book of Joel, which, alongside the Ezekiel oracles of the Day of Yahweh (Ezekiel 7.30) and of the description of the temple stream (Ezekiel 47), clearly makes Note that Ezra uses similar terminology to describe those who returned to Judea in the wake of Cyrus’s decree: “all whose spirit had been roused by God” (Ezra 1:5). 54 See Hag 2:22; Zech 3:8, 6:12–13; and Garrett, Hosea, Joel, 288–89. 55 On the absence of a king in Ezekiel’s restoration oracles, see Tova Ganzel, “The Status of Functionaries in the Future Temple of Exekiel,” Shnaton 19 (2009), 13–17 (Hebrew). 56 Zechariah already stresses the absence of a human king by applying the epithet “king” to God (Zech 14:9, 17). 57 Rimon Kasher, “Haggai and Ezekiel: The Complicated Relations between the Two Prophets,” VT 59 (2009), 556–82. 53

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quite specific use of Ezekiel 38f.”58 In Ezekiel, Joel, and Haggai the abovementioned upheavals are the result of direct divine intervention and herald the Day of the Lord: “each by the sword of his brother” (Hag 2:22; cf. Ezek 38:21), after which the longed-for peace comes: “and in this place will I grant well-being” (Hag 2:9 as in Ezek 34:25, 37:26).59

WATER/A SPRING ISSUING FROM THE TEMPLE Ezekiel contains an unusual prophecy of water issuing from the temple: “and I found that water was issuing from below the platform of the Temple…because the water…from them flows from the Temple. Their fruit will serve for food and their leaves for healing” (Ezek 47:1–12). Here too Zimmerli finds that Joel’s prophecy, which says, “And it shall happen on that day: that the mountains shall drip sweet wine, and the hills shall run with milk, and all the watercourses of Judah shall flow with water; and a fountain shall come forth from the house of YHWH and water the Wadi ַ )” (4:18) echoes that of Shittim (‫ּומ ְּעיָ ן ִמ ֵבית ה׳ יֵ ֵצא וְּ ִה ְּשׁ ָקה את נַ ַחל ַה ִש ִטים‬ Ezekiel.60 No similar prophecy is found in Haggai. Zechariah’s eschatological oracles, however, contain a comparable feature: “In that day, fresh water shall flow from Jerusalem, part of it to the Eastern Sea and part to the Western Sea, throughout the summer and winter” (Zech 14:8).61 An intriguing proposal has been made that these three prophecies reflect a reality: “the flow of water that emerges from the Temple Mount and is discovered in the valley, north of the Shallecheth gate.”62 Although as

Walther Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–48, James D. Martin (trans.); Paul D. Hanson with Leonard Jay Greenspoon (eds.), (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 321; Stephen L. Cook, Prophecy and Apocalypticism: The Postexilic Social Setting (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1995), 172–80. 59 On the significance of Hag 2:9, see Assis, “Disputed Temple,” 593–94. 60 Zimmerli, Ezekiel 2, 515. 61 The inclusion of Zechariah would certainly enhance the argument in this article. However, this requires separate discussion of the dating of the book of Zechariah. See Mark J. Boda, “Zechariah: Master Mason or Penitential Prophet?,” Bob Becking and Rainer Albertz (eds.), Yahwism After the Exile: Perspectives on Israelite Religion in the Persian Era (Studies in Theology and Religion, 5; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 2003), 49–69. On the unique link between Ezekiel, Zechariah, and Joel regarding this topic, see Crenshaw, “Freeing the Imagination,” 143, which he attributes to “a priestly preference of the author responsible for Joel 4:17–21.” 62 Ben-Zion Luria, “‘U-ma’ayan mi-bet ha-shem yetse…’ (Joel 4:18),” Bet Mikra 16 (1970), 6. 58

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found in these texts this theme does not share strong linguistic affinities, the motif of water flowing from the temple is absent from other prophets. There are, in addition, two other shared motifs, which, although not definitive, do not contradict a link between the book of Joel and the specific historical context proposed here. They are the distancing of foreigners from the temple and God’s return to the city.

MAINTAINING THE SANCTITY OF THE TEMPLE REQUIRES THE DISTANCING OF FOREIGNERS Both Ezekiel and Joel (but not Haggai) call for the distancing of aliens from the temple, something that was not taken for granted in the early days of Solomon’s Temple (1 Kgs 8:40–43).63 Joel predicts that aliens will not enter Jerusalem: “So you shall know that I, YHWH your God, dwell in Zion, my holy mountain. And Jerusalem shall be a sanctuary and strangers shall never again pass through it” (4:17). In Ezekiel we find the presence of foreigners in the temple listed among the causes of the destruction: “Let no alien, uncircumcised in spirit and flesh, enter My Sanctuary—no alien whatsoever among the people of Israel” (Ezek 44:9). This theme clearly belongs to Ezekiel’s vision of the future temple and the preservation of its sanctity.

THE DIVINE PRESENCE IN ZION As Crenshaw observes, the concluding verse of Joel, “for YHWH dwells in Zion” (4:21),64 expresses hopes for the realization of the final verse of Ezekiel: “the name of the city from that day on shall be ‘The Lord Is There’” (Ezek 48:35): “This author believed that Yahweh’s abode in Jerusalem guarantees security for those who take refuge there. In a very real sense, this inclusion corresponds to the ecstatic shout with which Ezekiel concludes: ‘Yahweh is there!’ Where Yahweh resides, one need not fear.”65 There is another dimension to these remarks, namely, the difficult historical circumstances these prophets faced. Ezekiel prophesied in a generation that, contrary to its expectations, saw the divine presence depart from the temple; his oracles therefore conclude with its promised return to Jerusalem. If my proposal is correct, Joel, on the other hand, confronted the dashing of first returnees’ expectation of a palpable divine presence among them; accordingly, Joel’s oracles also end with a promise that the divine 63 This is perhaps a partial continuation of the approach found in Ezra and Nehemiah; see Crenshaw, Joel, 198. 64 On the uniqueness of the concluding unit of Joel (4:17-21), see Crenshaw, “Freeing the Imagination,” 129–47. 65 Crenshaw, “Freeing the Imagination,” 143.

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presence will dwell in Zion. But because the situation in Jerusalem continued to be difficult in the coming years, Haggai’s oracles as well emphasize that the divine presence will dwell in the temple, whose construction he encourages the people to resume. This comparison of the themes shared by Joel with Ezekiel and by Haggai and Joel supports my hypothesis that Joel’s oracles were uttered some thirty years after Ezekiel’s last prophecies, immediately following Cyrus’s decree and the initial return of the exiles to Judea. I suggest that this period fits his oracles because, in my view, it embodied great hope that, alongside the building of the Second Temple and the renewal of the temple service by the priests, the prophetic vision of redemption would be realized. In a sense, the unusual historical reality of an altar without a functioning temple, and perhaps without the divine presence, parallels the predestruction years during which Ezekiel prophesied. In his oracles Ezekiel reiterated that, even though the temple still stood, God had departed from the temple (Ezek 10). Thus, the returnees—of whom I have already suggested that Joel was a member—who heard Ezekiel’s oracles in Babylonia were cognizant of the possibility that the setting up of the altar did not necessarily mean the return of the divine presence and their ambivalent attitude toward their situation must be seen in this light.66

WHY DID JOEL NOT ASK THE PEOPLE TO BUILD THE TEMPLE? As noted earlier, we cannot rule out the possibility that Joel’s oracles reflect a somewhat functioning temple.67 I propose, however, that the descriptions that ostensibly demonstrate the temple’s existence only indicate that the altar was functioning.68 One often-asked question is why the restoration of the Second Temple did not take place immediately after Cyrus’s decree but was delayed until the early reign of Darius I.69 We must also inquire, why, if Another point of comparison is the attitude toward the Edomites manifested in the conclusion of Joel (4:19), which is consistent with Judean anger at the Edomites for participating in the Babylonian devastation of the land (cf. Ezek 25:12–14; Obad 1:11–14, and the commentators ad loc.). Conceptually and theologically we find enmity toward the Edomites in Ezek 35 as well. 67 Perhaps the fact that no biblical books are explicitly dated to 586–516 also contributed to the failure to seriously consider dating Joel to this period. 68 On the conceptual significance of the temple, priesthood, and ritual in Joel, see Linville, “Day of Yahweh,” 98–114. I accept his conclusions but differ as to his dating of Joel. 69 A common answer to this question is that seventy years had not yet passed since the destruction. See, for example, Hayim Tadmor, “ ‘The Appointed Time Has Not Yet Arrived’: The Historical Background of Haggai 1:2,” Robert Chazan, 66

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indeed Joel prophesied during this period, did he not call for the rebuilding of the temple? Although we can reach no definitive conclusion regarding the above question, a possible answer lies in the proposed attribution to Joel as a link in a chain between Ezekiel and Haggai. Whereas the focus of Haggai’s prophetic activity lies in his demand that the people rebuild the temple (Hag 1:3–11; 2:1–5), nowhere does Ezekiel turn to the people to rebuild the temple,70 and it appears that this was not his intention.71 In that, I suggest that Joel is apparently closer to, and continues, Ezekiel’s prophetic doctrine. Because he saw the building of the temple as a divine, not human, task, he is satisfied with assigning the people a role that includes prayer and mourning customs.72 Somewhat later Haggai diverged from Ezekiel’s view and demanded that the people themselves undertake to rebuild the temple, although divinely inspired to do so. Yet, I propose that what was seemingly an obvious demand for Haggai and Zechariah is—for ideological reasons— missing from Joel. This may also explain why Joel issues no admonitions regarding socio-religious sin, in this following in Ezekiel’s wake as well.73 Although Joel asks the people to return to God (2:12–13) this is not a call for repentance but rather a request to come closer to God through renewed and heightened devotion and to honor him through acts of mourning.74 If in Joel, the people pray and observe mourning customs, Haggai demands William W. Hallo, and Lawrence H. Schiffman (eds.), Ki Baruch Hu: Ancient Near Eastern, Biblical, and Judaic Studies in Honor of Baruch A. Levine (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1999), 401–8. 70 See Kasher, “Haggai and Ezekiel,” 556–82, who follows P. R. Bedford, Temple Restoration in Early Achaemenid Judah (JSJSup, 65; Leiden: Brill, 2001), 82; see also ibid., 265n170. On the motif of divine building of the Temple in the Bible and the ancient Near East, see Victor A. Hurowitz, I Have Built You an Exalted House: Temple Building in the Bible in Light of Mesopotamian and Northwest Semitic Writings (JSOTSSS, 115/JSOT/ASOR Monograph Series, 5; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), 332–34. 71 See Walther Zimmerli, “Plans for Rebuilding after the Catastrophe of 586,” I Am Yahweh, Douglas W. Stott (trans.); Walter Brueggeman (ed.) (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), 115–16. 72 That Ezekiel saw the building of the Temple as a divine task emerges from Ezek. 40:2–4 and the absence of verses calling on the people to rebuild the Temple. 73 On the absence of moral admonitions in Ezekiel, see Baruch J. Schwartz, “Ezekiel’s Dim View of Israel’s Restoration,” Margaret S. Odell and John T. Strong (eds.), The Book of Ezekiel: Theological and Anthropological Perspectives (SBLSymS, 9; Atlanta: SBL, 2000), 43–67. 74 Barton, Joel and Obadiah, 133–39; Ronald A. Simkins, “‘Return to Yahweh’: Honor and Shame in Joel,” Semeia 68 (1994), 41–54.

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that they actively resume the building of the temple. But, in none of these three prophets is the hoped for change dependent on the people’s moral behavior.75

CONCLUSION: THE SHATTERED DREAM Immediately upon their return, the former exiles found themselves confronting not only the dream but also its dissipation.76 As I read them, the shared motifs in Ezekiel, Joel, and Haggai all respond to a common exigency: the absence of the temple. Ezekiel’s oracles to the Babylonian exiles generated the dream of a Second Temple, which would by its very essence correct what brought the First Temple down. At a later date, with the returnees’ arrival in Judea, we learn—through Joel’s prophecies—of the harsh and disappointing historical circumstances they faced. I propose that his oracles reflect an attempt to confront this situation, when hopes for the realization of the restoration prophecies in the book of Ezekiel still resonated. A mere decade or so later, and as a result of their continued tribulations and the apperception that God was not in their midst, there was another turning point, manifested in the oracles of Haggai. We can perhaps attribute the features these prophets share to a specific historical reality: The post-destruction reality (Ezekiel), the initial return to Judea (Joel), and the situation ten years later (Haggai). I conclude by drawing upon Rimon Kasher’s postulation of a link between Ezekiel and Haggai,77 based on the specific circumstances each experienced. To his analysis, I suggest that a two-way link between each of these prophets and Joel can be added. First of all, Ezekiel, Joel, and Haggai share a worldview that foresees an imminent, radical deliverance; moreover, all three deal with the theological conundrum of the status of the God of Israel. Haggai, who was active in the early restoration period, calls for an imminent realization of his eschatological goals. Ezekiel, who witnessed the destruction, introduced divine, rather than human mechanisms to his picture of the near future, the means by which to prevent another collapse and profanation of the divine name. Joel, who may have prophesied in the twilight zone between the two, tries to realize this vision and incorporates many of its motifs in his oracles. This differs, however, from Zechariah. See Boda, “Zechariah,” 52–54. The group here denoted returnees (‫ )השבים‬evidently included some Judeans who had not been exiled, but this is not the place for further discussion of this point. See John Kessler, The Book of Haggai: Prophecy and Society in Early Persian Yehud (SVT, 91; Leiden: Brill, 2002), 141–42. 77 Kasher, “Haggai and Ezekiel,” 556–82. 75 76

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If Haggai urged to people to rebuild the temple and expected the restoration of the monarchy, Ezekiel makes the forthcoming restoration depend on God alone. Joel, for his part, places his hope in God, but also calls for deeds to be carried out by the priests, God’s servants who minister to the altar. There are also contrasts between the three regarding the process of redemption. If human beings are passive in the process of redemption and restoration as Ezekiel describes it, Haggai’s theocentricity leaves room for human effort to take steps to end the economic crisis from which the people suffer. He expects humans to resolve the crisis; for him, laying the foundations of the temple is the start of redemption. I suggest that, Joel, like Ezekiel, ascribes a more passive role to the people in the process of redemption; nowhere does he call for them to actively begin rebuilding the temple.78 Thus, the dating of Joel to the early restoration period proposed here has the potential to shed light both on the historical background portrayed in this book and on its theological and ideological viewpoint, seen as mediating between the prophecies of Ezekiel and Haggai. It is against this setting that his unique treatment of the difficulties of his day can perhaps best be understood. From this perspective, his oracles contributed significantly to the creation of a positive turning point that promised peace and security for Jerusalem and God’s future presence there.

78

Kasher, “Haggai and Ezekiel,” 556–82.

COMPARISON WITH DAVID AS A MEANS OF EVALUATING CHARACTER IN THE BOOK OF KINGS AMOS FRISCH BAR-ILAN UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION Since the early 1970s, the study of biblical narrative has devoted increasing attention to parallels and analogies.1 Among the topics addressed by these 1

To mention only some of the most conspicuous studies: M. Sternberg, “Delicate Balance in the Story of the Rape of Dinah: Biblical Narrative and the Rhetoric of the Narrative Text,” Hasifrut 4 (1973), 193–231, esp. 228–230 (Hebrew); an updated English version of this article appears in his The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), esp. 479–480, where this section appears in a shortened form (while the subject is also discussed passim); P. D. Miscall, “The Jacob and Joseph Stories as Analogies,” JSOT 6 (1978), 28–40; R. P. Gordon, “David’s Rise and Saul’s Demise: Narrative Analogy in 1 Samuel 24–26,” Tyndale Bulletin 31 (1979), 37–64; M. Garsiel, The First Book of Samuel: A Literary Study of Comparative Structures, Analogies and Parallels (Hebrew: Ramat Gan: Revivim, 1983; English: Ramat Gan: Revivim, 1985); E. L. Greenstein, “The Formation of the Biblical Narrative Corpus,” AJS Rev 15 (1990), 151–178; R. Alter, The World of Biblical Literature (New York: Basic Books, 1991), Ch. 5: “Allusion and Literary Expression,” 107–130; Y. Zakovitch, Through the Looking Glass: Reflection Stories in the Bible (Tel Aviv: Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1995; Hebrew), and see also his English article: “Through the Looking Glass: Reflections/Inversions of Genesis Stories in the Bible,” BibInt 1 (1993), 139–152; G. Marquis, “Explicit Literary Allusions in Biblical Historiography” (Ph.D. diss., The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1999; Hebrew); P. R. Noble, “Esau, Tamar, and Joseph: Criteria for Identifying InnerBiblical Allusion,” VT 52 (2002), 219–252; H. Shalom-Guy, “Internal and External Literary Parallels – The Gideon Cycle (Judges 6-9)” (Ph.D. diss., The Hebrew

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studies is how such parallels contribute to the evaluation of biblical characters. Here I shall consider one facet of this broad subject. Because I wish to build my case incrementally, I have chosen to use the more general term “comparison”, although I have analogy in mind as well. My hypothesis is that comparison with David is a literary device used throughout the book of Kings as a way to express an assessment of the kings whose deeds are recounted in the book.2 Three new ideas are advanced in the present paper: (1) Explicit comparisons to David are linked to literary allusions to him and constitute a single basic phenomenon, different points on a single scale. This is in contrast to the conventional view that explicit comparisons with David are a feature of the Deuteronomistic redaction, whereas allusions to him (when addressed) are a literary device quite unrelated to the comparisons. (2) Comparisons with David are taken to be a literary device employed throughout the book of Kings, including the account of Jehu’s reign. Again, the standard position is that only kings of Judah are compared to David, the founder of their dynasty. (3) A sophisticated system of inverted comparisons, which help unify the Solomon stories among themselves and with the history of Jeroboam as well, is discovered. The phenomenon discussed here in detail can contribute to a better understanding of one of the important ways in which the book of Kings (and biblical narrative in general) judges its characters, as a significant proportion of this characterization involves allusions rather than explicit statements, and thus not every allusive evaluation is uncovered.3 The object of the present study is the book of Kings as a whole, and not the conjectural documentary sources on which it draws (such as the University of Jerusalem, 2003; Hebrew); J. Berman, Narrative Analogy in the Hebrew Bible: Battle Stories and their Equivalent Non-Battle Narratives (Leiden: Brill, 2004); A. Bazak, Parallels Meet: Literary Parallels in the Book of Samuel (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2006; Hebrew); J. Berman, “Establishing Narrative Analogy in Biblical Literature: Methodological Considerations,” Beit Mikra 53 (2008), 31–46 (Hebrew); J. Grossman, “ ‘Dynamic Analogies’ in the Book of Esther,” VT 59 (2009), 394–414. 2 In the present article I have restricted myself to kings, but other characters in the book of Kings may also be juxtaposed to David. We may recall, for example, the interesting proposal by Zakovitch (Through the Looking Glass, 41–42) that the episode of the Jericho lads’ cursing Elisha (2 Kgs 2:23–24) is a mirror-tale or inversion of Shimei’s curses against David (2 Sam 16), with the intention being to censure Elisha for his harsh reaction to the lads, so different from David’s noble restraint. 3 For a survey of diverse means of character evaluation, listed from the most to the least explicit—see Sternberg, Poetics, 475–481.

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Succession Narrative) or different strata in the stages of its editing (such as Dtr1 and Dtr2, according to the double-redaction, or DtrG, DtrP, and DtrN, according to the triple-redaction theory).4 I will endeavor to present the data as it stands in the present book of Kings. Scholars from each of the different schools may then analyze the data within the frameworks of the different redactional positions.5 Personally I prefer the single-edition theory, whose most conspicuous proponent is Martin Noth, although I have some reservations, notably with regard to Noth’s view of the Deuteronomistic history as pessimistic. I think it may be simpler to explain a phenomenon that is found throughout the book by a theory that attributes its composition to a single author-editor 4

On the double-redaction theory see, in particular: F. M. Cross, “The Themes of the Book of Kings and the Structure of the Deuteronomistic History”, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973), 274–289; R. D. Nelson, The Double Redaction of the Deuteronomistic History (JSOTSup, 18; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1981). And on the triple-redaction theory, see, in particular: R. Smend, “Das Gesetz und die Völker: Ein Beitrag zur deuteronomistischen Redaktionsgeschichte,” H. W. Wolff (ed.), Probleme biblischer Theologie: Gerhard von Rad zum 70. Geburtstag (Munich: C. Kaiser, 1971), 494–509 [ET: G. N. Knoppers and J. G. McConville (eds.), Reconsidering Israel and Judah: Recent Studies on the Deuteronomistic History (SBT, 8; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000), 95–110]; W. Dietrich, Prophetie und Geschichte (FRLANT, 108; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972); T. Veijola, Die ewige Dynastie: David und die Entstehung seiner Dynastie nach der deuteronomistischen Darstellung (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1975). 5 For a comprehensive survey of the various approaches to the Deuteronomistic redaction, see Th. Römer and A. de Pury, “Deuteronomistic Historiography (DH): History of Research and Debated Issues,” A. de Pury, T. Römer and J.-D. Macchi (eds), Israel Constructs its History: Deuteronomistic Historiography in Recent Research (JSOTSup, 306; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 24–141; Th. C. Römer, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction (London: T & T Clark, 2005); J. M. Hutton, The Transjordanian Palimpsest: The Overwritten Texts of Personal Exile and Transformation in the Deuteronomistic History (BZAW, 396; Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 2009), Ch. 3, 79–156. See also the lively and comprehensive discussion in R. F. Person, Jr. (ed.), “In Conversation with Thomas Römer, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction,” JHS 9, 17 (2009), available online at http://www.jhsonline.org and republished in E. Ben Zvi (ed.), Perspectives in Hebrew Scriptures VI: Comprising the Contents of Journal of Hebrew Scriptures, vol. 9 (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2010), 333–86. According to Person, one of the participants, Richard Nelson, represents the dual-redaction theory, and another, Steven McKenzie, represents the “neo-Nothians,” who argue for a single edition.

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(although he may have made use of older sources); nevertheless, it is certainly compatible with the double- and triple-redaction theories. The several types of comparisons to David will be presented below in descending order of explicitness. First I discuss the explicit comparison with David that appears in the formulaic introduction of the kings of Judah (§1). Then I look at other explicit comparisons to David—in a formula, but not the introductory formula (§2), and not in a formula, but in the dialogue between the Lord or his emissaries and characters (§3). Then l consider allusions to David in which his name does not appear—allusions aimed at comparing (§4) or contrasting (§5) a particular king with David. In §6 I take up what seems to be an explicit reference to David in a formula; but the discussion comes here, rather than earlier, because the comparison is not explicit. Nevertheless, one would see the phrase “in the city of [his father] David” (part of the burial formula used for some of the kings of Judah) as favorable assessments of those kings by means of the allusion. Finally in §7, I look at inverted comparisons—seven comparisons of Solomon and Jeroboam to David—and see how they create a single structured set of references to David, with a reversal between the two figures who are compared to him. In all these cases I go beyond pointing out the fact of the comparison to cast light on how it contributes to the message of the book as a device for evaluating the monarchs, sometimes favorably and sometimes unfavorably.6

1. AN EXPLICIT COMPARISON WITH DAVID AS PART OF THE INTRODUCTORY FORMULA One of the most prominent methods of evaluation in the book of Kings takes David as the standard: worthy kings are likened to him, unworthy kings are contrasted to him.7 Even though David serves this function for 6

The various references to David in the book of Kings (not necessarily in the context of comparison) are surveyed by G. A. Auld, Kings Without Privilege: David and Moses in the Story of the Bible’s Kings (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1994), 132–146, but in a different way than is done here and with the inclusion of Chronicles. On the other hand, he considers only explicit references and not allusions. 7 Of course we may ask how David can serve as a paragon, given the verdict that “David … did not turn aside from anything that He commanded him all the days of his life, except in the matter of Uriah the Hittite” (1 Kgs 15:5)? A common solution, noting the omission of this reservation from the Septuagint, takes it as a late gloss. But this seems to be overly simplistic. Rather, it does seem that the book of Kings takes David as a model for emulation, despite his transgression, for he is human being and not an angel. (The reference to David’s failure to reprove Adonijah for his inappropriate conduct [1 Kgs 1:6] is certainly critical of him.)

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only a few kings, he is generally defined as the standard for the assessment of kings throughout the book (chiefly those of the house of David).8 A comparison of these monarchs’ conduct with David’s appears in the introductory formula for six kings: • Abijam: “His heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God, as the heart of David his father” (1 Kgs 15:3).9 • Asa: “And Asa did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, as David his father had done” (1 Kgs 15:11). • Amaziah: “And he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, yet not like David his father” (2 Kgs 14:3). • Ahaz: “And he did not do what was right in the eyes of the Lord his God, as his father David had done” (2 Kgs 16:2). • Hezekiah: “And he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, according to all that David his father had done” (2 Kgs 18:3). • Josiah: “And he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, and walked in all the way of David his father, and he did not turn aside to the right hand or to the left” (2 Kgs 22:2). One should append two short comments to this list, one related to Lower Criticism and the other to Higher Criticism. (1) Most scholars take the comparison with David in the description of Amaziah’s deeds in 2 Kgs 14:3 (“yet not like David his father”) to be a secondary addition.10 (2) As is known, Helga Weippert takes a favorable comparison with David to be one of the hallmarks of the second stratum of the Deuteronomist redaction of the book of Kings (II S) and assigns to this group the comparisons to David of Asa, Hezekiah, and Josiah, as well as that of Abijam (in the format of the northern scheme II N); but the comparison of Ahaz (as well as the verse about Amaziah, although she strips the comparison to David from it) is assigned to stratum IS 1.11 In the analysis that follows I do not follow Provan says something slightly different in his commentary on 1 Kgs 15:5 (I. W. Provan, 1 and 2 Kings [NIBC; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1995], 124). 8 See, e.g., von Rad: “He is the prototype of the perfectly obedient anointed, and therefore the model for all succeeding kings in Jerusalem” (G. von Rad, Studies in Deuteronomy [trans. D. Stalker; London: SCM Press, 1953], 88). 9 The translation of biblical verses is based on the RSV, modified silently where necessary to make a point or parallel (except for the rendering of 1 Kgs 1:6, which is taken from the NJPS). 10 See in detail I. W. Provan, Hezekiah and the Books of Kings (BZAW, 172; Berlin/ New York: de Gruyter, 1988), 93 n. 2. 11 See H. Weippert, “Die ‘deuteronomistischen’ Beurteilungen der Könige von

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Weippert’s conjectural distinctions, which have already been seriously challenged.12 On the other hand, I consider the textual point and whenever I mention the comparison with Amaziah (in order to present a complete picture of the text) I shall note that it is doubtful. These six comparisons are not a fixed formula, but reflect broad variation. First, one notices their formal division into two equal groups: three with a contrast to David (“not like David his father”) and three with a resemblance (“as his father David had done”). It is worth noting that the overlap between the form and the assessment (positive or negative) is not perfect. Four (rather than three) of the comparisons (those relating to Asa, Amaziah, Hezekiah, and Josiah) express a favorable assessment, to one degree or another.13 The other two assessments (of Abijam and Ahaz) are negative. In five of these six cases the comparison with David comes immediately after the formulaic “he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord” (or, in the case of Ahaz, its opposite: “he did not do what was right in the eyes of the Lord”). For Abijam there is a variant that refers to his intentions: “his heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God, as the heart of David his father” (1 Kgs 15:3). It is possible that this expresses a real difference and is not merely a formulaic variation.14

Israel und Juda und das Problem der Redaktion der Königsbücher,” Biblica 53 (1972), 301–339. 12 See, for example, E. Cortese, “Lo schema deuteronomistico per i re di Guida e d’Israele,” Biblica 56 (1975), 37–52; J. Van Seters, In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origin of Biblical History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), esp. 316 n. 84. 13 It is true that with Amaziah the comparison to David is expressed by way of contrast (if we maintain the text); but it qualifies the underlying praise rather than deprecating him: “And he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, yet not like David his father; he did in all things as Joash his father had done” (2 Kgs 14:3). Asa is compared to David (1 Kgs 15:11), but a qualification follows soon thereafter: “But the high places were not taken away. Nevertheless the heart of Asa was wholly true to the Lord all his days” (1 Kgs 15:14). 14 My impression is that this is an intentional reference to the evaluation of Solomon (1 Kgs 11:4; see below, §2) in a passage (vv. 4–6) that refers retrospectively to Rehoboam, Solomon, and David. Noteworthy is the commentary by Samuel Laniado that “his heart” (15:3b) refers to “his father” (mentioned in v. 3a), namely, Rehoboam; see Samuel Laniado, Keli Yaqar on the Former Prophets, 1 Kings, Part 2, (ed. E. Baṣri; Jerusalem: Mechon Haketav, 1987/8; Hebrew), 550.

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2. EXPLICIT COMPARISONS WITH DAVID IN A DIFFERENT FORMULAIC CONTEXT Outside the introductory formula, one finds two explicit comparisons with David in a formulaic context—both with regard to his son Solomon. First, Solomon is compared to David in a formula that is far from conventional: “Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of David his father” (1 Kgs 3:3). At the end of his reign he is contrasted to David, here too in an unconventional manner—a harsh condemnation that seems to be redundant: “His heart was not wholly true to the Lord his God, as was the heart of David his father. For Solomon went after Ashtoreth the goddess of the Sidonians, and after Milcom the abomination of the Ammonites. So Solomon did what was evil in the sight of the Lord, and did not wholly follow the Lord, as David his father had done” (1 Kgs 11:4–6). These two contradictory assessments can be seen as a substitute of sorts for the introductory formula, omitted in the account of Solomon’s reign. Instead of one lukewarm assessment at the start, one finds two evaluations that are polar antitheses, one of them overwhelmingly positive at the beginning, the other intensely negative at the end. There is a deep structural link between these two evaluations, which appear in passages that have parallel themes (I have called them “Solomon and the Lord: Loyalty and the Promise of Reward” [3:1–15]; and “Solomon and the Lord: Disloyalty and the Announcement of Punishment” [11:1–13]).15 The two evaluations occupy corresponding places in the Solomon pericope (the second unit and the penultimate unit), and play on the midrash of the king’s name:16 In the first and favorable evaluation, Solomon/Jedidiah (“beloved 15

See A. Frisch, “The Narrative of Solomon’s Reign in the Book of Kings” (Ph.D. diss., Bar Ilan University, 1986; Hebrew), 36–38 and 42–44; and a shorter version: idem, “Structure and Its Significance: The Narrative of Solomon’s Reign (1 Kings 1–12.24),” JSOT 51 (1991), 3–14, esp. 10–12. 16 We attribute these two contradictory assessments to the same author-editor, who uses them to characterize two different periods in Solomon’s reign. A similar division into an initial favorable period, followed by a second and negative one, is conspicuous in the description of David’s reign in the book of Samuel—the “blessing” and the “curse” as Carlson puts it (R. A. Carlson, David, the Chosen King: A Traditio-Historical Approach to the Second Book of Samuel [trans. E. J. Sharpe and S. Rudman; Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1964], 25ff.; see also the use of the same concepts in the description of Solomon’s reign: A. J. Soggin, “The DavidicSolomonic Kingdom,” J. H. Hayes and J. M. Miller [eds.], Israelite and Judaean History [Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977], 366). Differences in the religious evaluation of a king in different periods of his reign are prominent in Chronicles (notably with regard to Rehoboam, Asa, and Joash). In Kings there may be a hint of such a

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of the Lord”) loves the Lord;17 in the later and negative one, Solomon’s heart, in contrast to his name, is not perfect (‫ שלם‬...‫ )ולא‬with the Lord his God.18

3. AN EXPLICIT NON-FORMULAIC COMPARISON WITH DAVID There are five explicit non-formulaic comparisons of a king to David, interwoven into the plot—all of them relating to Solomon or Jeroboam.19 Three of the comparisons offer the king the option of being like David, along with the anticipated reward: (1) In his dream vision at Gibeon, Solomon receives the unconditional grant of great wisdom, wealth, and honor. But another gift, at the end of the vision, is conditional: “And if you will walk in My ways, keeping My statutes and My commandments, as your father David walked, then I will lengthen your days” (1 Kgs 3:14). (2) The distinction in the report that “the Lord smote the king, so that he was a leper to the day of his death” (2 Kgs 15:5), which concludes the account of Uzziah’s reign. BatSheva Brosh (“Complex Royal Characters in the Book of Kings” [Ph.D. diss., Tel Aviv University, 2005; Hebrew]) suggested that there is a change, from favorable to negative, in the theological evaluations of Jeroboam (67, 69–70) and Hezekiah (see 337–370), and from unfavorable to positive in the evaluation of Ahab (70). Cohn, too, writes of Jeroboam’s “transformation from God’s chosen instrument to his despised enemy” (R. L. Cohn, “Literary Technique in the Jeroboam Narrative,” ZAW 97 [1985], 25). In the light of this data we cannot agree with the view of Eynikel, rejecting Weippert’s attribution of the two assessments of Solomon to the same hand (R II in her system): “Why would R II have judged Solomon positively in 1 Kings 3:2–3, and negatively to very negatively in 11:4–6 and 11:33? These texts are too contradictory to be by the same author” (E. Eynikel, The Reform of King Josiah and the Composition of the Deuteronomistic History [OTS, 33; Leiden: Brill, 1996], 52). 17 Y. Zakovitch, “The Synonymous Word and Synonymous Name in NameMidrashim,” Shnaton: An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies 2 (1977), 107 (Hebrew). 18 See M. Garsiel, Biblical Names: A Literary Study of Midrashic Derivations and Puns (trans. Ph. Hackett; Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1991), 206, § 5.3.1 [2]. He also refers to 1 Chr 28:9 and 29:19. In these verses ‫לבב שלם‬/‫ לב‬is associated with ‫ שלמה‬as an option available to him (in contrast to the negative homily on the name in Kings [280, n. 90]). 19 This count excludes one other comparison, stated by Solomon at the dedication of the Temple, because the focus there is not on a particular king but instead offers David’s descendants the option of being like him: “Keep with Thy servant David my father what Thou hast promised him, saying, ‘There shall never fail you a man before Me to sit upon the throne of Israel, if only your sons take heed to their way, to walk before Me as you have walked before Me’ ” (1 Kgs 8:25).

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second of the three parts of the Lord’s message to Solomon, after the dedication of the Temple, contains a similar condition: “And as for you, if you will walk before Me, as David your father walked, with integrity of heart and uprightness, doing according to all that I have commanded you, and keeping My statutes and My ordinances, then I will establish your royal throne over Israel for ever, as I promised David your father” (1 Kgs 9:4–5). (3) A similar conditional promise is made to Jeroboam in the annunciatory prophecy by Ahijah the Shilonite: “And if you will hearken to all that I command you, and will walk in My ways, and do what is right in My eyes by keeping My statutes and My commandments, as David My servant did, I will be with you, and will build you a sure house, as I built for David …” (1 Kgs 11:38). Two other comparisons are retrospective in nature and express disappointment with a king. One of them relates to Solomon: “Because he has forsaken Me, … and has not walked in My ways, doing what is right in My eyes and keeping My statutes and My ordinances, as David his father did” (1 Kgs 11:33).20 The other refers to Jeroboam: “I … tore the kingdom away from the house of David and gave it to you; and yet you have not been like My servant David, who kept My commandments, and followed Me with all his heart, doing only that which was right in My eyes” (1 Kgs 14:8). Both evaluations are spoken by Ahijah; both use the expression “doing what is right in My eyes” )‫ (לעשות הישר בעיני‬referring to David (an expression not found in the other three comparisons considered here). These two assessments create a sort of parallel between Jeroboam and Solomon: even the man raised to royalty to supplant Solomon, because of his sin, ultimately stumbles and is judged negatively as was Solomon.

4. ALLUSIONS TO DAVID BY WAY OF PARALLEL All of the comparisons to David that have been examined thus far, despite the variety in the context, source (the Lord, a prophet, or the narrator), and goal, have something in common: they are explicit and mention David by name. Now I shall cite four cases that are implicit. 20

Even though the verbs are in the plural, given that the verse concludes with “as David his father did”, we may infer that the subject is Solomon, as also follows from the larger context of Ahijah’s prophecy, which explains the break-up of the kingdom as punishment for Solomon’s sin. Many scholars believe that the text here is corrupt. For a different opinion, which identifies this as a sophisticated literary device in which the surface meaning applies to Solomon but there is an allusion that expands the circle of transgressors, see A. Frisch, “Three Syntactical Discontinuities in I Reg 9–11,” ZAW 115 (2003), 90–91.

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(a) The explicit comparison of Hezekiah to David, in the introductory formula to his reign (2 Kgs 18:3) is supplemented by an implicit comparison: “And the Lord was with him; wherever he went forth, he was successful” (2 Kgs 18:7). This statement echoes what was said about David at the start of his career: the second half of the verse clearly evokes “and David went forth and was successful wherever Saul sent him” (1 Sam 18:5),21 while the first part of the verse is reminiscent of what one reads some nine verses later: “And David was successful in all his undertakings; for the Lord was with him” (1 Sam 18:14).22 I use this example to introduce the second type of comparison, in which David is not mentioned by name, because the explicit reference to David in v. 3 lends support to reading v. 7 as an implicit reference to him.23 (b) All of the comparisons that have been considered thus far are made by the narrator, by the Lord, or by His emissary. One should also consider verses spoken by the characters themselves. In his prayer to the Lord, Hezekiah proclaims, “So now, O Lord our God, save us )‫)הושיענו‬, I beseech thee, from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that )‫ הארץ כי‬...‫ )וידעו כל‬Thou, O Lord, art God )‫ )אלהים‬alone” (2 Kgs 19:19). This appeal calls to mind David’s proclamation before he 21

Brosh, who briefly notes the similarity between these verses (1 Sam 18:5 and 2 Kgs 18:7), explains it as expressing an analogy between Hezekiah and Solomon, because David’s use of the verb ‫ תשכיל‬in his deathbed charge to Solomon (1 Kgs 2:3) creates, she maintains, an analogy between Solomon and David. In other words, the analogy between Hezekiah and David is indirect and runs through Solomon (Solomon || David; Hezekiah || Solomon). See Brosh, “Complex Royal Characters,” 95. Despite the literary links between the descriptions of Solomon and Hezekiah (as well as Josiah) in Kings, in our case, in light of the findings presented here, we should probably see this as an analogy between Hezekiah and David as well as between Solomon and David. The latter consists chiefly of 1 Sam 18:5 and 1 Kgs 2:3: linguistically, the verses share not only the verb ‫ השכיל‬but also the locution ‫ ;כל אשר‬thematically, they both express a transfer of authority by the reigning monarch (Saul to David, David to Solomon) along with an indication that the heir is acceptable to a third party (in David’s case, the people; in Solomon’s case, the Lord—if he acts in accordance with the terms of the testament). 22 Cf. Provan, Hezekiah and the Books of Kings, 117. He adds the defeat of the Philistines in battle as another element unique to David (1 Sam 16:27, 19:8; 2 Sam 8:1) and Hezekiah (2 Kgs 18:8 et passim). 23 Cohn found another allusion to David in the account of Hezekiah’s reign in the representation of the Lord, in Isaiah’s prophecy of his recovery, as “the God of David your father” (2 Kgs 20:5). See R. L. Cohn, 2 Kings (Berit Olam; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2000), 142.

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goes out to face Goliath: “… that all the earth may know that ‫וידעו כל הארץ‬ )‫ )כי‬there is a God )‫ )אלהים‬in Israel, and that all this assembly may know that the Lord … saves )‫( ”(יהושיע‬1 Sam 17:46–47). Even closer is Hezekiah’s statement during his illness, “I have walked before Thee in faithfulness and with a whole heart, and have done what is good in Thy sight” (2 Kgs 20:3), to Solomon’s description of his father David’s conduct: “He walked before Thee in faithfulness … and in uprightness of heart” (1 Kgs 3:6).24 The explanation I would propose for this echo (though others may be possible) is that by the identical phrasing the author-editor of the book of Kings suggested a similarity between Hezekiah and his ancestor David, the founder of the royal line. Here one should add Cohn’s suggestion that the prophet’s words to Hezekiah, two verses later (2 Kgs 20:5), constitute an implicit comparison to David.25 If so, here one has an instructive juxtaposition of two points of view—Hezekiah’s, entreating the Lord, and that of the Lord, who begins His response with a hint of his great esteem for the king: he resembles David. (c) In the wake of these allusions to David in the account of Hezekiah’s reign one should go back to two examples earlier in the book. The first is in 1 Kings 1, where there seems to be an implicit parallel between Solomon and David. When Solomon is anointed one is told that “Zadok the priest took the horn of oil from the tent, and anointed Solomon” (1 Kgs 1:39). The wording calls to mind the anointing of David himself: “Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the midst 24

The collocation of the root ‫ הל"ך‬with “before You (‫ ”)לפניך‬and “in faithfulness (‫ ”)באמת‬is found only in these two passages and in David’s deathbed charge to Solomon, which sketches out the program for the dynasty: “If your sons take heed to their way, to walk before Me in faithfulness with all their heart and with all their soul” (1 Kings 2:4). Note that in Hezekiah’s case he is making a retrospective declaration about himself to God, whereas for Solomon this is the vocation imposed on him (and his descendants). Note too that the account of Hezekiah’s reign includes an implicit comparison between him and Solomon, which is clearly in Hezekiah’s favor: “he clung to the Lord” (2 Kgs 18:6) vis-à-vis Solomon, who “clung to [foreign women] in love” (1 Kgs 11:2) (cf. Auld, Kings Without Privilege, 101); “he did not turn away (‫ )סר‬from following him” (2 Kgs 18:6) vis-à-vis the repeated use of the verb ‫נטה‬, a synonym for ‫סר‬, in 1 Kings 11 (vv. 2, 3, 4, and 9); and the domain to which the extravagant praise applies: for Solomon, the great wisdom bestowed upon him (1 Kgs 3:12), but for Hezekiah his conduct (2 Kgs 18:5). For a comprehensive discussion of superlative formulas in the book of Kings, see G. N. Knoppers, “‘There Was None Like Him’: Incomparability in the Books of Kings,” CBQ 54 (1992), 411–431. 25 See n. 23.

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of his brothers” (1 Sam 16:13). Note that the expression “horn of oil” is found only in these two passages (in 1 Samuel 16 not only in the performance clause, as in 1 Kings 1, but also in the command clause in v. 1). This parallel makes a statement about the similarity between the anointing of Solomon and that of his father, who was the youngest of Jesse’s sons.26 The precedent of David indicates that the election falls on the one who is worthiest to rule, and not necessarily on the first-born son.27 This undercuts Adonijah’s main claim to the throne; or, as Solomon puts it in the next chapter, “Ask for him the kingdom also; for he is my elder brother” (1 Kgs 2:22). Here the parallel is not one of moral evaluation but of political and legal procedure. All the same it does have moral significance, because it emphasizes that Solomon is no usurper and achieves the crown legitimately. (d) The second earlier example comes from the story of Jehu. Anointing Jehu, the young prophet proclaims: “Thus says the Lord the God of Israel, I have anointed you king )‫ (משחתיך למלך‬over the people of the Lord, over Israel” (2 Kgs 9:6). Readers may hear the echo of Nathan’s review of David’s election: “Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘I anointed you king )‫ (משחתיך למלך‬over Israel” (2 Sam. 12:7). It bears note that the only occurrences of the collocation ‫ משחתיך למלך‬in the Bible refer to these two kings (twice more about Jehu: 2 Kgs 9:3 and 12). The continuation of Nathan’s rebuke of David also finds its unique parallel in the story of Jehu. Thus Nathan: “I gave you your master’s house )‫(את בית אדניך‬, and your master’s wives into your bosom” (2 Sam. 12:8); and the young prophet: “And you shall strike down the house of Ahab your master )‫( ”(את בית אחאב אדניך‬2 Kgs 9:7).28 This echo highlights the theological legitimacy of Jehu’s coup, including the annihilation of Ahab’s family.

For a different explanation see T. N. D. Mettinger, King and Messiah: The Civil and Sacral Legitimation of the Israelite Kings (CBOTS, 8; Lund: CWR Gleerup, 1976), 206. 27 For a thorough literary and conceptual analysis of the theme of the chosen son vs. the first-born son (from Abel and Cain to Solomon and Adonijah), see A. Kariv, The Seven Pillars of the Bible: Essays of Biblical People and Biblical Ideas (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1970), 10–16 (Hebrew). 28 ‫ את בית אדניך‬is found only in these two verses; ‫בית אדניך‬, without the accusative particle, only in Gen 44:8 and Isa 22:18. 26

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5. ALLUSIONS TO DAVID BY WAY OF CONTRAST An implicit comparison with David may be intended not only to point out a resemblance to him, but also in order to sharpen the difference between a particular king and the founder of the dynasty. I will look at three examples; later I will re-examine the first two from a broader perspective. (a) In 1 Kings 1 David’s oldest surviving son, Adonijah, asserts that he should inherit the throne. His status as heir presumptive is based on his being the oldest surviving brother, as reflected in what Solomon says to Bathsheba. Adonijah himself seems to allude to this right. I accept Zalewski’s explanation that when he tells Bathsheba, “You know that the kingdom was mine” (1 Kgs 2:15), Adonijah is referring to his right to the throne by virtue of seniority.29 But what Adonijah says explicitly, and after the fact, is noted by the narrator himself “in real time”: “Now Adonijah the son of Haggith exalted himself, saying, ‘I will be king.’ … He was born next after Absalom. He conferred with Joab the son of Zeruiah and with Abiathar the priest; and they followed Adonijah and helped him” (1 Kgs 1:5–7). But as a number of scholars have demonstrated, here, in what would be the appropriate location for Adonijah’s assertion of his right, the narrator undercuts him, depicting him as Absalom redux, a son who rebels against his father.30 What is worth noting though, is the covert, implicit parallel to David. The passage creates an impression of continuity and of loyalty to David. The two public figures who support Adonijah are among David’s most veteran supporters, those who followed him in the political and geographical wilderness and were always devoted to him. Several verses later one reads that “Adonijah … invited all his brothers, the king’s sons, and all the royal officials of Judah” (1 Kgs 1:9) to his coronation feast. Several verses earlier one is told that David “had never scolded him, asking: ‘Why did you do that?’ ” (1 Kgs 1:6). I believe that v. 7 conceals a sharp contrast between Adonijah and his father David: Adonijah is presented as a conspirator out to seize power, unlike his father, whose rival’s military commander, Abner, rallied support for him, and to whom the people’s representatives came in Hebron to offer him the crown of Israel. Verbally, this contrast is embodied in two verses: “He conferred with 29

S. Zalewski, Solomon’s Ascension to the Throne: Studies in the Books of Kings and Chronicles (Jerusalem: Y. Markus, 1981), 129, 140 (Hebrew). 30 See, e.g., R. N. Whybray, The Succession Narrative: A Study of II Samuel 9-20; I Kings 1 and 2 (London: SCM Press, 1968), 30–31; M. Garsiel, The Kingdom of David: Studies in History and Inquiries in Historiography (Tel Aviv: Don, 1975), 188–189, 194 (Hebrew); J. P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel, I: King David (II Sam. 9–20 & I Kings 1–2) (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1981), 348–349.

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Joab the son of Zeruiah and with Abiathar the priest; and they followed Adonijah and helped him” (1 Kgs 1:7); “And Abner conferred with the elders of Israel, saying, ‘For some time past you have been seeking David as king over you’ ” (2 Sam 3:17). The focus here is on contrasting paths to the throne; the difference between someone who conspires to seize power and someone who is deemed worthy of kingship and is offered power on a silver platter—like a true prophet who does not ask for his vocation, but has his mission imposed on him. (b) When the Lord appears to Solomon late in his reign He informs him of his punishment: “I will surely tear the kingdom from you and will give it to your servant. Yet for the sake of David your father I will not do it in your days. … I will give one tribe to your son, for the sake of David My servant and for the sake of Jerusalem which I have chosen” (1 Kgs 11:11– 13). Reward and punishment are carried over from generation to generation—a basic assumption of the book of Kings (in contract to Chronicles): through David’s merit, the punishment will be delayed until after Solomon’s death and its severity will be tempered. When it comes it will be in the time of his son—because of the father’s actions rather than the son’s.31 The theological justification places great emphasis on the word “servant.” Solomon, who violated the royal covenant (“Since this has been your mind and you have not kept my covenant and my statutes which I have commanded you” [1 Kgs 11:11]), will be punished measure for measure: his “servant” will violate his oath to the king and supplant him on the throne. Solomon’s official is his “servant”, and his father David is “My servant.” But Solomon himself is not a servant; this signal omission emphasizes the contrast between Solomon and David. The failure to refer to Solomon here as the “servant” of the Lord is conspicuous because readers remember that, early in his reign, Solomon applied this designation to himself three times during the dream-vision at Gibeon, when he represented himself as his father’s heir (3:7, 8, 9), as well as in his prayer at the dedication of the Temple (8:28 [twice], 29, 30, 52). (c) Above (4d) I noted the parallels between Jehu and David. Now I turn to the contrasts between them. Two consecutive verses reflect the theological complexity of assessing Jehu: “Because you have done well in carrying out what is right in My eyes, and have done to the house of Ahab according to all that was in my heart. … But Jehu was not careful to walk in the law of the Lord the God of Israel with all his heart” (2 Kgs 10:30–31). This contrasts with Ahijah’s display of David as a standard of right 31 For this idea as characteristic of the book of Kings see S. Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and its Place in Biblical Thought (trans. A. Barber; Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 1997), 156–160.

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behavior, in his rebuke of Jeroboam: “and yet you have not been like My servant David, who kept My commandments, and walked after Me with all his heart, doing only that which was right in My eyes” (1 Kgs 14:8). Even if the two verses about Jehu have different sources (the first probably originating in an ancient prophetic tradition, whereas the second is an editorial addition), the author-editor set them one after the other in order to express the complex verdict on this king: Jehu accomplished his mission of uprooting the House of Ahab, but was not wholly devoted to the Lord, as had been expected. The two verses’ echo of the single verse about David encourages the readers to approach them as two facets of the same situation rather than as separate judgments.32

6. ALLUSIONS TO DAVID IN THE BURIAL FORMULA I would like to open a window on a point that may stir up controversy, but which I see no reason to ignore: the burial formula that is part of the summary of a king’s reign. The normal phrasing of the burial of kings of Judah in the book of Kings is “he was buried [or: they buried him] in the city of David.” On four occasions, however, one encounters the variant “in the city of his father David.” This is first found concerning Solomon (1 Kgs 11:43), where it seems to be perfectly natural (although the tight syntactic link between “his father” and “David”, breaks up or at least distorts the set phrase “city of David”).33 The same phrase, “in the city of his father David”, recurs with Asa (15:24), his son Jehoshaphat (22:51), and Jotham (2 Kgs 15:38).34 The assessments of all three kings are explicitly favorable, to one degree or another. With Asa, the allusion detected in the death formula complements the explicit praise in the introductory formula to his reign (1 Kgs 15:11), mentioned above.35 With regard to Jehoshaphat, 32 Rozenson deals at some length with the parallel between Jehu and David and notes other verses and details than these. His interpretation is different than mine, too: he focuses on the tension between the fulfillment of the prophet’s directive and the cruel extermination of Ahab’s family. See Y. Rozenson, “A Plotter or the ‘King of God’s People’? Jehu Compared to David,” Megadim 32 (2000), 69–81 (Hebrew). 33 Ehrlich sensed this difficulty and suggested the conjectural emendation “in the tomb of David” (A. B. Ehrlich, Randglossen zur hebräischen Bibel VII [Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1914], 243). 34 On the phrase “in the city of his father David” as a judgment, see E. J. Smit, “Death and Burial Formulas in Kings and Chronicles Relating to the Kings of Judah”, in Biblical Essays: Proceedings of the Ninth Meeting of “Die Ou Testamentiese Werkgemeenskap in Suid-Afrika” (Potchefstroom: [s.n.], 1966), 175, 176. 35 This formulaic comparison of Asa to David can be added to what we read

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one reads, “He walked in all the way of Asa his father; he did not turn aside from it, doing what was right in the sight of the Lord” (1 Kgs 22:43)—and Asa is said to have walked in the path of David. It is true that for Jotham the situation is more complicated: “And he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, according to all that his father Uzziah had done” (2 Kgs 15:34), and of Uzziah it is said that he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord like his father Amaziah. However, the evaluation of Amaziah is that “he did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, yet not like David his father; he did in all things as Joash his father had done” (2 Kgs 14:3). Does this constitute another argument against the authenticity of the qualifying “yet not like David” applied to Amaziah? Incidentally, an important but lesser-known traditional Jewish commentator, Samuel Laniado (sixteenth century), remarked on the significance of the phrase “his father David” with regard to Asa: “He said ‘in the city of his father David’ that he made David like his father by following in his righteous path, and even though David was not his father” (he does not make a similar comment, though, where the same phrase appears elsewhere).36

7. A SYSTEM OF INVERTED COMPARISONS So far I have considered each comparison separately. But the book of Kings also contains a sophisticated and complex system of interlinked comparisons, horizontal and vertical: horizontally—the relations among the various characters; vertically – the development and change in the assessment of the characters. Solomon || David (§§a–b) Adonijah || Absalom, Adonijah David (§c) Solomon David (§d) Jeroboam || David (§e) Solomon || Saul (§f) Jeroboam David (§g) about Asa: “And he brought the votive gifts of his father into the house of the Lord and his own votive gifts, silver, and gold, and vessels” (1 Kgs 15:15). This echoes what Solomon did when the Temple was completed: “And Solomon brought the votive gifts of David his father, the silver, the gold, and the vessels, and stored them in the treasuries of the house of the Lord” (1 Kgs 7:51). The text itself highlights that Solomon fulfilled David’s plans, even representing the latter as the initiator of the construction of the Temple; Asa follows in the footsteps of Solomon, who followed David. 36 Laniado, Keli Yaqar, 566.

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(a) In the early chapters of his reign Solomon is compared to his father David. He truly is David’s successor, as is emphasized in the concluding formula of David’s reign: “So Solomon sat upon the throne of David his father” (1 Kgs 2:12). This continuity invites readers to compare them.37 Solomon himself insists on this continuity in his message to Hiram—the difference in the nature of his reign, an age of peace, unlike the wars of his father’s time, is actually a sign of continuity, in that Solomon can now bring to fruition his father’s plan to build the Temple (1 Kgs 5:15–20 [RSV 1–6]). (b) In the theological assessment, too, Solomon is compared to his father, as mentioned above. Twice the Lord offers him the option of being like David: in the vision at Gibeon, “And if you will walk in My ways, keeping My statutes and My commandments, as your father David walked, then I will lengthen your days” (1 Kgs 3:14); and in the revelation after the dedication of the Temple: “And as for you, if you will walk before Me, as David your father walked, with integrity of heart and uprightness, doing according to all that I have commanded you, and keeping My statutes and My ordinances, then I will establish your royal throne over Israel for ever, as I promised David your father” (1 Kgs 9:4–5). This option is not merely theoretical. As the narrator emphasizes, Solomon did realize it: “Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of David his father” (1 Kgs 3:3). (c) Solomon’s rival for the throne, Adonijah, is presented in 1 Kings 1 as someone whose conduct is different from that of his father, in that he actively seeks power (as noted above). Alongside this contrast there is also a resemblance between Adonijah and David’s mutinous son Absalom (1 Kgs 1:5–6). This is another layer in another reversing comparison, with Absalom at its center, but I shall not consider it here. (d) By the end of Solomon’s reign the situation is entirely different. Now Solomon is depicted as disloyal to his father’s path. I have already looked at one element of this, 1 Kgs 11:11–13, and the use of the word “servant” there. (e) Solomon’s punishment is that an outsider, a one-time official in his administration, rather than his flesh and blood, succeeds him. Jeroboam, too, is offered the possibility of being like David (as noted above). Ahijah says this in so many words: “And if you will hearken to all that I command you, and will walk in My ways, and do what is right in My eyes by keeping My statutes and My commandments, as David my servant did, I will be with you, and will build you a sure house, as I built for David …” (1 Kgs 11:38). In addition to the overt reference, there are linguistic echoes that direct readers back to David.38 Ahijah’s charge to Jeroboam supplements the hints 37 See 38

Garsiel, The First Book of Samuel, 17–18 (Eng., 18–19). In Nathan’s vision, the words “I will be with you” refer to the closeness

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provided by the narrator in the frame of historical material about Jeroboam into which Ahijah’s meeting with him is embedded (1 Kgs 11:26–28, 40): Jeroboam is described as an “Ephraimite” (‫)אפרתי‬, an “able man” (‫גבור‬ ‫)חיל‬, and a “young man” (‫)נער‬, after which Solomon names him to a senior position in light of the talent he has shown. As the story continues, he is outlawed by Solomon, flees to a foreign country, and returns home only after the death of his royal persecutor (the last detail is not in 1 Kgs 11, but in the story of the dissolution of the united monarchy [1 Kgs 12:2–3]). In all of these, Jeroboam repeats elements of David’s career.39 I should also consider Gooding’s idea that the omission, in the standard version of the Septuagint, of the reference to Jeroboam in the context of the parley in Shechem between Rehoboam and the tribes, is meant to accentuate the parallel between Jeroboam and David by eliminating any active moves on his part to achieve the crown, even after the death of the king he is supposed to succeed.40 (f) Here there is an interesting link that enhances the picture. Because Solomon no longer resembles David, but Jeroboam does, there is a parallel between Solomon and Saul. Most conspicuous, and noted by many in the past, is the symbolic rending of the cloak when Ahijah meets Jeroboam (11:29–39), echoing the fateful meeting between Samuel and Saul (1 Sam 15:27–29).41 I would argue that the matter is not so simple and that there are also significant differences between the two incidents.42 In any between the Lord and David (2 Sam 7:9). Even earlier, one of Saul’s young men, recommending David, notes that “the Lord is with him” (1 Sam 16:18). The phrase in the previous verse, “you shall reign over all that your soul desires” (1 Kgs 11:37), repeats word for word the language used by Abner when he promises to make David king over all Israel (2 Sam 3:21). For this link see further Frisch, “The Narrative of Solomon’s Reign”, 117–118, 342–343; G. N. Knoppers, Two Nations Under God: The Deuteronomistic History of Solomon and the Dual Monarchies (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993) 1, 201–203. 39 Note that when the term ‫ אפרתי‬is applied to David (or his father) in 1 Sam 17:12, it has a different sense. But see M. Leuchter, “Jeroboam the Ephratite,” JBL 125 (2006), 60–62. 40 See D. W. Gooding, “The Septuagint’s Rival Version of Jeroboam’s Rise to Power,” VT 17 (1967), 185–186. 41 For the similarity of the symbolic rending of the garment in the cases of Jeroboam and Saul, see, e.g., J. Gray, I & II Kings: A Commentary (2nd ed.; OTL, 9a; London: SCM Press, 1970), 295; E. Würtwein, Das erste Buch der Könige. Kapitel 1–16 (ATD, 11/1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977), 143; G. H. Jones, 1 and 2 Kings (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984) 1, 234. 42 We can note the following differences: the person to whom the symbolic action is addressed (the king; the future king); the person who tears the garment

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case, within the compass of the full Saul and Solomon cycles there is a closer parallel: Ahijah’s prophecy, I believe, is much more like Samuel’s remarks to Saul at Endor (1 Sam 28:16–19), where, as in Ahijah’s prophecy, the future monarch is mentioned by name. By contrast, in 1 Samuel 15, as in the prophecy to Solomon in 1 Kgs 11:11–13, the man who will replace the deposed king is not named. (g) The next stage in the reversals is the disappointment with Jeroboam. Here Jeroboam is depicted as no longer resembling David. Ahijah states this contrast explicitly to Jeroboam’s wife, as mentioned above. These sets of parallels tighten the links between three different periods and emphasize the reversals from one to another: (1) the beginning of Solomon’s reign; (2) the end of Solomon’s reign and the beginning of Jeroboam’s; (3) the end of Jeroboam’s reign. The resemblance to David provides substance to the latent potential of the new leader, a potential of appropriate action and corresponding reward. The contrast to David expresses disappointment with him. The linkage of Solomon and Saul exemplifies the personal obligation of the monarch. It is not enough to be the “son of.” You must also prove yourself by your own behavior; if you fail to do so, you will be like Saul, the king who did not establish a royal house.43

8. A SHORT SUMMARY: COMPARISON TO DAVID—METHODS AND OBJECTS David’s death is recounted in 1 Kgs 2:10. As discussed above, though, this character who leaves the world at the very beginning of the book is mentioned throughout it. The founding father of the royal house of Judah is a fixed reference throughout the book. The present study has dealt only with references that involve comparisons to him. It has advanced step by step, starting with explicit references that take him as a standard for evaluation in the opening formula (evidently the king, and unintentionally; the prophet, intentionally); how the garment is ripped (the hem is torn off; the entire garment is torn into twelve pieces); when the kingdom will be lost (“this day”; not stated explicitly, but only “from his son’s hand” [v. 35]); and the scale of the lost sovereignty (the entire kingdom; secession of the majority). For attention to some of these differences, see Leuchter, “Jeroboam the Ephratite,” 53 n. 11. 43 For an extended discussion of the analogies with David in the Solomon narrative as a system of reversing parallels, see Frisch, “The Narrative of Solomon’s Reign,” 102–108.

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of kings, other formulas and non-formulaic statements, and the declarations by the Lord and His prophets to Solomon and Jeroboam. It continued with implicit comparisons latent in linguistic echoes, noting that in some places certain elements in the passage—an explicit comparison to David or an innocent mention of his name—direct readers to make the comparison. It concluded with the ramified system of reversing parallels, in which the various comparisons that were addressed separately are linked together. What is the objective of comparing a king to David? The present study suggests, in general terms, seven objectives: 1. to make the king’s righteousness concrete (“as David his father had done”; “he walked in all the ways of David his father”); 2. to qualify a positive assessment of the king (“but not like David”, as in the comparison and subsequent contrast between Jehu and David) or to express a negative evaluation of him (Solomon is not “my servant” as David was); 3. to insist on the negative side of a king’s character or deeds (Adonijah as pursuing the crown); 4. to buttress the legitimacy of a king who came to power the way David did (the anointing of Solomon resembles that of David; the anointing of Jehu and the charge laid upon him by the prophet resemble those of David); 5. to emphasize the reward received by the king (Hezekiah succeeds in everything and the Lord is with him, as was the case with David; a faithful house, like David’s, is an option for Jeroboam); 6. to emphasize the idea of kingship as a personal election that depends on conduct and is not an automatic inheritance (Jeroboam || David; Solomon < > David); 7. to tighten the links between different periods and emphasize the reversals from one to another (the system of inverted analogies).

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Indeed, David king of Israel is alive and present even in a book that begins with his death.

BIBLICAL HEBREW WAYYIQTOL: A DYNAMIC DEFINITION1 ALEXANDER ANDRASON UNIVERSITY OF STELLENBOSCH 1.

INTRODUCTION

The goal of this paper is to provide a new definition of a Biblical Hebrew (BH) verbal construction, usually referred to as wayyiqtol (1). (1) ‫ּובין‬ ֵ ‫ת־ה ָר ִק ַיע וַ ְּיַב ֵדל ֵבין ַה ַּמיִם ֲאשׁר ִמ ַת ַחת ָל ָר ִק ַיע‬ ָ ‫ֹלהים א‬ ִ ‫וַ יַ ַעׂש ֱא‬

‫־כן‬ ֵ ‫ַה ַּמיִם ֲאשׁר ֵמ ַעל לָ ָר ִק ַיע ַוַֽי ְִּהי‬ So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so. (Gen 1.7)2

There are two types of commonly employed functional and semantic definitions of the formation. First, when referring to taxis3-aspect-tensemood (TATM) properties, the gram has most frequently been equaled with a past (definite past or preterite) or perfective past (other proposals, on the contrary, identify the gram with a present tense and imperfective aspect; for a general review of descriptions posited by temporal, aspectual, historicalcomparative and psychological schools, as well as those offered by the first generation of grammaticalization framework, consult footnote 4 below). 1 Certain portions of this paper have been based on my Ph.D. dissertation “Qatal, yiqtol, weqatal y wayyiqtol. Modelo pancrónico del sistema verbal de la lengua hebrea bíblica con el análisis adicional de los sistemas verbales de las lenguas acadia y árabe“ (Andrason 2011c). 2 All verbs that appear in the wayyiqtol construction (as well as their English translations) will be given in bold type. The Hebrew quotations reflect the text of the Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia: With Westminster Hebrew Morphology (1996). 3 The phenomenon of taxis makes reference to the concepts of anteriority, simultaneity and prospectivity (Maslov 1988:64).

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Other theories (especially, those developed by the syntactical approach) have adjoined a value of sequentiality to the TATM load of the construction. Second, when emphasizing its discourse pragmatic characteristics—and disregarding TATM values—the expression has been classified as a principal form (foreground) of the narrative backbone. However, the two descriptions are reductionist and greatly simplify the nature and substance of the wayyiqtol. The former ignores or minimizes the fact that (as will be indicated in section 2) the formation provides not one but a broad range of uses and hence cannot be reduced to a single value such as past or perfective past. Nor is it appropriate to understand such frequently proposed labels (i.e. past or perfective past) as über-functions from which other meanings are derivable, i.e. hardly can the use of the formation with a future or stative present force be explained as a realization of its past or past perfective value (cf. section on 3.1 and the discussion on a dynamic vision of synchronic grammatical phenomena). As for the discourse-pragmatic classification (principal narrative construction), it is reductionistic in the sense that it ignores the evident semantic content of the gram as well as the fact that the formation expresses determined temporal and aspectual meanings, entailing a failure to denote others. This means that to account for the entire nature and behavior of the wayyiqtol is neither easy nor straightforward and that, in particular, it cannot be swept under simplifying reductionistic definitions, such as a past, a perfective past or a narrative form. There furthermore exists a third group of descriptions which, although highly valuable, are limited to a mere taxonomy (cf. e.g., Waltke & O’Connor 1990 in footnote 3). They introduce a detailed—not reductionistic—account of the semantic content of the construction without, however, providing an explanation for it: they fail to account for the relation between uses of the gram and its internal consistency.4 4 Models

proposed by temporal, aspectual, historical-comparative, psychological and syntactical schools belong to the first type of descriptions. According to the aspectual view, represented, for instance, by Driver (1881), the wayyiqtol—as the yiqtol—indicates nascent or incipient actions. Moreover, in the same manner as the weqatal, it is a relative form, subordinate to and depending on the preceding verb. Hence, the exact moment of the ingression of the action is determined by the particle waw which positions the event conveyed by the wayyiqtol in relation to the previously introduced activities. As a result, the ‘waw prefixed yiqtol’ does not stand by itself but equals “the development, the continuation of the past which came before” (1881:85). Similarly, Watts (1951) argued the wayyiqtol—corresponding to the progressive imperfect—should be rendered by means of the verb ‘begin’ in past, present or future (i.e. as ‘and he began’, ‘and he begins’, ‘and he will [begin to]

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do’ (1951:39-42). Joüon, who combined the aspectual school with certain temporal ideas, argued that the wayyiqtol (one of the two formes invertis, Joüon 1923:319) is entirely independent from its simple morphological counterpart yiqtol (cf. Driver and Watts above). It rather approximates the morphologically opposite construction qatal (Jouon 1923:326). In his opinion, the wayyiqtol—as the qatal— principally expresses the past and aspectually punctual and unique events (unique et instantanée (Joüon 1923:320). The two constructions are distinguished by the fact that the former may provide meaning of logical or temporal succession and consequence. However, “[l]’emploi si fréquent de wayyiqtol dans la narration a amené un usage […] abusif de cette forme […]. On la trouve là où il n’y a aucune idée de succession” (Joüon 1923:324). In more recent times, a model built on the parameters of tense, taxis and mood has been proposed by Joosten (1992 and 2002). In Joosten’s view, the wayyiqtol is understood as a preterite (1992:14) given that it is almost entirely limited to the expression of past events. As for the aspect, the formation itself does not have any inherent aspectual substance, but depending on context, may express both perfective and imperfective situations (Joosten 2002:68-69). The proximity between the wayyiqtol and the qatal was also noted by defenders of the historical-comparative school. According to Brockelmann ([1908–1913] 1966), the waw prefixed tenses function as the antitheses of the simple formations: the weqatal equals an imperfect or a modal category while the wayyiqtol matches a historical past (1912:114; an analogous view may be found in Bergsträsser 1924 and 1983:55). In a similar vein, Cohen (1924:286) classified the wayyiqtol and the qatal as a perfective aspect (accompli) denominating it “l’imparfait au role de parfait”. Different aspectual models have been proposed by Rundgren and Johnson. According to Rundgren (1961), the BH verbal system was sensitive for aspectual (cursive and constative) and temporal parameters (past and non-past). The grammarian defined the wayyiqtol as a neutral non-aspectual past form in the unmarked fientive section of the verbal system (1961:109-101). Johnson (1979), following the distinction established by Rundgren and in accordance with the old aspectual views, claims that simple and waw extended forms do not differ as far as their semantic potential is concerned. He understands the wayyiqtol and the yiqtol as expressions of the cursive aspect. The two formations supposedly offer the same range of values (in particular, present-future and modal) derivable from their shared aspectual load. Another member of the historical-comparative school, Jerzy Kuryłowicz, based his theory on the concept of taxis: the inherent values of the qatal and the yiqtol are anteriority and simultaneity, and their primary functions, the perfect or the past and the non-past respectively (Kuryłowicz 1972:82-83). This minimal binary system was extended in Hebrew by two consecutive formations, the wayyiqtol and the weqatal. Although the former derives from the Proto-Semitic *yaqtul and corresponds to the Akkadian iprus, it approximates the yiqtol expressing the simultaneity in the three temporal spheres.

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Diethelm Michel (1960) rejected aspectual, as well as historical-comparative explanations. As for the wayyiqtol, he claimed that there was no difference in meaning between the simple and waw prefixed forms. Thus, he understands the simple conjugation as well as its waw prefixed variant as realizations of a form that has the same semantic value. The wayyiqtol—in the same manner as the yiqtol— expresses semantic dependency without any precise temporal demarcation (Michel 1960:41). This depending (substantive) nature of the formations causes that the yiqtol pictures events as resulting from the quality of the acting subject, while the wayyiqtol surfaces as an idea of consequence (Michel 1960:110 and 127). According to the syntactic school, the principal characteristic of the wayyiqtol is its sequential value. For instance, Silverman (1973:168) claims that the qatal and the wayyiqtol equal a past. The distinction between the two forms is sequential: the wayyiqtol corresponds to a consecutive past (it follows a qatal). Buth (1992) builds his model on concepts of thematic continuity and discontinuity. In his view, the four central formations (qatal, weqatal, yiqtol and wayyiqtol) are distinguishable by the parameters of (dis-)continuity and (in)definiteness. Both the [x] qatal and the wayyiqtol are said to be definite (in aspectual and temporal terms this notion equals the perfective and past). However, while the former marks the discontinuity the latter conveys a thematic continuity (Buth 1992:103-104). A similar—though more complex—solution has been proposed by Peter Gentry (1998). BH verbal forms offer a main contrast between assertive modal constructions and projective modal categories, the two groups being sensitive for two parameters: aspect (perfective vs. imperfective) and sequentiality (sequential vs. non-sequential). In the assertive set— which includes formations traditionally understood as indicative—the [x] qatal is defined as a non-sequential perfective and the wayyiqtol as it sequential counterpart (Gentry 1998:21, 30-31). Hatav (1997) defines the wayyiqtol differentiating it from the weqatal and the yiqtol. She postulates that the wayyiqtol and the weqatal are marked for the sequentiality—the difference between them consists in the fact that only the latter additionally conveys modal nuances. The contrast between the wayyiqtol and the qatal is more complex: the former is classified as a sequential form (non-modal, non-perfect and non-progressive), while the latter matches a perfect category (being furthermore negatively defined as non-sequential, non-modal and non-progressive). According to Goldfajn (1998), the wayyiqtol is a sequential form distinguished from the other sequential construction weqatal by a temporal parameter: the former equals a sequential past (predominantly narrative) and the latter a sequential future (usually discursive). Applying some insights from the syntactical models as well as principles of the aspectual view, Van der Merwe, Naudé & Kroeze (2000) argue that the wayyiqtol aspectually corresponds to the qatal defined as an expression of complete and completed events (most frequently surfacing as a past tense). However, although the wayyiqtol “bears reference to the same temporal spheres and aspects as a perfect form [qatal,] it is also characterized by ‘progression’” (Van der Merwe, Naudé & Kroeze 2000:165). It can moreover control the flow of the narration (Van der Merwe, Naudé & Kroeze 2000:167).

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Waltke & O’Connor (1990)—combining aspectual, diachronic and syntactic insights—argue that the core of the BH verbal system is constituted by a binary opposition between the qatal (perfective) and the yiqtol (non-perfective). The wayyiqtol corresponds to the qatal being an expression of perfective aspect (Waltke & O’Connor 1990:554). However, appearing after different verbal forms, it acquires a distinct force. First, following a qatal, the construction denotes perfective actions or perfect states in the three time frames. Second, when it follows a past yiqtol, it indicates (con)sequent or explanatory situations in the past equaling a definite perfective, a past (Waltke & O’Connor 1990:558). Third, after a present or a future yiqtol, it introduces perfective events and perfect states in the non-past time frame imposed by the preceding yiqtol (Waltke & O’Connor 1990:559). And four, after a habitual yiqtol, the wayyiqtol has the gnomic value (ibid.). The discourse approach—contrary to all of the previously presented models— studies the function of BH verbal formations in relation to the text transferring the analysis from words (morphology), clauses and sentences (syntax) onto larger units such as sequences of sentences or paragraphs (discourse). According to this school, since the “language is language only in context” (Longacre1983:xv), the meaning of verbal forms is available only on high levels of the linguistic analysis (such as paragraph or discourse). Conversely, all work on lower levels lacks in perspective and is inadequate (Longacre 1976:2). Schneider (1982) classifies the BH constructions into two groups: those which appear in the speech (discourse proper) and those which occur in the narration. In his opinion, the wayyiqtol is a foreground narrative form while the x qatal and x yiqtol are background narrative constructions, the former of the backward perspective and the latter of the forward perfective. Similarly in Talstra’s view (1978:170), the wayyiqtol is a primary narrative form distinguished from the qatal which is defined as a secondary narrative and discursive form. Longacre (1992:178), employing a highly complex model of tiers (e.g. primary/story line, secondary line/background, setting, irrealis, cohesion, etc.) for each type of text, defines the wayyiqtol as a narrative foregrounding form advancing the mainline of the story or in other words, the backbone of the narration. In recent times and in reaction to the discourse approach, grammaticalization and path theory based models have been proposed. Nevertheless, although employing evolutionary principles, the resulting descriptions strongly approximate traditional temporal, aspectual and modal theories. Andersen (2000) defines the wayyiqtol as a product of the resultative path: it derives from the Proto-Semitic *yaqtul, in his view, a perfective past (2000:17). Cook (2002), employing the framework of universal evolutionary paths, reaches a conclusion that Biblical Hebrew is an aspect prominent language with the core contrast between the perfective qatal and the imperfective yiqtol. Using evolutionary terminology, he affirms that the qatal and the wayyiqtol are products of the resultative path, i.e. a development during which resultative expressions develop into perfect (in his terminology an aspect), perfective aspect and finally into a past tense. In Biblical

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This article aims at providing a concise (i.e., scientifically manageable and to an extent formalized), non-reductionist and non-taxonomist definition of the wayyiqtol. We will define the formation in a holistic unifying manner, accounting simultaneously for all its values—as distinct and superficially incongruent as they appear—recorded in the biblical material. During our analysis, every portion of the semantic potential of the wayyiqtol will be treated with an equal importance; conversely, no meaning will be ignored or marginalized. Under the new view, each value will be consistent with the remaining ones. As a result, exceptional uses will cease being irregular and aberrant.5 Consequently, it will be demonstrated that the wayyiqtol may be grasped in its integrity. It can be viewed as a consistent and typologically rational phenomenon if one comprehends it as a developing prototypical resultative formation. This means that synchronically attested characteristics of the expression will be analyzed as reflecting stages of its grammatical evolution: each value matches a given phase in the functional-semantic and structural development. In other words, the diachronic approach will constitute the basis of an explanation for forms that are all traditionally understood as contemporaneous. To this combination of diachronic and synchronic levels we will refer to as ‘panchrony’ (see section, 3.2 below; for a detailed description of the panchronic methodology, its history and relation to the dynamization of typology, see Andrason 2010a, 2011b and 2012a). In particular, we will employ universal diachronic clines, as posited by path and grammaticalization theories, in order to study and explain the synchronically recorded data. This is possible due to the fact that grams Hebrew, the wayyiqtol (historically older formations) has reached the past tense stage; its uses as a perfect—both present and past—and as a perfective are contextually conditioned (Cook 2002:253-254). The difference between the qatal and wayyiqtol stems from a distinct grammatical age of the two constructions. They follow the same path but since they had been coined at different historical periods their grammatical and functional advance is distinct: the older wayyiqtol is more advanced (i.e. it functions as a past—the last stage on the path) while the younger qatal is less developed (i.e. it functions as a perfective—penultimate stage on the trajectory). On major discrepancies between Cook’s model and the author’s—as well as on the differences in defying the wayyiqtol—see section 5.2 at the end of the paper. It should be noted that this review of the grammatical tradition in analyzing the wayyiqtol and the BH verbal system is not intended to be exhaustive (for a more detailed presentation see McFall (1982), Waldman (1989), Waltke & O’Connor (1990:458–478) Endo (1996:1–26) and Cook (2002:79–162). 5 As will be explained below, exceptional uses and meanings correspond to biological atavisms, contemporarily inadequate relicts of older evolutionary stages.

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develop according to several strictly determined rules codified in functional and grammaticalization paths. They acquire new values that correspond to subsequent stages on a given trajectory. As a result, meanings that are synchronically provided by a gram must reflect successive stages of its own diachronic movement. Put differently, a grammatical formation at a given moment of its evolution is a synchronic manifestation of a diachronic progression. This progression is, in turn, required to be consistent with one of the predetermined universal paths. In order to present a comprehensive analysis of the wayyiqtol, providing furthermore an explanation for it, our research will be organized in the following manner. In the following section of the article (section 2) we will provide a detailed introduction to two theories which codify the evolution of verbal categories, i.e. the path and grammaticalization models. Next, in section 3, the methodology of a synchronic description of verbal grams— based on the evolutionary framework—will be introduced. Subsequently (section 4), employing the previously explained technique of language description, the BH wayyiqtol will be studied. Finally, major results will be summarized and a new definition of the gram presented (section 5).

2.

THEORETICAL BACKGROUND—EVOLUTIONARY UNIVERSALS

Empirical studies demonstrate that grammatical entities evolve following certain universal rules codified in a set of unidirectional developmental scenarios, labeled, ‘paths’ (Heine & Kuteva 2007:57–116 and Croft 2003:251–255). In general terms, the grammatical growth may be understood as a gradual and ordered incorporation of new values and formal characteristics. To provide exact and specific representations of paths—which deterministically regulate the development of grammatical constructions of a typologically similar type—constitutes the main subject of grammaticalization and path theories (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:9– 26, Dahl 2000:8–15, Hopper & Traugott 2003:1–3, 6–7 and Heine & Kuteva 2007:32–33 and 35–37).

2.1.

GRAMMATICALIZATION THEORY

In accordance with a traditional definition, grammaticalization theory codifies a universal process during which a linguistic unit, in an ordered unidirectional mode, acquires or expands (cf. grammaticalization proper), and loses (cf. de-grammaticalization) the degree of its grammatical force. It consists of two major and correlated phenomena: morphologization and generalization.

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As for the former, it is widely accepted that linguistic entities begin their grammatical life as periphrases built on independent words employed in a specific context. At this moment, they belong to the syntactic level of the tongue. Some such lexical analytic expressions are gradually grammaticalized, and at the apogee of their development, they become pure grammatical depending morphemes. This signifies that syntactical segments develop into synthetic morphology, first agglutinative and next fusional. Subsequently, a construction undergoes further modifications which, jointly, trigger its material and physical deterioration. Finally, the formation is either lost or recycled for new grammatical purposes (Hopper & Traugott 2003:6–7 and 99–100). This progress parallels a cyclical evolution of analytical grammatical systems into agglutinative and later into fusional; and, yet again, from fusional into analytical (Dixon 1994). It also emulates general principles of a linguistic change such as accretion, merger and shrinkage (Lüdtke 1987).6 The above-described—purely structural—progression involves a wide range of more specific changes which may be encompassed under the label of generalization or spread. Among them, the most important one is the increase in frequency which is simultaneously accompanied by a gradual reduction of various semantic, morphological, syntactic and pragmatic constraints (the increase in frequency is also connected to the physical reduction of an entity and, of course, to its morphologization and a final loss). All of these processes reflect a steady expansion of the formation to new environments and situations (Hopper & Traugott 2003:100–106). One of the most significant implications of such a spreading out process is that the rapidity of functional or semantic (see below, the path theory) progressions of grams is different in different types of text. In particular, the evolutionary advancement is distinct in discourse, in narrative discourse and in narration (Harris 1982 and Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:406). This stems from the fact that novel constructions are initially shaped and regularized in colloquial registers. Only at more developed stages, are they transferred from there to other types of text: first to personal narratives and, then, to properly narrative genders.7 6 Some scholars have questioned the unidirectional character of the grammaticalization theory (Campbell 1991 and 2001, Newmeyer 1998, Janda 2001 and Norde 2001). However, since mirror images of grammaticalization process remain typologically unknown, the grammaticalization hypothesis seems to be valid for all languages (Haspelmath 1999, Heine 2003 and Hopper & Traugott 2003). 7 For example, in respect to the anterior path-law (cf. section 2.2 below), it is a common phenomenon that, in the beginning, resultative formations develop into past tenses in the informal discourse, next in personal narratives (narrative

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2.2. PATH THEORY Path theory provides a model of a functional and semantic growth of grammatical constructions (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994). As for the verbal system, it portrays a prearranged and unidirectional semantic progression of verbal entities from lexical semantically transparent, and—if possible—iconic periphrastic chains (Bybee, Perking & Pagliuca 1994:167 and Heine & Kuteva 2007:348) to grammatical categories such as aspect, taxis, tense or mood (Dahl 2000:11–15 and Heine & Kuteva 2007:74–75, 90–91 and 305). It should be noted that once the “peak stage” has been reached, the development does not cease. Quite the reverse, the construction suffers further evolutionary modifications. In particular, its functional load becomes progressively deteriorated. This means that the array of uses becomes steadily more restricted, which in turn, leads to a partial or complete loss of the original and previously prototypical meaning of the formation (cf. the phenomenon of ‘doughnut gram’ in Dahl 2000:10–11). At the end, the growing semantic-functional corrosion of the construction causes the gram to be either entirely lost or recycled in new grammatical expressions (Hopper & Traugott 2003:99–129, 154–159 and 172–174, and Croft 2003:252 and 264). Scholars generally recognize four principal evolutionary tracks which control the creation of aspectual, temporal and modal categories: 1) toward the perfective and past; 2) toward the imperfective and present; 3) toward modal expressions; and 4) toward the future (Dahl 2000:14–15 and Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:105, 174–175, 240–241 and 279–280).8 These evolutionary laws are commonly viewed as typologically universal (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:14–15 and 300–201 and Hopper & Traugott 2003:99–100). They have first been inferred from massive empirical research (cf. for instance, Heine, Claudi & Hünnemeyer 1991a and 1991b, Bybee, Pagliuca & Perkins 1991, Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994, Dahl 2000 and Heine & Kuteva 2007) and afterwards tested on numerous discourse), and only at the end in the narration proper (Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:422). Conversely, the meaning of a narrative remote-ancient past tense is the last one in the sequence of stages a resultative gram can acquire. This may be illustrated by the passé simple in French (e.g. j’écrivis ‘I wrote’), a construction which is employed as a past exclusively in the narrative proper. It is never used in colloquial speech or in narrative discourse. 8 The labels employed to classify the four trajectories correspond to apogee phases, i.e., to stages where constructions acquire their utmost functionality equaling central categories of aspect, tense or mood. However, as already explained, the life of grammatical entities does not conclude there. Quite the contrary, grams continue to develop until they disappear or are reprocessed in new locutions.

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languages. Only one of these trajectories will be relevant in our study, the resultative path. In the next section, we shall provide a detailed description of this evolution scenario.

2.2.1 Resultative Path9 The resultative path-law describes the order in which original resultative locutions incorporate new meanings. This cline, as any universal trail, includes a few more specific sub-trajectories and thus can lead to more than one terminal stage-meaning. The resultative path-law consists of three formative sequences, labeled respectively anterior path, simultaneous path and evidential path. This means that the evolution of resultative inputs may be controlled by the three previously mentioned developmental principles which jointly constitute the resultative path-law. ANTERIOR PATH

Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca (1994:55–57, 104–105), Dahl (2000:15), Squartini & Bertinetto (2000:406–407) and Heine & Kuteva (2006:151) have demonstrated that resultative proper expressions—when employed with the present time reference—regularly develop into present anteriors (present perfect) and subsequently into definite past tenses. In some cases, the transformation into a past tense, involves a facultative intermediate stage where the formation functions as a perfective past. The development from a resultative proper expression to a prototypical anterior (present perfect) involves a set of consecutive intermediate phases (see Harris 1982, Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:406–419, Lindstedt 2000:379 and Mitkovska & Bužarovska 2008:136). The resultative input locution first evolves into a resultative anterior,10 next into an inclusive (also called universal) anterior,11 afterwards into a frequentative I have discussed the evolution of resultative formations in various previously written articles (particularly, in Andrason 2011c, 2011e and 2012b). Thus, this section—without being identical or literally reproduced—may sometimes approximate portions of other papers. 10 In this function, the static meaning is weakened and the construction— increasing the inference of anteriority—acquires a more dynamic fientive character (Mitkovska & Bužarovska 2008:132). On the other hand, although the gram explicitly indicates a dynamic previous event, it still connotes the relevance of that event for the present state of affairs, cf. for example I cannot come to your party—I have caught the flu, (McCawley 1971, Jónsson 1992:129–145 and Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:407). 11 The inclusive anterior indicates activities which continue without ceasing from a determined moment in the past to the present time, e.g., I have known Max 9

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anterior12 and finally into an experiential anterior.13 Later the gram acquires an indefinite past value. In this function, the main emphasis is laid on the past action itself (the event expressed by the gram belongs to the past temporal sphere; Depraetere & Reed 2000:97) without, however, situating it at a definite moment in the past (Lindstedt 2000:369 and 379).14 This indefinite past value is a linking stage between the prototypical anterior (present perfect) and prototypical past uses. There is also a semantic relationship between resultative expressions and the performative value. This connection has been commonly recognized (e.g. Nedjalkov 1988:415, Volodin 1988:473 and Streck 1995) and recently determined, as well as geometrically situated, on the anterior path by Andrason (2011f). He has demonstrated that with the progress along the cline, the capacity to convey performative meaning diminishes. The performative function vanishes before the loss of the resultative perfect value and after the loss of the resultative proper meaning. Consequently, the performative stage should be located at an initial portion of the trajectory, between the phase of a resultative proper and that of a resultative perfect (for the entire argumentation, see Andrason 2011f). When the anterior gram becomes acceptable with an explicit past reference—imposed by past time adverbials, by phrasal expressions or by a general context—it consequently acquires the value of a definite past tense. Then, as a past tense, it gradually increases the degree of remoteness (temporal distance), moving away from the enunciator’s now-and-here (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:98, Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:414–417 and 422). In other words, the construction increasingly expresses more and more temporally distant past episodes and activities. First, it functions as a near past (immediate, hodiernal, hesternal and recent past), finally developing into a general past and remote (ancient) past.

since 1960 (cf. Jónsson 1992:129–145) or I have known him for 10 years. 12 See, for instance, the Portuguese perfect Ultimamente o João tem lido muitos romances ‘Recently John has read many novels’ (Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:409). 13 The experiential anterior presents an event as a personal experience which occurred at least once (Jónsson 1992:129–145), e.g. I have read ‘Principia Mathematica’ five times (Jónsson 1992:129), I have never read that book and Have you ever been to China? 14 Furthermore, the progression towards the prototypical anterior (perfect) and subsequently toward a past implies that the relevance of the previously performed action for the present state of affairs becomes gradually less evident. In other words, as the (present) resultative develops, the current relevance of the expression diminishes until it is entirely lost and the gram is converted into a past (Lindstedt 2000:365–366 and 369–371).

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We have mentioned above that during their transformation into definite past forms certain anterior grams acquire an aspectual perfective sense. This usually happens in languages which include in their verbal repertoire a—historically older—simple or imperfective past formation (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 2000:81–87). Put differently, the conversion of the anterior into a definite past occurs in contrast with another past expression (see also Drinka 1998:120). This contrast is responsible for the aspectual marking of the younger gram, i.e. of an anterior which evolves into a past. At a subsequent phase, perfective past constructions may abandon their aspectual value and acquire a simple past sense (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:992–93). However in various languages, the emergence of the definite simple past does not require an intermediate perfective past stage. In that case, the indefinite anterior directly develops into the simple (aspectually neutral) definite past (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:83–86 and Heine & Kuteva 2006:151).15 It should be noted that the rise of the perfective past and its transformation into a non-aspectual variant is both a concurrent and independent process if compared with the increase of the temporal remoteness. Consequently, there is no unambiguous stage-to-stage equivalence between the phases which span from the indefinite perfect/past or to the definite past (from immediate to remote and ancient) on the one hand, and the conversion of the perfective past into its aspectually neutral alternative, on the other. Suma sumarum, we may propose the following comprehensive representation of the development of resultative constructions within the present time frame (Figure 1):

Resultative expressions may also evolve with the past and future temporal reference giving rise to past anteriors (pluperfects) and future anteriors (future perfects). These two formations may subsequently loose their taxis connotation and develop into tenses, remote past and simple future respectively. The use of the pluperfect as a remote past may be illustrated by the Old Polish expression, zrobił jeś był. In Old Polish, this analytic locution had partially lost its taxis character and could be employed to indicate past remote activities (Długosz-Kurczabowa & Dubisz 2003:309). An instance of the anterior path in the future time frame can be exemplified by another Polish formation, the periphrastic simple future tense which derives from an original resultative-anterior future expression (DługoszKurczabowa & Dubisz 2003:310). 15

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Figure 1: The anterior path-law within the present time frame16 SIMULTANEOUS PATH

The simultaneous path depicts a gradual transformation of resultative inputs—if employed with the present time reference—into present tenses. This law parallels the previously introduced development codified by the anterior trajectory. The difference consists in the fact that, this time, the final product of the cline is not the definite past, but rather the present tense (cf. Maslov 1988:70–71, Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:74–78 and Drinka 1998:120). Nevertheless—apart from triggering two different temporal outcomes—both trajectories traverse the verbal domains of taxis, aspect and tense in a similar sequence: viz. from the taxis (simultaneous resultative present)17 through the aspect (stative present)18 towards the tense

16 The vertical arrows in this figure represent a diachronic progression of grams. It should again be noted that the development from the perfective past to the simple past is facultative. 17 Simultaneous taxis grams emphasize a resulting static condition which is concurrent with the main reference time. However, the co-meaning corresponding to an event which has led to the present situation is still available. 18 During this stage, the connection between the achieved state and the activity, which constitutes its origin, is lost. The gram exclusively expresses the idea of an acquired condition, with no connotation of the anterior action. This means that an original resultative construction loses its previously typical taxis character. What remains is the value of a non-dynamic state. In the discourse and spheres located in a close cognitive proximity to the speaker, statives most frequently approximate stative presents. Following Maslov (1988:67), the stative is understood as an aspectual type, contrasting with a simple present.

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(present)19 (see Figure 2 below; for a detailed discussion of the simultaneous path see Andrason 2010b and especially Andrason 2011d). Consequently, in course of the simultaneous path—as was the case during the anterior track—the development corresponds to a gradual conversion of resultative proper grams into expressions of taxis, aspect and tense (cf. Maslov 1988:70–72, Nedjalkov & Jaxontov 1988, Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:51–150, Drinka 1998:119–120, Dahl 2000:14–15, Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:406–407, 417–422, 425–426, Lindstedt 2000:366–374 and Andrason 2010d:338–340).20 As noted by Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca (1994:74–78), the evolution along the simultaneous cline usually affects static predicates or verbs whose resultative uses can logically trigger a static reading.21 The here-presented sequence of the stages during the conversion of resultative inputs into present tenses does not reflect the standard path theory as posited by Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca (1994), but has been built on the typological research conducted by the author in 2010 and recently presented in the article “From resultatives to Present Tenses— Simultaneous Path of resultative Constructions” (cf. Andrason 2011d). Thus far, scholars limited themselves to note a close relation between resultative-perfect-past morphologies and stative-present meanings (and the resultative foundation of some statives and presents) without providing a specific rule and/or detailed evolutionary scenario which could explain such a connection and origin.

19 Within with the present time frame, at the moment where the aspectual stative value is no longer palpable, the formation develops into a definite present tense. The most exemplary case of a resultative construction which has evolved to the peak stage of the simultaneous path is provided by Germanic preterite-present verbs (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:77–78). 20 This evolutionary scenario is consistent with a typologically universal progression leading to the formation of central verbal categories, whereby taxis expressions develop into aspects, which in turn regularly evolve into tenses (cf. for instance, the imperfective path in Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994, see also Dahl 2000:11–15 and Heine & Kuteva 2007:74–75, 90–91 and 305). 21 On the contrary, the pure resultative value—which subsequently leads towards meanings located on the anterior path—is usually compatible only with dynamic predicates that indicate a change of state or an event that produces such a change of state (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:65 and 69).

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Figure 2: The simultaneous path-law within the present time frame22 EVIDENTIAL PATH

Besides the two above-mentioned evolutionary scenarios which govern the grammatical life of resultative locutions, it is possible to identify a third developmental trajectory along which such expressions may advance. This pathway is referred to as the evidential path. The evidential track controls the order in which resultative constructions are converted into modal evidential categories. Resultative proper formations regularly indicate current—simultaneous to the speaker’s here-and-now—static products of formerly performed actions. Such a resulting state, emerging from a previously achieved activity, is invariably understood as relevant to the cognitive sphere of the enunciator (speaker’s here-and-now, cf. Comrie 1976 and Johanson 2000). Gradually, this initial sense is colored by inferential or indirect connotations. The enunciator, noticing available results and employing general deductive capacity, may infer that a former action must have occurred although he himself has not witnessed it (inferential based on physical traces).23 At the subsequent phase, the inference can also be based on a general conjecture or on hearsays.24 After that, the gram develops reportative and referential meanings. Finally, the formation may introduce a broad variety of non-first hand values, approximating thus a general, properly evidential, gram (Aikhenvald 2004:112–117 and 279–281).25 When the original resultative construction has reached this fourth evolutionary stage, it can develop The vertical arrow in this figure represents a diachronic progression. This inferential meaning of resultatives and perfects is a typologically common phenomenon. It may be found, for instance, in Nordic Germanic languages—e.g. in Swedish and Icelandic—where the ‘have’ perfect (a descendent from an earlier possessive resultative expression) can function as an inferential guessing gram (Haugen 1972, Jónsson 1992 and Lindstedt 2000). 24 Cf. the Persian ‘distanced past’ (Lazard 1985). 25 Such advanced stages of the development may be illustrated by the Turkish evidential miş-perfect (Johanson 2003) or by the Macedonian perfect in l (Lindstedt 2000). 22 23

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further epistemic uses, functioning as a non-indicative mood of probability and doubt (Aikhenvald 2004:116 and Andrason 2010b). The evidential path-law can be illustrated by the following figure:

Figure 3: Evidential development of resultative constructions26 2.2.2. Cognitive Motivation One of the important claims of path theory is that grammatical constructions tend to originate in semantically transparent and possibly iconic locutions (Heine and Kuteva 2007:348, cf. also Van Langendock 2007:396, 401–2 and Heiman 1985:8 and 18). These assumptions are necessary consequences of the principles of cognitive linguistics according to which grammar is the literal or metaphorical conceptualization of a person’s experience. This means that the shape of a formation must somehow be related to its function (Croft and Cruse 2004:1–3, cf. also Heine and Kuteva 2007:58 and 348). Furthermore, it stands in harmony with another idea defended by cognitive scholars who affirm that lexicon and the inner, narrowly understood, grammar of a language cannot be categorically separated. Quite the reverse, they form a diffuse indissoluble continuum (Croft and Cruse 2004:255–6 and Langacker 2007:421–2). What is relevant for the above explained universal clines is the fact that such input expressions must be semantically and functionally consistent with the entire evolutionary growth of a given formation. In other words, they are required to be cognitively plausible for the gram and its total development. The initial periphrasis is expected to motivate all values offered by the gram during its grammatical life and conversely all meanings should be derivable from the original expression (cf. source determination in Bybee, Perkins and Pagliuca 1994:9–12). In consequence, the form of a gram either directly stimulates its functional load or can be reduced to the input which does so. 26

gram.

The vertical arrow in this figure symbolizes the diachronic progression of a

BIBLICAL HEBREW WAYYIQTOL: A DYNAMIC DEFINITION

3.

195

METHODOLOGY OF THE DESCRIPTION

In the present section, we will explain how it is possible to employ evolutionary—diachronic—principles to a synchronic analysis of languages.

3.1.

DYNAMIC VIEW OF SYNCHRONIC PHENOMENA

The two typically diachronic frameworks, viz. grammaticalization and path theories—understood as a combination of deterministic, unidirectional and universal laws (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994 and Hopper & Traugott 2003)—correspond to non-realistic laws which in an idealized manner formalize the orderliness of incorporation and loss of new meaning during the evolution of grams. They are universal and deterministic exclusively in the sense that they control evolutionary processes. They govern the series of integrated and lost meanings. On the other hand, they systematically fail to describe—and more importantly predict—real developments. This is due to the fact that stages on clines do not represent concrete grams at consecutive historical moments. Observe, for instance, that grammatical formations do not “jump” from one phase to another as we could infer from the model of trajectories. Real-world constructions amass meanings which parallel various stages on a pathway. This accumulation of stagesmeanings is referred to as a ‘state’. Paths, however, say nothing about how the values are arranged—they keep completely silent in respect to states. Consequently, they do not summarize all typologically possible behaviors a given linguistic input may display—they rather present generalized and fictionalized imperatives governing realistic developments (for a comprehensive discussion of this fact and the approximation of language evolution to chaos theory, see Andrason forthcoming 2011e). Are thus universal trajectories irrelevant and needless in description of realistic evolutionary situations, i.e. grams at given historical époques? As mentioned above, real developments correspond to sequences of states, defined as complex sets of various properties (semantic, functional, morphological etc.). If the path and grammaticalization theories are correct, these states must arise following the rules established by the two frameworks. In other words, semantic and structural values are stored in accordance with the principles governing language evolution. This fact consequently enables us to employ unrealistic path-laws to determine the potential of real developmental cases, and hence determine the synchronic potential of a given gram. We can define a synchronically viewed gram employing the diachronic terminology governing its evolution—this application of diachronic rules to a synchronic description is what we will refer to as ‘panchrony’ (see section 3.2) below.

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Consequently, the total potential of a gram reflects subsequent stages on a given trajectory. Due to the fact that an exemplary progression traverses several semantic fields—such as, for instance, taxis, aspect, tense and mood—and is also connected to certain pragmatic factors, a grammatical item cannot be limited to one synchronic value. Quite the contrary, it necessarily comprises a large set of different functions. Some of them match original portions of the development (values gradually abandoned by the gram in question and expressed by new transparent constructions, cf. donut grams in Dahl 2000:10–11 and Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:21–22). Others, on the other hand, correspond to advanced segments of a given cline. These values, despite not having been generalized yet, will become prevailing at a later historical period. In between the two edges of a path, the prototypical and most frequent meanings of the formation are located. Thus, the semantic potential of a construction—at any moment of its evolution—is an amalgamation of consecutive phases on a given path. More precisely, the inherent sense of a gram is a computation of different values which are equivalent to subsequent diachronic stages. As a result, the concept of an invariant dominant meaning must be abandoned. First, the evolutionary dynamic view nullifies a clear-cut borderline between conventional and contextual interpretations (Dahl 2004:14). The intrinsic value of a formation is a sum of all of its uses in all possible environments. A gram is always a gram in a context, and linguistic entities develop new characteristics in concrete situations (Dahl 2000:14, Hopper & Traugott 2003:100 and Heine & Kuteva 2007:35–37). It is hence inaccurate to classify a given construction as a phenomenon x (for example, a perfective past), and then “draw” from it the remaining values. All values are equally important because all of them together form the semantic area inherent to a construction.27 Furthermore, in light of the dynamic evolutionary approach a description in terms of binary oppositions appears as inadequate. Grammatical items evolve from their lexical foundation in a wave-like manner suffering furthermore a permanent influence of other grams-paths. Metaphorically, they pursue each other along a path of development and interact with other grams-paths (Dahl 2000:13). Thus, instead of a bipolar opposition, we should talk about an interaction between older and younger constructions on the same evolutionary track, and a relation which connects a given trajectory and other pathways in the system. 27 Cf. however the discussion in the last section of the paper, 5.3 Weak points and future research. Uses and meanings displayed by a gram may differ in frequency. Thus, their statistical weight is not identical: some are prototypical (common) while others are peripheral (rare).

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Paths are not contrastive phenomena. Without doubt, they conduct to different semantic apogees (e.g. to the present, past, future or moods), but they do not constitute dichotomies. As explained above, a gram at a given historical moment may be defined as a computation of meanings which match various—and not one—consecutive stages on a path. Hence, the contrast between two formations includes several semantic areas. It may never be simplified or reduced to an opposition between two domains only. Since languages do not show a system of clear-cut contrasts organized in accordance with the rules of economy and symmetry, the orthodox structuralist claim whereby “each language represents a tidy system in which units are defined by the oppositions they enter into” is no longer sustainable (Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:1 and 300). To conclude, we may affirm that the evolutionary approach necessarily yields a dynamic view of linguistic systems. In this view, synchronic constructions must receive energetic, restless and diachronic interpretations. They should be understood as materializations of historical motions because they are inevitable computations of what they were, of what they are, and of what they will become.

3.2. PANCHRONY Panchrony is a methodology which provides a synchronic definition of a gram making use of its diachronic properties. In other words, a synchronic description is expressed in dynamic evolutionary terms: a grammatical entity is equaled with a portion of its own history. This is possible due to the fact that any grammatical growth consists in an ordered acquisition of new values and formal properties (Dahl 2000:8–15 and Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:9–26). Consequently, semantic, functional and structural characteristics synchronically provided by a gram may be matched with evolutionary stages—the gram may be viewed as a synchronic manifestation of its own diachronic development. Each historical phase is responsible for a given meaning because during each one of these phases, a new value was incorporated. Moreover, since the grammatical evolution is unidirectional, a set of meanings and formal qualities provided by a formation may be ordered into a linear progression that would parallel one of the universal trajectories posited by Path and Grammaticalization theories (Heine, Claudi & Hünnemeyer 1991b:248–249, 251–261). It should be emphasized that the panchronic method is aimed at analyzing synchronic entities providing their dynamic definitions—thus, the purpose of the method is to improve synchronic description of a language rather than elucidate its evolution. The formulation of a panchronic definition starts with elaborating an exhaustive taxonomy of synchronically provided aspectual, taxis, temporal,

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modal, textual and pragmatic values ma, mb, mc… mz.28 Subsequently, this synchronic inventory of uses should be arranged into a linear cline which corresponds to one (or more) of the universal trajectories. This possibility, labeled ‘orderliness principle’, is granted by the abductive method (cf. section 3.3). As a result, the previously attested meanings ma, mb, mc… mz can be ordered into a unidirectional and universal series m1, m2, m3… mn, a portion of a path. Consequently, semantic, functional and formal properties of the gram—which from the traditional synchronic perspective appear as unrelated and chaotic—are portrayed as a consistent phenomenon: an evolutionary cline. Given that the hypothesized classification (i.e., the portion of a path) has been achieved analyzing synchronic evidence, this step of the panchronic methodology is referred to as ‘synchronic panchrony’. Synchronic panchrony equals what linguists label ‘dynamization of typology’ (Croft 2003:235). However, the panchronic method, in its totality, may not be equaled with deduction of diachrony from synchrony or reduction of synchrony to diachrony. Panchrony explains synchronic phenomena in diachronic terms—it is a combination of diachrony and synchrony. In some cases, analogical phonological and morphological processes may render the synchronic evidence misleading. Therefore, it is indispensable to contrast the panchronic proposal—inferred from synchronic data—with diachronic and comparative evidence. Diachronic panchrony requires that values of a construction attested in different historical époques should coincide with the previously hypothesized cline. More specifically, properties documented at former and posterior periods of the development (i.e. at historically earlier and later epochs) should match, respectively, less and more advanced stages of the trajectory. Diachronic evidence is furthermore expected to determine the input expression from which the gram has arisen. This enter-locution should express original meanings (i.e. which correspond to initial portions of the path) in a transparent, typologically regular and, if possible, iconic manner. Qualities of the gram attested at posterior historical periods simply reflect a regular advancement of an original semantically transparent and iconic expression. This means that the input formation is required to motivate the entire track, and thus all the meanings offered by the gram. Consequently, the shape of a construction must somehow be related to its semantic potential, defined in dynamic terms as a portion of a path (cf. Andrason 2012c).29 28 The indexation of the meanings m as m , m , m … m does not refer to any a b c n specific order but reflects a mere inventory of all available uses offered by the gram. 29 For instance, if a gram has been defined as an imperfective trajectory, we

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Finally, the comparative panchrony is expected to provide a definitive confirmation of the hypothesis. In particular, properties offered by genetically related grams, in languages belonging to the same family, should be reducible to the same trajectory—their semantic and functional properties must correspond to consecutive stages on the same evolutionary path. If and only if the three types of the panchronic methodology coincide and advocate for the same cline, we obtain a new synchronically valid dynamic definition of a gram: a state of a gram ga is a portion of a path pa or a sum of portions of a path pa and paths pb…px (for details of the panchronic methodology, its history and relation to the concept of dynamization of typology see Andrason 2010a).

3.3. ABDUCTION As described above, the panchronic method permits us to embrace all supposedly irreconcilable and heterogeneous functions of a construction, and explain them as a homogenous manifestation of a certain diachronic trajectory. In other words, the gram which, from the orthodox synchronic perspective, seems to display haphazard values, apparently impossible to be classified with a unique and exclusive label (such as aspect, tense, taxis, or mood), may be understood as a prototypical uniform diachrony and thus, as a single logical object. In that manner, one obtains a consistent and scientifically manageable definition of a formation without simplifying its nature and, no less in importance, without limiting the analysis to mere taxonomy. Superficial irregularities and exceptions may be defined, from the dynamic point of view, as evolutionary atavisms. They witness a situation and properties which were typical at earlier developmental phases, but which contemporarily appear as infrequent. In that manner, their exceptionality and anomaly disappears. Quite the reverse, they are compatible with a trajectory along which the construction has been evolving and with which it has been identified. Superficial “exceptional” should be able to match its original continuative or iterative meaning (which corresponds to initial stages on the path) with a semantically transparent, possibly iconic and typologically standard source. This input expression should convey the original value in a natural manner and thus constitute a cognitively solid starting point of the entire path. Such a sound motivation may be encountered in reduplicative locutions because reduplication is universally employed in order to convey the idea of plurality of an event which in the verbal system surfaces as the concept of repetitivity (iterativity, uninterruptness and continuity) (see for detail Bybee, Perkins and Pagliuca 1994:161, 166-174, and Andrason 2012c forthcoming).

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properties and uses rather confirm a definition of the gram in terms of a given path, than constitute real anomalies. Paradoxically, they may significantly help in determining the trajectory.30 Such a dynamic definition, as well as the panchronic methodology itself, is constructed upon the orderliness principle: an assumption whereby superficially unrelated facts (various meanings, different and contradictory functions, structural properties, etc.) must be explainable as elements forming a solid consistent picture. We presuppose their interwoveness and connection because they are parts of a single linguistic phenomenon, a gram. In that way, we propose a rationalization and justification of properties which superficially seem to be chaotic and unrelated. In the scientific literature, this type of argumentation is referred to as ‘abduction’ (Carstairs-McCarthy 2010:4). The notion ‘abduction’ was first introduced by Peirce (e.g. 1931–1935 and 1940:150–156). This type of reasoning sometimes receives alternative labels, such as for instance ‘inference to the best explanation’ (Lipton 1991, Josephson & Josephson 1994 and Carstairs-McCarthy 2010:4–5). The abductive argumentation and thinking may be exemplified as follows. Let first us assume that there is a hypothesis to be verified. If a proposition (e.g., a law) p is true, given other fixed assumptions or facts, we expect to detect q, r, s, t. On the contrary, if p is false, the connection between the facts q, r, s, t disappears. The evidence shows that the posited statements q, r, s, t are all true. Hence “[t]he likelihood that p is true is […] increased, inasmuch as it explains the otherwise random coexistence of q, r, s, t….” (Carstairs-McCarthy 2010:4).31 Consequently, abduction enables us to systematically treat data appearing, otherwise, as random and unconnected. It bestows us with a possibility to present superficially disorganized and messy facts in a holistic and, equally importantly, economical manner (Peirce 1902:37–38).

30 For instance, the synthetic future tense in Spanish is most frequently employed as a simple future. However in some cases, it does not provide temporal implications but rather a modal reading of epistemic possibility. Such modal uses are not irregular from the evolutionary perspective and within the panchronic view. They simply reflect a more original stage of the development of the gram, during which the construction regularly displayed a strong modal value. This modal tone is evident in the original periphrasis from which the Spanish category derived [infinitive + habeo] with the meaning ‘I have to do something’ (Hopper & Traugott 2003:52–55). 31 For a detailed discussion of abduction see Andersen (1973).

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4.

201

PANCHRONIC ANALYSIS OF THE WAYYIQTOL

In the present section, we will describe the wayyiqtol applying the panchronic methodology. To begin with, in section 4.1 dedicated to synchronic panchrony, the taxonomy of its uses as recorded in biblical texts will be studied. After that, a rationalization of the inventory of values will be proposed in terms of a portion of a universal path. This definition, built on synchronic evidence, will subsequently—as required by our methodology— be contrasted with diachronic (4.2) and comparative (4.3) evidence.

4.1. 4.1.1.

SYNCHRONIC PANCHRONY Taxonomy of Uses of the Wayyiqtol

From the functional-semantic perspective, the wayyiqtol is a quite complex formation—it displays uses that correspond to the concepts of tense, aspect, taxis, modal and text type, as well as those accompanied by other nuances such as consecution.32 In the present part, we will describe all 32 The “objective” inventory of uses of the wayyiqtol illustrated by approximately fifty examples is notably based on the grammatical tradition (in particular on Joüon 1923, Rundgren 1961, Waltke & O’Connor 1990, Joüon & Muraoka 1991, Buth 1992, Longacre 1992, Joosten 1992 and 2002, Andersen 2000, Van der Merwe, Naudé & Kroeze 2000, and Cook 2002). This means that we present meanings which not only have been detected by the author of the article but also are commonly recognized in classical or modern grammar books (although sometimes hidden under different terms). However, since the totality of instances of the wayyiqtol form amounts to approx. 15,000, our examples are exclusively intended to be illustrative. The distribution of the detected meanings and, thus, the analysis of a significantly more numerous set of samples will be provided by the future statistical research (see section 5.3 below). The objectiveness of such an inventory should also be taken with caution since any taxonomy always triggers an artificial partition of the actual reality. The unquestionable physical fact is that there are about 15,000 instances of the wayyiqtol in the Hebrew Bible. This is because there are no two identical contexts (for at a final degree, they must differ in some pragmatic, textual or physical aspects due to the fact that life is a thermodynamic process, Schneider & Sagan 2009:185–204). Since the meaning is a sense that the construction conveys in a given context, at a certain level of analysis, every single use will receive a different meaning. Thus, 15,000 cases of the gram will generate 15,000 distinct meanings. Furthermore, because the total meaning of the gram is a computation of all specific values (i.e. of meanings conveyed in concrete uses), if we wish to present the wayyiqtol (define it or explain its overall meaning) in an absolutely accurate manner, faithfully according to the objective reality, we would have to provide all 15,000 examples and

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meanings which the gram may provide dividing them into five main blocs: consecution, taxis-tense, aspect, mood and discourse-pragmatics.33 The wayyiqtol may express logically and/or temporarily consecutive actions which are usually anterior to the present time sphere. (2) a. ‫ִ֥יתי ִ ַ֖אישׁ‬ ִ ‫ת־קיִן וַ ֹּ֕ת ֹאמר ָק ִנ‬ ָ֔ ַ ‫ת־חָּוִ֣ה ִא ְּשׁ ֹּ֑תֹו וַ ַַּ֙ת ַה ַּ֙ר וַ ֵ ִ֣תלד א‬ ַ ‫וְּ ָ ִ֣ה ָא ָ ָ֔דם יָ ַ ַ֖דע א‬

‫הוה‬ ָ ְּ‫את־י‬ Now the man knew his wife Eve, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, “I have produced a man with the help of the LORD.” (Gen 4.1)

impartially state: “this is what the wayyiqtol is”. However, we cannot deal with the reality in such a crude and impartial form, i.e. as it appears. We must structure it through conceptualization and categorization. We divide the real world into boxes, i.e. concepts. In the present paper, the entire semantic potential of the wayyiqtol will be partitioned into conceptual boxes (meanings) which correspond to stages on universal paths. Thus, we begin our study with the following presupposition: the overall meaning of a construction can be split into smaller individuals—these individuals are categories established by the Path and Grammaticalization theories. This variety of partition and, thus, of categorization is a logical consequence of the evolutionary model employed in the article (as explained, derived from the Path and Grammaticalization theories). We use the terminology “prepared” and appropriate for the type of analysis we are aiming to conduct. In that manner, the identification of the gram with a determined trajectory becomes significantly less complicated. Nevertheless, this does not exclude that a different division and categorization of the reality (i.e., of the total semantic load of the wayyiqtol) could be possible. Since imposing a conceptual order in a portion of the reality is our task, there may be an infinite number of possible partitions. Some of them are more workable and more useful for a given type of explanation. No one, however, is per se and a priori “better”. (As defended by modern mathematical, physical and biological theories, the reality is significantly more chaotic, structurally diffuse and exposed to randomness. Scientific laws are human inventions, probably not inherent to the reality itself. More specifically, determinism, with its probability equaling 1, is restricted to artificial laws. Natural phenomena, due to their complexity and to the incompleteness of any axiomatic theory, proven by Gödel’s theorem, are partially exposed to randomness. Modern sciences have reversed the classical paradigm. Nowadays, natural means irreversible and random. On the contrary, deterministic and reversible phenomena or rules are viewed as artificial and exceptional; Wagensberg 2007:12, 27, 56–57, 60–62). 33 Although the Biblical text is not historically homogenous (it includes parts of different antiquity), we will treat the BH evidence as a synchronic whole.

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b. ‫נִשׁ ַ ִ֣מת ַח ִיֹּ֑ים‬ ְּ ‫ן־ה ֲא ָד ָָ֔מה וַ יִ ַ ִ֥פח ְּב ַא ָ ַ֖פיו‬ ִ֣ ָ ‫ת־ה ָא ָ ָ֗דם ָע ָפ ַּ֙ר ִמ‬ ָ ‫ֹלהים א‬ ִִ֜ ‫ְּהוה ֱא‬ ָָ֨ ‫וַ יִ יצר֩ י‬

‫ַוַֽיְּ ִ ִ֥הי ָה ָא ָ ַ֖דם ְּלנִ֥פשׁ ַח ָיה‬ Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being. (Gen 2.7)

This consecutive value may also surface as resumption or summary. (3) a. ‫ל־צ ָב ָאם‬ ְּ ‫יְּכלּ֛ ּו ַה ָש ַ ִ֥מיִם וְּ ָה ָ ַ֖ארץ וְּ ָכ‬ ֻ ַ‫ו‬ Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all their multitude. (Gen 2.1)

b. ‫הּוא גִ לְ ָּ֔ ָגל ִַ ַ֖עד ִַהּיֹּ֥ ֹום ִַה ֶזֶּֽה‬ ֙ ‫שם ִַה ָמ ֹ֤קֹום ִַה‬ ֵׁ֣ ֵּ ‫וִַ ּיִ ְק ָ ָ֞רא‬ And so that place has been called Gilgal to this day. (Josh 5.9)

However, it should be noted that in various cases, the idea of succession is not available or, at least, seems not to play any relevant role. (4) ‫הוֹּ֑ה וָ ַא ְּח ִב ֩א‬ ָ ְּ‫יאי י‬ ִ֣ ֵ ‫יתי ַב ֲה ִ֣ר ֹג ִא ָ֔יזבל ֵ ַ֖את נְּ ִב‬ ִ ‫ר־ע ִָׂ֔ש‬ ָ ‫א־ה ַגַּ֤ד ַלאד ֹנִ ַּ֙י ֵ ִ֣את ֲאשׁ‬ ֻ ֹ ‫ֲהל‬

‫ישׁ ַב ְּּמ ָע ָ ָ֔רה וָ ֲא ַכ ְּל ְּּכ ֵלַ֖ם לִ֥חם‬ ַּ֙ ‫ְּהוה ֵ ִ֣מ ָאה ִָ֗אישׁ ֲח ִמ ִָ֨שים ֲח ִמ ִ ִ֥שים ִא‬ ִָ֜ ‫יאי י‬ ֵָ֨ ‫ִמנְּ ִב‬ ‫וָ ָמיִם‬ Has it not been told my lord what I did when Jezebel killed the prophets of the LORD, how I hid a hundred of the LORD’s prophets fifty to a cave, and provided them with bread and water? (1 Kgs 18.13)

As far as the concept of taxis is concerned, the construction may function as an anterior (a perfect). In this use, with the present temporal reference, it approximates a present perfect providing various prototypical perfect meanings such as resultative (5.a and 5.b), inclusive-universal (5.c, 5.d and 5.e), iterative (5.f), experiential (5.g) and indefinite (5.h).34 When we say that the wayyiqtol functions as a given category or provides certain meanings, we mean that it is compatible with that particular value or function. As explained in section 3.1 above, in the dynamic view there is no distinction between the inherent meaning and contextual realizations (see also Dahl 2004:14). The context simply makes evident a given part of the semantic potential of the gram (cf., for instance, the use of adverbial locutions in 5.c, 5.d, 5.e, 5.f, 12.a and 12.b which make explicit particular values of the wayyiqtol). The “inherent” meaning of the formation is a computation (corresponding to the arithmetic summation  or the union  in the Set Theory) of all specific values displayed by 34

204

ALEXANDER ANDRASON (5) a. ‫ת־בנ ַָֹ֔תי‬ ְּ ‫ת־ל ָב ִ ֹּ֑בי וַ ְּתנַ ֵה ַּ֙ג א‬ ְּ ‫ית וַ ִתגְּ ַֹ֖נב א‬ ָ ‫וַ ַּ֤י ֹאמר ָל ָ ַּ֙בן ְּליַ ֲע ָ֔קֹב ִ֣מה ָע ִָׂ֔ש‬

‫ִּכ ְּשׁ ֻביַ֖ ֹות ָחרב‬ Laban said to Jacob, “What have you done? You have deceived me, and carried away my daughters like captives of the sword. (Gen 31.26) b. ‫ְּהּודה‬ ָ ‫ן־חּור ְּל ַמ ֵ ִ֥טה י‬ ַ֖ ‫ן־אּורי ב‬ ִ֥ ִ ‫אתי ְּב ֵ ֹּ֑שׁם ְּב ַצ ְּל ֵ ּ֛אל ב‬ ִ ‫( ְּר ֵ ַ֖אה ָק ָ ִ֣ר‬2)

‫ּוב ַ ַ֖ד ַעת‬ ְּ ‫בּונִ֥ה‬ ָ ‫ּוב ְּת‬ ִ ‫ֹלהים ְּב ָח ְּכ ָ ּ֛מה‬ ֹּ֑ ִ ‫( וָ ֲא ַמ ֵ ִ֥לא א ַֹ֖תֹו ִ֣ר ַּוח ֱא‬3) ‫אכה‬ ָ ‫ל־מ ָל‬ ְּ ‫ּוב ָכ‬ ְּ 2See,

I have called by name Bezalel son of Uri son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah: 3and I have filled him with divine spirit, with ability, intelligence, and knowledge in every kind of craft (Exod 31.2–3) c.

‫ְּהֹושׁ ַ ַ֮ע ְּב ִ֣תֹוְך ַהיַ ְּר ֵדן֒ ַָ֗ת ַחת ַמ ַצ ַּ֙ב ַרגְּ ֵלִ֣י‬ ֻ ‫ּושׁ ֵ ֵּ֧תים ע ְּׂש ֵ ִ֣רה ֲא ָב ָ֗ ִנים ֵה ִ ִֵ֣קים י‬ ְּ ‫ַהּכ ֲֹה ָ֔ ִנים נ ְֹּׂש ֵ ַ֖אי ֲא ִ֣רֹון ַה ְּב ִ ֹּ֑רית וַ ִי ְִּ֣היּו ָָ֔שׁם ַ ַ֖עד ַהיִ֥ ֹום ַהזה‬

Joshua set up twelve stones in the middle of the Jordan, in the place where the feet of the priests bearing the ark of the covenant had stood; and they have been there to this day. (Josh 4.9) d. ‫ד־ע ָתה‬ ָ ‫ם־ל ָ ִ֣בן ָ֔ ַג ְּר ִתי וָ ֵא ַ ַ֖חר ַע‬ ָ ‫ַע ְּב ְּדךִ֣ יַ ֲע ָ֔קֹב ִע‬ I have lived with Laban as an alien, and [I have] stayed until now. (Gen 32.5) e.

‫שׁר ָה ָ֔ ַל ְּכ ָת‬ ִ֣ ‫וָ א ְּהי ִ֣ה ִע ְּּמ ָ֗ך ְּבכֹלַּ֙ ֲא‬

And I have been with you wherever you have gone (2 Sam 7.9) f. ‫ת־מ ְּׂש ֻּכ ְּר ִ ַ֖תי ֲע ִׂ֥שרת מ ִֹנים‬ ַ ‫וַ ַת ֲח ֵלִ֥ף א‬ …and you have changed my wages ten times. (Gen 31.41) g. ‫ר־שׁ ַ ִ֥מ ְּע ָת ַא ָ ַ֖תה וַ י ִחי‬ ָ ‫תֹוְך־ה ֵ ּ֛אשׁ ַּכ ֲאשׁ‬ ָ ‫ֹלהים ְּמ ַד ֵ ֵּ֧בר ִמ‬ ִִ֜ ‫ֲה ָ ִ֣שׁ ַמע ָע ֩ם ָ֨קֹול ֱא‬ the gram, i.e. it equals the sum of uses which are compatible with a determined set of possible contexts in which the constructions appears. The “inherent” meaning of a gram is a portion of the path with which the formation has been identified.

BIBLICAL HEBREW WAYYIQTOL: A DYNAMIC DEFINITION

205

Has any people ever heard the voice of a god speaking out of a fire, as you have heard, and [has] lived? (Deut 4.33) h. ‫יִמ ָא ְּסךַ֖ ִמּמלְך‬ ְּ ַ‫הוה ו‬ ָָ֔ ְּ‫ת־ד ַ ִ֣בר י‬ ְּ ‫ַָ֗י ַען ָמ ַַּ֙א ְּס ַָּ֙ת א‬ Because you have rejected the word of the LORD, he has also rejected you from being king. (1 Sam 15.23)

In the past time frame, the wayyiqtol can function as a past anterior, i.e. a pluperfect, introducing events that precede other past activities (6): (6) a. ‫ּוצה‬ ָ ‫י־ע ַזִ֥ב ִבגְּ ַ֖דֹו ְּביָ ָ ֹּ֑דּה וַ יָ ַ֖נָ ס ַהח‬ ָ ‫אֹותּה ִּכ‬ ָָ֔ ‫הי ִּכ ְּר‬ ַּ֙ ִ ְּ‫( וַ י‬13)

‫( וַ ִת ְּק ָרא‬14) 13When

she saw that he had left his garment in her hand and had fled outside, 14 she called… (Gen 39.13–14) b. ‫יהם וַ י ְַּמ ֵ ִ֥ששׁ‬ ֹּ֑ ‫ת־ה ְּת ָר ָ֗ ִפים וַ ְּת ִׂש ֵ ּ֛מם ְּב ַ ִ֥כר ַהגָ ָ ַ֖מל וַ ֵ ִ֣תשׁב ֲע ֵל‬ ַ ‫וְּ ָר ֵֵ֞חל ָל ְּק ָ ִ֣חה א‬

‫אהל וְּ ִ֥ל ֹא ָמ ָצא׃‬ ֹ ַ֖ ‫ל־ה‬ ָ ‫ת־ּכ‬ ָ ‫ָל ָ ּ֛בן א‬ Now Rachel had taken the household gods and [had] put them in the camel’s saddle, and [had] sat on them. Laban felt all about in the tent, but did not find them. (Gen 31.34). c. ‫תֹוכם׃‬ ָ ‫וְּ ַה ְּלוִ ִיַ֖ם ְּל ַמ ֵ ִ֣טה ֲאב ָ ֹֹּ֑תם ִ֥ל ֹא ָה ְּת ָפ ְּק ַ֖דּו ְּב‬

‫מר׃‬ ֹ ‫ְּהוַ֖ה אל־מ ִֹ֥שׁה ֵלא‬ ָ ‫וַ י ְַּד ֵ ִ֥בר י‬ 47The

Levites, however, were not numbered by their ancestral tribe along with them. 48 The LORD had said to Moses… (Num 1.47–48)

As for the temporal value of the construction (tense), it may be employed as a past: recent past (7.a and 7.b), general past (7.c), or historic-remote past (7.d and 7.e). It this function, the wayyiqtol introduces definite past events, appearing thus in explicit past contexts, for instance with past temporal adverbials. (7) a.‫ל־ה ָ ֹּ֑עיִ ן וָ א ַָֹ֗מר‬ ָ ‫וָ ָא ִ֥ב ֹא ַהיַ֖ ֹום א‬ I came today to the spring, and said… (Gen 24.42) b. ‫ֹלשׁה‬ ָ ‫יתי ַהיִ֥ ֹום ְּשׁ‬ ִ ‫וַ יַ ַעזְּ ֵ ֵּ֧בנִי ֲאד ִֹנּ֛י ִ ִּ֥כי ָח ִ ַ֖ל‬

206

ALEXANDER ANDRASON My master left me behind because I fell sick three days ago (1 Sam 30.13) c. ‫בן ַלאד ָ֔ ִֹני ַא ֲח ֵ ַ֖רי זִ ְּקנָ ָ ֹּ֑תּה‬ ַּ֙ ֵ ‫וַ ֵֵּ֡תלד ָׂש ָר ֩ה ֵָ֨אשׁת ֲאד ִֹנִ֥י‬ And Sarah my master’s wife bore a son to my master when she was old. (Gen 24.36) d. ‫יַב ֵ ָ֗דל ֵבַּ֤ין ַה ַַּּ֙מיִם‬ ְּ ַ‫יע ו‬ ֒ ַ ‫ת־ה ָר ִק‬ ָ ‫ים א‬ ַ֮ ‫ֹלה‬ ִ ‫וַ יַ ִַ֣עׂש ֱא‬ So God made the dome and separated the waters (Gen 1.7) e. ‫ל־הבל ָא ִ ַ֖חיו וַ יַ ַה ְּר ֵגהּו‬ ִ֥ ‫יֹותם ַב ָש ָ֔דה וַ ָ ִ֥י ַָֽקם ַ ּ֛קיִ ן א‬ ִ֣ ָ ‫הי ִב ְּה‬ ַּ֙ ִ ְּ‫וַי‬ … And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother Abel, and killed him. (Gen 4.8)

Very infrequently, the construction may express future events. In the majority of such cases, it follows a verb in the prophetic qatal (8): (8) a.‫י־ארץ‬ ָ֗ ֵ‫ל־ד ְּשׁנ‬ ִ ‫ָא ְּכ ֬לּו וַ יִ ְּשׁ ַת ֲחּוָ֨ ּו ָּכ‬ All they that be fat upon earth shall eat and worship (Ps 22.29)

While with dynamic verbs, the wayyiqtol provides uses that correspond to various subcategories of perfect or past, when derived from static predicates (adjectival or qualitative roots) the gram shows a different set of values. It may approximate a category of resultative simultaneous. It introduces a present static condition of a thing or person. This condition is simultaneous to the main reference time and has its roots in previously performed activity. When the time frame is that of the present, the gram equals a resultative simultaneous present (in this function also certain dynamic roots may be encountered, see 9.a, 9.b and 9.c). Furthermore, it can be used as stative present with no resultative connotations (9.d, 9.e and 9.f), and finally as an actual (9.g) or persistent present (9.h) (in that function both resultative and stative connotations are irrelevant): (9) a. ‫סּוסים וְּ ֵ ִ֥אין ֵ ַ֖קצה ְּל ַמ ְּר ְּּכב ָֹתיו‬ ִָ֔ ‫וַ ִת ָּמ ֵלַּ֤א ַא ְּר ַּ֙צֹו‬ …their land is filled (= has been filled) with horses, and there is no end to their chariots. (Isa 2.7) b. ‫ל־פ ָ֔ ִנים וַ ִתנָ ֵצַ֖ל נַ ְּפ ִשׁי‬ ָ ‫ֹלה ַּ֙ים ָפ ִנִ֣ים א‬ ִ ‫יתי ֱא‬ ִ ‫י־ר ִ ַּ֤א‬ ָ ‫ִּכ‬

BIBLICAL HEBREW WAYYIQTOL: A DYNAMIC DEFINITION

207

For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved (= has been preserved) (Gen 32.31) c.

‫ל־שׁ ְּכ ֹּ֑מֹו וַ יִ ְּק ָ ָ֨רא ְּשׁ ִ֜מֹו ֶּ֠פלא‬ ִ ‫ן־לנּו וַ ְּת ִ ִ֥הי ַה ִּמ ְּׂש ָ ַ֖רה ַע‬ ָ ָ֔ ‫ד־לנּו ֵ ֵּ֚בן נִ ַת‬ ָ ָ֗ ‫ִּכי־י ִ֣לד יֻ ַל‬ ‫יֹוע ַּ֙ץ‬ ֵ

For a child had been for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; he is named (= has been named) Wonderful Counselor… (Isa 9.5) d. ‫ִ ַּּ֤כי ַע ָָ֨תה׀ ָת ִ֣בֹוא ֵאלִ֣יך וַ ֵ ֹּ֑תלא‬ But now it has come to you, and you are impatient (Job 4.5) e. ‫אי‬ ַּ֙ ִ ‫י־א ְּת וַ ִת ְּיר‬ ַּ֤ ַ ‫ִמ‬ What do you fear (= are your afraid) —or who? (Isa 51.12) f. ‫בֹודי‬ ֹּ֑ ִ ‫ָל ֵכַּ֤ן׀ ָׂש ַ ִ֣מח ִל ִִ֭בי וַ יָ ִַֽ֣גל ְּּכ‬ Therefore my heart is glad, and my soul rejoices (= is glad) (Ps 16.9) g. ‫י־ל ֹא ֵאבֹושׁ‬ ִ֥ ‫וָ ֵא ַ ַ֖דע ִּכ‬ And I know that that I shall not be put to shame (Isa 50.7) h. ‫ָא ַ ִ֣ה ְּב ָת צד ַ֮ק וַ ִת ְּׂש ָ֫ ָנא ִ֥ר ַשׁע‬ …you love righteousness and hate wickedness (Ps 45.8)

As a simple present, denoting universal present or gnomic activities, the gram may also be derived from dynamic roots (see 10.a, 10.b and 10.c below): (10) a.‫מֹוריד ְּשׁ ַ֖אֹול וַ יָ ַעל‬ ִ֥ ִ ‫ּומ ַחיֹּ֑ה‬ ְּ ‫הוַ֖ה ֵמ ִ ִ֣מית‬ ָ ְּ‫י‬ The Lord kills and brings to life; he brings down to Sheol and rises up (1 Sam 2.6) b. ‫א־עז וַ יָ ִ ַ֖כינּו ַב ַ ִ֣קיִ ץ ַל ְּח ָמם‬ ֹּ֑ ָ ֹ ‫ַ ִ֭הנְּ ָמ ִלים ַעִ֣ם ל‬

208

ALEXANDER ANDRASON The ants are a people without strength, yet they provide their food in summer (Prov 30.25) c. ‫יָב ֹא ָקלֹּ֑ ֹון‬ ִ֣ ַ‫א־זדֹון ו‬ ִ֭ ָ ‫ָב‬ When pride comes, then comes disgrace; (Prov 11.2)

As for the aspect, the formation may indicate past punctual and perfective (unique and bound) events: (11) a. ‫דֹו א ְּצ ָ֔ ִלי וַ יָ ַ֖נָ ס וַ יֵ ֵ ִ֥צא‬ ַּ֙ ְּ‫קֹולי וָ א ְּק ָ ֹּ֑רא וַ יַ ֲעז ַֹּ֤ב ִבג‬ ַ֖ ִ ‫מ ִתי‬ ֹ ִ֥ ‫י־ה ִרי‬ ֲ ‫וַ יְּ ִ ִ֣הי ְּכ ָשׁ ְּמ ָ֔עֹו ִּכ‬

‫ּוצה‬ ָ ‫ַהח‬ …and when he heard me raise my voice and cry out, he left his garment beside me, and fled outside. (Gen 39.15) b. ‫ת־ה ָא ָד ַּ֙ם‬ ָ ‫ֹלהים׀ א‬ ַּ֤ ִ ‫יִב ָ ָ֨רא ֱא‬ ְּ ַ‫ו‬ So God created humankind (Gen 1.27) c. ‫ת־ה ִ ַ֖עיר‬ ָ ‫את א‬ ֹ ִ֥ ‫הוה ִל ְּר‬ ָָ֔ ְּ‫וַ יֵ ִַֽ֣רד י‬ The Lord came down to see the city (Gen 11.5) d. ‫תנת ַב ָדם׃‬ ֹ ַ֖ ‫ת־ה ֻּכ‬ ַ ‫טּו ְּׂש ִ ִ֣עיר ִע ִָ֔זים וַ יִ ְּט ְּבלִ֥ ּו א‬ ַּ֙ ‫יֹוסף ַוַֽיִ ְּשׁ ֲח‬ ֹּ֑ ֵ ‫תנת‬ ֹ ִ֣ ‫ת־ּכ‬ ְּ ‫וַ יִ ְּק ַ֖חּו א‬ They took Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a goat and dipped the robe in the blood (Gen 37.31)

However, in some instances, the wayyiqtol in the past time frame, seems to be aspectually neutral, describing events which even allow durative readings (12): (12) a. ‫יָמים ַר ִ ֹּ֑בים וַ יָ ֵ ִ֥רעּו ָלּ֛נּו ִמ ְּצ ַ ַ֖ריִם‬ ִ֣ ִ ‫יְּמה וַ ֵנִ֥שׁב ְּב ִמ ְּצ ַ ַ֖ריִם‬ ָ ‫ינּו ִמ ְּצ ַ ָ֔ר‬ ַּ֙ ‫וַ יֵ ְּר ַּ֤דּו ֲאב ֵַֹּ֙ת‬

‫וְּ ַל ֲאב ֵֹתינּו‬ …how our ancestors went down to Egypt, and we lived in Egypt a long time; and the Egyptians oppressed us and our ancestors; (Num 20.15) b. ‫הוּ֛ה ִב ְּׂש ֵ ִ֥דה ְּפ ִל ְּשׁ ִ ַ֖תים ִשׁ ְּב ָ ִ֥עה ֳח ָד ִשׁים‬ ָ ְּ‫וַ י ִ ְֵּּ֧הי ֲארֹון־י‬ The ark of the LORD was in the country of the Philistines seven months. (1 Sam 6.1)

BIBLICAL HEBREW WAYYIQTOL: A DYNAMIC DEFINITION

209

Furthermore, in certain anterior functions (inclusive-universal) as well as with the force of a simultaneous resultative, stative and (actual, persistent and simple) present, the gram clearly denotes activities whose aspectual nature is not perfective (cf. for instance examples 5.c, 5.d and 5.e as well as from 9.a to 9.h introduced above). It should be observed that the wayyiqtol does not provide inherent modal meanings. Nevertheless, it can appear in conditional protases with an evident hypothetical force (13.a). It may also be found in apodoses (conditional relative and participial phrases); in these cases, the temporalaspectual-taxis value of the gram does not differ from its indicative homologue—it mainly connotes the idea of anteriority and past (13.b). (13) a.‫קֹולי‬ ִ ‫י־יַא ִ ִ֥זין‬ ֲ ‫א־א ֲא ִָ֗מין ִּכ‬ ַַ֝ ֹ ‫אתי ַוַֽיַ ֲע ֵנֹּ֑נִי ל‬ ִ ‫ם־ק ָ ִ֥ר‬ ָ ‫ִא‬ If I summoned him and he answered me, I do not believe that he would listen to my voice. (Job 9.16) b. ‫ת־ע ָב ָ ִ֥דיו‬ ֲ ‫ְּהוה ֵמ ַע ְּב ֵ ַ֖די ַפ ְּר ֹּ֑עֹה ֵה ִנּ֛יס א‬ ָָ֔ ‫ת־ד ַ ִ֣בר י‬ ְּ ‫( ַהיָ ֵר ַּ֙א א‬20)

‫ל־ה ָב ִתים‬ ַ ‫ת־מ ְּק ֵנַ֖הּו א‬ ִ ‫וְּ א‬ ‫ת־ע ָב ָ ִ֥דיו‬ ֲ ‫הוֹּ֑ה ַוַֽיַ ֲע ֹּ֛זב א‬ ָ ְּ‫ל־ד ַ ִ֣בר י‬ ְּ ‫א־ׂשם ִל ַ֖בֹו א‬ ּ֛ ָ ֹ ‫( וַ ֲא ִ֥שׁר ל‬21) ‫וְּ את־ ִמ ְּק ֵנַ֖הּו ַב ָשדה‬ 20Those

officials of Pharaoh who feared the word of the LORD hurried their slaves and livestock off to a secure place. 21Those who did not regard the word of the LORD left their slaves and livestock in the open field. (Exod 9.20–21)

Taking into consideration discourse-pragmatic properties, the gram predominantly appears in the narration where it introduces principal events of the narrative story, that is, the backbone of the narration (14): (14) ‫ת־לִוי‬ ֵ ‫ת־ב‬ ַ ‫( וַ יֵ ִ֥לְך ִ ַ֖אישׁ ִמ ֵבִ֣ית ֵלִוֹּ֑י וַ יִ ַ ַ֖קח א‬1)

‫י־טֹוב ָ֔הּוא ַו ִת ְּצ ְּפ ֵנַ֖הּו‬ ִ֣ ‫ֹתֹו ִּכ‬ ַּ֙ ‫( וַ ַ ִ֥ת ַהר ָה ִא ָ ַ֖שה וַ ֵ ִ֣תלד ֵ ֹּ֑בן וַ ֵ ַּ֤תרא א‬2) ‫ֹלשׁה יְּ ָר ִחים‬ ִ֥ ָ ‫ְּשׁ‬ ‫ח־לֹו ֵ ִ֣ת ַבת ָ֔ג ֹמא וַ ַת ְּח ְּמ ָ ִ֥רה ַב ֵח ָ ַ֖מר‬ ַּ֙ ‫עֹוד ַה ְּצ ִפינֹו֒ וַ ִת ַק‬ ַ֮ ‫א־יָכ ָלִ֣ה‬ ְּ ֹ ‫( וְּ ל‬3) ‫אר‬ ֹ ְּ‫ל־ׂש ַ ִ֥פת ַהי‬ ְּ ‫ת־ה ָ֔ילד וַ ָ ִ֥תׂשם ַב ַ֖סּוף ַע‬ ַ ‫ּוב ָזֹּ֑פת וַ ָ ַּ֤תׂשם ָב ַּּ֙ה א‬ ַ

210

ALEXANDER ANDRASON 1Now

a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. 2The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him three months. 3When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the river. (Exod 2.1–3)

Furthermore, it may frequently be found in the personal narration (narrative discourse) with the same function: (15)

[…]‫אמר ִ֥עבד ַא ְּב ָר ָ ַ֖הם ָא ֹנ ִכי‬ ֹּ֑ ַ ֹ ‫( וַ י‬34) […]‫ל־ה ָ ֹּ֑עיִ ן וָ א ַָֹ֗מר‬ ָ ‫( וָ ָא ִ֥ב ֹא ַהיַ֖ ֹום א‬42) […]‫( וַ ֵ ִ֥תרד ָה ַ ַ֖עיְּ נָ ה וַ ִת ְּשׁ ָ ֹּ֑אב‬45)

[…]‫יה וַ ִ֣ת ֹאמר‬ ָ ‫( וַ ְּת ַמ ֵָ֗הר וַ ַּ֤תֹורד ַּכ ָד ַּּ֙ה ֵמ ָע ָ֔ל‬46) […]‫( וָ א ְּשׁ ַ ִ֣אל א ָָֹ֗תּה‬47) So he said, (the discourse begins) “I am Abraham’s servant. […] the discourse, there is a narrative fragment—personal narration) “I came today to the spring, and … 45and she [Rebekah] went down to the spring, and drew… 46She quickly let down her jar from her shoulder, and said,…47 Then I asked her,…(Gen 24.34–47) 34(narrative) 42(in

Still in narrative fragments, in some instances, the wayyiqtol can introduce explicative commentaries. (16)

‫ת־צ ְּב ַ֖עֹון ֵ ִ֣אשׁת ֵע ָ ֹּׂ֑שו וַ ֵ ִ֣תלד‬ ִ ‫ת־ע ָנּ֛ה ַב‬ ֲ ‫וְּ ֵ ִ֣אלה ָהיָ֗ ּו ְּב ָ֨ ֵני ָא ֳהלִ ָיב ָ ֵּ֧מה ַב‬ ‫ְּל ֵע ָָׂ֔שו את־יְּ ֥֯ ִ֥עישׁ וְּ את־יַ ְּע ָלַ֖ם וְּ את־קֹ ַרח‬

These were the sons of Esau’s wife Oholibamah, daughter of Anah son of Zibeon: she (had) bore to Esau Jeush, Jalam, and Korah. (Gen 36.14)

Finally, it infrequently appears in the discourse with an explanatory force: (17)

‫ה־א ְּל ָמ ָנִ֥ה ָ ַ֖אנִ י‬ ַ ‫ה־לְֹּ֑ך וַ ָ֗ת ֹאמר ֲא ָ ּ֛בל ִא ָש‬ ָ ‫ר־לּה ַה ַּ֖מלְך ַמ‬ ִ֥ ָ ‫וַ י ֹאמ‬ ‫ישׁי‬ ִ ‫וַ יָ ִָ֥מת ִא‬

The king asked her, “What is your trouble?” She answered, “Alas, I am a widow; my husband is dead. (2 Sam 14.5)

BIBLICAL HEBREW WAYYIQTOL: A DYNAMIC DEFINITION

4.1.2.

211

Orderliness Principle—Proposing a Definition

The inventory of synchronic uses of the wayyiqtol suggests that one is dealing with a highly heterogeneous phenomenon. It almost appears as a random category that may be employed to express unrelated and, in some cases, contradictory meanings (cf. definite past and future). The gram provides various prototypical present anterior (perfect) values such as resultative, inclusive, frequentative and experiential. It is also employed as an indefinite and definite (recent, general and remote) past. In the past time frame, it may denote both perfective and aspectually neutral (simple) events (additionally, in several perfect uses, the aspectual load of the gram is not perfective, cf. inclusive perfect). Furthermore, it can approximate a past perfect (pluperfect). On the other hand, when derived from static (qualitative and adjectival) roots, the wayyiqtol functions as a resultative simultaneous present, a stative present and a simple present (in these cases, the aspectual connotation fails yet again to be perfective). Infrequently, the construction appears with the force of a future tense. Finally, as for the discourse pragmatic function, the gram predominantly introduces main events of the backbone in the narration and narrative discourse (personal narration). Nevertheless, in some occasions, it is employed in commentaries both in the narrative and in the discourse. As required by the orderliness principle of the panchronic methodology, it should be possible to embrace all synchronically incompatible or heterogeneous values of a construction and explain them as manifestations of a homogenous evolutionary trajectory. Put differently, the gram—which from the synchronic perspective is an amalgam of accidental functions that cannot be reduced to one clear and unique aspectual, temporal, taxis, modal and text value—may be understood as a single phenomenon, a prototypical homogeneous diachrony (i.e. path), a realization of one linguistic input. Consequently, we should be able to order the detected values ma…mn into a sequence that mirrors a universal path-law as posited by path and/or grammaticalization theories. First, various values of the wayyiqtol—those related to perfect and past functions—may be arranged into a series which corresponds to the development codified in the anterior path (Figure 4):

212

ALEXANDER ANDRASON

Figure 4: Values of the wayyiqtol arranged into the anterior path in the present time frame35 Since the gram can be categorized in terms of an anterior trajectory—a subdevelopment within the resultative path—it is to be expected that it shows traces of other evolutionary scenarios, prototypical for resultative constructions. In accordance with this assumption, in the case of static roots, the meanings of the wayyiqtol can be tidied up and represented as a simultaneous track:

Figure 5: Values of the wayyiqtol arranged into the simultaneous path in the present time frame36 The values of the future tense and past perfect (pluperfect) can be harmonized with the previously ordered meanings and explained as stages of the anterior trajectory within, respectively, the future and past temporal frame (cf. the development in Polish where the future perfect became a future tense with no taxis connotations available anymore). If the wayyiqtol is a prototypical resultative, and especially anterior, diachrony, it must have advanced on the evolutionary cline since the gram is not employed with the force of a resultative proper (in case of dynamic roots) and a performative expression. The last value can, on the other hand, be conveyed by another resultative diachrony, i.e. the qatal. 35 36

The vertical arrow symbolizes a hypothesized diachronic progression. The vertical arrow stands for a hypothesized historical development.

BIBLICAL HEBREW WAYYIQTOL: A DYNAMIC DEFINITION (18)

213

‫ל־ה ָָ֔ארץ‬ ָ ‫אתי א‬ ַּ֙ ִ ‫י־ב‬ ַָּ֙ ‫ֹלהיך ִּכ‬ ָ֔ ‫יהוִ֣ה ֱא‬ ָ ‫יֹום ַל‬ ַּ֙ ‫ִה ַ ַּ֤ג ְַּֽד ִתי ַה‬

Today I declare to the LORD your God that I have come into the land (Deut 26:3)

Moreover, it should be noted that the formation consistently fails to indicate broadly understood evidential nuances. Thus, the gram does not provide uses which could be arranged in terms of the third formative development characteristic for resultative constructions. Yet again, it is the qatal which approximates an evidential gram, being not infrequently employed with a guessing perfect force. 37 In the following examples the distinction between the qatal (evidential implications) and the wayyiqtol (free of evidential connotations) is clear: (19)

‫נּואה ָא ָ֔נ ֹ ִכי‬ ִ֣ ָ ‫י־ׂש‬ ְּ ‫עֹוד וַ ֵ ִ֣תלד ֵבן֒ וַ ָ֗ת ֹאמר ִּכי־ ָשׁ ַ ַּ֤מע יְּ הוָ ַּ֙ה ִּכ‬ ַ֮ ‫וַ ַ ִ֣ת ַהר‬ ‫־לי גַ ם־את־זֹּ֑ה וַ ִת ְּק ָ ִ֥רא ְּשׁ ַ֖מֹו ִשׁ ְּמעֹון׃‬ ַ֖ ִ ‫וַ יִתן‬

She became pregnant again and gave birth to another son. She said, “The Lord must have heard that I’m unloved, and so (i.e. due to this fact) he gave me this son.” So she named him Simeon. (Gen 29:33)

Since the modal wayyiqtol appears only in explicitly modal contexts (especially in conditional protases and apodoses) and, furthermore, does not differ—as the TATM values are involved—from its purely indicative counterpart, it may be rationalized as a modal contamination of the nonmodal gram.38 For an exhaustive analysis of evidential functions of the qatal see Andrason (2010b). 38 During this process, initially indicative formations due to their consistent use in clearly modal contexts are gradually contaminated by the environment in which they appear, assuming its meaning as their own (these modal contexts may arise because of the use of some lexical elements or they can be syntactically motivated). At the end of the evolution, the originally indicative gram is entirely identified with the modal value of its own milieu. Its use as a non-modal becomes impossible and the formation is reanalyzed as a mood (see Figure 1) (Dahl 1985:11, Hopper & Traugott 2003:82 and Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca 1994:25–26). Among environments which frequently impose a modal reading as an integral part of a category Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca (1994:235) quote hypothetical periods. The phenomenon, to an extent, corresponds to ‘conventionalization of implicature’ in Dahl (1985:11) and Bybee, Perkins & Pagliuca (1994:25–26 and 296) as well as to ‘context-induced reinterpretation’ as proposed by Heine, Claudi & Hünnemeyer (1991b:71–72) and to semantization in Hopper & Traugott (2003:82). However, in comparison to the above mentioned processes, the modal contamination is 37

214

ALEXANDER ANDRASON

Finally, as for the discourse pragmatic uses, the gram infrequently appears in the discourse with a commenting force. In personal narratives, it is employed both to introduce commentaries and events that belong to the backbone of the story. Finally, it is extensively and primarily used in the narration proper to relate main events of the tale. In sum, the function of a commentary is significantly less common and the introduction of principal actions of the story backbone is restricted to narrative discourse (personal narrative) and narration proper. These facts may be rationalized and related to the semantic load of the wayyiqtol in the following manner. The discourse pragmatic force reflects a regular grammaticalization spread of resultative grams within different types of text: from discourse to narration, through narrative discourse, and its progressive generalization as a form employed to introduce main events of the corresponding text, not limited—as it was originally—to commentaries (cf. Harris 1982 and Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:406; see also section 2.1 above). Resultatives start their grammatical life as commenting formations—they denote staticresulting conditions acquired by objects or persons. Conversely, they do not introduce main events of the text. The conversion into grams which convey principal activities (i.e. components of the story line) is a later phenomenon and parallels the semantic progress on the anterior and/or simultaneous trajectories. We have already mentioned that resultative formations first evolve into past tenses (being able to introduce main events of the tale) in the discourse, subsequently in personal narratives (narrative discourse), and only at the end in the narration proper (Squartini & Bertinetto 2000:422). This means that the narrative past is the last in the sequence of stages a resultative gram can acquire within the anterior path. On the other hand, the function of commenting and introducing main events in the discourse (e.g. dialogue) is the first to be abandoned. In light of all these facts—and in accordance with previously noted properties of the gram—the wayyiqtol corresponds to a resultative diachrony, yet again, at an advanced moment of its development. Put differently, its discourse pragmatic baggage may be related to the TATM character of the construction and defined as corresponding to an advanced portion of the grammatical evolution, typical for resultative formations. In contrast to various meanings which have been accommodated on the anterior and simultaneous trajectories, the consecutive value (and its subclasses) does not correspond to any particular stage on the two paths. It does not match any phase of evolutionary scenarios posited for resultative narrower codifying the emergence of modal formations. It is thus understood as one of the possible modal trajectories.

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215

constructions. It is thus probable that it stems from some external factors such as, for instance, contextual (semantic or syntactic) contamination (cf. above) or an incorporation of originally independent lexemes which, having become a part of the periphrasis, introduced a consecutive tone to the formation. Since the deduction of diachrony from synchrony may be misleading, the synchronic panchrony does not, by itself and in isolation from other facts, constitute a valid explanation. Consequently, the identification of particular meanings of a formation as subsequent stages of a given universal trajectory is, without diachronic and comparative data, a matter of guessing. Therefore, our panchronic proposal—based on the synchronic evidence— must be confronted with two other types of the panchronic method. This means that, if our hypothesis is correct, the above hypothesized definition of the wayyiqtol (i.e., as an advanced portion of the resultative path) should be consistent with the diachronic and comparative analysis.

4.2. DIACHRONIC PANCHRONY In accordance with the most common opinion, the BH wayyiqtol reflects an old periphrasis compounded by the verbal element -yiqtol—a successor of the Proto-Semetic (PS) conjugation *yaqtul—and a non-verbal entity surfacing in Biblical Hebrew as wa- which, furthermore, triggered a reduplication of the initial (non-radical) consonant of the yiqtol. As will be demonstrated, the precise origin of this morpheme (referred to in the following parts of the paper as wa-R) remains uncertain (Waltke & O’Connor 1990, Smith 1991 and Rainey 1996).

4.2.1.

Resultative-Yiqtol

As defended by various scholars (Waltke & O’Connor 1990, Smith 1991:12–13, Seow 1995:225–226, Rainey 1996, Lipinski 2001:350, Kienast 2001:318, Cook 2004 and 2006, and Kouwenberg 2010:129), the portion yiqtol of the wayyiqtol is related to the Akkadian iprus and to the Arabic lam(ma)-yaqtul. From the genetic perspective, one is dealing with a shared morphology that reflects the PS *yaqtul (or *yiqVl, Kouwenberg 2010:129) (Smith 2009:12–13, Seow 1995:225–226, Kienast 2001:318–319, Lipiński 2001:365, Cook 2006:34 and 2008:6–7 and Andrason 2010d:341–343). According to Kienast (2001:294 and 334), the PS *yaqtul, itself, derived from a nominal basis, a verbal resultative adjective (called also ‘perfective participle’) *q(a)tal (cf. also a similar opinion on the resultative origin of the *yaqtul in Kouwenberg 2010:130). This participial form was verbalized by employing personal pronouns which already in the oldest texts were incorporated to the verb appearing as indissoluble prefixes y-, t-, and n- (cf.

216

ALEXANDER ANDRASON

Kienast 2001:376). Such a reconstruction of the origin of the *yaqtul—the source of the yiqtol in the wayyiqtol—is consistent with our hypothesized definition of the gram as a resultative diachrony. A periphrastic participial (verbal adjectival) origin of the gram and its verbalization by means of personal pronouns is a highly plausible and typologically frequent starting point of resultative constructions (cf. the same typologically origin of the Akkadian parsaku or BH qatal, Kienast 202–204, or the Polish past in -no / to, Migdalski 2006:142). It constitutes a semantically transparent and cognitively plausible source of the gram defined as a resultative path. In that manner, the reconstructed foundation of the gram agrees with our panchronic hypothesis and satisfies the requirement of cognitive motivation of meaning displayed by the formation during its grammatical life: the expression from which a grammatical category emerged (a periphrasis built on resultative de-verbal adjective) motivates all the meanings displayed by the formation at the BH period. Unfortunately, there are no direct sources available which could reveal the semantic potential of the wayyiqtol in earlier phases of its development, i.e. in the pre-Hebrew period, in at the Common West-Semitic or ProtoSemitic stage. We cannot trace the evolution of the construction from preBiblical Hebrew to the classical language. However, we can employ comparative data and our knowledge of genetic relations of the construction with other forms in order to extrapolate some diachronically valid information. In accordance with requirements of the panchronic method, and given the unavailability of physical evidence, i.e. texts, this technique—a mixture of diachronic and comparative panchrony—is expected to demonstrate two facts. First, if the BH wayyiqtol is an advanced resultative gram, its genetic homologue in another language, belonging to the Semitic family, should display uses which also match the resultative path. This claim (all successors of a given linguistic input should correspond to the same path-law) derives from the basis of the comparative panchrony (see section 4.2.2 below). Second, a successor of the PS *yaqtul employed at significantly earlier époques than the BH gram should cover segments corresponding to less developed portions of the resultative trajectory. The difference between the two grams is required to consist in the advancement on the trajectory: the younger formation is less developed while the older one is expected to provide uses which match more advanced stages. This assumption harmonizes with principles of the diachronic panchrony. Let us study the properties of the Akkadian iprus, the oldest available gram equivalent to the -yiqtol of the wayyiqtol and descendant of the PS *yaqtul. In conformity with our thesis, the Akkadian iprus—a reflex of the PS *yaqtul—has been defined as a prototypical resultative diachrony

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217

(Kouwenberg 2010:129–132 and Andrason 2010d:338–344). Andrason rationalizes the synchronic set of chaotic and unrelated values displayed by the iprus and defines the gram as a manifestation of the resultative path. The iprus displays functions that correspond to stages on the anterior path: it is used as a perfect (especially in negative and subordinated environments where the new perfect iptaras appears rather infrequently) or as a past, both perfective and simple (i.e. with no evident perfective or punctual marking). It is furthermore commonly employed as a principal past tense of narration. In subordinated temporal, and sometimes in principal clauses when the main time reference is the past, the formation equals the past anterior (pluperfect). Other uses of the gram reflect phases of the simultaneous track: the iprus form of two static verbs edûm ‘know’ and isûm ‘have’ has stative meaning with no explicit temporal information. In the present or general time context, it approximates a present tense (cf. Kouwenberg 2010:127–129 and 132, Huehnergard 2005:144–7, MalbranLabat and Vita 2005:102). The so-far mentioned values parallel those recorded in Biblical Hebrew. However, the Akkadian formation offers uses which slightly diverge from the semantic potential of BH gram. Namely, not infrequently, it can express future activities and situations. In clauses with adi…la and lama, it appears with the present-future time reference, and indicates respectively anterior future (20.a) and immediate future events 20.b, cf. Huehnergard 2005:285–286). Furthermore, as observed by Loesov (2005:115, 117–118), the iprus is used as the best available exponent and the principal vehicle (thus still productive) of the performative force in Akkadian (both in Old Babylonian and Old Akkadian, cf. Koinzidenzfall in Kienast 2001:297) (see examples 20.c, 20.d. and 20.e below). (20) a. adi abī lā illikam ul târ I will not return before my father has come (Huehnergard 2005:285) b. lāma ipšurūšu alkīm Come before they sell / have sold it (Huehnergard 2005:286) c. atma I swear! (Loesov 2005:117) d. ú-na-ḫi-i-id-ka

218

ALEXANDER ANDRASON I call your attention (= I order you) (Loesov 2005:117) e. ana šulmika ašpur-am I wish you well-being (Sallaberger 1999:87–92)

Consequently, as expected, the iprus—a historically older gram—provides values which match less advanced stages of the resultative path, concretely its anterior sub-track. First, it is more commonly employed as a future perfect (or a future) than in Biblical Hebrew. Second, its perfect (anterior) proper force is significantly more expanded. In fact, the gram is the principal vehicle of present perfect values in negative contexts and in subordinated phrases. And third, the formation regularly conveys performative nuances—this ability was lost in the biblical language.

4.2.2. Consecutive wa-R While the entity -yiqtol of the wayyiqtol is clearly responsible of the meaningsstages belonging to the resultative path, the element wa-R is thought to have introduced consecutive connotations. There are several theories which reconstruct the origin of the BH wa-R (for a detailed review see Smith 1991). For instance, G. R. Driver (1936) suggested that there was a diachronic connection between the BH wa-R and the connector ma in Akkadian and uma in Assyrian. Maag (1953:86–88) claimed that the wa-R is an amalgam of the copulative ‫ ו‬and the demonstrative particle ‫הן‬, and proposed the following evolution: *wəhanyiqtul > *wanyiqtul > wayyiqtol. Other theories are more speculative, linking the BH morpheme with the Egyptian language. Young (1953) argued that the wa-R reflects two Egyptian particles: the connective iw and the morpheme n of the past. In his view, the wayyiqtol originated in a periphrastic sequence *wan + yiqtol (on the Egyptian connection see also Rendsburg 1981:668–669, Fulco 1982:662 and Sheehan 1970). More recently, Brenner (1986:14, 21, 24 and 34) defended the Egyptian source of the BH form suggesting, however, that one is dealing with a borrowed construction (for criticism of the Egyptian connection see Smith 1991:3–5). Whatever the exact source of the wa-R is, most scholars seem to agree that this unit is somehow related to the BH copulative particle ‫ ו‬wa which derives from the PS *wa (Kustár 1972, Revell 1984:443, Smith 1991:12–15, Waltke & O’Connor 1990:545 and Cook 2002; see also already König 1897, S. R. Driver 1881 and Bauer & Leander [1918–22] 1962). Thus, the wayyiqtol would have a similar (but not identical) origin as the BH weqatal deriving from the PS *wa and an independent verbal conjugation (the change of the *wa into we- in the weqatal is assumed to have occurred in the post-exilic

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time, cf. Revell 1984:443–444 and Smith 1991:4–8). Accordingly, this nonverbal element (descendent of PS *wa) seems to connect one event or situation with another, introducing consecutive nuances (Waltke & O’Connor 1990:545 and Smith 1991:12–14). Let us study the consecutive force of the successor of the PS *wa in a more detailed manner. It is accepted that the Central Semitic branch originally distinguished between (at least) two different connectors: one consecutive (*pa ‘then, and thus’) and another neutral (*wa ‘and’, see Waltke & O’Connor 1990:522 and 655, and Garr 2004:114–115). This situation may still be found in Arabic, a language which possesses a consecutive particle ‫( ف‬from the original *pa) and a neutral conjunction ‫( و‬from the *wa, cf. Wright [1896–1898] 2005:I.290–291 and II. 345 and Danecki 1994:364). On the contrary, Biblical Hebrew does not make any distinction between the two meanings, and employs the particle waw ‫ ו‬both with coordinative and consecutive force (certainly, in distinct syntactic environments, cf. Waltke & O’Connor 1990:522–523). In fact, in the entire Northwest Semitic group, the successor of the original consecutive particle *pa—genetically related with the Arabic ‫( ف‬Aartun 1978:1–14 and Watson 1990:83–84)—is rather infrequent (Garr 2004:115). It is only attested in Ugaritic (Watson 1990:84– 85 and Sivan 2001:188), in certain Aramaic dialects (Jean & Hoftijzer 1965), in Samalian (Garr 2004:115), and—in rare and disputed instances—in Biblical Hebrew (Waltke & O’Connor 1994:655, Aartun 1978 and Dahood 1966:307–308). This means that Northwest Semitic idioms—Biblical Hebrew included—suffered a gradual decay of the lexeme *pa (Waltke & O’Connor 1990:522 and 655, cf. also Garr 2004:114–115). In some cases, this led to a loss of the ability to explicitly distinguish coordination from consecution and to a semantic merger of the two values within a single form. As a result, once the *pa started to disappear, the originally coordinative particle *wa seems to have incorporated consecutive nuances, previously provided by the *pa. It is highly important to note that in Ugaritic, in some cases, the consecutive particle p and the coordinative w functioned as equivalents and the former could be replaced by the latter (Parker 1967:78 and Watson 1990:78). In fact, the Ugaritic p, besides providing its original consecutive meaning of immediate succession and result (Pardee 1977:5), temporal and/or logical consequence (Tropper 2002:82) or of continuation and resumption (Aartun 1978:1–5), it could also be employed as a “simple coordinating conjunction” (Watson 1990:85). Panchronically, this corresponds to an intermediate stage between the initial Proto-Northwest Semitic (or Proto-Central Semitic) situation (the two particles are clearly distinct) and the state of affairs in Biblical Hebrew (only the PNS *wa

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survived having incorporated the values of the *pa; thus, no distinction is made between the coordinative and consecutive variants). The above sketched origin of the wa-R justifies the consecutive force showed by the formation in Biblical Hebrew, a value which does not correspond to any particular stage on the resultative path, and which, consequently, cannot be explained as a manifestation of that evolutionary law. Linking, however, the wa-R with the coordinative and (once the particle *pa has been marginalized) consecutive sense of the lexeme *wa from which the BH morpheme (at least partially) derives, one finds explicit and transparent sources of consecutiveness provided by the gram. In sum, we are dealing with a resultative diachrony *yaqtul contextualized by the incorporation of a coordinative-consecutive lexeme. As mentioned, this entity surfaces in Biblical Hebrew as wa-R and is related to the particle ‫ו‬ (from an earlier coordinative *wa), having furthermore incorporated the consecutive potential of the particle *pa).

4.2.3. Posterior Evolution The posterior evolution of the BH wayyiqtol does not offer any direct evidence. The form simply disappeared in Rabbinic Hebrew (Pérez 1992:182). However, the loss of the construction is panchronically consistent with, and in fact expected, given our definition. As proposed, the wayyiqtol is to be classified as a highly advanced portion of the resultative, and in particular anterior, path. Diachronic laws teach us that profoundly developed old resultatives tend to vanish at subsequent historical periods. This happens especially if the language possesses another younger resultative formation. Such a phenomenon has partially occurred in Modern French where the old resultative diachrony, the simple past j’ écrivis ‘I wrote’ (Passé Simple a successor of the Latin perfectum) has been lost in the spoken language and even in non-literary narrative genres (Mauger 1968:241). In those situations, it was substituted by a younger diachrony, the Passé Composé: j’ai écrit ‘I have written / I wrote’. Nowadays, the Passé Simple is employed exclusively in the literary narration as a narrative past tense (Mauger 1968:238–239, 241–242). However, the current tendency is that younger authors use the Passé Composé also in the narration proper. A typologically similar evolution took place in some Slavic (Polish) and Germanic languages (Yiddish or Afrikaans) where the old perfects-pasts have been substituted by younger formations. This situation approximates the state of affairs recorded in Biblical and Rabbinic Hebrew. In the BH period, the wayyiqtol was already extensively employed as a narrative past tense—this usage corresponds to the final stage of the development along the anterior and grammaticalization clines.

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Furthermore, the language included in its verbal system a younger resultative diachrony, the qatal, employed, among others, in various perfect and past functions. It is thus not surprising that, in the posterior époque, the profoundly developed resultative wayyiqtol was lost, being substituted by the younger gram qatal, which furthermore took over uses previously conveyed by the older construction (note that in the Rabbinic period, the qatal was used with a narrative force). The loss of the wayyiqtol and its substitution by a younger resultative formation qatal support our definition of the former as an advanced resultative diachrony. We are dealing with a common phenomenon labeled ‘doughnut gram’: original domains of a highly advanced formation are progressively invaded by a novel construction which evolves along typologically the same trajectory (Dahl 2000:15–17). Consequently, if the qatal—itself, a resultative diachrony— replaced the wayyiqtol, the latter must also be viewed as a resultative trajectory. On the other hand, the typological comparison with the Passé Simple enables us to observe that the BH gram—even though profoundly developed along its path—is less advanced than the French formation. It is not restricted to narrative uses, but, quite the reverse, may still be found in personal narration and even—although scarcely—in discourse. To conclude, the diachronic analysis is consistent with our definition of the wayyiqtol. The proper verbal segment of the construction -yiqtol reflects a PS resultative diachrony *yaqtul which originated in a semantically transparent and cognitively plausible input, verbal adjective or resultative participle: a typologically frequent device in deriving resultative grams. The consecutive value of the formation derives from the incorporation of an external element (surfacing as wa-R built, at least partially, on the PS *wa) with an explicit coordinative-consecutive meaning (incorporated due to the functional corrosion and ultimate loss of the particle *pa). Finally, the posterior development of the wayyiqtol confirms the identification of the gram with highly advanced stages of the resultative path. In Rabbinic Hebrew, the formation was lost, being substituted by a younger resultative gram qatal.

4.3. COMPARATIVE PANCHRONY Once our synchronically derived hypothesis has been confirmed by diachronic data, the only remaining step in validating the proposed definition corresponds to the comparative analysis. As explained in section 3.2, comparative panchrony requires that values provided by genetically related grams in cognate languages—constructions originated in a shared input form—be reducible to the same path.

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An entirely grammaticalized successor of the original periphrasis *wa(+?) + *yaqtul may, without doubt, be found only in Biblical Hebrew, where it constitutes an independent conjugation, wayyiqtol. However, descendants of the *yaqtul accompanied by a reflex of the *wa appear—even though in more sporadic instances—in several Semitic languages, acting invariably as a narrative past tense (Lipiński 2001:350). For example, such locutions exist in Aramaic (Emerton 1994:255–258), Ugaritic (Smith 1991:12), Moabite, Phoenician and South Arabian (Lipiński 2001:350). This fact confirms the classification of the wayyiqtol as a resultative diachrony: in all Semitic idioms, homologues of the BH formation convey meaning that matches the final stage of the trajectory. Even stronger evidence is provided by the comparative analysis of the verbal element *yaqtul itself which, as observed above, is responsible for the values inherent to the resultative track. We have already noted that in Akkadian (Old Babylonian), the iprus (< PS *yaqtul) functions as a perfect (present, past, and future), a past (perfective and neutral), and a present (stative). It was also frequently employed with the performative force. As for the discourse pragmatic value, it was used both as a narrative and discursive category. Thus, the formation matches all the stages of the resultative path (both the anterior and simultaneous sub-paths). It was emphasized that although extensively employed as a narrative past, the gram clearly preserves meanings that reflect initial phases of the development—it is a principal vehicle of the perfect sense in negative contexts (cf. also the above-mentioned performative and future meanings). Besides Akkadian, the PS *yaqtul of the resultative path, survives in various Semitic languages, being, however, commonly restricted to syntactically marked contexts (such as, for instance, the prefixed wa-R in Hebrew, Hertzon 1969:18–20). The successors of the *yaqtul are extensively attested in Amarna (21.a) and in Ugaritic texts (Smith 1991:12). According to Rainey (1996.II:223), in the dialect of Amarna, the yaqtul was a living spoken tense employed both in the discourse and narration with a perfect (21.a, cf. Moran 2003:49 and Rainey 1996:II.222–227) and past meaning (21.b). On the other hand, it should be noted that another resultative diachrony, the qatala is a more frequent means of conveying resultative, perfect and past meanings (Rainey 1996:II.222 and 227). Ugaritic employs the construction as a past, typically in poetic narrative (21.c), and with a significantly minor frequency, in prose where it is replaced by the qatal (Sivan 2001:99 and Kienast 2001:311–312). The form also appears in Sabean, especially following the particle lm, yet again with a past narrative value (21.d, see Beeston 1984:47, Smith 1991:12 and Kienast 2001:300 and 309). In this idiom, perfect (present and past) functions are regularly

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expressed by the new resultative, the suffix conjugation (Kienast 2001:300). It similarly persists in some particular environments in Ge’ez (Lambdin 1978:151 and Hertzon 1969:6–8). Finally, it is a common form in Classical Arabic appearing in two expressions: in lam yaqtul with the value of a negative past (21.e) and negative (experiential) perfect (21.f, anti-perfect) (‘I have not done / I did not do’’); and in lammā yaqtul approximating a resultative negative perfect (‘I have not done yet’) (21.g and 21.h). Consequently, the Arabic successor of the PS *yaqtul is commonly employed as a present perfect or past tense being nevertheless limited to negative contexts, i.e. ‫ لم‬lam and ‫ لما‬lammā. In remaining environments it has been substituted by the younger qatala. On the other hand, the formation, although predominant in the narration proper, may be found in discourse and, even, in dialogues. (21) a.

ù aš-pu-ur …

…so I wrote [and a regular army force came forth and it seized their father] (Rainey 1996:II.227) b. iš-te-mé a-wa-teMEŠ ša iš-pu-ur LUGAL EN-ia ana ÌR-šu I have heard the words which the king, my lord, [had] sent to his servant (Rainey 1996:II.224) c. tǵly ‘ilm r’išthm The gods lowered their heads (Sivan 2001:99) d. w-bn-hw f-jt’wlw b-’lj hgr-n ON und von dort wandten sie sich gegen die Stadt ON (Kienast 2001:300) e.

‫لم يكن ذاهبا‬

He was not going f.

‫لم العب ابدا كرة القدم‬

I have never played football g.

‫امرته ولما يذهب‬

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ALEXANDER ANDRASON I ordered him, and he has not yet gone (Haywood & Nahmad 1965:129) h.

‫لما يذوقوا عذاب‬

They have not yet tasted my punishment (Wright [1896–1898] 2005:II.41)

The comparative study of reflexes of the PS *yaqtul reveals that values provided by homologues of the -yiqtol in the wayyiqtol correspond to stages on the resultative path. In all languages, the “post-yaqtul grams” match highly advanced portions of the trajectory (in Akkadian, and partially in Arabic it also reflects more initial phases of the cline). Moreover, it has been noted that in various tongues the successors of the *yaqtul have survived in strictly determined contexts or in particular expressions. This means that the construction not only has significantly advanced on its evolutionary path, but has also undergone a process of a semantic and functional corrosion. This occurred due to the previously mentioned advancement as well as because of the emergence and spread of a new resultative form, the prefix conjugation *qatal(a). As already explained, such a conflict between old and young grams is a frequent phenomenon and leads to the formation of so-called doughnut grams (Dahl 2000:15–17). Both pieces of information—i.e. the semantic advancement of the grams (frequent use as a narrative past) and their functional corrosion (substitution by a novel resultative and restriction to marked environments)—suggest that we are dealing with a resultative formation at a highly evolved stage. Such a conclusion is consistent with our definition of the wayyiqtol. As for the consecutive connotation of the wayyiqtol, in the preceding section it has been demonstrated that this value stemmed from the incorporation of a coordinative-consecutive lexeme built on the PS lexeme *wa. In the same part of the paper, we have provided some comparative evidence proving a consecutive force of successors of the *wa given its functional confusion and merger with the explicitly consecutive conjunction *pa. Furthermore, it should be noted that the use of coordinativeconsecutive particles with successors of the PS *yaqtul and/or with other resultative type grams is highly frequent in all Semitic languages, and in particular in the Western branch (Lipiński 2001:528). It may be found in Arabic (both with particles wa and fa, Danecki 1994:364, see also Lipiński 2001:350), in Amarna (with the particle u, cf. Rainey 1996:III.100), in Ugaritic (with u and f Parker 1967:78, Watson 1990:78 and Smith 1991:12) and in Sabean (Kienast 2001:300). Hence, one may assume that the BH wayyiqtol reflects a profoundly advanced phase of grammaticalization of such a commonly available device. While in several idioms, the locution remained

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periphrastic, in Biblical Hebrew the original analytic chain became synthetic having been fused into an inseparable form, a new conjugation wayyiqtol.

5.

CONCLUSION

5.1.

DYNAMIC DEFINITION

The above introduced evidence with respect to the semantic and function properties of the wayyiqtol and its homologues in other Semitic languages enabled us to define the BH gram as a prototypical advanced resultative diachrony additionally contextualized by the incorporation of an entity with, originally, an explicit consecutive meaning. Following the panchronic technique, we began our analysis with a detailed study of the semantic and functional potential of the formation in Biblical Hebrew. After that, we have hypothesized that this inventory of uses—which from a synchronic perspective appears as chaotic and heterogeneous—may receive an ordered, rational and homogeneous form if one explains it as a manifestation of a universal evolutionary scenario, i.e. the resultative path. In particular, two sub-tracks of the resultative cline have been employed in order to classify the gram: the anterior and simultaneous trajectories. This means that the range of meanings displayed by the construction matches consecutive stages of the two emblematic evolutionary scenarios within the resultative path. Values related to perfect (various types of the present perfect) and (indefinite and definite) past functions have been arranged into a series which corresponds to the development codified in the anterior path. The values of the future tense and past perfect (pluperfect) were explained as stages of the anterior trajectory within, respectively, the future and past temporal frame. Meanings of the wayyiqtol derived from static roots have been similarly categorized into the simultaneous track. We have also observed that the formation must have advanced on the evolutionary cline due to the fact that it is not employed with the resultative proper and performative force, meanings which correspond to two initial stages on the anterior path. Furthermore, the construction fails to indicate evidential situations; there are no values which could be arranged in terms of the evidential trajectory. In all of these uses, it is the qatal—a novel resultative diachrony—which is employed instead of the wayyiqtol.39 39 This synchronic interaction with the younger resultative diachrony qatal also confirms the proposed definition of the wayyiqtol since it behaves as a prototypical resultative doughnut gram. Additionally, the fact that the younger resultative expresses evidential values, while the older is incapable to provide such modal

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Finally, discourse pragmatic properties reflect a regular grammaticalization spread of a resultative gram within different types of text, suggesting a highly advanced stage of the evolution of the wayyiqtol: the expression infrequently appears in the discourse with a commenting force. It is more extensively used in personal narratives where it introduces commentaries and, especially, events of the backbone of the story. However, in its main function, it is employed in the narration proper to relate main events of the tale. Consequently, discourse pragmatic uses of the gram have been related to the TATM character of the construction. Both kinds of properties enabled us to hypothesize a panchronic definition of the wayyiqtol as a resultative diachrony at an advanced moment of its development. On the other hand, we have noted that the consecutive meaning—not present on the resultative path—must have stemmed from a (lexical or syntactical) contextualization of the originally resultative formation. As required by the panchronic method, this definition of the gram— deduced from the synchronic evidence—was subsequently contrasted with diachronic and comparative data. A diachronic study (i.e., the origin and posterior development of the formation) confirmed our classification of the wayyiqtol. The verbal segment of the gram, the entity -yiqtol derives from the PS resultative diachrony *yaqtul. This PS expression originated in a semantically transparent, cognitively plausible and a typologically frequent device in deriving resultative grams: verbal adjective or resultative participle. Consecutive connotations of the BH expression stem from the absorption of an originally extern element, appearing in Biblical Hebrew as wa-R, derived, at least in part, from the PS conjunction *wa. This lexeme acquired an explicit coordinative-consecutive signification due to the functional corrosion and ultimate loss of the particle *pa. As for the posterior development of the wayyiqtol, its disappearance and substitution in Rabbinic Hebrew by a novel resultative diachrony qatal confirms the identification of the gram with highly advanced stages of the resultative path. Finally, the comparative study corroborates the classification of the wayyiqtol. First, in all Semitic idioms, both homologues of the BH formation (successors of the earlier periphrasis *wa- +? + *yaqtul) and equivalents of the segment -yiqtol (successors of the PS *yaqtul) convey meanings that match terminal stages of the resultative trajectory and grammaticalization connotations, is typologically a well-documented phenomenon. Aikhenvald (2004:112–117 and 279–281) notes that if a language possesses two anterior diachronies (two grams that provide uses corresponding to stages on the anterior path, e.g. perfect and past) the younger—and not the older—normally conveys evidential meaning.

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cline. As for the consecutive connotation of the wayyiqtol—imported from incorporation of the coordinative-consecutive lexeme built on the PS lexeme *wa—we have observed that the use of coordinative-consecutive particles with successors of the PS *yaqtul (and/or with other resultative type grams) is frequent in the Semitic family. In Biblical Hebrew this— originally, and still usually periphrastic—ability was entirely grammaticalized receiving a synthetic shape. In sum, we may affirm that all three types of the panchronic analysis lead to the identical conclusion: the wayyiqtol is a profoundly developed resultative diachrony. It can be defined as a computation of the anterior and simultaneous trajectories in the three time frames (with the exception of the resultative proper and performative meaning-stages) spread to narrative discourse and narration proper (properly discursive force of commentary, matching a level where resultative formation commonly originate, has been weakened). Such a geometric dynamic definition—contrary to simplistic views—accounts for the entire semantic and pragmatic potential of the gram. Furthermore, it is not restricted to taxonomy (although it is certainly based on an inventory of uses). Finally, it offers a concise (but yet rich!), formalized and scientifically manageable classification of the gram.

5.2. HOW DOES THIS DEFINITION DIFFER FROM THE EXPLANATION PROPOSED BY COOK (2002)? This paper tentatively offers a new and, in my opinion, more appropriate classification of the wayyiqtol, as it explains the BH gram as a dynamic phenomenon. For that purpose, I have employed evolutionary laws established by the path and grammaticalization theories. It should be noted that, not for the first time, these universal diachronic scenarios are used in elucidating the nature of the BH verbal system. Among scholars who included evolutionary ideas in their linguistic analysis, a special place should be given to John Cook (2001, 2002, 2004 and 2006) who, thus far, has made the most consistent and significant use of grammaticalization and path theories in a description of the BH verbal system. Since both Cook and the author of this article apply findings of the evolutionary framework, it becomes important to demonstrate how our definition surpasses that proposed by Cook. The following discussion is an abbreviated version of the critical analysis of Cook’s model developed by the author in the article “The Biblical Hebrew verbal system in light of grammaticalization—the second generation” (Andrason 2011a).40 The criticism of the position defended by John Cook—a scholar whom I profoundly admire and to whom I am deeply indebted (his research has inspired 40

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In general terms, Cook’s approach and conclusions differ from those presented here in five aspects. First, Cook makes use of universal evolutionary scenarios to elucidate certain diachronic processes, but not to rationalize a synchronic state of the BH language. He certainly offers a diachronic-typological explanation for the range of uses and meanings displayed by the BH—synchronically viewed—verb forms (qatal, yiqtol, weqatal, wayyiqtol and qotel). Nevertheless, following the grammatical tradition, he comprehends BH formations as static outcomes of determined diachronic trajectories. He employs semantic-functional clines to justify a given evolutionary stage (i.e., a single phase on a pathway) which a formation reached. He fails, however, to account for all meanings provided by a gram—he does not view it as a portion of the evolutionary scenario it traveled along. His method consists in extrapolating one “dominant” static value. This über-function can, subsequently, be contextually modified triggering various secondary functions. All of them are thus derivable from the main meaning-stage (Cook 2002:270–271). Second, such a traditionally motionless interpretation conducts Cook to an erroneous—and as explained above, impossible within the evolutionary grammaticalization framework which Cook claims to adopt—reduction of BH grams to a single label-function, corresponding to a solitary stage on an evolutionary pathway. As many other grammarians, Cook struggles to find an inert ‘onesided’ classification in terms of a tense or an aspect (Cook 2002:269 and 2008:11). It should be noted that one of the main questions posited by Cook is the following: is the BH verbal system an aspectual or temporal organization? Third, basing his research on the customary flat one-stage description of grammatical units, Cook (2002:203–204) classifies the BH verbal system as controlled by a dual contrast between the qatal (defined as me to develop my own model)—should not be understood as undermining his impact on and relevance for the description of the BH verbal system. Cook is a great pioneer of the use of grammaticalization phenomena to diachronic and, to an extent, synchronic studies of the BH verb. The brightness and revolutionary force of his founding should not be disregarded. My model is not thought to be an opposition to that developed by Cook. Quite the reverse, it is intended to be a natural continuation and improvement of Cook’s ideas, which are still in many aspects correct. In this section I emphasize differences between my theory and the description proposed by Cook. However, it should be noted that in various points the two studies coincide and provide similar solutions. Due to the length of the article, when presenting main discrepancies between my study and Cook’s position (and thus, when indicating main weaknesses of Cook’s model) I will limit myself to a general overview. For a thorough argumentation, supported by various examples, see Andrason 2011a.

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perfective aspect) and the yiqtol (categorized as imperfective aspect). Forth, Cook (2002, 2004 and 2006) does not reconstruct cognitively plausible, semantically transparent iconic starting points for the paths along which the BH formations developed. Fifth, Cook (2002) considerably oversimplifies determined trajectories reducing them to a few stages. Among all these limitations, three are of special importance. Namely, the constant use of motionless one-stage definitions, the dichotomy between the main (built-in) meaning and contextual realizations, and the claim of a binary opposition between verbal categories (and a dualist foundation of the BH system in general) are on shaky grounds within the grammaticalization and path frameworks. As indicated in the previous sections of the paper, the attitude of the evolutionary approach toward these issues is antithetic. As for the wayyiqtol, Cook duly affirms that the formation developed along the resultative path (in his vocabulary ‘perfective path’). However, his synchronic classification of the construction is less convincing. In his opinion, in Classical Biblical Hebrew, the gram has achieved the past tense stage. This is a so-called inherent main value of the wayyiqtol. Uses with a properly anterior force (present perfect and pluperfect) as well as perfective meanings are contextually imposed (Cook 2002:253–254).Thus, on the one hand, the wayyiqtol is an archetypal simple past (Cook 2002:253) and, on the other, it can function as a past perfect, a present perfect and a resultative present perfect (it also appears with a gnomic expression sense, Cook 2002:224–225, 253–255). From such a view, a synchronic paradox emerges: the wayyiqtol is a prototypical simple past which may, in some cases, correspond to perfect(s) and present grams. His argumentation is based on the claim that the BH gram supposedly is unable to denote future events. Consequently, it must be classified as a past tense (2002:255). First, the assumption whereby the wayyiqtol never expresses future activities seems to be too radical. In some—certainly, infrequent—instances, the gram can receive a future reading (cf. example 8 above). Most importantly, the supposition according to which a construction, which in its most frequent uses indicates past events or situations, cannot refer to future temporal sphere is wrong. Paradoxically, so-called past tenses can sometimes be employed to convey future meaning! Second, in accordance with principles of the path theory, a gram, used in the majority of cases as a definite (perfective or aspectually neutral) past can preserve certain marginal functions which match earlier phases of its functional progression. We have previously explained that verbal entities are amalgams of properties that reflect historical stages during which they have emerged. This means that during its grammatical life a construction undergoes two types of evolutionary processes: the incorporation of new

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meaning-stages and the loss of formerly conquered and assimilated valuesphases. The two phenomena are, to an extent, autonomous and selfgoverning. This means that the expansion on the given developmental cline does not signify that more original segments must be lost. Quite the reverse, values which correspond to the initial fragment of the path—in our case of the resultative track—may be still, even marginally, available once the gram has reached profoundly developed sections, such as the definite past stage (see for instance, the passé composé in French which, although it commonly denotes simple or perfective past activities, may still be used in some present and future functions). Finally, Cook, when equaling the wayyiqtol with a definite past category—ignores the fact that the gram displays a functional split between dynamic and stative roots, prototypical for resultative diachronies: the former follow the anterior track while the latter travel along the simultaneous pathway. In sum, one may encounter examples whereby the BH formation fails to behave as a definite past, which, in turn, renders its classification as a past tense highly doubtful.

5.3. WEAK POINTS AND FUTURE RESEARCH Although our research explains the nature of the BH wayyiqtol, encompassing virtually all of its semantic and functional variants, superficial irregularities and anomalies, providing furthermore a concise nonreductionist definition, it does not specify—in a consistent and regular manner—which of the encountered values are the most common and which are the rarest. In general, the model proposed here does not determine the frequency (and thus core-ness and periphericity) of meanings-stages displayed by a grammatical construction, in our case the wayyiqtol. The above noted limitation constitutes the main weak point of our classification. Such quantitative information, built on an extensive statistical investigation, is necessary in order to determine the exact state of the gram, and therefore this kind of examination must inevitably constitute a future step in elucidating the nature of the BH formation. Therefore an extensive statistical analysis is planned by the author during his post-doctoral research activity at the University of Stellenbosch in late 2011. This statistical research is aimed at elucidating, at least, two issues. First, it will establish which meanings-states are central (i.e. common) and which are peripheral (and thus exceptional). In that manner, we will hopefully be able to arrange values of the gram in a hierarchical ladder from least to most frequent. Second, it will determine in a more adequate fashion the relation between two resultative diachronies, the wayyiqtol and the qatal.

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Having specified core and peripheral values of the wayyiqtol—as well as those of the qatal—we will be able to answer the following question: Do domains shared by the two grams overlap? In other words, do the wayyiqtol and the qatal cover similar portions of the resultative path? If they do, with what intensity does the intersection occur?—one, for instance, expects that the two formations do not overlap as for their core domain. This intuitive supposition must be studied and supported by quantitative data. It was also mentioned that in the present article Biblical Hebrew was treated as a single linguistic organization despite the fact that BH books had been written over a thousand year period. The temporal extent of Biblical Hebrew obviously suggests that—in accordance with the dynamic view— the state of the wayyiqtol in early (Early Biblical Hebrew) and in later texts (Late Biblical Hebrew) should be different. The former is expected to be less advanced: all meanings in general—and the core value in particular— should correspond to less developed stages of the path(s). Also this supposition will be verified and clarified by the future statistical research. Once the exact statistical distribution of meanings-stages of the wayyiqtol in various parts of the Bible has been established, we will be able to distinguish how the precise composition of the state of the formation (percentage of each meaning-stage) fluctuates among biblical books and historical periods.

SUMMARY This article provides a concise, non-reductionist and non-taxonomist synchronically valid definition of the Biblical Hebrew verbal construction labeled wayyiqtol. Basing his proposal on findings of evolutionary linguistics (to which belong grammaticalization, path and chaos theories as well as cognitive linguistics) and employing the panchronic methodology, the author demonstrates the following: all semantic and functional properties (such as taxis, aspectual, temporal, modal and discourse-pragmatic values) of the wayyiqtol—as distinct and superficially incongruent they appear—may be unified and rationalized as a single dynamic category: advanced portions of the anterior and simultaneous trajectories (which constitute two subclines of the resultative path), developed within the three temporal spheres and, additionally, contextualized by the incorporation of an originally independent lexeme with a coordinative-consecutive force. The author constructs his thesis enumerating various properties of the formation as witnessed in the Biblical material. This supposedly chaotic synchronic inventory is subsequently tidied up in accordance with the orderliness principle (imposed by the abductive type of argumentation) and pictured as a computation of portions of the two above-mentioned

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universal evolutionary scenarios. After that, the hypothesis is verified by diachronic (Proto-Semitic origin, cognitive basis and posterior development of the expression) and comparative evidences (properties of genetically related constructions in other Semitic languages). Having presented a new classification of the wayyiqtol, the author also shows how this proposal differs from another grammaticalization based model established by Cook (2002) and, finally, indicating certain weaknesses of his own explanation, sketches a plan for future research.

REFERENCES Aartun, K 1978. Textüberlieferung und Vermeintlische Belege der Konjunktion pV im Alten Testament. Ugarit-Forschungen 10: 1–13 Aikhenvald, A. 2004. Evidentiality. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Andersen, D. 2000. The Evolution of the Hebrew Verbal System. Zeitschrift fur Althebraistik 13: 1–66. Andersen, H. 1973. Abductive and deductive changes. Language 49: 765– 793. Andrason, A. 2006. Málfræðilegt horf í íslensku. (M.A. dissertation, University of Iceland, Reykjavík). . 2009. The BÚNA construction in Pidgin Icelandic. Íslenskt mál 30: 121–140. . 2010a. The panchronic yiqtol. Functionally consistent and cognitively plausible. Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 10 (10): 1–63. . 2010b. The “guessing” QATAL – the BH suffix conjugation as a manifestation of the evidential trajectory. Journal for Semitics 19/2: 603– 627. . 2010c. Iparras – two diachronies in a single morphology. Journal for Semitics 19/1: 160–192. . 2010d. The Akkadian Iprus from the unidirectional perspective. Journal of Semitic Studies 55/2: 325–345. . 2011a. The Biblical Hebrew verbal system in light of grammaticalization – the second generation. Hebrew Studies 53: 351– 383. . 2011b . The BH weqatal. A homogenous form with no haphazard functions. Part 1. Journal of NorthWest Semitic Languages 37/2. . (forthcoming) 2011c. Qatal, yiqtol, weqatal y wayyiqtol. Modelo pancrónico del sistema verbal de la lengua hebrea bíblica con el análisis adicional de los sistemas verbales de las lenguas acadia y árabe. Madrid: Publicaciones de Universidad Complutense.

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Andrason, A. (cont.). (in review) 2011d. From Resultatives to Present Tenses – Simultaneous Path of Resultative Formations. . (in review) 2011e. Path theory and chaos – determinism and unpredictability of the functional development of verbal constructions. Lingua. . (in review) 2011f. Performative – a stage on the resultative path. Studies in Language. . (forthcoming) 2012a. The BH weqatal. A homogenous form with no haphazard functions. Part 1. Journal of NorthWest Semitic Languages 38/1. . (forthcoming) 2012b. When the ima-Perfect “becomes” a past. Balkanistica 25: 75–103. . (forthcoming) 2012c. Cognitive foundations of the Old Babylonian Iparras. Journal of Semitic Studies 20/2. Bauer, H. & P. Leander. [1918–1922] 1962. Historische Grammatik der Hebräischen Sprache des Altes Testament. Hildesheim: Olms. Beeston, A. 1984. Sabaic Grammar. Journal of Semitic Studies Monograph No. 6. Manchester: JSS University of Manchester. Bergsträsser, G. 1928. Einfuhrung in die semitischen Sprachen. Sprachproben und grammatische Skizzen. Munich: Hueber. . 1983. Introduction to the Semitic languages: text specimens and grammatical sketches (Transl. with notes and bibliography and an appendix on the scripts by Peter T. Daniels). Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns. Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia: With Westminster Hebrew Morphology. Electronic edition. 1996. Stuttgart: German Bible Society. Birkmann, T. 1987. Präteritopräsentia. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer. Brenner, J. 1986. Egyptian Elucidation of the Hebrew Particle WA. (Master’s thesis, Department of Near Eastern Languages and Literatures. Yale University) Brockelmann, C. [1908–1913] 1966. Introduction to the Semitic Languages. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns. Buth, R. 1992. The Hebrew Verb in Current Discussion. Journal of Translation and Textlinguistics 5: 91–105 Bybee, J., W. Pagliuca. & R. Perkins. 1991. Back to the future. Pp. 17–58 in Approaches to Grammaticalization Vol.1, eds. E. Traugott & B. Heine. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Bybee, J., R. Perkins, & W. Pagliuca. 1994. The Evolution of Grammar. Chicago, London: The University of Chicago Press. Campbell, L. 1991. Some Grammaticalization Changes in Estonian and their Implications. Pp. 285–299 in Approaches to Grammaticalization Vol. 1, eds. E. Traugott & B. Heine. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

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Heine, B. & T. Kuteva. 2006. The changing languages of Europe. Oxford: Oxford University Press. . 2007. The Genesis of Grammar: a Reconstruction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Heine, B., Claudi, U., & Hünnemeyer, F. 1991a. From cognition to grammar. Evidence from African languages. Pp. 149–187 in Approaches to grammaticalization Vol. 2, eds. E. C. Traugott & B. Heine. Amsterdam: Benjamins. . 1991b. Grammaticalization. A Conceptual Framework. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Hertzon, E. 1969. The Evidence for Perfect *yáqtul and Jussive *yaqtul in Proto-Semitic. Journal of Semitic Studies 14: 1–21. Hopper, P. & E. Traugott. 2003. Grammaticalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Huehnergard, J. 1988. The Early Hebrew Prefix-Conjugations. Hebrew Studies 29: 19–23. . 2005. A Grammar of Akkadian. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns. Janda, R. D. 2001. Beyond “Pathways” and “Unidirectionality”: on the Discontinuity of Language Transmission and the Counterability of Grammaticalization. Language Sciences 23: 265–340. Jaxontov, S. 1988. Resultatives: Classification and Calculus. Pp. 101–106 in Typology of resultative constructions, ed. V. Nedjalkov. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Johanson L. 2000. Viewpoint operators in European languages. Pp. 27– 187 in Tense and Aspect in the Languages of Europe, ed. Ö. Dahl. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. . 2003. Evidentiality in Turkic. Pp. 273–291 in Studies in Evidentiality, ed. A. Aikhenvald & R. Dixon. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Jean, C. F. & J. Hoftijzer. 1965. Dictionnaire des inscription sémitiques de l’ouest. Ledin: Brill. Johnson, B. 1979. Hebräische Perfect und Imperfect mit vorangehendem we. Lund: Gleerup. Jónsson, J. G. 1992. The Two Perfects of Icelandic. Íslenskt mál 14: 129– 145. Joosten, J. 1992. Biblical Hebrew weqātal and Syriac hwā qātel expressing repetition in the past. Zeitschrift für Althebraistik 5: 1–14. . 2002. Do the Finite Verbal Forms in Biblical Hebrew Express Aspect? Journal of Ancient Near East Studies 29: 49–70. Josephson, J. & S. Josephson (eds.). 1994. Abductive Inference. Computation, Philosophy, Technology. New York: Cambridge University Press.

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Nedjalkov. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company. Newmeyer, F. J. 1998. Language Form and Language Function. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Norde, M. 2001. Deflexion as a Counterdirectional Factor in Grammatical Change. Language Sciences 23: 2–3 and 231–264. Palmer, R. F. 2001. Mood and Modality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pardee, D. 1977. A New Ugaritic Letter. Bibliotheca Orientalis 34: 3–20. Parker, S. B. 1967. Studies in the Grammar of the Ugaritic Prose Text. PhD dissertation, John Hopkins University. Ann Arbor & London: University Mircrofilms International. Peirce, Ch. 1902. Application of C. S. Peirce to the Executive Committee of the Carnegie Institution (1902 July 15). Partly published in: Parts of Carnegie Application (L75). The New Elements of Mathematics by Charles S. Peirce. vol. 4, 13–73. . 1931–1935. Collected Papers vols. 1–6. (eds. Ch. Hartshorne & P. Weiss). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, Belknap. . 1940. The Philosophy of Peirce: Selected Writings (ed. Justus Buchler). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Pérez Fernández. M. 1992. La Lengua de los Sabios I. Morfosintaxis. Estella: Verbo Divino. Pokorny, J. 1959. Indogermanisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch. Bern: Francke. Rainey, F. 1996. Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets. Leiden: Brill. Rendsburg, G. 1981. Evidence for a Spoken Hebrew in Biblical Times. (Ph.D. dissertation, New York University) Revell, E. J. 1984. Stress and the Waw ‘Consecutive’ in Biblical Hebrew. Journal of the American Oriental Society 104: 437–444. Rix, H. 1976. Historische Grammatik des Griechischen: Laut- und Formenlehre. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft. Rundgren, F. 1961. Das althebräische Verbum: Abiss der Aspektlehre. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell. Schneider, W. 1982. Grammatik des biblischen Hebräisch: Ein Lehrbuch (5th ed.). Munich: Claudius Verlag. Seow, C. 1995. A Grammar for Biblical Hebrew. Nashville: Abingdon. Sheehan, J. F. 1970. Conversive waw and Accentual Shift. Biblica 51: 545– 48. Sil’nicki, G. 1988. Structure of verbal meaning and the resultative. Pp. 87–100 in Typology of resultative constructions, ed. V. Nedjalkov. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company.

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SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬: A REJOINDER TO THE ARGUMENTS ADVANCED BY B. BECKING AND M. KORPEL ELLEN VAN WOLDE & ROBERT REZETKO RADBOUD UNIVERSITY NIJMEGEN In The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures in the winter of 2010 Bob Becking and Marjo Korpel (BK) published a response1 to Ellen van Wolde‘s analysis of ‫ ברא‬in Genesis 1:1–2:4a meaning “to spatially separate” instead of “to create.”2 The present article discusses questions of semantics, BK’s criticisms, and their proposal to read ‫ ברא‬as “to construct.”3

1. SOME DIFFICULTIES IN THE COMMON UNDERSTANDING OF ‫“ ארב‬TO CREATE” The common understanding of the verb ‫“ ברא‬to create” is more problematic than is often thought. There are a series of problems. (1) The first is the lexical problem that the Piel form of the verb ‫ברא‬ clearly refers to “cutting” in Josh 17:15, 18, and Ezek 21:24. The question, then, is: How does this verb’s Piel meaning of “to cut” relate to its Qal 1 B. Becking and M. C. A. Korpel, “To Create, to Separate or to Construct: An Alternative for a Recent Proposal as to the Interpretation of ‫ ברא‬in Gen 1:1–2:4a,” JHS 10 (2010), article 3. 2 E. J. van Wolde, Reframing Biblical Studies: When Language and Text Meet Culture, Cognition and Context (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2009), 184–200; “Why the Verb ‫ ברא‬Does Not Mean ‘To Create’ in Genesis 1.1–2.4a,” JSOT 34.1 (2009), 1–21. BK refer incorrectly throughout their article to Van Wolde, “Why the Verb ‫ ברא‬Does Not Mean ‘To Create’ in Genesis 1,” whereas the correct title is “…in Genesis 1.1– 2.4a.” 3 The first, synchronic part of this article (sections 1-5) is written by Ellen van Wolde, the second, diachronic part (section 6) by Robert Rezetko. Together they take responsibility for the entire article.

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meaning “to create”? Most Biblical Hebrew dictionaries solve this problem by distinguishing two or three homonymous roots: ‫ ברא‬I “to create” (Qal and Niphal), ‫ ברא‬II “to consume food” (Hiphil), ‫ ברא‬III “to cut, clear” (Piel), and some of them follow Gesenius’ 1835 Thesaurus and 1883 Handwörterbuch in his hypothesis of a historical semantic development of the root from “to separate, divide” to “to create.”4 (2) Another problem has been noticed and presented by Hendrik Brongers, as follows.5 In the traditional theological view, the fact that God is the only subject of the verb ‫ ברא‬in the Hebrew Bible has led to the conclusion that this exclusive relation to God is the verb’s most defining feature. And to express God’s unique creative act at the very beginning, his wonderful creation of something completely new. If this were true, Brongers argues, one has to explain why in Genesis 1:1–2:4a the verb ‫ברא‬ is not used as a distinguishing activity for God, since the verb ‫ עשה‬appears even more prominently in the description of God’s creative activities than the verb ‫ ברא‬does in Genesis 1:1–2:3. In addition, those who take ‫ ברא‬to designate an exclusive idea of creation have to explain why sometimes, for example, in v. 21 (“God ‫ ברא‬the big Tanninîm”) and v. 25 (“God ‫ עשה‬the wild animals of the earth”), or in v. 26 (“let us ‫ עשה‬human beings”) and v. 27 (“God ‫ ברא‬the human beings”), the verbs are used interchangeably.6 The same is true for Gen 5:1; 6:7; Isa 43:7; 45:12; and Amos 4:13. Numerous also are biblical texts in which the verb ‫ ברא‬is used in a meaning with no reference whatsoever to what is commonly called creatio prima: Exod 34:10; Num 16:30; Isa 45:7; 48:6-7; 57:19; 65:17-18; Jer 31:22; and Ps 51:12. And Brongers concludes: “All these occurrences can be understood as a proof 4 See KB/HALAT: ‫ ברא‬I “schaffen” (Qal and Ni.); ‫ ברא‬II “mästen” (Hi.); ‫ברא‬ III “abholzen” (Pi.); ‫ ברא‬IV = ‫ ברה‬I “essen;” ‫ ברה‬I = ‫ ברא‬II, ‫ ברה‬II denom. of ‫( ברית‬1 Sam 17:8). HALOT: ‫ ברא‬I “create” (Qal and Ni.); ‫ ברא‬II “make oneself fat” (Hi.); ‫ ברא‬III “cut down, clear” (Pi.); ‫ ברא‬IV = ‫ ברה‬I “consume food;” ‫ ברה‬I = ‫ ברא‬II, ‫ ברה‬II denom. of ‫( ברית‬1 Sam 17:8). Gesenius’ 18.Auflage: ‫ ברא‬I “schaffen” (Qal and Ni.); ‫ ברא‬II “mästen” (Hi.); ‫ ברא‬III “zurechtschneiden” (Pi.); ‫ ברא‬IV = ‫ ברה‬I “essen,” ‫ ברה‬I = ‫ ברא‬II, ‫ ברה‬II denom. of ‫( ברית‬1 Sam 17:8). THWAT (W. H. Schmidt) ‫ ברא‬I “schaffen” (Qal and Ni.); ‫ ברא‬II “mästen” (Hi.); ‫ ברא‬III “abstrauen” (Pi.). DCH: ‫ ברא‬I “create” (Qal and Ni.); ‫ ברא‬II “be fat, fatten” (Hi., perh. Ni. Ps 104:30); ‫ ברא‬III “cut, cut down, cut out” (Pi.); ‫ ברא‬IV “eat” = ‫ ברה‬I. NIDOTTE (R. C. Van Leeuwen): ‫ ברא‬I “create, separate (as by cutting)” (Qal); “be created” (Ni.); ‫ ברא‬III “cut” (Pi.).” For Gesenius’ views and literature, see BK, 3, nn. 4–6. 5 H. A. Brongers, De scheppingstradities bij de profeten (Amsterdam: H. J. Paris, 1945), 13–16. 6 Brongers, De scheppingstradities, 14.

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that ‫ ברא‬has a much less exclusive meaning than is commonly assumed. It is true that ‫ ברא‬always has YHWH or Elohim as its subject and that it never occurs with an accusative of material. Yet the fact that the verb is repeatedly mentioned in one breath with verbs like ‫ עשה‬and ‫ יצר‬and the fact that it is used in contexts in which the verb ‫ עשה‬could have been used, cause that one should be very careful drawing too far-reaching conclusions.”7 (3) In addition to these reservations expressed by Hendrik Brongers in 1945, we can say that the common understanding that the verb ‫ ברא‬is exclusively used with God as subject, is only true for the Qal forms but not for the Piel and Hiphil forms. And, of course, it is also logically incorrect to deduce from the premise “God is the only subject of the verb ‫ ברא‬in the Hebrew Bible” that this exclusive relation to God is the verb’s most defining feature. Although ‫ ברא‬does not appear with the mention of material out of which something is created, it is regularly collocated with verbs that do. “More significantly, brʾ is used of entities that come out of preexisting material: e.g., a new generation of animals or humans, or ‘a pure heart’ (Ps 104:29-30; 102:18[19]; 51:10[12]).”8 In addition, S. Lee has shown convincingly in his survey of the 48 occurrences of ‫ ברא‬in the Hebrew Bible that the concept of novelty has been wrongly connected with this verb.9 (4) Another point is that if ‫ ברא‬were the exclusive term for the creation of the heaven and the earth one might wonder why in Exodus 20 the Sabbath is twice defined in relation to God’s creation of the heaven and the earth, in which God’s creation is resumed by ‫ עשה‬and not ‫ברא‬. A similar question might be posed with regard to Gen 14:19, 22 where God is twice mentioned as “the creator of heaven and earth” ( ‫אל עליון ק[ו]נה שמים‬ ‫)וארץ‬, in which not ‫ בורא‬but ‫ קונה‬is used to designate God as the creator of heaven and earth.10 Brongers, De scheppingstradities, 15–16 (translated from the Dutch). R. C. Van Leeuwen, “‫ברא‬,” W. A. VanGemeren (ed.), New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis (5 vols.; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1997), vol. 1, 728–35 (731). 9 S. Lee, “Power Not Novelty: The Connotations of ‫ ברא‬in the Hebrew Bible,” A. G. Auld (ed.), Understanding Poets and Prophets: Essays in Honour of George Wishart Anderson (JSOTS, 152; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 199–212 (211): “As a result, we may now draw the final conclusion that a consistent understanding of the verb ‫ ברא‬does point definitively to the connotations of YHWH’s sovereign power and control.” 10 The same is true for Deut 32:6, Ps 139:13, and Prov 8:22 where God is called the creator, again with the noun ‫קונה‬. 7 8

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(5) Not only does Genesis 1:1–2:4a contain seven times the verb ‫ברא‬ and seven times the verb ‫ עשה‬to express divine actions of making, also outside this text the verb ‫ עשה‬is often used to describe creation.11 God is in the Hebrew Bible called both ‫בורא‬, traditionally translated “creator,” and ‫עושה‬, traditionally translated “maker,”12 and Mark S. Smith points to the usage of the verb ‫ עשה‬for the Israelite deity that is reflected in the Hebrew personal names Asael, Asayah, and Yaasiel, all denoting “God made/created.”13 (1)–(5) Based on these distributional linguistic data, one can raise the question whether the often presupposed distinctive features of ‫ ברא‬have been well defined; they necessitate a new examination. (6) Apart from these linguistic questions, there are some textual problems with the common understanding of “to create” as well. The first problem regards Gen 1:1. When v. 1 is understood as a summary of the events described in vv. 6-10, a position taken by most biblical scholars, what is the consequence for the meaning of ‫ ברא‬in v. 1? Since vv. 6-10 describe God’s actions with regard to the heaven and the earth as both making (‫ )עשה‬and dividing (‫ בדל‬Hiphil), the verb ‫ ברא‬in v. 1 should signify at least both “to create” and “to divide.” A related question is how we can understand the difference in meaning between the verbs ‫ברא‬, ‫עשה‬, and ‫בדל‬. (7) Still another textual problem is Gen 1:21, commonly translated “God created the great sea monsters, and all the living creatures of every kind…and all the winged birds of every kind.” However the previous verse showed that the sea monsters were already present, and not made by God (cf. also Isa 51:9-10; Pss 74:13-14; 148:7, texts that entail the same notion of pre-existent sea monsters). So, if the sea monsters were already present, how then could the verb ‫ ברא‬in v. 21 indicate that God creates these animals? (8) In Num 16:30 the word combination ‫ ברא בריאה‬cannot possibly express “create creation.” “And Moses said: ‘If these men die as all men do, it was not YHWH who sent me. But if YHWH creates creation [‫ ברא‬Qal + noun ‫ ]בריאה‬and the ground opens its mouth, and swallows them up, and they go down alive into Sheol, you shall know that these men have despised YHWH.” How is YHWH’s creation related to the opening of the ground? In Gen 3:1; Pss 95:5; 100:3; 119:73; Prov 8:26; Job 9:9; 31:15; and Neh 9:6. ‫בורא‬: Isa 40:28; 42:5; 43:15; 45:7, 18; 57:19; 65:17, 18 (x2); Qoh 12:1. ‫עושה‬: Isa 17:7; Prov 14:31; 17:15. 13 M. S. Smith, The Priestly Vision of Genesis 1 (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2010), 224, n. 61. 11 12

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(For the explanation of Num 16:30 with ‫ ברא‬meaning “to separate,” see below.) (9) Also in Exod 34:10 the verb ‫ ברא‬Qal is difficult to understand in its sense of “to create” (see commentaries). God offers his covenant to Moses: “I hereby make a covenant. Before all your people I will ‫עשה‬ wonders that have not been ‫ ברא‬on all the earth or in any nation.” Two possibilities have been suggested by biblical scholars: either ‫ ברא‬is used synonymously with ‫עשה‬, both expressing “making,” or the two verbs express different meanings. (For the explanation of Exod 34:10 with ‫ברא‬ meaning “to separate,” see below.) (10) Another well-known text in which the verb ‫ ברא‬Qal is difficult to understand in its sense of “to create” is Isa 45:6-7: “I am the former (‫)יוצר‬ of light and the creator (‫ )בורא‬of darkness. I am the maker (‫ )עושה‬of good and the creator (‫ )בורא‬of evil.” Did God create darkness? If a reference to Genesis 1 is presupposed in Isaiah 45, this would be impossible, as in Genesis 1 darkness is pre-existent. And did God create evil, at least according to Isaiah 45? (See below for an analysis.) (1)–(10) These linguistic and textual questions gave rise to renewed linguistic, textual, and comparative research of the verb ‫ ברא‬in Genesis 1:1– 2:4a.14 The main problem hovering in the background of such a study is, how can Biblical Hebrew linguists and biblical scholars make a verifiable or falsifiable semantic analysis of Hebrew words in general and of the word ‫ ברא‬in particular? Semantic questions in biblical scholarship have been resolved within the field of ancient or classical Hebrew itself and/or in relation to cognate Semitic languages, often with considerable results. Yet in the last half century general linguistics has greatly developed. At the beginning of the 20th century structural linguistics arose in Europe, while in the fifties American linguists started to develop generative linguistics. Both are autonomous or context-independent linguistic approaches that intend to explain universal innate patterns in language. The last quarter of the 20th century showed a growing interest and expertise in culture, cognition, and context dependent linguistics.15 Should not the latter linguistic approaches to semantics be more fully appreciated in modern biblical studies, especially because they are not aimed at universal structures, but at specific time- and place-related language usages? At least it is our idea that Biblical Hebrew semantics can greatly profit from such linguistic approaches. The following Van Wolde, Reframing Biblical Studies, 184–200; Id., “Why the Verb.” For a survey of developments in cognitive linguistics see Van Wolde, Reframing Biblical Studies, 29–33. 14 15

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example might help to illustrate the difference a new approach can make to biblical semantics.

2. A SEMANTIC DETOUR: COGNITIVE CROSS-LINGUISTIC STUDIES OF VERBS EXPRESSING “SEPARATION-EVENTS” Recently linguists examined languages in 28 typologically and genetically diverse languages from all over the world including all kinds of words used to express the events that involve a “separation in the material integrity of an object/unit.” The results of these studies were published in Cognitive Linguistics 18.2 (2007) and Cognition 109 (2008). For example, in English separation events are expressed by verbs such as break, cut, clip, carve, chop, deal, hack, half, saw, slash, slice, split, tear, cut off, cut down, clear out. All these verbs, not only in English but also in other languages, construe the process of separation in distinct ways. In many languages verbs designating the temporal process of separation include the instrument; thus in English cut entails a knife, clip a pair of scissors, saw a saw; so, with these languages one can construe the cutting-event as a tool-related action. Compare, for example, the difference between English, German, French, Italian, and Spanish “cut hair” and Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, and Dutch that express the hairdresser’s activity as “clip hair.” One might wonder whether these differences in language reflect distinct (historical) habits in hairstyling. In some languages (but not in others) verbs designating the temporal process of separation include the surface or space; e.g., English clear in “The forests were being cleared (from trees).” In some languages, the verbs that designate the temporal process of separation include energetic movement as in English chop. In some languages the semantic category of agentivity plays an important role.16

Ameka and Essegbey describe the African language Ewe in which the category of agentivity is determinative. They distinguish four classes: highly agentive verbs (dzá “slash,” si “cut,” kpa “carve”), agentive verbs (tso “cut,” sé “cut”), non-agentive verbs (lá “snap off,” dze “split”), and highly non-agentive verbs (vú “tear,” and others). The highly agentive verbs describe events involving agents only and, therefore, do not occur in the intransitive, while agentive verbs express separations that occur spontaneously. On the other hand, highly nonagentive verbs do not lexicalize agents at all. Non-agentive verbs can describe separations that require an instrument. See F. K. Ameka and J. Essegbey, “Cut and Break Verbs in Ewe and the Causative Alternation Construction,” Cognitive Linguistics 18.2 (2007), 241–50. 16

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Most languages know the distinction between reversible and nonreversible separation events.17 Consider, for example, the distinction in English between reversible separation such as “opening a teapot” and “pulling apart paper cups” and verbs expressing non-reversible separation such as “chopping a carrot” or “tearing a robe.” Languages differ in whether information about the state-change (the separation) is typically located in a single verb, as in the English verbs cut, clear, and chop, or is spread out across a number of constituents such as additional verbs, affixes or particles. For example, in English the beginning or inchoative state is included in the verb break off. Even the semantic categories of very closely related languages appeared not to be the same. Asifa Majid, Marianne Gullberg, Miriam van Staden, and Melissa Bowerman present an extensive analysis of four closely related Germanic languages, namely English, German, Dutch, and Swedish.18 One and the same approach for the synchronic comparison of word meaning in these languages demonstrates that even though these languages are closely related, there are differences in the number of categories, their exact boundaries, and the relationships of the terms to one another.19 Consider the cognate verbs break (English), brechen (German), breken (Dutch), and bräcka (Swedish). English break is indifferent to how the effect was brought about, and it is also used to describe the destruction of a wide variety of objects, such as sticks, ropes, plates, and yarn. Brechen, breken, and bräcka, in contrast, all pick out a much more circumscribed set of events. Germen brechen and Dutch breken are used primarily for breaking long thin things by hand, i.e. snapping events. Swedish bräcka, on the other hand, is a rare verb used mainly for separating or cracking brittle, twodimensional objects. The semantic category picked out by German brechen 17 A. Majid, J. S. Boster, and M. Bowerman, “The Cross-Linguistic Categorization of Everyday Events: A Study of Cutting and Breaking,” Cognition 109 (2008), 235–50. 18 A. Majid, M. Gullberg, M. van Staden, and M. Bowerman, “How Similar are Semantic Categories in Closely Related Languages? A Comparison of Cutting and Breaking in Four Germanic Languages,” Cognitive Linguistics 18.2 (2007), 179–94. 19 In English there are two large clusters of terms, one to designate breaking events, the other to designate cutting events. In German, however, there are three large clusters: a large breaking cluster, a cutting cluster, and a separate tearing cluster. Dutch has four distinct clusters: breaking, tearing, cutting-with-a-singleblade, and cutting-with-scissors. Swedish has five clusters for categorizing cutting and breaking events: a large breaking cluster, snapping, cutting-with-a-single-blade, cutting-with-scissors, and tearing. See Majid, Gullberg, Van Staden, and Bowerman, “How Similar are Semantic Categories.”

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and Dutch breken exists in Swedish also, but it is not associated with the cognate term bräcka, but rather with an entirely different verb, bryta. In sum, language users construe the same events in distinct ways. The language the native speakers are using enables them to express their experiences, perceptions, and ideas in accordance with a number of cultureand context-bound categories. In order to understand the semantic values of lexical terms, linguists have to take into account these categories, their exact boundaries, and the relationships of the terms to one another—all of which are to be analyzed in their own specific contexts of use. We will compare these modern semantic insights to biblical semantic studies of the verb ‫ ברא‬and to BK’s semantic discussion and will signal a series of inadequacies in these biblical semantic approaches.

3. DIFFERENCES BETWEEN EARLIER SEMANTIC STUDIES OF THE VERB ‫“ ארב‬SEPARATE” AND VAN WOLDE’S PROPOSAL 3.1 BIBLICAL STUDIES THAT CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY OF ‫ ברא‬MEANING “TO SEPARATE”

In modern biblical scholarship the following authors have suggested that the meaning of the verb ‫ ברא‬is “to cut,” “to separate,” or “to divide.” Wilhelm Gesenius20 was the first and he set the tone by explaining that the verb ‫ ברא‬signifies “to separate, cut, tailor, make as a sculptor” and from there “to produce, make” and, finally, “to create.” Samuel Driver took the next step: “The root signifies to cut (see, in the intensive conjug., Josh. xvii. 15, 18; Ez. xxiii. 47): so probably the proper meaning of ‫ ברא‬is to fashion by cutting, to shape.”21 Hendrik Brongers paid extensive attention to Genesis 1:1–2:3; however, he did not describe the meaning of the verb ‫ ברא‬as such, but the concept of creation in Genesis 1:1–2:3, including all verbs and verses. In his For Gesenius’ views and literature, see BK, 3, nn. 4–6. S. R. Driver, The Book of Genesis, with Introduction and Notes (London: Methuen & Co., 1904), 3. And he continues: “In the simple conjugation, however, it is used exclusively of God, to denote viz. the production of something fundamentally new, by the exercise of a sovereign originative power, altogether transcending that possessed by man.” Similarly, E. König, Hebräisches und aramäisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament (Wiesbaden: Sändig, 19101, 19366 reprinted 1969), 47: ‫ברא‬ “heraushauen, schaffen Gn 1,1; auch etwas umschaffen zu (Jes 65,18). Pi. Jos 17,15: u. haue dir dort (im Walde) heraus! V. 18: u. du wirst aus ihm heraushauen; schaffen (Hes 21,24b).” 20 21

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view, in this text creation entails separation or division: “God’s creative activity can best be described as ‘arrangement.’”22 Johannes van der Ploeg argued that to cut a stone, wood, bones, implies that one gives it a new form, in a sense a new life.23 That is why, in his opinion, it does not come as a surprise that in Hebrew the terms ‫ ברא‬Qal “to create” and ‫ ברא‬Piel “to cut” are combined.24 The idea of cutting, modeling, forming gave (according to Van der Ploeg) birth to ‫’ברא‬s highest meaning: production out of nothing. Therefore, ‫ ברא‬Qal expresses: creatio ex nihilo.25 Émile Dantinne offered the most extensive analysis of the verb ‫ברא‬, starting from the difficulty that in five biblical texts the meaning “to create” is less certain. In three of them, Josh 17:15 and 18 and Ezek 23:47, the verb clearly signifies “to cut.”26 “Pour exprimer l’idée de créer, même, peut-être, Brongers, De scheppingstradities, 16–18. J. van der Ploeg, “Le sens du verbe hébreu ‫ ברא‬bārāʾ. Étude sémasiologique,” Le Muséon 59 (1946), 143–57. 24 Van der Ploeg, “Le sens du verbe,” 151: “Nous avons vu que chez plusieurs peuples l’idée de «couper» a plusieurs fois donné naissance à une généalogie sémantique qui a abouti au sens de «créer». En taillant la pierre, le bois, l’os, on lui donne une forme nouvelle, et d’une certaine façon un être nouveau. Il n’est donc point étonnant de voir se rejoindre en hébreu bārāʾ (qal) = créer, et bārāʾ (piʿel) = couper, découper. On peut en conclure que l’élément bar a primitivement signifié couper.” 25 Van der Ploeg, “Le sens du verbe,” 153, 155, 157: “L’idée de couper, modeler, former, a donné naissance à celle de créer dans son plus haut sens de productio ex nihilo, et cela se comprend, car «former» est une idée plus universelle que «bâtir» et plus spirituelle, ou plus métaphysique, si l’on veut, que procréer.…Lorsque Jahvé créa quelque chose sans qu’il y eût d’objet ou de matière préexistante, il la créa nécessairement ex nihilo.…Il est vrai que dans plusieurs textes le verbe bārāʾ est employé promiscue avec ‫עשה‬, ‫יצר‬, etc. Mais il ne s’ensuit pas que bārāʾ avait d o n c fondamentalement le même sens. Le parallélisme poétique exigeait souvent l’usage de plusieurs mots à la fois, et la tendance sémitique à la verbosité faisait le reste. Dans toute production, quelque chose de nouveau reçoit l’être. Quand Jahvé produit quelque chose, il le fait d’une façon proportionnée à sa toute-puissance, et si besoin est, il la tire du néant. C’est le sens du verbe ‫ברא‬.” 26 É. Dantinne, “Création et séparation,” Le Muséon 74 (1961), 441–51 (447): “La connexion de la racine B R ʾ avec l’idée de séparer n’est pas seulement prouvée par son emploi, au piʿêl, avec le sens de couper, dans Jos., xvii, 15 et 18, ainsi que dans Éz., xxiii, 47. Il y en a d’autres indices: 1) L’existence, en hébreu, en plus de B R ʾ, d’autres racines comprenant les consonnes B et R, avec des dérivés évoquant les idées de couper, de découper, de partager, de traverser.…2) La même racine, ou des racines apparentées, exprimant la notion de séparation dans d’autres langes 22 23

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ex nihilo, les anciens Hébreux ont employé un mot auquel s’associe la notion de séparer, si souvent formulée explicitement dans le récit de la Création. BâRâʾ, c’est « séparer, couper, tailler, produire en taillant, comme un sculpteur », de là, « fabriquer, faire », et, finalement, « créer ».”27 The difference between Enuma Elish and Genesis is, according to Dantinne, that Genesis speaks of creatio ex nihilo, whereas Enuma Elish speaks of Marduk’s division out of chaos; hence, in Genesis 1 the word ‫ ברא‬has evolved from separation to creatio ex nihilo.28 Karl-Heinz Bernhardt follows Dantinne in that he considers the verb ‫’ברא‬s fundamental meaning to be “to separate,”29 yet in his following study of the textual occurrences of ‫ ברא‬in the Hebrew Bible, he argues that its meaning is restricted to describing God’s creative actions.30 Claus Westermann also bases his view of ‫ ברא‬on Dantinne.31 Although the title of Paul Beauchamp’s 1969 study of Genesis 1, Création et séparation, might suggest the idea that he shares the view that the verb ‫ ברא‬signifies “to separate,” he actually relates the concept of separation to the verb ‫ בדל‬only, and not to ‫ברא‬, as well as to the seven-day structure and the story composition.

sémitiques.” 27 Dantinne, “Création et séparation,” 446. 28 Dantinne, “Création et séparation,” 448, quotes M. J. Lagrange, Études sur la religion sémitique (Paris : V. Lecoffre, 1903), 332: “Vienne Marduk, le soleil matinal, ses premiers rayons séparant la masse chaotique en deux parties, le ciel et la terre.…Marduk triomphe du chaos et le divise.” And Dantinne adds: “Séparation, notez-le, mais point créer. Il a été réservé aux lecteurs de la Genèse d’y découvrir la Création, la Création ex nihilo.” 29 K.-H. Bernhardt, “‫ברא‬,” G. J. Botterweck, H. Ringgren, and H.-J. Fabry (eds.), Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament (10 vols.; Stuttgart/Etc.: W. Kohlhammer, 1970–1998), vol. 1, 773–77 (773): “Warscheinlich hat das hebr. ‫ברא‬ die Grundbedeutung ‘trennnen’ (Dantinne); vgl. die Ableitung von einer zweiradikaligen Grundwurzel br bei G. J. Botterweck.” 30 Bernhardt, “‫ברא‬,” 774: “Das Verbum ‫ ברא‬ist in seinem Anwendungsbereich streng begrenzt. Es dient ausschließlich zur Bezeichnung des göttlichen Schaffens.…‫ ברא‬soll als spezieller theologischer Terminus die Unvergleichbarkeit des Schöpferwirkens Gottes gegenüber allem sekundären Machen und Bilden aus vorgegebener Materie durch den Menschen begrifflich eindeutig zum Ausdruck bringen.” 31 C. Westermann, Genesis 1: Teilband 1: Genesis 1–11 (BKAT 1/1; NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener, 1974).

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Van Leeuwen is critical with respect to common biblical theological explanations of the term ‫ברא‬.32 He concludes that “OT brʾ (pi.) is predicated of humans, but in q. and ni. its subject or implicit agent is always God. While the pi. signifies (resultative) ‘cut’ exclusively, the q. signifies ‘create’ with the exception of Num 16:30, ‘cut.’ Consequently, the semantic development from ‘cut’ to ‘create’ described by Claus Westermann (99, after F. Delitzsch and others) is a natural one. By ‘cutting,’ a particular shape is given to an object that, as it were, comes into being.”33 We took so much time and space to describe previous scholarship in order to demonstrate that all biblical scholars who considered the verb ‫ברא‬ to mean “to separate, cut, or divide” subsequently understand this process of separation in one way only, namely as “to cut a particular shape,” “to fashion by cutting,” “to shape,” or “to create.” The metaphorical imagery that prevails in these views is that of a sculptor: God, who like a Michelangelo, sculptures the universe. The above described cognitive cross-linguistic studies (section 2) elucidate a serious semantic shortcoming in these biblical semantic studies that all limit the idea of [SEPARATION] or [CUTTING] to separation in the sense of [FASHIONING] or [PRODUCTION]. That is to say, these scholars take it for granted that ‫ ברא‬expresses a first stage in a conceptual process that starts with cutting and ends with creation. This explains why the scholars in earlier times (e.g., Van der Ploeg, Dantinne) kept on trying to keep this meaning of ‫ ברא‬in line with the notion of creatio ex nihilo. Although this approach disappeared in later literature (e.g., Westermann, Van Leeuwen), scholars nevertheless associated the concept of separation with “the making of.” Yet, from a linguistic point of view, the idea that separation should be understood as fashioning is only one of the possibilities. The question is, therefore, in what way does the verb ‫ברא‬ construe the process of separation in Biblical Hebrew? Van Leeuwen, “‫ברא‬,” 731: “In the past, biblical theologians, eager to discover theological significance in individual words, have overloaded brʾ, create, with semantic freight in three respects. First, it was commonly emphasized that this vb. is predicated only of Israel’s god as subject; second, that brʾ never appears with explicit mention of material out of which something has been ‘created’; third, that brʾ was a uniquely nonmetaphorical, nonanthropomorphic vb. for creation, since it was predicated only of Israel’s god. Upon these linguistic foundations theological arguments concerning the uniqueness and incomparability of Yahweh’s creative activity were erected. These points (and theological pronouncements founded upon them) are, however, somewhat misleading.” 33 Van Leeuwen, “‫ברא‬,” 732. 32

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3.2 THE VERB ‫ ברא‬AND ITS EXPRESSION OF THE PROCESS OF SEPARATION

The only way to answer this question is to start with a semantic analysis of the clearest usages of the verb ‫ ברא‬in the Hebrew Bible and analyze the texts with an open mind. (1)–(5) The texts that are most clear are the Piel usages of the verb in Joshua 1734 and Ezekiel 21 and 23.35 The Piel of ‫ ברא‬expresses in Josh 17:15, 18 not “to cut down trees,” but “to make an empty space by cutting down trees.” Ezekiel 21:24 contains the verb ‫ ברא‬twice to designate “to cut out a spot.” Ezekiel 23:47 evokes “to cut down” adulteresses, to clear the place of them. The Piel or intensive form of ‫ ברא‬thus figures in a spatial domain and designates the temporal process of [SEPARATION IN THE SPATIAL INTEGRITY OF A UNIT IN ORDER TO MAKE SPACE] in which the act itself is marked as intensive, i.e. “cutting” or “clearing” violently. (6) Another text with a clear usage of ‫ ברא‬Qal “to cut,” “to separate” is Num 16:30.36 Here it is followed by the accusative noun ‫בריאה‬, “something separated.” Humbert, Milgrom, and Van Leeuwen translate it as “chasm.”37 In Num 16:30 ‫ ברא‬Qal is used in reference to YHWH to indicate 34 BK, 3, wrongly refer to the Piel use of ‫ ברא‬in Isa 17:15; they mean, of course, Josh 17:15. 35 Joshua 17:15: “‘If you are a numerous people,’ Joshua answered them, ‘go up to the forest country and clear (‫ )ברא‬an area for yourselves there, in the territory of the Perizzites and the Rephaim, seeing that you are cramped in the hill country of Ephraim.’” Joshua 17:17-18: “But Joshua declared to the House of Joseph, to Ephraim and Manasseh: ‘You are indeed a numerous people, possessed of great strength; you shall not have one allotment only. The hill country shall be yours as well; true, it is forest land, but you will clear it (‫ )ברא‬and possess it to its farthest limits.’” Ezekiel 21:24: “The word of YHWH came to me: ‘And you, O mortal, choose two roads on which the sword of the king of Babylon may advance, both issuing from the same country; and cut out (‫ )ברא‬a spot; at the head/top of the road to the city cut out (‫ )ברא‬a spot.’” Ezekiel 23:46-47: “For thus said YHWH God: ‘Summon an assembly against them, and make them an object of horror and plunder. Let the assembly pelt them with stones and cut them down (‫ )ברא‬with their swords; let them kill their sons and daughters, and burn down their homes.’” 36 Numbers 16:30: “And Moses said: ‘If these men die as all men do, it was not YHWH who sent me. But if YHWH makes a separation (‫ ברא‬Qal + noun ‫ )בריאה‬and the ground opens its mouth, and swallows them up, and they go down alive into Sheol, you shall know that these men have despised YHWH.’” 37 P. Humbert, “Emploi et portée du verbe bārā (créer) dans l’Ancien Testament,” P. Humbert, Opuscules d’un hébraïsant (Mémoires de l’Université de

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that he is performing the action subsequently specified by the ground’s opening of the mouth, including notions such as lips that spread out, a throat that swallows up without any previous chewing, so that the men who despised YHWH go down alive into Sheol. Hence, the collocation ‫ברא‬ ‫ בריאה‬designates a spatial separation. YHWH distances himself from these men, by sending them into the underworld, where they have to stay apart from the Israelites. (7)–(13) Van Wolde studied the seven occurrences of the verb ‫ ברא‬in Genesis 1:1–2:4a.38 Her conclusions are that Gen 1:1 describes the very first act that God separates or sets apart the heaven(s) and the earth; that Gen 1:27a (twice ‫ )ברא‬does not express God’s creation of the human being, but that God is setting the human being apart, on a place spatially distant from him, namely on earth; that Gen 1:27b indicates that God separates the human being into two sexes, each connected with its own life sphere; that in Gen 2:3 God, after having finished the six creation days, sets the seventh day apart from the other six days, and declares it holy; and that, finally, Gen 2:4a resumes the story with “These are the begettings of the heaven and the earth in their being separated,” thus forming an inclusio with Gen 1:1. Thus, the setting apart of the spatial domains and their inhabitants is considered to be crucial for the understanding of Genesis 1:1–2:4a, and as important as the creation of the inhabitants of these spatial realms and as the temporal arrangement in a week (six days plus Sabbath). Based on these thirteen occurrences, the following hypothesis with regard to the verb ‫ ברא‬Qal has been formulated: the verb ‫ ברא‬Qal functions in the cognitive domain of space and designates the temporal process of [SEPARATION IN THE SPATIAL INTEGRITY OF A UNIT IN ORDER TO SET OBJECTS OR PHENOMENA APART, TO SET THEM AT A DISTANCE, OR TO MAKE SPACE WITHIN THE SPATIAL UNIT], which is shortened into [SEPARATION IN THE MATERIAL OR SPATIAL INTEGRITY OF A UNIT]. Whereas the intensive form or Piel of ‫ ברא‬expresses that this act is performed intensively or even violently, or with an instrument that requires force or violence, the Qal form of ‫ ברא‬expresses this temporal process neither intensively nor violently. The latter can, dependent on the context of use, be translated “to divide, separate, set apart, disconnect.” The

Neuchâtel, 26; Neuchatel: Secrétariat de l’Université de Neuchatel, 1958), 146–65 (147); J. Milgrom, Numbers: The Traditional Hebrew Text with the New JPS Translation (JPS Torah Commentary; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1990), 137; Van Leeuwen, “‫ברא‬,” 732. 38 Van Wolde, Reframing Biblical Studies, 184–200; “Why the Verb.”

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translation “to differentiate” is not recommended because it entails more abstract notions such as “distinguishing, making a distinction between.” Above, two other texts were mentioned that create difficulties when the word is understood to designate “to create,” namely Exod 34:10 and Isa 40:21-26. These texts will be reconsidered in the light of this new hypothesis. In Exod 34:10 God offers his covenant to Moses: “I hereby make a covenant. Before all your people I will ‫ עשה‬wonders that have not been ‫ ברא‬on all the earth or in any nation.” Starting from the view that each word construes an event in its own way, the two verbs ‫ עשה‬and ‫ ברא‬are considered to express distinct meanings. Exodus 34:10-16 describes the two sides of the covenant: a positive side, the loyalty between God and Israel, and a negative side, the attitude towards the other nations, who are to be driven out. The positive side is described in v. 10 as ‫“ נפלאת‬wonders.” These amazing deeds of Israel’s God vis-à-vis Israel set the Israelites apart from the other nations. Obviously, wonders are unifying them as much as they are dividing them from the other people. This is what is described in v. 10: the making of the wonders and the disjunctive effect with regard to other nations. Hence, the approximate translation: “I hereby make a covenant. Before all your people I will work wonders that have not been set apart on all the earth or in any nation.” This view is confirmed by the idea of covenant, ‫כרת ברית‬. It might be compared with the pre-Islamic Arabic understanding of covenant, which stresses both the loyalty to the deity as well as the disjunction and distance to the people excluded from the covenant, and so also the biblical covenant can be conceived of as both binding and separating: the people of Israel are closely connected to their deity and separated from the other nations and their deities. These two sides are exactly described in Exod 34:10-16. Another text is Isa 40:21-22, 26 where in v. 26 the verb ‫ ברא‬Qal figures in the larger metaphorical context of the making of the heaven and the earth. Verses 21-22 describe how God founded (‫ )יסד‬the earth, spread out (‫ )נטה‬the heavens like a veil, stretched out the heavens like a tent to dwell in. It shows God as the one who is enthroned above the vault of the earth from where he can see the inhabitants as grasshoppers, so large is the distance between heaven and earth. This distance prefigures the difference in his power (vv. 23-24: he brings potentates to naught; makes rulers on earth as nothing) and his incomparability (v. 25). This entire image is concluded in v. 26 “Lift high your eyes and see: ‫מי־ברא אלה‬.” This verse does not merely describe “the making of these things,” since this has been metaphorically conceived as the founding of the earth and as the spreading out of the heavens. Reference is made to the distance between the two

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cosmological realms in analogy to the distance in power between God above and human beings below and is expressed by ‫ברא‬, “Lift up your eyes and see: Who separated these?” Comparable also is Isa 4:5: “YHWH will ‫ ברא‬Qal ‘spread out’ a cloud over the whole shrine and meeting place of Mount Zion” (cf. Ps 105:39 and Job 26:9 where the same concept of “spreading out a cloud” is expressed by the verb ‫)פרש‬. Futato showed that the word ‫ ענן‬designates cloud mass, cloud cover, or undifferentiated cloud and often includes the notion of extent or expanse.39 The verb ‫ ברא‬designates this spreading out (imagine someone who spreads out his or her arms) of a blanket of clouds. Here again a spatial notion is entailed, in which ‫ ברא‬denotes a temporal process that starts with unity and proceeds to extensiveness. This use of the verb with regard to the spreading out of the heavens occurs more often in Isaiah, namely in Isa 42:5: “Thus said the deity YHWH who separated (‫ )ברא‬the heavens and spread them out, who beat out (‫ )רקע‬the earth and what brings it forth.” Notice here the plural suffix used for the heavens, and in contrast the beating out of the earth which is construed with the singular. This use of ‫ ברא‬meaning “spreading out” can also be compared to the use in the Akkadian text The Dream of Lugalbanda (line 333), which describes how Lugalbanda made a bed: “He spread out, bàra, a linen sheet.”40 Another text in Isaiah, Isa 45:16-18, can be understood similarly. Here God, designated ‫האלהים‬, is described as the one “who spread out/set apart the heavens (‫)ברא‬, who formed the earth and made it, who established/founded it. He did not set it (the earth) apart (‫ )ברא‬tohû, but formed it for habitation.” In short, the novelty of Van Wolde’s proposal is to understand the verb ‫ ברא‬Qal “to separate” within the cognitive domain of space. It is considered to be a spatial concept, not a concept that figures in the domain of construction. Also new with respect to previous scholarship is that she does not consider the verb ‫ ברא‬to express the first step in a process that necessarily ends up with creation. And different from other biblical scholars she has not limited her explanation of the verb ‫ ברא‬to v. 1 of Genesis 1 only, but is (to the best of her knowledge) the first scholar to apply this spatial view of ‫ ברא‬to Gen 1:21, 27; 2:3-4. M. D. Futato, “‫ענן‬,” W. A. VanGemeren (ed.), New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis (5 vols.; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1997), vol. 3, 465– 66. 40 H. L. J. Van Stiphout, “Reflections on the Dream of Lugalbanda (A typological and interpretative analysis of LH 322–365),” J. Prosecký (ed.), Intellectual Life of the Ancient Near East: Papers Presented at the 43 rd Rencontre assyriologique internationale Prague, July 1–5, 1996 (Prague: Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, Oriental Institute, 1998), 397–412 (406). 39

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4. OTHER SEMANTIC QUESTIONS: PREPOSITIONS, COGNATE LANGUAGES, PARALLELISM, AND METAPHORS 4.1 VERBS AND PREPOSITIONS So far we discussed a first inadequacy in the biblical semantic approaches to the verb ‫ברא‬, namely the idea that separation can be understood in one way only, namely “to fashion by cutting.” A second semantic shortcoming is noticeable in BK’s remarks in section 4.1 and regards the collocation of verbs of separation with the preposition ‫“ מן‬from, out of.” A Hebrew verb with the meaning “to separate” requires at least one preposition, like ‫ מן‬or ‫בין‬, as can be observed with the verb ‫בדל‬. It could be argued that there are texts where a preposition is not required. However, this is the case only when ‫ בדל‬is used in the meaning of “to select.” Otherwise “separate” has to be taken as “split, cleave.” (BK, 7)

In the spatial domain, events involving a [SEPARATION IN THE are expressed in Biblical Hebrew by verbs that express “to separate” or “to cut” in distinct ways. The following four verbs are most used: ‫( בדל‬x42), ‫( בקע‬x51), ‫( חלק‬x56), ‫( פרד‬x27) (numbers DCH). The verb ‫ בקע‬is always used without a preposition; the verb ‫ חלק‬is often used with the preposition ‫“ ל‬into,” but is also used without a preposition. The verb ‫ בדל‬is mainly used with the preposition ‫“ בין‬between,” but also with the prepositions ‫“ ל‬into,” ‫“ ב‬in,” and ‫“ מן‬from.” Let us first look more carefully at one of these four verbs, namely the verb ‫פרד‬. It occurs 27 times in the Hebrew Bible, of which 9 times are with the preposition ‫מן‬, 4 times with the preposition ‫בין‬, and 12 times without a preposition. Each of these usages are, of course, to be studied extensively within the spatial and metaphorical conceptualization of the text. Thus, ‫פרד‬ is used with ‫ מן‬in Gen 2:10 in a geographical domain to describe the river that branches out from Eden, whereas in Gen 10:5, 32 it is used in the ethnic domain to describe the people who separate themselves from other people, and in Judg 4:11 it is used in the human domain to describe someone who separates himself from another. Each of these four texts expresses a distinct spatial mental image, that might or might not differ from the mental image expressed by ‫ פרד‬with the preposition ‫בין‬, especially when two parties are involved. This is, for example, the case in Ruth 1:17. Interestingly, the verb ‫ פרד‬is also often used without a preposition, e.g., in 2 Sam 2:23 where Saul and Jonathan ‫“ ונפרד‬never parted in life or in death,” in Gen 30:40 where Jacob ‫“ הפריד‬separated the sheep,” or in Hos 4:14 where daughters-in-law ‫“ יפרדו‬separate” (“turn aside” NJPSV). Other MATERIAL OR SPATIAL INTEGRITY OF A UNIT]

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occurrences of ‫ פרד‬without a preposition are Deut 32:8; Pss 22:15; 92:10; Prov 16:28; 17:9; 18:1; 19:4; and Job 4:11; 41:9. Another example of a “separation verb” that figures in various collocations, is the verb ‫גרע‬. It is used six times with ‫מן‬, five times with ‫את‬, once with ‫אל‬, and six times without a preposition. Therefore, one cannot automatically conclude that in order to express the concept of [SEPARATION], a verb necessarily should be collocated with the preposition ‫“ מן‬from”; it all depends on the way the act of separation is construed. BK have reached conclusions on the basis of far too insufficient research. This second semantic shortcoming can be summarized as follows. To make assertions about collocations, an analysis of complete data sets is a first condition to be met. In fact, what is needed is a complete semantic analysis of the lexical fields of “cut” and “separate” in a way similar to the earlier described linguistic studies and to lexical semantic studies such as those presented by Malul and Zanella.41 Such an analysis would not only include the four most used verbs of separation, but all others too.42 To be included are profound linguistic studies of prepositions, and the way they construe the spatial environment. A similar linguistic analysis is needed for words that express “making, creation, shape, form, fashion,” in short “words of creation.” And, finally, a profound study of fixed word combinations, such as collocations with prepositions, is necessary. It is time for biblical scholarship not to draw linguistic conclusions on hap-snap reference to biblical texts and on semantic assumptions that are not valid anymore in modern linguistic research.

4.2 COGNATE LANGUAGES AND TEXTS IN COGNATE LANGUAGES A third semantic shortcoming in BK’s discussion is visible in their discussion of Sumerian and Babylonian languages and texts. The Sumerian Song of the Hoe contains the following line: “… and not only did he [=Enlil] hasten to separate heaven from earth.” In this text the adverbial case marker “ta” (in “ki-ta”) indicates the ablative with the M. Malul, Knowledge, Control and Sex: Studies in Biblical Thought, Culture and Worldview (Tel Aviv-Jaffa: Archaeological Center Publication, 2002); R. Zanella, The Lexical Field of the Substantives of “Gift” in Ancient Hebrew (SSN, 54; Leiden: Brill, 2010). 42 In addition to the four Hebrew verbs of separation mentioned above, the full study would have to look also at: ‫בצע‬, ‫גדע‬, ‫גזז‬, ‫גזל‬, ‫גרז‬, ‫גרע‬, ‫הגה‬, ‫הרס‬, ‫חלף‬, ‫חצב‬, ‫חצה‬, ‫חצץ‬, ‫חרם‬, ‫כסח‬, ‫כרסם‬, ‫כרת‬, ‫מנה‬, ‫נסח‬, ‫נקף‬, ‫נתח‬, ‫נתץ‬, ‫נתק‬, ‫פלג‬, ‫פלח‬, ‫פסל‬, ‫פצם‬, ‫פצץ‬, ‫פרם‬, ‫פרץ‬, ‫פרק‬, ‫פשח‬, ‫קצב‬, ‫קצה‬, ‫קצץ‬, ‫קרע‬, ‫שבב‬, ‫שסע‬, ‫שסף‬, ‫תזז‬. 41

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ELLEN VAN WOLDE & ROBERT REZETKO separating force, hence “from.” A comparable feature is present in the late bilingual text from Uruk: “…Utu, when the heavens were made distant from the earth.” In the late Babylonian version the preposition itti, “from,” is used. In the other texts that Van Wolde refers to, prepositions or an ablative are present. These remarks imply that the Mesopotamian concept of origin can be labelled as “separating A from B,” which is different from “differentiating into A and B”—as Ellen van Wolde assumes for Genesis 1, and therefore are of no use as comparative material in an argument on the interpretation of Genesis 1. (BK, 8–9)

First of all, Van Wolde’s view is that the verb ‫ ברא‬designates [SEPARATION IN THE SPATIAL INTEGRITY OF A UNIT] and BK’s idea of differentiation does not fully cover that view. Second, BK presuppose, according to this explanation, that cognate languages use comparable grammatical constructions. The earlier described cross-linguistic studies of terms of “cutting” and “breaking” have demonstrated that this is an incorrect assumption. Languages construe events in different ways. Even words that are etymologically related (e.g., English break, German brechen, Dutch breken, and Swedish bräcka) can be used in completely different grammatical constructions and can have known different semantic evolutions. Thus an English text containing the verb “break” is translated in Swedish not with bräcka but by another term that covers the idea of English “break” best. Thus the Sumerian and Akkadian texts that open their creation stories with the beginning of the universe use the term b a d and parāsu respectively to designate the separation of the heaven and the earth,43 whereas Gen 1:1 uses the term ‫ ברא‬to express the very same notion of separation because in Biblical Hebrew this term covers the idea of “breaking open a unity, separating, setting apart” best. Similarly, the Samaritan Hymn IV 13, discussed below, expresses the notion of separation as “God ‫‘ נפש‬spreads out’ and makes ‫‘ טעיל‬space’ between the waters of the tehôm and the heavenly vault.” And the very same concept is designated by the verb ‫ ברא‬in Isa 42:5, “Thus said the deity YHWH who separated the heavens and spread them out,” and in Isa 45:16-18, “who set the heavens apart/spread out the heavens.” And this is exactly what is expressed in Gen 1:1 by the verb ‫ברא‬, “to separate, set apart, make space.” An example of differences in grammatical constructions of cognate languages is the following. In English one could say “clear off” in a clause such as “he cleared off the biggest trees,” but also in a (rude) command to someone, meaning that this person should leave. In both cases, a plot is 43

See Van Wolde, “Why the Verb.”

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freed from the presence of something (“trees”) or someone (“you”). This grammatical collocation is not the same in cognate languages such as French, Dutch, or German. BK compare grammatical constructions of verbs of separation in Sumerian and Akkadian and conclude from these constructions that Biblical Hebrew should have used the same grammatical constructs to express the same idea of separation. Their lack of proper semantic reasoning is amazing.

4.3 PARTICIPLE ‫ בורא‬AND PARALLELISM BK, 9, are right in their critique that the participle of ‫ בורא‬is used as an abstract noun to describe God. They are also right that Van Wolde depended in her view on Florentino García Martínez. This does not mean, of course, that the noun ‫ בורא‬expresses “creator.” It still depends on the semantic analysis what meaning should be attached to this nominalized participle. BK choose to support their view in relation to Isa 45:7: “I am the former (‫ )יוצר‬of light and ‫ בורא‬of darkness. I am the maker (‫ )עושה‬of good and ‫ בורא‬of evil.”44 First, if a reference to Genesis 1 is presupposed in Isaiah 45, the meaning of ‫“ ברא‬create” would be impossible, since in Genesis 1 God did not create darkness, but made light and separated this light from the pre-existent darkness. Analogously Isa 45:7 would describe that darkness and evil did already exist, but that God formed light and set it apart from pre-existent darkness, that he made good and set it apart from pre-existent evil. The participle ‫ בורא‬would then express this spatial divine action as a durative activity.45 The main argument BK offer to support their view is that of parallelism: It is quite clear that ‫ ברא‬is paralleled here by the verb ‫ עשה‬and ‫יצר‬ indicating that the three verbs are part of the same semantic field and that their meaning is interconnected. (BK, 9)

The fact that words belong to the same semantic field, does not imply that they express the same or an interconnected meaning. On the contrary, words that figure in one semantic field construct events—that are referentially related—in different ways. In other words, a semantic domain 44 BK translate the first person forms in Isa 45:7 incorrectly with third person forms. They translate: “He who forms light and creates darkness, who makes peace and creates evil.” 45 It is difficult to understand how BK’s own proposal of ‫ ברא‬meaning “to construct” would fit Isa 45:7: “I am the former of light and the constructor of darkness? I am the maker of good and the constructor of evil?”

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is the collection of words that refer to an event or to events that are related in reality or in the thought of reality, yet the way these words conceptualize this event or these events can be completely different. The use of the notion of parallelism in biblical scholarship bears the risk of mixing sense with reference. Say the words ‫עשה‬, ‫ברא‬, and ‫ יצר‬all belong to the semantic field of “creation.” The events referred to are those of “making something new that did not exist before.” Words conceptualize these events in different frameworks of thinking, in various metaphorical complexes. Thus ‫ עשה‬can conceive of this event as “a completely new making of” in a general non-metaphorical framework of thinking. The verb ‫ יצר‬conceives of the creation event as “the forming out of pre-existing material,” within the pottery framework. The verb ‫ יסד‬conceptualizes the creation of the earth as the founding or setting on pillars, whereas the verb ‫ נטה‬conceptualizes the creation of the heavens as the spreading out of an expanse (similar to that of a tent). And the verb ‫ ברא‬conceptualizes the act of creation in terms of spatial separation, as the setting apart of phenomena. Consequently, the particular nuances of meaning and the semantic overlap and difference between the various words in a semantic domain ask for a much more nuanced view than that offered by BK. The danger of the concept of parallelism is that one brings the meanings of the paralleled terms a priori into one line. One considers the meanings of paralleled terms to be interconnected and thus misses the variation in metaphorical constructions of meaning. A full discussion of all texts in which ‫ ברא‬occurs in the Hebrew Bible falls outside the scope of this response article. Too often BK’s textual explanations on pages 11–13 reflect the same—in our view—wrong semantic assumptions in regard to parallelism, the idea of semantic domain, the fact that they do not take into account metaphorical frameworks of thinking, etc. It is time now to discuss BK’s own hypothesis. Before doing so, however, an excursus on the etymology of the verb ‫ ברא‬is offered, since etymological arguments are often used in the discussion—also by BK—to support the view that ‫ ברא‬means “to create” (or using BK’s terminology: “to construct”).

5. EXCURSUS: ETYMOLOGY OF THE VERB ‫ברא‬ 5.1 BK’S ETYMOLOGICAL DETOUR BK base their criticism of Van Wolde’s proposal partly on etymology. In particular, their etymological argumentation is grounded on (1) Arabic and (2) Greek.

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(1) With regard to Arabic, they state: It has been recognized meanwhile that the Arabic root brʾ, “to create” is probably an Aramaic (or Hebrew?) loanword which was confused early on with Arabic brw/bry “to cut off, form by cutting.”46 In Classical Arabic the phonetic difference between various forms of these verbs is slight and in unvocalized texts invisible.47 Already the early Arabic lexicographers noticed the confusion of the two roots. Because the existence of the Hebrew root ‫ schreien, lärmen, murren, brummen“; birbir „Ruf der Schafe“; burbur „schreiend, lärmend.“…Mit dieser Schallbedeutung bezeichnete man auch das Geräusch des „Schabens, Spaltens“ und schließlich die Tätigkeit des Spaltens selbst, weil sie ja das Geräusch verursacht: so arab. barā „schaben > glätten > mager machen”; hebr. bārā(ʾ) „(spalten >) schaffen, hervorbringen.“ Die Bedeutung „spalten“ differenziert sich dann weiter zu „trennen“: arab. barra VIII. „von seinen Genossen getrennt sein, IV. auf dem lande wohnen oder reisen“; barr

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verbs—‫ברא‬, ‫ברה‬, ‫ברח‬, ‫ברר‬, ‫באר‬, ‫בור‬, ‫חבר‬, ‫שבר‬, and ‫פרד‬, ‫פרם‬, ‫פרק‬, ‫פרר‬, ‫פרץ‬, ‫פרק‬, ‫פרר‬, ‫—פרש‬in which the biconsonantal items ‫ בר‬and ‫ פר‬express the notion of cutting or separating.60 Cohen’s Dictionnaire des racines sémitiques, The Chicago Assyrian Dictionary, Von Soden’s Akkadisches Handwörterbuch, and The Concise Dictionary of Akkadian, indicate that the biconsonantal item br (and pr) expresses in Akkadian the notion of separation: bari means “between, among,” barītu(m) “intervening space, interval,” bāru “open country,” bēru “distant, remote” (e.g., bēru ina šamê “the linear distance–between stars–in heaven”), bēru(m) “selected, double hour (i.e. twelfth part of the day),” bêru(m) “to choose, select,” biri “between,” birā “between, among,” birītu(m) “interval, separation, cutting,” birtu “between,” bīru “interval, pause after a march,” and parāsu(m) “cut, separate, decide.”61 The meaning of the verb barû A has evolved in Akkadian into “to look upon, to observe, to look attentively.”62 „(abgetrennt > ) Festland, Ufer,“ barran „draußen,“ hebr. bar „freies Feld, Acker“; arab. uabira „(getrennt >) menschenscheu sein und zu Hause hocken,“ uabara „bleiben, verweilen“; hebr. bārār „absondern, auslesen, reinigen“; bārāh „scheiden, entscheiden, festsetzen, (absondern >) einhauen, essen.“ Ferner gehört zur Bedeutung „trennen“ assyr. birū „hungrig“ und būru „Hunger.“ Die Bedeutung „scheiden“ differenziert sich noch weiter zu „underscheiden, sehen“; so assyr. barū „scheiden, entscheiden, richten, sehen, schauen,“ bīru „Gesicht,“ bārū „Seher.“” 60 Dantinne, “Création et séparation,” 447. 61 Cohen, Dictionnaire des racines sémitiques; A. L. Oppenheim et al., The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago: Volume 2, B (Chicago: The Oriental Institute, 1965); W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwörterbuch: Volume 1, A-L (Wiesbaden: O. Harrassowitz, 1965); J. Black, A. George, and N. Postgate, A Concise Dictionary of Akkadian (2nd [corrected] printing; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2000). 62 Malul, Knowledge, Control and Sex, analyses the relation between verbs of separation and their relation to knowledge and seeing in Biblical Hebrew and in Sumerian and Akkadian. He makes an inventory of verbs of separation, such as ‫חקר‬, ‫בדק‬, ‫בקר‬, ‫ברר‬, ‫בחן‬, ‫צרף‬, ‫בחר‬, ‫נסה‬, and ‫בין‬, and demonstrates that all of them clearly connote the idea of knowledge one way or the other. The verbs ‫ברר‬, ‫בחן‬, ‫צרף‬, and ‫ בחר‬also occur in contexts of refining metals, which convey the connotation of separation and removal of the dross, and Malul points to Sumerian and Akkadian equivalents (Malul, Knowledge, Control and Sex, 106, n. 28). “Thus, they reflect a kind of concrete process which, when applied to the process of knowledge, is understood to take place in the abstract sense within one’s mind.…Finally, note also the interesting use of such roots as ‫בדק‬, ‫בקר‬, and others, where knowledge is attained by cleaving and breaking and thus bringing to light

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In contrast, the etymological relation between Hebrew ‫ ברא‬and Akkadian banû is very weak. The Chicago Assyrian Dictionary distinguishes banû A and banû B, and describes banû A as “to build, construct, form,” which is applied to buildings, statues, etc. and with reference to a deity it mainly indicates “to create” in relation to the creation of humankind or of gods, and banû B is described as “to grow, beget.”63 In modern Assyriology it is known for a fact that the traditionally presupposed equivalence between Hebrew ‫ ברא‬and Akkadian banû “to build, beget” is problematic, and should be discarded.64 To conclude, the etymology of ‫ ברא‬that BK present falls short. In contrast, a number of etymological studies of ‫ ברא‬show that it is very well possible that ‫ ברא‬is etymologically related to Akkadian words that express the idea of “division” and “separation.”65 The usages of pre-Islamic Arabic brʾ designating the acts of distancing and disconnection, and the occurrences of the Septuagint’s κτιζω designating either “to divide, apportion” or “to create” confirm this option, too. Are there any other linguistic and/or textual witnesses? Yes, there are. First, the Qumran Aramaic fragment of 4QEnc I VI (= 1 Enoch 13:6–14:16) which contains the line ‫ליא חלק ועבד וברא‬, “So he has divided/decreed and made and divided/separated” (translation J. T. Milik). Second, there are the texts of an important group in Hellenistic Judaism, the Samaritans. The texts of the Samaritan liturgy are particularly instructive, because cosmology what has been ‘buried’ somewhere” (Malul, Knowledge, Control and Sex, 144). 63 See W. G. Lambert, “Technical Terminology for Creation in the Ancient Near East,” J. Prosecký (ed.), Intellectual Life of the Ancient Near East: Papers Presented at the 43rd Rencontre assyriologique internationale Prague, July 1–5, 1996 (Prague: Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, Oriental Institute, 1998), 189–93 (192): “The Akkadian embraces two quite distinctive ideas which have different Sumerian equivalents. The one is banû = dû ‘make,’ or more specifically ‘build,’ while the other banû = (u)tu alludes to parentage.” 64 See S. Anthonioz, L’eau, enjeux politiques et théologiques, de Sumer à la Bible (VTS, 131; Leiden: Brill, 2009), 584: “Aussi la racine hébraïque ‫ברא‬, «créer», a-t-elle été (traditionnellement) posée comme équivalente de l’akkadien banû. De fait, l’équivalence peut être établie sur le plan sémantique à tous ses niveaux, puisque les notion liées de construction/décoration et production/végétation sont présentes dans le déroulement narratif de Gn. 1. Cependant, cette équivalence reste problématique sur le plan étymologique.” 65 The same concept of separation is expressed in Syriac by the verb barrî “to separate, liberate,” and by the adverb bar “outside” (C. Brockelman, Lexicon Syriacum [2nd edition; Hildesheim: Olms, 1966]). So far the verb bārāʾ does not occur in Phoenician, nor in Ugaritic (Lambert, “Technical Terminology,” 189).

267

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬

and the view of God as creator play an important role.66 God is very often described in these texts as “the creator of the world,” ‫עבודה דעלמה‬, and with the collocation ‫פעל כל עלמה‬. Equally frequent is the expression of the idea that God created everything, ‫עבודה דכלה‬.67 In all these Samaritan creation texts, the divine act of creation is expressed either by ‫ עבודה‬or ‫פעל‬, but never by ‫ברא‬. Hans-Friedrich Weiss made an analysis of how in Samaritan cosmology two main groups of texts are distinguishable.68 The first group of texts relate their view of creation to Genesis 1 and understand the creation of the world as God’s battle against the powers of chaos. The second group has its origins in Greek-Hellenistic philosophy. To the former belong, among others, Hymns IV 13 and V 3: ‫מי תהומה מעס · ומי רקיעה תלא · נפש לבינתוך · טעיל לרחמין‬ Hymn IV 13

‫גלא יבשה · ממי תהו ובהו‬ Hymn V 3

In Hymn V 3 God reveals the dry material by putting the waters of the tehôm aside. Hymn IV 13 is even more explicit, and Weiss translates it as follows: “Die Wasser der Tehom halt er zurück, und die Wasser der (Himmels-)Feste hält er hoch. Er hat ausgebreitet (‫ )נפש‬zwischen ihnen einen Raum (‫ )טעיל‬für die, die ihn lieben.”69 Cowley explains the meaning of ‫ טעל‬in Samaritan texts as follows: “‫…טעל‬to be or make wide; impft. ‫…נטעיל‬spread open…; imperat. ‫ טעיל‬spread out…‫…טעיל‬space.”70 The metaphoric image presented in Hymn IV 13 is in line with the beginning of Genesis 1 and describes the making of the space between the waters of the tehôm and the heavenly vault. And this is exactly what is expressed in Biblical Hebrew by the verb ‫ברא‬, “to separate, set apart, make space,” in the view of Van Wolde.71

66 See H.-F. Weiss, Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie des hellenistischen und palästinischen Judentums (TU, 97; Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1966), especially 129–38; and the edition and glossary of the texts of the Samaritan liturgy by A. E. Cowley, The Samaritan Liturgy (2 vols.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1909). 67 Weiss, Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie, 130. 68 Weiss, Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie, 131–38. 69 Weiss, Untersuchungen zur Kosmologie, 131. 70 Cowley, The Samaritan Liturgy, vol. 2, lvii. 71 Van Wolde, Reframing Biblical Studies, 184–200; “Why the Verb.”

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6. THE MEANING AND SIGNIFICANCE OF ‫ברא‬: BK’S ALTERNATIVE PROPOSAL 6.1 SUMMARY OF BK’S ARGUMENTS On pp. 14–18, 20, BK seek “to address the meaning and significance of ‫ ברא‬from the perspective of a more historical approach”(BK, 14). They argue that God creates with ‫ ברא‬in late texts such as Genesis 1–2 (postexilic Priestly Writer; 1:1–2:4a) and Chronicles (personal name “Beraiah,” ‫;בראיה‬ 1 Chr 8:21) in order to avoid anthropomorphism (the attribution of human characteristics to the deity). Older texts have terms such as ‫“ בנה‬to build,” ‫“ יצר‬to form, shape,” ‫“ עשה‬to make,” and ‫“ קנה‬to beget, bear, create,” words that may connote procreation. Consequently the change in language relates to a theological shift in thinking over time, from older texts that use anthropomorphic language about God to later texts that refer to creation in a way that sharply contrasts God’s activity to human activity. Therefore they also suggest the translation “to construct, build” for ‫ ברא‬rather than “to create” or “to separate.” BK offer the following items of support for their alternative proposal regarding the meaning of ‫ ברא‬in Gen 1:1–2:4a: 1. In Israel’s preexilic period cognates of the Hebrew verb ‫ ברא‬are unattested in Semitic languages (e.g., Akkadian, Aramaic, Phoenician, Ugaritic, and also epigraphic Hebrew) which mainly use instead cognates of Hebrew ‫ בנה‬and ‫ קנה‬in contexts of creation (e.g., Akkadian banû, Ugaritic qny) (BK, 5–7, 14–15, 17). Although they do not explicitly state that the root ‫ ברא‬was an absolutely late development, speaking instead about a “shift” in meaning or usage (“semantic/theological shift”) in biblical books dating to the exilic and postexilic periods, an implication of their discussions of the etymology of ‫ ברא‬and especially the antiquity of old(er) terms such as ‫ קנה‬and its cognates in other Semitic languages seems to be that the root ‫ ברא‬made a relatively late(r) entrance into Biblical Hebrew. 2. In Biblical Hebrew the verb ‫ ברא‬is used only in relatively late texts (e.g., Genesis 1:1–2:4a, DeuteroIsaiah) whereas earlier texts have verbs such as ‫בנה‬, ‫יצר‬, ‫עשה‬, and ‫( קנה‬e.g., Gen 2:4b-25; 14:19, 22) (BK, 14–

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬

269

18). 3. The verb ‫ ברא‬appears nevertheless in several biblical texts (Deut 4:32; Jer 31:22; Amos 4:13) possibly dating to the preexilic period although “the date of each of these texts [=verses]…is disputed” and “[s]cholars have not only expressed doubt about the pre-exilic date of all three texts [=verses] but also advanced a postexilic date” (BK, 16). 4. The distribution of Israelite personal names supports the lateness of the root ‫ברא‬, such that for example the name ‫ אלקנה‬is found in relatively early texts whereas in a late book like Chronicles we find the name ‫( בראיה‬1 Chr 8:21) (BK, 15, n. 60, 17). 5. The shift in vocabulary from early biblical texts (with ‫בנה‬, ‫יצר‬, ‫עשה‬, and ‫ )קנה‬to late ones (with ‫ )ברא‬relates to a change in thought about the concept of creation (BK, 15–20). Thus BK conclude their article with this statement: “In sum and to place our discussion within the general frame of the theological approach of the author of Genesis 1, this text reflects [postexilic] Priestly theology. This is a temple oriented theology. Just as the temple in Jerusalem had been built by human hands, Yhwh is imagined as having ‘constructed’ the cosmos as his temple. To avoid an anthropomorphic confusion the verb ‫ ברא‬was used instead of the verb ‫( ”בנה‬BK, 20). Close scrutiny of each of these points exposes a number of general difficulties with BK’s argumentation. These include incomplete, and therefore misleading, citations of data for the vocabulary of “creation” in Biblical Hebrew; unstated assumptions about the dates of origin of biblical sources and books and their relative chronological relationships to one another; and confident acceptance and assertion of points of view that are disputed among biblical scholars. Related specifically to the second, third, and fourth points, in the following remarks we will demonstrate that the linguistic distribution and opposition of certain verb lexemes and Israelite personal names in the Hebrew Bible do not support BK’s “more historical approach.”

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6.2 CRITIQUE OF BK’S ARGUMENT BASED ON VERB LEXEMES A first significant piece of evidence that BK cite in support of their broader historical argument is the biblical distribution of ‫ ברא‬and other verb lexemes such as ‫בנה‬, ‫יצר‬, ‫עשה‬, and ‫קנה‬. They make the following statements, for example: It is worth noting that in the HB, the verb ‫ ברא‬is used only in relatively late texts. In an older text such as Gen 14:19, 22, the word ‫ קנה‬is used, a verb meaning both “to beget” and “to create.” (BK, 14) We assume that, gradually, the formula involving the ambiguous verb ‫קנה‬, which might suggest procreation, became obsolete.… Against this background, a specification of the meaning of the verb ‫ ברא‬I in the Qal stem emerged in the language. As a result of this specification, the verb ‫ ברא‬I Qal became one to be used exclusively with YHWH as grammatical subject.… It is difficult to establish a date for the theologically motivated specification of ‫ברא‬. One may argue for a preexilic date for this semantic/theological shift on the grounds of three texts, namely Amos 4:13; Deut 4:32 and Jer 31:22. But the date of each of these texts, is disputed. Scholars have not only expressed doubt about the pre-exilic date of all three texts but also advanced a postexilic date. We cannot embark here in a full discussion on the dating of these texts, but we may note that the specified use of ‫ ברא‬is widely attested in exilic and postexilic texts, especially in Deutero-Isaiah. (BK, 15–16) Traces of this shift can be found elsewhere in the HB.… Ezekiel 28… Ps 89:13. (BK, 16–17) In other words, the preference for ‫ ברא‬is a case of a theologically motivated preference for a “neologism,” meant to avoid anthropomorphisms that were also current in Canaan.…The only mode of creation attested in the ancient Near East which was eventually rejected in Israel was that of procreation. Therefore, the more theological term ‫ ברא‬was needed, instead of the ambiguous ‫קנה‬. (BK, 17–18)

The following table displays the full distribution in the Hebrew Bible of the verb ‫ ברא‬and also the related verbs ‫בנה‬, ‫יצר‬, and ‫קנה‬, when they have the deity as their subject.72 A few remarks of explanation: First, a complete study would also have to include the verbs ‫בדל‬, ‫יסד‬, ‫כון‬, ‫מוט‬, ‫נטה‬, ‫נתן‬, ‫עשה‬, ‫פעל‬, and ‫שים‬, but their exclusion 72

271

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬

‫ברא‬ Genesis

Exodus Numbers Deuteronomy Samuel

J: 6:7 P: 1:1, 21, 27 (x3); 2:3, 4 (Ni.); 5:1, 2 (Ni.), 2 J: 34:10 (Ni.) J: 16:30 4:32

I: 4:5 II: 40:26, 28; 41:20; 42:5; 43:1, 7, 15; 45:7 (x2), 8, 12, 18 (x2); 48:7 (Ni.); 54:16 (x2); 57:19

‫יצר‬ J: 2:7, 8, 19

‫קנה‬ 14:19, 22

32:6 1 Sam 2:35; 2 Sam 7:27 (//1 Chr 17:25) 1 Kgs 8:16 (//2 Chr 6:5); 11:38 (x2; non-//)

Kings

Isaiah

‫בנה‬ J: 2:22

2 Kgs 19:25 (//Isa 37:26) I: 22:11; 27:11; 37:26 (//2 Kgs 19:25) II: 43:1, 7, 21; 44:2, 21, 24; 45:7, 9 (x2), 11, 18 (x2); 46:11;

from the present study does not affect the result. Second, ‫ ברא‬II (Hiphil; 1 Sam 2:29) and ‫ ברא‬III (Piel; Josh 17:15, 18; Ezek 21:24 [x2]; 23:47) are excluded from the table. Third, the designation of J and P verses in the table follows M. Noth, A History of Pentateuchal Traditions (trans. B. W. Anderson; Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1972), 17–19, 28–32, 35–36, 262–76. Finally, in all these cases the deity is the subject, but the objects vary significantly. In this context it is unnecessary to discuss in detail the objects affected by the deity. What is immediately noticeable is that the verbs discussed here overlap semantically and often different verbs are used for the same type of object, e.g., both ‫ ברא‬and ‫קנה‬ for heaven(s). The verbs are used in relation to both concrete and metaphorical objects that include the universe, earth, and their adjuncts (e.g., mountains, wind); people, groups of people, and their adjuncts (e.g., eyes, hearts); animals; places and buildings; various kinds of things (e.g., pottery, throne); a number of abstract entities (e.g., people’s destinies, wondrous deeds, salvation, kingdom); and the generic origins of everything.

272

ELLEN VAN WOLDE & ROBERT REZETKO ‫ברא‬

Jeremiah

Ezekiel Amos Zechariah Malachi Psalms

Proverbs Qoheleth Lamentations Chronicles

III: 65:17, 18 (x2) 31:22

21:35 (Ni.); 28:13 (Ni.), 15 (Ni.) 4:13 2:10 51:12; 89:13, 48; 102:19 (Ni.); 104:30 (Ni.); 148:5 (Ni.)

‫בנה‬ 18:9; 24:6; 31:4, 28; 33:7; 42:10; 45:4 36:36

‫יצר‬

‫קנה‬

49:5 III: 64:7 1:5 (K/Q); 10:16; 18:11; 33:2; 51:19

9:6, 11

4:13; 7:1 12:1

28:5; 51:20; 69:36; 78:69; 89:3, 5; 102:17; 127:1; 147:2

33:15; 74:17; 94:9; 95:5; 104:26; 139:16

139:13

8:22 12:1 3:5 1 Chr 17:10 (//2 Sam 7:11, ‫)עשה‬, 25 (//2 Sam 7:27); 2 Chr 6:5 (//1 Kgs 8:16)73

To begin we should restate the basic claim of BK: early biblical texts use (anthropomorphic) verbs such as ‫בנה‬, ‫יצר‬, and ‫קנה‬, whereas late biblical texts (especially P) use the (non-anthropomorphic) verb ‫ברא‬. Does the biblical data substantiate this hypothesis? Some biblical sources, excluding P (Priestly source/redaction) since it is the issue of debate, seem to support BK’s argument. Thus they say “the specified use of ‫ ברא‬is widely attested in exilic and postexilic texts, especially in Deutero-Isaiah” and “[t]races of this shift can be found elsewhere in the HB.…Ezekiel 28…Ps 89:13” (BK, 16). One might also All together in synoptic Samuel–Kings//Chronicles we find the following situation: 2 Sam 7:11 (‫ )עשה‬// 1 Chr 17:10 (‫ ;)בנה‬2 Sam 7:27 (‫ )בנה‬// 1 Chr 17:25 (‫ ;)בנה‬1 Kgs 8:16 (‫ )בנה‬// 2 Chr 6:5 (‫)בנה‬. The more anthropomorphic verb ‫ בנה‬in undisputed postexilic 1 Chr 17:10 is interesting when compared to the more generic ‫ עשה‬in 2 Sam 7:11. 73

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬

273

mention in support of their thesis the following texts that they do not specifically cite: III Isaiah (65:17-18), Malachi (2:10), Qoheleth (12:1), and several potentially late Psalms (104:30; 148:5). This is modest support for BK’s thesis. But much other evidence challenges it. First, ‫ ברא‬is used in possibly early texts. BK remark: “One may argue for a pre-exilic date for this semantic/theological shift on the grounds of three texts, namely Amos 4:13; Deut 4:32 and Jer 31:22. But the date of each of these texts, is disputed” (BK, 16). They cite secondary literature in support of both options (BK, 16, nn. 63–64), that these verses could be either preexilic or postexilic, and we could easily multiply additional references in support of both options. But it should also be pointed out that J (the “Yahwist”; Gen 6:7; Exod 34:10; Num 16:30), I Isaiah (4:5), and several potentially early Psalms (51:12; 89:13, 48; 102:19), also use ‫ברא‬. Second, ‫בנה‬, ‫יצר‬, and ‫ קנה‬are used in possibly late texts. BK hint at the continued use of these verbs in late texts (BK, 15, n. 61), but the entire set of data and the full implications of this observation are not given. So, for example, III Isaiah has both ‫( ברא‬65:17, 18 [x2]) and ‫( יצר‬64:7), Zechariah has only ‫( יצר‬12:1), and one possibly late Psalm has only ‫( יצר‬104:26). We will look below at the interesting cases of Proverbs 8 and Chronicles. Third, BK remark that traces of the shift from the use of the early verbs to the use of ‫“( ברא‬replacing ‘old’ terms for creating”) can be seen, for instance, in Ezekiel 28 and Ps 89:13. In the context of their discussion (BK, 16) it seems that they wish to date this change to around the time of the exile. It is interesting to observe in this regard that some books typically associated with the time of the exile have both ‫ ברא‬and one or more of the other verbs, albeit in different proportions: II Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel. On the other hand, Lam. 3:5 uses the “anthropomorphic” verb ‫ בנה‬for the deity’s actions. Furthermore, other texts that are not normally associated with the exile, but rather are considered either preexilic or postexilic as the case may be, attest the so-called early verbs and late verb ‫ברא‬: J, Deuteronomy, I Isaiah, III Isaiah, Amos, Psalms 51, 89, 102. If the time of the exile represents a sort of transitional period in the linguistic and conceptual portrayal of the deity’s actions, then the “mixture” in these various texts requires explanation. Fourth, a particularly interesting passage that is not mentioned by BK is Proverbs 8. Verses 22-31 say: 22 The LORD created me (‫ ) ָקנָ נִ י‬at the beginning of His course as the first of His works (‫ ) ִמ ְּפ ָע ָליו‬of old. 23 In the distant past I was fashioned (‫)נִ ַס ְּכ ִתי‬, at the beginning, at the origin of earth. 24 There was still no ָ ), no springs rich in water; 25 deep when I was brought forth (‫חֹול ְּל ִתי‬ Before the foundation of the mountains were sunk, before the hills I

274

ELLEN VAN WOLDE & ROBERT REZETKO ָ ). 26 He had not yet made (‫ ) ָע ָׂשה‬earth and fields, or was born (‫חֹול ְּל ִתי‬ the world’s first clumps of clay. 27 I was there when He set ( ‫ ) ַב ֲה ִכינֹו‬the heavens into place; when He fixed the horizon upon the deep; 28 When He made the heavens above firm, and the fountains of the deep gushed forth; 29 When He assigned (‫ ) ְּבׂשּומֹו‬the sea its limits, so that its waters never transgress His command; when He fixed the foundations of the earth, 30 I was with Him as a confidant, a source of delight every day, rejoicing before Him at all times, 31 rejoicing in His inhabited world, finding delight with mankind. (NJPSV)

This is not the place for a detailed discussion of this passage. The following observations, however, are pertinent to the present discussion. First, Proverbs 1–9 and 30–31 are usually considered the youngest parts of the book, later than chapters 10–29, and having a Persian and/or Hellenistic origin, and this applies in particular to chapter 8, which some view as a response to Greek philosophy.74 Second, the verbs used of Wisdom’s genesis (by Yahweh) in Prov 8:22-31 describe it in the language of birth, using ‫ קנה‬and the even more anthropomorphic verb ‫“ חיל‬to be brought forth [through labor pains]”;75 Prov 8:24-25, twice.76 In short, the likely date of this passage, its choice of vocabulary, and its highly anthropomorphic portrayal of the deity do not square easily with BK’s historical explanation of ‫ברא‬. So, in summary, the distribution in Biblical Hebrew of the verb lexemes studied here does not tally well with the historical approach suggested by BK.

6.3 CRITIQUE OF BK’S ARGUMENT BASED ON PROPER NAMES A second significant piece of evidence that BK cite in support of their broader historical argument is the biblical distribution of Israelite personal names such as ‫ אלקנה‬and ‫( בראיה‬point 4, above). They make the following statements, for example: We assume that, gradually, the formula involving the ambiguous verb ‫קנה‬, which might suggest procreation, became obsolete (BK, 15). In this connection it is interesting to note that the Israelite personal name ‫ אלקנה‬is attested only between the 10th and 8th century BCE… (BK, 15, n. 60) See, for example, M. V. Fox, Proverbs 1–9: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB, 18A; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 6. See also the more recent summary in A. Lenzi, “Proverbs 8:22-31: Three Perspectives on Its Composition,” JBL 125 (2006), 687–714 (especially 688–89). 75 HALOT 311. 76 See, for example, Fox, Proverbs 1–9, 279–89. 74

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬

275

In 1 Chron 8:21 a Benjaminite man is mentioned, named Berayah, ‫בראיה‬. Scholars agree on its meaning: “YHWH created (the child).”…However, the name can be seen as a later parallel to ‫אלקנה‬, “El created (the child).” The name Elqanah only occurs in relatively early texts. It seems quite likely that this is related to the theological change of verbs for God’s creation work. The more anthropomorphic ‫“ בנה‬to build,” ‫ קנה‬with the meaning of “to beget, bear, create,” and ‫“ יצר‬to shape (like a potter),” would have been exchanged then for ‫―ברא‬a verb for building that had become obsolete in everyday Hebrew and therefore was a suitable choice if one wanted to avoid an anthropomorphism. If that is true, it would explain why a man named ‫ בראיה‬only occurs in a quite late text like 1 Chronicles and that this name is not attested in 10th to 8th century inscriptions, whereas more anthropomorphic names like ‫עשהיהו‬, “YHWH made (the child),” and ‫ אלקנה‬do occur in those times. (BK, 17)

Israelite personal names that embed the name of the deity are known as theophoric names (“bearing a god”). The most common divine epithets in Israelite theophoric names are the hypocoristics (“petnames”) ‫יהו‬/‫ יה‬and ‫אל‬. These names illustrate the beliefs that the name-giver or name-bearer has about the deity, making a declaration about or expressing a petition to him/her, such as giving thanks for a child or expressing hope for his/her blessing.77 Consequently it is not surprising that a large number of names in the Hebrew Bible refer in some way to a child’s genesis in relation to the deity. The following table summarizes the most obvious and/or frequent theophoric personal names in Biblical Hebrew that associate the deity with the progeniture of a child.78 For each name the root, Hebrew name, English Helpful resources on theophoric names in the Hebrew Bible include: J. D. Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names in Ancient Hebrew: A Comparative Study (JSOTS, 49; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1988); D. R. Hunsberger, Theophoric Names in the Old Testament and their Theological Significance (Ph.D. thesis, Temple University, 1969); D. M. Pike, Israelite Theophoric Personal Names in the Bible and their Implications for Religious History (Ph.D. thesis, University of Pennsylvania, 1990); J. H. Tigay, You Shall Have No Other Gods: Israelite Religion in the Light of Hebrew Inscriptions (HSS, 31; Atlanta: Scholar Press, 1986). Older studies of value are: G. B. Gray, Studies in Hebrew Proper Names (London: Adam and Charles Black, 1896); M. Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen im Rahmen der gemeinsemitischen Namengebung (BWANT, III, 10; Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1928). 78 For less common names related to other roots see the resources cited in the previous footnote, e.g., Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92–94, 176, 284–86. 77

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equivalent,79 and a complete set of references are given. Following the table we will draw some conclusions about the significance of these names in relation to BK’s historical explanation of ‫ברא‬. Root

Hebrew

English

References

‫ברא‬

‫בראיה‬

Beraiah

1 Chr 8:2180

‫קנה‬

‫אלקנה‬

Elkanah

Exod 6:24; 1 Sam 1:1, 4, 8, 19, 21, 23; 2:11, 20; 1 Chr 6:8, 10, 11 (x2), 12, 19, 20, 21; 9:16; 12:7; 15:23; 28:781

‫פעל‬

‫אלפעל‬

Elpaal

1 Chr 8:11, 12, 1882

‫יצר‬

‫יצר‬

Jezer

Gen 46:24; Num 26:49 (x2); 1 Chr 7:1383

‫יצרי‬

Izri

1 Chr 25:1184

‫בניה‬

Benaiah

‫בניהו‬

Benaiah

‫בנה‬

2 Sam 20:23; Ezek 11:13; 41:13; Ezra 10:25, 30, 35, 43; 1 Chr 4:36; 11:22, 31; 27:14; 2 Chr 20:1485 2 Sam 8:18; 23:20, 22, 30; 1 Kgs 1:8, 10, 26, 32, 36, 38, 44; 2:25, 29, 30 (x2), 34, 35, 46; 4:4; Ezek 11:1; 1 Chr 11:24; 15:18, 20, 24; 16:5, 6; 18:17; 27:5, 6, 34; 2 Chr 31:1386

79 These names are usually rendered in English as “God/Yahweh has made/built/created” (perfect) and “God/Yahweh makes/builds/creates” (imperfect), and “work/creation of Yahweh” in the case of the final four items. 80 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 171; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 339; HALOT 154. 81 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 20–21, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 84, 92, 111, 359; HALOT 60. 82 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 34, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 84, 93, 138, 357; HALOT 60. 83 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 172; HALOT 429; hypocoristic of * )‫יצריה(ו‬. 84 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 172; HALOT 429; hypocoristic of * )‫יצריה(ו‬. 85 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 21, 172–73; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 111, 156, 157, 158, 237, 338; HALOT 139–40. 86 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 21, 172–73; Fowler, Theophoric Personal

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬ Root

Hebrew

277

English

References

‫בונה‬

Bunah

1 Chr 2:2587

‫בוני‬

Bunni

Neh 11:1588

‫בנוי‬

Binnui

Ezra 8:33; 10:30, 38; Neh 3:24; 7:15; 10:10; 12:889

‫ָבני‬

Bani

2 Sam 23:36; Ezra 2:10; 10:29, 34, 38; Neh 3:17; 8:7; 9:4 (x2), 5; 10:14, 15; 11:22; 1 Chr 6:31; 9:490

‫ֻבני‬

Bunni

Neh 9:4; 10:1691

‫יבנה‬

Jabneh

2 Chr 26:692

‫יבנְּ יה‬

Ibneiah

1 Chr 9:893

‫יבנִ יה‬

Ibneiah

1 Chr 9:894

‫יבנאל‬

Jabneel

Josh 15:11; 19:3395

Names, 91, 338; HALOT 140. 87 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 40, 172–73; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 156, 158, 338; HALOT 115; hypocoristic of )‫בניה(ו‬. 88 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 39, 172–73; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 158, 338; HALOT 115; hypocoristic of )‫בניה(ו‬. Cf. ‫בֻני‬. 89 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 38, 172–73; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 156, 158, 338; HALOT 139; hypocoristic of )‫בניה(ו‬. 90 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 38, 172–73; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 157, 158, 338; HALOT 139; hypocoristic of )‫בניה(ו‬. 91 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 38–39, 172–73; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 158, 338; HALOT 139; hypocoristic of )‫בניה(ו‬. Cf. ‫בוני‬. 92 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 212; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 338; HALOT 384. 93 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 27–28, 212; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 338; HALOT 384. 94 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 27–28, 212; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 338; HALOT 384. 95 HALOT 383–84.

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Root

Hebrew

English

References

‫עשה‬

‫אלעשה‬

Eleasah

Jer 29:3; Ezra 10:22; 1 Chr 2:39, 40; 8:37; 9:4396

‫עשהאל‬

Asahel

2 Sam 2:18 (x2), 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 30, 32; 3:27, 30; 23:24; Ezra 10:15; 1 Chr 2:16; 11:26; 27:7; 2 Chr 17:8; 31:1397

Asiel

1 Chr 4:3598

‫עשיה‬

Asaiah

2 Kgs 22:12, 14; 1 Chr 4:36; 6:15; 9:5; 15:6, 11; 2 Chr 34:2099

‫יעשיאל‬

Jaasiel

1 Chr 11:47; 27:21100

‫יעשו\י‬

Jaasu/ai

Ezra 10:37101

‫מעשיה‬

Maaseiah

Jer 21:1; 29:21, 25; 37:3; Ezra 10:18, 21, 22, 30; Neh 3:23; 8:4, 7; 10:26; 11:5, 7; 12:41, 42102

‫מעשיהו‬

Maaseiah

Jer 35:4; 1 Chr 15:18, 20; 2 Chr 23:1; 26:11; 28:7; 34:8103

‫עשיאל‬

96 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 21, 90, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 111, 356; HALOT 59. 97 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 21, 27, 90, 92, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 356; HALOT 893. 98 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 28, 206; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 157, 356; HALOT 893. 99 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 21, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 92, 157, 356; HALOT 893. 100 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 28, 206; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 93, 134, 160, 356; HALOT 423. 101 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 28, 206; HALOT 423; hypocoristic of ‫ ;יעשיאל‬K: ‫ ;יעשו‬Q: ‫יעשי‬. 102 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 116, 157, 163, 248, 356; HALOT 617. 103 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 116, 157, 163, 248, 356; HALOT 617.

279

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬ Root

Hebrew ‫מעשי‬ ‫בעשיה‬

English

References

Maasai

1 Chr 9:12104

Baaseiah

1 Chr 6:25105

On the basis of this table several significant first impressions are that (1) there are many more theophoric personal names related to the progeniture of children than BK mention in their article, and, more importantly, (2) these appear most often in undisputed postexilic texts where, according to BK, they should not be found. Instead, their discussion treats only ‫ אלקנה‬and ‫בראיה‬, with a short reference to “more anthropomorphic names like ‫[ עשהיהו‬in inscriptions]” (see the quotations above). Furthermore, it is interesting to chart the distribution of all these names, which in their view are presumably “more anthropomorphic” than ‫בראיה‬: Pentateuch: Genesis, Exodus, Numbers Former Prophets: Joshua, Samuel, Kings Latter Prophets: Ezekiel, Jeremiah Writings: Ezra, Nehemiah, Chronicles

4 45 9 107

Thus, whereas “in a late book like Chronicles we find the name ‫בראיה‬,” it is not true that “more anthropomorphic” names like the ones they mention, ‫ אלקנה‬and ‫עשהיהו‬, are found principally in so-called early texts, since these kinds of names clearly predominate in the late books of Ezra, Nehemiah, and Chronicles, and in fact they occur more often there than in all the rest of the books of the Hebrew Bible combined. This viewpoint is affected very little even if we eliminate some of the indistinct (e.g., ‫ )יצר‬and abbreviated (e.g., ‫ )בונה‬forms in the table above, though we do not feel that this is necessary.106 A few more specific remarks are in order. First, with regard to the Pentateuch, BK are concerned mainly with ‫ ברא‬in Genesis 1:1–2:4a, and they point out that “[i]n an older text such as Gen 14:19, 22, the word ‫קנה‬ is used” (BK, 14). So also, they say, whereas ‫ בראיה‬is used in the late book of Chronicles (1 Chr 8:21), ‫ אלקנה‬is used in “relatively early texts” that date “between the 10th and 8th century BCE.” However, they seem not to notice Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 172; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 163, 356; HALOT 617; hypocoristic of )‫מעשיה(ו‬, or perhaps corruption of ‫עמשסי‬ (cf. Neh 11:13). 105 Noth, Die israelitischen Personennamen, 172, 239; Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 116, 356; HALOT 147; corruption of ‫?מעשיה‬ 106 See especially the discussion of “abbreviated forms” in Fowler, Theophoric Personal Names, 149–69. 104

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that in Exod 6:24, a Priestly text, another ‫ אלקנה‬is mentioned, a descendant of Levi and a son of Korah. The significance of this is that although BK’s late Priestly Writer uses ‫ ברא‬in Genesis 1:1–2:4a, apparently he did not feel compelled to suppress the mention of a person having the name ‫ אלקנה‬in Exod 6:24. We will look below at the purported historical settings of the people with the theophoric personal names given in the table above. Second, as a possible illustration of the shift in thinking from the preexilic to the postexilic period, BK cite the book of Ezekiel, and chapter 28 in particular. They say: Traces of this shift can be found elsewhere in the HB. For instance, Ezekiel 28 clearly presupposes a tradition which is more or less parallel to Genesis 2. But, significantly, in contrast to the author of the gardennarrative who uses ‫“ יצר‬to form, shape” (Gen 2:7–8, 19), ‫“ עשה‬to make” (Gen 2:18), and ‫“ בנה‬to build” (Gen 2:22) to describe God’s work of creation, Ezek 28:13, 15 uses ‫ברא‬. (BK, 16–17)

In the framework of BK’s historical argument it is interesting to observe that elsewhere in the book of Ezekiel, and in the book of Jeremiah which is also associated with the exile, several “more anthropomorphic” names are mentioned: (‫( בניה)ו‬Ezek 11:1, 13; 41:13), (‫( מעשיה)ו‬Jer 21:1; 29:21, 25; 35:4; 37:3), and ‫( אלעשה‬Jer 29:3). Third, above we mentioned the frequency of “more anthropomorphic” names in the late writings of Ezra, Nehemiah, and Chronicles. These data clearly contradict BK’s historical explanation of ‫ברא‬. The “more anthropomorphic” names are actually more widely used in “late” rather than “early” writings. Thus, insofar as Israelite personal names are concerned, BK’s argument that there was a theological shift in thinking over time is supported by usage neither in the Priestly source/redaction (i.e. ‫ אלקנה‬in Exod 6:24) nor in the undisputed late biblical books of Ezra, Nehemiah, and Chronicles. Related to the previous point we should remark briefly on the purported historical settings of the people that are mentioned in the books of Ezra, Nehemiah, and Chronicles. Most of the theophoric personal names given in the table above occur in genealogical lists.107 Those mentioned in The issue of the historical antiquity and reliability of the biblical genealogies is outside the parameters of this article and in any case the matter does not affect the present discussion. On the genealogies in 1 Chronicles 1–9 see J. T. Sparks, The Chronicler’s Genealogies: Towards an Understanding of 1 Chronicles 1–9 (Society of Biblical Literature, Academia Biblica, 28; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008), and the summary of recent research given in R. K. Duke, “Recent Research in Chronicles,” CBR 8 (2009), 10–50 (35–36). 107

SEMANTICS AND THE SEMANTICS OF ‫ברא‬

281

Ezra, Nehemiah, and 1 Chronicles 9 are situated in the (early-)postexilic period. In contrast the people mentioned in other chapters of Chronicles are situated in the preexilic period. Consequently in the books of Ezra, Nehemiah, and Chronicles, whether in terms of their status as late biblical writings or the historical periods about which they speak, it is impossible to trace a line of development from “early” to “late” writings. Finally, it is interesting to observe that the storyline in 1 Chr 8:21 in fact situates “late” ‫ בראיה‬in Israel’s preexilic period. The biblical data presented above cast a shadow over BK’s “more historical approach” to the distribution and use of ‫ ברא‬in Biblical Hebrew. We have offered here detailed (but not comprehensive) discussions of several significant pieces of evidence that they cite: the distribution of certain verb lexemes and Israelite personal names. A careful look at the other points they offer in support of their alternative proposal (see above) highlights other flaws in their argumentation and demonstrates further that their thesis is untenable insofar as the Hebrew Bible is concerned. This does not come as a surprise since much linguistic data of Biblical Hebrew108 and the notion of (anti-)anthropomorphism in biblical literature109 are far less diachronically stratified than BK would have us believe. In conclusion, BK’s proposal that “late” ‫ ברא‬replaced “more anthropomorphic” ‫בנה‬, ‫יצר‬, ‫קנה‬, and so on in “late” biblical writings, is not supported by the actual Biblical Hebrew data and must be rejected.

I. Young, R. Rezetko, and M. Ehrensvärd, Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts: Volume 1: An Introduction to Approaches and Problems. Volume 2: A Survey of Scholarship, a New Synthesis and a Comprehensive Bibliography (Bible World; London: Equinox Publishing, 2008). 109 B. F. Batto, “The Divine Sovereign: The Image of God in the Priestly Creation Account,” B. F. Batto and K. L. Roberts (eds.), David and Zion: Biblical Studies in Honor of J. J. M. Roberts (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2004), 143–86; I. Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1995), 128–37; M. S. Smith, The Origins of Biblical Monotheism: Israel’s Polytheistic Background and the Ugaritic Texts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 83–93; M. S. Smith, The Early History of God: Yahweh and the Other Deities in Ancient Israel (2nd edition; Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, and Dearborn: Dove Booksellers, 2002), 137–47. For example, Smith says: “Israelite anthropomorphism hardly ends with the monarchy. Post-exilic literature, where anthropomorphism might be less expected, is in fact replete with it. Later works belonging even to the priestly tradition continued to transmit anthropomorphic imagery” (Smith, Origins of Biblical Monotheism, 89). 108

282

ELLEN VAN WOLDE & ROBERT REZETKO

7. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION Van Wolde has argued that the verb ‫ ברא‬should be construed to mean “to separate” rather than “to create.” In reply Becking and Korpel countered that Van Wolde’s arguments were inadequate and that in fact ‫ ברא‬is best rendered “to construct.” In this article we have bolstered Van Wolde’s earlier arguments by means of a critical review of earlier biblical studies, by a reflection on biblical semantics, and by additional support from various semantic studies, especially biblical and extra-biblical treatments of verbs expressing “separation-events,” and etymological studies, as well as by external confirmation in Samaritan texts. Thus we have shown also that Becking and Korpel’s arguments against Van Wolde’s proposal and in support of their own are themselves deficient. In particular, their alternative proposal that ‫ ברא‬means “to construct” is challenged by a more complete analysis of biblical data than BK provided in their rejoinder. In conclusion, Van Wolde’s proposal that ‫ ברא‬in Genesis 1:1–2:4a means “to spatially separate” remains a viable explanation for the semantics of this verb.

THE NARRATIVE EFFECT OF PSALMS 84–89 ROBERT E. WALLACE JUDSON UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION Recent canonical approaches to the Psalter have suggested that the Psalter was redacted purposely to help the exilic and post-exilic communities answer the apparent failure of the Davidic covenant.1 Over twenty years ago, Gerald Wilson demonstrated the purposed redaction of the Psalter by focusing on the endings of each book of the Psalter. Ten years later, Nancy deClaissé-Walford focused on “reading from the beginning” of those same texts.2 According to their proposals, Book IV of the Psalter is the “theological pivot point.” Book IV provides the reader reorientation to Yahweh’s kingship following Book I & II’s original orientation of the Davidic covenant and Book III’s disorientation of exile. If Wilson and deClaissé-Walford’s readings of the text are correct and Book IV (specifically Ps 90) is the turning point in the story of the Psalter, then the third book of the Psalter moves the reader toward that climax and reorientation. The canonical position of the last six psalms of Book III focuses the reader on an exilic Israel searching for answers in advance of the ones provided by Book IV.

Not all scholars are convinced of the Psalter’s intended redaction. See R. N. Whybray, Reading the Psalms as a Book (JSOTSup, 222; Sheffield: JSOT, 1996). 2 G. H. Wilson, The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter (SBLDS 76; Chico, Calif.: Scholars, 1985); N. deClaissé-Walford, Reading from the Beginning: The Shaping of the Hebrew Psalter (Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1997); See also R. E. Wallace, The Narrative Effect of Book IV of the Hebrew Psalter (StBL, 112; New York: Peter Lang, 2007). 1

283

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ROBERT E. WALLACE

James Sanders notes that in times of crisis “only a story with old, recognizable elements has the power for life.”3 By the beginning of Book IV, Israel successfully finds that old story: Moses as messenger and Yahweh as King. In Book III, however, the disorientation of exile challenges the psalmists’ attempts to find hope in the traditional elements of faith. The disoriented psalmists desperately look to reorient their theology by appealing to Temple, land, and Davidic covenant.4 Unfortunately, those traditional elements are no longer capable of providing hope. Communal laments dominate Book III. Using traditional form-critical categories ten of the sixteen psalms from Ps 74 to Ps 89 contain individual or communal lament characteristics.5 These laments provide a canonical context in which to read the psalms of Book III. The psalmists attempt to make sense of God from the context of exile. Within that context, the hymns of celebration found in Pss 84–89 become ironic expressions of a grieving Israel desperately holding on to what brought hope in the past. Psalm 84 ties the presence of the divine to the temple. The hopeful conclusion of Ps 85 is tied to the blessings that God will give the land (85:12). Psalm 87 again ties hope to Zion. In the climax of Book III, the reader finds that Ps 89 explicitly ties hope to David and the Davidic monarchy. Though the psalmists attempt to find hope in the “old story” of these symbols of God’s past provision, the laments found in Pss 84–89 remind the reader that those elements no longer provide hope.

THE METHOD For centuries, people of faith attached significance to the editing of the Psalter as a single “book.” For Samson Raphael Hirsch, the struggle of David throughout the book of Psalms mirrors the struggle of the Jews throughout history.6 For St. Benedict, and the Benedictine monks who

J. Sanders, From Sacred Story to Sacred Text (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 21. W. Brueggemann, “Psalms and the Life of Faith: A Suggested Typology of Function,” JSOT 17 (1980), 3–32 (5–6). 5 Pss 74, 77, 79, 80, 82:8, 83, 85, 86, 88, 89:39–52; H. Gunkel & J. Begrich, An Introduction to the Psalms: the Genres of the Religious Lyric of Israel (trans. J. D. Nogalski; Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1998), 82; trans. of Einleitung in die Psalmen: die Gattungen der religiösen Lyrik Israels (Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985, 1933); W. H. Bellinger, Psalms: Reading and Studying the Book of Praises (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1990), 45; N. deClaissé-Walford, Introduction to the Psalms: A Song from Ancient Israel (St. Louis: Chalice, 2004), 85–86. 6 S. R. Hirsch, The Psalms (trans. Gertrude Hirschler; 2 vols; New York: Philipp Feldheim, Inc., 1960). 3 4

THE NARRATIVE EFFECT OF PSALMS 84–89

285

follow, the Psalter is a book that must be read in its entirety in a week for due diligence to be shown in service. For the contemporary reader, however, there are obstacles to overcome. The post-Enlightenment mind continually struggles with the Near Eastern ability to find harmony in contrasting facts. The fact that the creation stories of Gen 1 and 2 were redacted together is not as shocking to the Western reader as the fact that the biblical text does not need to harmonize the differences. This kind of story-telling only emphasizes the distance between the post-Enlightenment reader and the biblical redactors. This gap is widened when the reader comes to the psalms. In the Psalter, no obvious attempt has been made to redact these individual “sources” into a seamless narrative. Yet, these individual psalms have been collected into five units which are collected in a single book, a book that has traditionally been interpreted as “anthology.” The work of Nancy deClaissé-Walford and Gerald Wilson laid the foundation for this methodology. Their theories regarding the theological redaction of the individual books of the Psalter suggested a purpose. Indeed, the redactional purpose mirrored the story of Israel. A subtle sense of “story” emerged for the reader of the Psalter. While according to traditional form-critical categories the Psalter is not classified as narrative, there is a narrative impulse to biblical poetry. The broad narrative impulse throughout the entire Psalter when combined with the narrative settings of the individual psalms and the semantic and thematic connections Book III shares with other portions of the Psalter and the Hebrew Bible contribute to the sense of “plot,” which emerges for the reader. This plot provides a hermeneutical lens for the reader.7 What has emerged in this process is a methodology that takes a step away from the redaction concerns of Wilson, deClaissé-Walford and others. For this analysis, the process of the reading of the Hebrew Psalter is important. Micro-canonical issues, including poetic vocabulary and syntax, within individual Psalms are considered. Form-critical questions and historical questions regarding the editorial process of the Hebrew Psalter are noted; however, they are only important to this study as they inform the reading of the text―Sitz im Leben has been replaced by Sitz im Buch. The psalms also demonstrate a number of lexical and thematic connections with other psalms and with important narrative texts of the Hebrew Scriptures. Those connections allow the reader to “narrativise” the poetic text. This reading takes the superscriptions of the psalms seriously, perhaps too seriously for some. While the majority of scholars might not go as far as von Rad and say the superscriptions “have no authoritative value,” many 7

Wallace, The Narrative Effect of Book IV of the Hebrew Psalter, 10–13.

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ROBERT E. WALLACE

would also not allow the superscription to influence the context of the reading of the text to the degree this project does. If the reader is going to take seriously the canonical form of this text, however, the superscriptions have to be more than simply interesting. The superscriptions should find a significant place within the interpretation. When the text makes an association to a historical setting or with an individual, a canonical reader of the psalms needs to wrestle with the implications of that association. In this analysis, the superscriptions provide an interpretive setting through which a reader encounters the text. If a compromise is when no one is happy, then this methodology is a good compromise. It is not narrative enough for the narrative critics. It does not emphasize the poetic structures as much as the poetic scholars would like. It is not form critical enough for the form critics, and it is not anthropological or sociological at all. In the end, methodologies are best seen worked out with texts, as I will now demonstrate.

THE STORY THUS FAR Psalms 84–85 and 87–88 represent the second collection of Korahite psalms in the Psalter. The first Korahite psalms begin Book II and the Elohistic Psalter, and they continue the lament focus of Book I. These early Korahite psalms parallel the Book III Korahite psalms with an emphasis on longing for God, lamenting God’s abandonment, celebrating God’s choice of Zion, and looking forward to a future promise of salvation.8 Constructing a history of the Korahites is only speculation.9 The Chronicler’s history identifies the Korahites as the “doorkeepers” of the Tabernacle.10 If, as 1 Chron 6:31–38 suggests, this role continued in the temple, this fact might explain the strong emphasis on Zion and the temple which is found in both Korahite collections in the Psalter.11 While the emphasis on David and Zion continue in Book II, the psalms are sung with a variety of voices. Where Davidic superscriptions dominate Book I, only eighteen of the thirty-one psalms in Book II have Davidic superscriptions. In addition to the Korahite collection Asaph is mentioned, and several psalms are untitled. Perhaps, the most significant of the Book II superscriptions comes at the end. In Ps 72, the reader finds the F.-L. Hossfeld and E. Zenger, Psalms 2 (trans. G. Pizi; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2005), 357. 9 For one of the more interesting speculations, see M. D. Goulder, The Psalms of the Sons of Korah (JSOTSup, 20; Sheffield: JSOT, 1982). 10 1 Chron 9:19 11 Ps 46:4; 48: 1, 2, 11, 12; 84:7; 87: 2, 5; See G. Wanke, Die Zionstheologie der Korachiten (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1966). 8

THE NARRATIVE EFFECT OF PSALMS 84–89

287

first psalm of Solomon and the blessings and security of the Davidic covenant transferred to Solomon and his descendents.12 With his legacy secured, David can stop singing (72:20). Though it might be a successful transfer of power and blessing between David and Solomon, the reader would certainly recall Israel’s difficulties following Solomon’s reign. That same decline occurs in the story of the Psalter as well. Though the singer of Ps 73 directly addresses God, that close relationship reveals questions about how just the world (and ultimately God) is. The evildoers continue to succeed, and God does nothing to remedy the situation.13 Psalm 74 moves from a lament of an individual in Ps 73 to a lament from the community and opens with a cry of desperation, “Why, O Yahweh, have you cast us away forever?” The reader finds that in Ps 74, the sanctuary of Yahweh and Yahweh’s Holy Mountain have been destroyed (74:7). The psalmist’s foes mock and destroy. This struggle continues through the Asaph collection which makes up the first eleven psalms of Book III. Psalm 83, the last of the Asaph psalms, implores God to act against the enemies who have attempted to wipe out God’s people. The reader has found in Book III a holy mountain in perpetual ruins (74:3), God’s enduring ‫ חסד‬in question (77:9); a destroyed Jerusalem (79:1); and no mention of God’s king or anointed from Ps 73 through Ps 83. Book III is clearly an “exile” book. J. Clinton McCann’s reading of Book III may finds seeds of hope, which are brought to full realization in Books IV and V.14 Several of the Asaph psalms celebrate Yahweh as judge of all nations and remember the divine faithfulness to Israel in the face of Israel’s faithlessness.15 If the canonical setting of Book III is exile, however, understanding Yahweh as 12 G. H. Wilson, “The Use of Royal Psalms at the ‘Seams’ of the Psalter,” JSOT 35 (1986), 85–94 (89). 13 C. Westermann, Praise and Lament in the Psalter (trans. K. R. Crim and R. N. Soulen; Atlanta: John Knox, 1981), 194; The psalmist is not unlike Job here. See J. C. McCann, Jr., A Theological Introduction to the Book of Psalms (Nashville: Abingdon, 1993), 140–44; J. F. Ross, “Psalm 73,” J.G. Gammie (ed.), Israelite Wisdom: Theological and Literary Essays in Honor of Samuel Terrien (Missoula, Mont.: Scholars, 1978), 161– 75; and M. Buber, “the Heart Determines: Psalm 73,” J.L. Crenshaw (ed.), Theodicy in the Old Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 109–18. 14 J. C. McCann, Jr., “Books I–III and the Editorial Purpose of the Hebrew Psalter,” J.C. McCann (ed.), The Shape and Shaping of the Psalter, (JSOTSup, 20; Sheffield: JSOT, 1993), 100. 15 God as judge: Ps 75:3, 9, 11; 76:10, 13; Ps 82; Israel’s faithlessness and God’s faithfulness: Ps 77:12–21; Ps 78: 10, 17, 32, 40, 56; Ps 81

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judge, even judge of other nations, would not necessarily provide a positive reorientation. Indeed, this concern finds expression in the questioning of the divine justice at both ends of the Asaph collection in Ps 73 and Ps 83. If Yahweh is divine judge, why do those judgments tarry and fail to satisfy (Ps 83:1–2)? Robert Cole notes that throughout Asaph psalms, the psalmists ask God “Why?” [‫ ]למה‬and “How long?” [‫ ]עד־מתי‬the divine wrath will rest on the people (74:1, 10–11; 79:5; 80:5[4], 13[12]).16 In Ps 82:2 God responds with a similar question for the people, “How long [‫ ]עד־מתי‬will you judge wrongly and give favor to the wicked?” McCann calls Ps 82 the most important theological text in the canon as it gives the reader the standard of behavior by which God judges humanity and the divine council.17 Perhaps in response to the numerous questions, Yahweh speaks directly from the divine council and makes clear that God’s people must “give justice to the weak and fatherless,” and “rescue the weak and the needy” (82:3–4). This answer, however, is not enough to satisfy the psalmist, since, after God confronts the people with the divine’s expectations for justice in Ps 82, the psalmist confronts God in Ps 83 with the divine silence in the face of unjust nations. Left with unsatisfying answers, Book III turns its attention to the elements which provided a focus for faith in the past. As the reader encounters Pss 84–89, the psalmist is desperately clinging to items from the time when God made sense and when God kept his promises. In Ps 78:68– 70, the psalmist celebrates Zion, the temple, the land, and David. In quick order, Pss 84–89 remind the reader that faith in those specific historical symbols of God’s faithfulness is misplaced.

PSALMS 84–86 The traditional setting for Ps 84 has generally been interpreted as preexilic.18 As already addressed, however, the reader who encounters the canonical Psalter reads this psalm in the context of a holy mountain which has been destroyed. That canonical context of exile is supported by some 16 R. L. Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III (JSOTSup, 307; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2000), 132. 17 J. C. McCann, “The Single Most Important Text in the Entire Bible: Toward a Theology of the Psalms,” Rolf Jacobson (ed.), Soundings in the Theology of Psalms: Perspectives and Methods in Contemporary Scholarship, (Minneapolis, Minn.:Fortress, 2011), 63–76. 18 Gunkel, Introduction to Psalms, 56; W. O. E. Oesterley, The Psalms (London: SPCK, 1939, 1959), 387; C. Westerman links many motifs in the psalm to the “preDavid” era.

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commentators using other interpretive methods as well.19 With an exilic setting providing a hermeneutic lens through which to read the psalm, Ps 84 becomes an ironic expression of hopelessness. “Better is one day in your courts”; and yet, the reader knows the courts are a perpetual ruin. The transformation of desert conditions (84:7[6]) becomes a metaphorical one, which speaks of Israel’s future restoration while reminding them of their current despair.20 The tents [‫ ]משכן‬of Yahweh may be “delightful” in Ps 84:2[1], and indeed, this is in keeping with the Korahite vision of the dwelling place of the divine.21 In Book III, however, the reader remembers that God’s ‫משכן‬ has been defiled (74:7) and like the ‫ משכן‬of Shiloh (78:60) has been forsaken. When read in isolation, this psalm is read as an expression of hope found in the presence of the divine in the temple. In canonical context, however, this psalm is not an expression of hope and adoration as much as an expression of longing. The seeds of lament are found within the psalm itself. Ps 84:10 implores that Yahweh, “See our shield, O God! Regard the face of your anointed!” It is the first mention of Yahweh’s anointed king since Ps 72, and it sets up a singular focus of Pss 84–89, namely David. Robert Cole suggests this first person plural in the midst of predominantly first singular verbal constructions and pronominal suffixes stands out from the rest of the psalm and is a deliberate attempt to connect this psalm in the mind of the reader with similar communal prayers, specifically 80, which is written entirely in the first person plural.22 Psalm 85 then makes explicit the lamentation which was implicit in Ps 84. In a way reminiscent of material earlier in Book III, the psalmist has returned to questioning God directly. “Will you be angry at us forever?” (85:6[5]). As is typical with lament psalms, the psalmist rehearses God’s mighty acts on Israel’s behalf in the past.23 The psalmist remembers the forgiveness of God in the past (85:2[1]) and the way in which God has been favorable to the land (85:1[2]). Scholars have proposed an impressive range of settings for Ps 85. Many hold the position of Kissane. He locates the psalm to the post-exilic period, though he never names a specific cause which necessitates Israel to 19

E. J. Kissane, The Book of Psalms (Dublin: Browne and Nolan Ltd, 1964), 386–

87. M. Tate, Psalms 51–100 (Waco, Tex.: Word, 1990), 356. Ps 43:3; 46:4 22 Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III, 118–19. 23 C. Westermann, The Living Psalms (trans. J. R. Porter; Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans Publishing, 1989), 31–32. 20 21

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continue to pray for forgiveness and the fortune of the land.24 Goulder, on the other hand, notes several interesting lexical connections to Exod 32–34. He imagines a pre-exilic national ceremony in which the two passages were used to focus the community on their sinfulness and need for God’s forgiveness.25 The canonical context for the psalm, however, is neither in the settlement nor the post-exilic period. When the psalmist implores God to restore the fortunes of the land, the reader knows that in the context of Book III this land holds the destroyed temple (74:7). The land was afraid and still in the face of God’s judgment (76:10[9]), and the beasts of the land consume the flesh of God’s saints (79:2). The appeal to the divine ends in Ps 85:9[8] with an interesting connection to Ps 84:10[9]. There, the psalmist entreats that God “look at” [‫ ]ראה‬the shield of Judah. Psalm 85 asks that God “show” [‫]הראנו‬ “covenant faithfulness” [‫]חסד‬.26 In Ps 77:9[8], the psalmist wondered if God’s ‫ חסד‬had disappeared forever. In Ps 85―in the reality of exile― that question remains unanswered. The hopeful conclusion of Ps 85 is tied to the blessings that God will give the land (85:12). The prayer is that Yahweh will bless the land presently, as formerly, though the psalm lacks a specific complaint.27 The exilic context of the psalm is reinforced by Moses Buttenweiser, who notes some interesting parallels between Ps 85 and Isa 40–55.28 Ultimately, the psalmist recognizes that the current distress is connected to the disfavor of Yahweh. This prayer is, therefore, a petition for Yahweh’s anger to end. The final verses certainly can be understood as doxology and as a response to Ps 84.29 That doxology, however, carries an undertone of anticipation.30 The land, Israel’s dwelling place, will be restored, but there is a recognition that the blessing of the land (and the ownership) is in the control of Yahweh.31 When the reader encounters Ps 86, David appears as the psalmist to lament the situation of Judah. The Davidic superscription recalls James Sanders’s observation of Judah’s need to appeal to an historic authority figure by which to answer the difficulties of exile. The name “David” will Kissane, The Book of Psalms, 392. Goulder, The Psalms of the Sons of Korah, 98–111. 26 Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III, 127. 27 Tate, Psalms 51–100, 367. 28 M. Buttenweiser, The Psalms (New York: KTAV, 1969), 273–80. 29 Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 2, 366. 30 D. Zucker, “Restructuring Psalm 85” JBQ 35 (2007), 47–55 (50). 31 Lev 25:23; 24:1; Ps 39:13[12] 24 25

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carry with it an ancient authority speaking on behalf of an exiled people and a metonym for Davidic monarchy itself. He appears as the singer of a psalm for the first time since he was said to have finished singing in Ps 72. Though this is David’s first explicit appearance in Book III, Cole maintains that Book III has a Davidic emphasis throughout.32 David appointed Asaph, Heman, and Ethan, who appear at the beginning and ending of the Book III.33 It seems, however, that David is not satisfied speaking through intermediaries, and he appears as singer to voice Judah’s concerns. David’s song offers no words of comfort. David’s lament calls to mind the reality of the failure of Davidic monarchy. David is poor and afflicted (86:1). “In my day of trouble, I call on you” (86:7). David’s defense is that he is ‫( חסיד‬86:2), and those against him are prideful [‫ ]זדים‬and frightening [‫]עריצים‬. Perhaps, speaking to the doubt in the abundant ‫ חסד‬of the divine found in Ps 77:9[8] and 85:9[8], the psalm expresses confidence in the abundant ‫ חסד‬of God. In fact, the psalm reminds God of the divine’s abundant ‫ חסד‬on three separate occasions (86:5, 13, 15). Unfortunately for David, the exile has shaken his authority, and this is seen in subsequent psalms. Psalm 88:12[11] asks if God’s ‫( חסד‬which is abundant in Ps 86) can extend to the grave, and although Ps 89:2–4, 25, 29, 34 [1–3, 24, 28, 33] give assurance that David has been forever entrusted with the divine ‫חסד‬, Ps 89:50[49] raises the question where that ‫ חסד‬has gone in the face of the present distress. The David of Ps 86 approaches the divine with a different tone than the reader has experienced to this point in Book III. Six times in the psalm, the psalmist uses emphatic speech to emphasize relationship.34 Indeed, the singer of Ps 86 has the confidence of someone who expects Yahweh to respond.35 Though David is afforded special status in the history of Israel, the expectation of the singer of Ps 86 may not be connected to any special position. In many of the psalms in Books I–III, a reader can find an expectation of Yahweh’s responsibility to save the people. Dennis Tucker has suggested that language used in the Psalter reveals that a patron-client relationship existed in the background of a number of the laments.36 When Yahweh, the faithful patron, fails to rescue the ones who are perishing,

Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III, 177. 1 Chron 6:18, 24, 29; 15:17; 19:1 34 Brueggemann, The Psalms and the Life of Faith, 36. 35 J. Mays, Psalms (Louisville: John Knox, 1989), 279. 36 D. Tucker, “Is Shame a Matter of Patronage in the Communal Laments?,” JSOT 31 (2007), 465–480 (474–79). 32 33

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Yahweh’s honor and faithfulness are compromised and the status of the covenant itself could be called into question.37 The consequence of such failure is shame for the client (the community itself), and to a greater degree, shame for the Patron (Yahweh). Further, these psalms attempt to restore honor to the client-community by recognizing the shame of the failed Patron. The shamed Patron must act in a manner consistent with his reciprocal obligations to earn honor. Honor cannot be extended to the client-community until honor has been restored for the Patron.38 Yahweh, as the faithful patron, has a responsibility, therefore, to take up the case of the victims (e.g., Pss 35:1 and 43:1) for relationships to be restored. In Ps 86, David stops short of demanding that Yahweh deliver him, but he does have a tone of confident expectation. David’s lament confirms for the reader the last of the three elements of traditional theology is in crisis. Though Ps 84 celebrates the Temple, the reader knows it is gone. Though Ps 85 looks forward to a restored land, the canonical context and lexical connections to Isa 40–55 reminds the reader that it is desolate and in need of restoring. David’s appearance in Book III and confession of Yahweh’s abundant ‫ חסד‬is an indication questions remain about the Davidic monarchy―questions that are made explicit at the end of Book III.

PSALMS 87–89 The celebration of Zion in Ps 87 comes after the despair and pleading of David in Ps 86. An exilic setting is provided by its canonical position, as well as from some form-critical readings of the text. Kraus reads the terminus a quo for Ps 87 as the exile.39 Gunkel believes that the desire for Zion was inversely proportional to how easily a pious individual would be able to visit.40 If one agrees with Gunkel’s hypothesis, it would be easy to read Ps 87 and its enthusiastic praise for Zion in the context of exile. Commentators remain uncertain of the original context of Ps 87.41 In the exilic context of Book III, however, it is natural to read Ps 87 as providing an eschatological hope in Zion.42 Rahab’s mythological For Tucker, Pss 44, 74, and 79 are paradigmatic of this relationship. Tucker, “Is Shame a Matter of Patronage in the Communal Laments?,” 475. 39 H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 60–150: A Commentary (trans. H. C. Oswald; Minneapolis, Minn.: Augsburg Publishing House, 1989), 186. 40 Gunkel, Introduction to Psalms, 235. 41 E.g., A. Weiser, The Psalms: A Commentary (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 580; Kraus, Psalms 60–150, 185; Tate, Psalms 51–100, 389. 42 M. Tate, Psalms 51–100, 389. 37 38

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association and connection to the historical enemy of Yahweh would seem to emphasize the eschatological expectation of the world’s submission to Yahweh (analogous to Mic 4 and Isa 2).43 In the psalm, Zion is the universal spiritual center of the entire world and for all people.44 The appearance of Babylon and Egypt (in the metaphor of Rahab)45 in the psalm would reinforce reading the psalm in the context of exile since those two nations are two prominent destinations of the Judahite exiles. Here, both of these traditional enemies of God’s people acknowledge the divine. Like Ps 84, Ps 87 again ties hope to Jerusalem. Zion is the place where the Most High God [‫ ]עליון‬gives nations divine testimony of presence (87:5). Indeed, Zion is often a metaphor for divine presence.46 God chose this location as a seat of power to execute dominion over all lands.47 While this psalm is certainly an amplification of Ps 86:9, it is also a celebration of the sovereignty of the divine.48 The immeasurable, ultimate hope of Ps 87 gives way to an immeasurable, ultimate despair in Ps 88. While some scholars deny the complete despair of Ps 88,49 most find Ps 88 to be the desperate prayer of a sick individual who is near death. Weiser believes “this psalm is the lament, unrelieved by a single ray of comfort or hope.”50 Dahood calls it a “lament of a desolate man in mortal illness.”51 Kraus sees the psalm filled with “impenetrable darkness.”52 Psalm 88 shares enough lexemic parallels with Ps 86 that Robert Cole feels it is appropriate to read each speaker as suffering the same affliction.53 While one must be careful to distinguish between the sharing of commonly used words and phrases between psalms and the significant sharing of lexemes,54 Cole believes the number of significant connections between the M. Tate, Psalms 51–100, 389. Tate, Psalms 51–100, 389; Kraus, Psalms 60–150, 189. 45 See Is 30:7; 51:9 46 W. Brown, Seeing the Psalms: A Theology of Metaphor (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 24. 47 Kraus, Psalms 60–150: A Commentary, 189. 48 Tate, Psalms 51–100, 389; Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III, 166. 49 Goulder, The Psalms of the Sons of Korah, 203. 50 Weiser, The Psalms, 586. 51 M. Dahood, Psalms II:51–100 (AB, 17; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday and Co., 1968), 302. 52 Kraus, Psalms 60–150, 192. 53 Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III, 169–170. 54 D. M. Howard, The Structure of Psalms 93–100 (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1997), 22; Whybray, Reading the Psalms as a Book, 28. 43 44

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two psalms allows the reader to ignore the superscription and read the singer of Ps 88 as a future David.55 M. D. Goulder’s reading of the text supports Cole’s royal reading showing that the royal quality of Ps 88 is not limited to the connections it shares with Ps 86. Goulder argues that Ps 88 belonged to an atonement ritual historically associated with a king.56 The historic interpretation has connected the complaint of this psalm to sickness; however, no specific language is found in the psalm which necessitates that interpretation.57 Marvin Tate notes a tradition of interpretation which interprets this psalm as a communal, exilic prayer of Israel.58 An exilic reading would be fitting for the canonical setting of Book III. The contrast between the positive, eschatological hope of Ps 87 and the dark reality of Ps 88 continues Book III’s pattern of alternating between hope and lament.59 By Ps 88, however, the reader finds no word of trust in Yahweh’s ultimate deliverance and no attempt to appeal to a divine responsibility of deliverance. The psalm even lacks the petition which is typical for the lament psalms. It is as though the psalmist simply wanted to make God aware of the divine silence. Rahab redeemed and functioning on the side of the divine in Ps 87 becomes an ironic and troubling thing for the psalmist. In Ps 88 the watery chaos that is afflicting the psalmist is directly connected to Yahweh. It is the divine who is ultimately responsible.60 The divine overwhelms the psalmist with his breaking waves (88:8[7]). God’s wrath sweeps over the psalmist and surrounds the singer “like a flood” (88:17–18[16–17]). The unanswered prayers of Ps 88:14[13] in the morning are also difficult. In Ps 46:6[5], the Korahite singer celebrates God’s saving help coming in the morning.61 In Ps 49:15[14], the Korahite singer celebrates morning as the time the upright will be victorious over the wicked. The Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III, 170; To be fair, however, Cole believes that David is the dominant speaker across all seventeen of the Book III psalms. 56 Goulder, The Psalms of the Sons of Korah, 201. See also John H. Eaton, Kingship and the Psalms (SBT; Second Series 32; Naperville, Ill.: Alec R. Allenson, 1976). 57 Tate, Psalms 51–100, 400. 58 Tate, Psalms 51–100, 401. See E. Haag “Psalm 88,” E. Haag and F.-L. Hossfeld (eds.), Freude an der Weisung des Herrn: Beiträge zur Theologie der Psalmen (Stuttgart: Katholisches Biblewerk, 1986), 149–70. 59 J. C. McCann, Jr., “Books I–III and the Editorial Purpose of the Hebrew Psalter,” 91. 60 Brown, Seeing the Psalms, 113. 61 According to Tate (Psalms 51–100, 403), morning was when one should expect God’s help; Cf. Pss 46:6; 90:14; 143:8; 2 Sam 23:3–4; Zeph 3:5). 55

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exile removes that hope, however, and by Ps 73:14, morning brings chastening. Finally, in Ps 88, Heman, the Korahite singer, laments that morning brings divine silence. The silence is broken by Ps 89 by what first seems to the reader to be a hymn. The canonical setting for the psalm is a matter of debate. Cole feels that “without question Psalm 89 has been intentionally placed following the desperate and seemingly hopeless queries of 88 with praise and confidence.”62 For Hossfeld, however, Ps 89 “can be read as an intensification of Ps 88.”63 When taken as a whole and in canonical context, Ps 89 would encourage the reader to maintain the exilic focus which has been clearly emphasized to this point. The psalm vividly contrasts the tension between “now” and “formerly”― present distress and past promise.64 From the example of both sets of Korahite psalms, the reader might expect this psalm of Ethan the Ezrahite to mention Zion or Temple in a recitation of the faithfulness of the divine. Psalm 89, however, is silent on the matter. It seems that the preceding laments have finally shown those symbols of hope to be empty. Ultimately, the beginning of Ps 89 ties hope to David and the Davidic monarchy. In Ps 89 the reader finds an inverted lament―the moment of trust comes before the complaint.65 The singer builds the case for the inviolability of Yahweh’s words (89:2–39[1–38]) and then moves to the question, “Why would God break his word and forsake the anointed?” (89:39–52[38–51]). The reader of Book III has found the psalmists expect Yahweh to regard his anointed. The psalmists understand the relationship as closer than patron-client, and even closer than adoption. Indeed, a biological, paternal relationship is emphasized to stress the inviolability of the covenant.66 In Ps 80:16[15], 18[17] and Ps 86:16, this “genetic” relationship between God and king is celebrated. That relationship is again stressed in Ps 89:28–29[27–28] and cited as evidence that the historical reality of exile is contrary to the nation’s expectations. Absolute claims are made for David as the recipient of the faithfulness of God.67 Those absolute claims are Cole, The Shape and Message of Book III, 203. Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 2, 397. 64 Hossfeld and Zenger, Psalms 2, 415. 65 Westermann along with others notes that the “Confession of Trust” typical to laments occurs after the petition. (e.g., see Westermann, Praise and Lament in the Psalms, 52) 66 Brown, Seeing the Psalms, 192. 67 Brueggemann, Abiding Astonishment, 24–25. 62 63

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quickly refuted by the reality of history. Instead of Yahweh’s eternal covenant with David being eternal, Judah’s king and future rest in the control of its enemies.68 Though the doxology of Ps 89 demonstrates faith in the divine, it is a faith which is still grounded in the patron-client expectation that Davidic covenant will be honored. In Ps 89:51[50] the psalmist wants Yahweh to demonstrate the divine faithfulness so that enemies of the divine will have no reason to gloat. It is interesting to note that this argument is the same one used by Moses in Exod 32 when he pleaded with the divine on behalf of Israel, and Ps 90 is the “prayer of Moses, Man of God.”

CONCLUSION The emphasis on the forsakenness of the eternal throne of David in Ps 89 may well be the overall concern of the last psalms of Book III. Each of the symbols of hope in Pss 84–89 is presented as prominent in the life of David: David wanted to build the Temple (2 Sam 7:2); David expanded the land (2 Sam 8:1–14); and David purchased Mt. Zion for the temple (2 Sam 24:18–25). Additionally, it is not uncommon for many of the laments of Book III to be associated with a ritual humiliation which is speculated by some to be experienced by the king every year.69 That connection to royalty is more than merely speculative in Book III, however, as David himself appears to lament his station in Ps 86. Further, all of the superscriptions of Book III can be associated with David. David has been presented as appointing Asaph, who is the singer in Pss 73–83 (1 Chon 6:39). The Sons of Korah are said to be appointed by David to be “over the service of song in the house of Yahweh” (1 Chron 6:31–38). Heman and Ethan are also traditional Davidic appointees (1 Chron 6:18, 24, 29; 15:17; 19:1). These implicit and explicit connections to the character of David throughout Book III might suggest to the reader that, just as Marvin Tate calls Book IV a “Moses-book,”70 Book III is a “David-book.” Instead of celebrating David, however, the psalmists of Pss 84–89 look to the “old story” of David seeking comfort and find, unfortunately, that they must instead lament the inability of that story to end the despair of exile. The psalmists focus on the elements which once brought hope: the temple, the land, Mt. Zion, and the Davidic monarchy. The reality of exile, however, makes clear that these symbols of hope are ineffective. The Temple (Ps 84), Mays, Psalms, 288. J. H. Eaton, Kingship and the Psalms (SBT; Second Series 32; Naperville, Ill.: Alec R. Allenson, 1976). 70 Tate, Psalms 51–100, xxvi. 68 69

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the land (Ps 85), and Zion (Ps 87), in the context of Book III have been seen to be empty and without the ability to provide hope. The six psalms at the end of the Book III also demonstrate a couple of interesting patterns. Psalms 84 & 87 emphasize the Temple; Pss 85 & 88 are laments; and Pss 86 & 89 are Davidic. McCann observantly points out how Book III alternates between hope and lament.71 As the reader encounters each of these ancient symbols of hope, the subsequent lament reminds that the symbol is incapable of providing security. The canonical context shows the reader that the psalms of hope in Book III are examples of the psalmists “whistling past the graveyard.” What the reader finds at the end of Book III is not the seeds of hope brought to full expression in Books IV and V. The reader finds the psalmist desperately clinging to the things which brought hope in the past and trying to make sense of their loss. This dispensing with the former symbols of hope prepares the reader for return to Moses and Mosaic covenant in Book IV. Davidic kingship and Zion gives way to Yahweh as king, enthroned forever.

J. C. McCann, Jr., “Books I–III and the Editorial Purpose of the Hebrew Psalter,” 91. 71

THE CALL NARRATIVES OF GIDEON AND MOSES: LITERARY CONVENTION OR MORE? HAVA SHALOM-GUY THE DAVID YELLIN COLLEGE OF EDUCATION, ISRAEL Of the means employed by the author of the four-chapter Gideon cycle to construct a portrait of Gideon as a worthy savior of the Israelites from Midianite oppression, one significant technique is that of implanting conceptual, structural, or linguistic signposts to other biblical narratives or traditions.1 The shared topical, linguistic, and structural features of the Gideon and Moses call narratives (Judg 6:11–24; Exod 3:1–15)2 need no introduction, but identification of these narratives as belonging to a shared literary convention—a biblical “type-scene” of appointment and

*This is an expanded, updated version of a paper delivered at the SBL International Meeting, Vienna, July 2008. 1 On the literary analogies employed elsewhere in the Gideon cycle to achieve this goal, see H. Shalom-Guy, “Internal and External Literary Parallels. The Gideon Cycle (Judges 6–9)” (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 2003) (in Hebrew). 2 The story in Exod 4:1–17 is apparently a secondary prophetic tradition on Moses’ investiture (see S. E. Loewenstamm, The Evolution of the Exodus Tradition [Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1992], 135–46). Despite some similarities to our narrative, it cannot be considered a literary parallel. On the complex compositionalredactional process that united Exod 3–4 into a single story, see M. Greenberg, Understanding Exodus (Heritage of Biblical Israel Series, 2; New York: Behrman, 1969), 101–7; S. E. Loewenstamm, “Moses,” Encyclopedia Biblica, 5:487 (in Hebrew). On the delineation of Exod 3:1–15 as the Moses call narrative, see Z. Weisman, “The Charismatic Personality in the Old Testament” (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, 1972), 193 n. 33 (in Hebrew); U. Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Exodus (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1997), 30–40. See also M. Noth, Exodus (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1962), 34; B. S. Childs, Exodus (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1974), 54.

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investiture3—does not, in my opinion, exhaust their relationship.4 Close examination of these narratives—with reference to other examples of this genre—suggests not just shared convention but direct literary dependence: namely, that in building this appointment scene the author of the Gideon call narrative made deliberate use of the Moses narrative. My approach asks whether direct dependence between parallel traditions is indeed the source of the definitive similarity between them in cases in which the similarities (and differences) can be attributed to their belonging to a literary genre that largely dictated form and content for their authors and also required certain literary expressions or treatment of similar topics, or to a shared literary convention.

FEATURES OF BIBLICAL CALL NARRATIVES Biblical scholarship identifies a number of elements specific to appointment and investiture stories.5 As defined by Habel, these include (1) the divine 3 On how similarities are used to build a model of appointment and investiture type-scenes, see R. Kilian, “Die Prophetischen Berungsberichte,” Theologie im Wandel (Tübinger Theologische Reihe, 1; Munich: Wewel, 1967), 356–76; E. Kutsch, “Gideons Berufung und Altarbau Jdc. 6,11–24,” TLZ 81 (1956), 75–84; W. Richter, Die sogennanten vorprophetischen Berufungsberichte (FRLANT, 101; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1970); N. Habel, “The Form and Significance of the Call Narratives,” ZAW 77 (1965), 297–323. For the view that the similarities in the Gideon-Moses narratives inhere in their shared type-scene, see, for example, A. G. Auld, “Gideon: Hacking at the Heart of the Old Testament,” VT 39 (1989), 257– 67 (258); B. Webb, The Book of Judges: An Integrated Reading (JSOTSup, 46; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1987), 148; R. H. O’Connell, The Rhetoric of the Book of Judges (VTSup, 63; Leiden: Brill, 1996), 148; D.I. Block, Judges–Ruth (NAC, 6; Nashville: Broadman and Holman, 1999), 253, 257. 4 Some scholars identify affinities between the stories that go beyond the typescene of appointment. See W. W. Beyerlin, “Geschichte und heilgeschichtliche Traditionsbildung im Alten Testament (Richter VI–VIII),” VT 13 (1963), 1–25; R. G. Boling, Judges. Introduction, Translation, and Commentary (AB, 6A; Garden City: Doubleday, 1975), 132, who for example sees Judg 6:16 as a direct quote of Exod 3:12; and more recently, T. J. Schneider, Judges (Berit Olam; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2000), 105–6; G. T. K. Wong, “Gideon: A New Moses?,” Robert Rezetko, Timothy H. Lim, and W. Brian Auker (eds.), Reflection and Refraction. Studies in Biblical Historiography in Honour of A. Graeme Auld (VTSup, 113; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 529–45. 5 See the literature cited in n. 3 above. Some scholars object to the premise that a particular genre has a fixed, uniform, undeviating pattern which excludes such definitive call narratives as those of Joshua, Samuel, and Elisha from this pattern. See R. Knierim, “Old Testament Form Criticism Reconsidered,” Int 27 (1973),

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confrontation; (2) the introductory word; (3) the commission; (4) the objection; (5) the reassurance; and (6) the sign.6 All of these elements appear in the Gideon and Moses narratives. Other biblical call narratives, such as those of Joshua, Samuel, and Elisha, and of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, also broadly fit the above model, but, by comparison, the Gideon and Moses ones exhibit an outstanding level of shared topical-linguistic features. My first observation is that not only are all of the above-mentioned elements of the call-narrative pattern present in the Gideon and Moses narratives but also in identical order. An additional narrative shares these elements, albeit in different order: the story of Saul’s appointment as nagid (1 Sam 9:1–10:16). Although this could be seen as proof that the close relationship between the Gideon-Moses narratives is the product of their belonging to a particular type-scene, I argue that reference to the Saul narrative demonstrates the existence of greater mutual affinity between the Gideon and Moses narratives than that of either to the Saul narrative. This comparison, and the inclusion of the Saul narrative where relevant, underpins my contention that the Gideon narrative displays dependence on the Moses one and does not just reflect a literary pattern shared by other call narratives. Nonetheless, any discussion of how individual narratives fit a literary pattern must also note the manner in which each narrative adapts the elements of the pattern to its specific context.

1. THE DIVINE CONFRONTATION In both stories a divine messenger appears to the hero.7 Moreover, the same expression is used to describe the revelation, though its elements are 447–48, 458–67; U. Simon, “Young Samuel’s Call to Prophecy: The Servitor Became a Seer,” Reading Prophetic Narratives (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1997), 53–54; Y. Amit, The Book of Judges. The Art of Editing (trans. J. Chipman; Biblical Interpretation Series, 38; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 253–54, 256. 6 For Habel, the Moses, Gideon, and Jeremiah call narratives present the complete pattern; those of Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Second Isaiah do so more generally (“Call Narratives”). Richter, who treats only the Former Prophets, also added Saul’s appointment as nagid (1 Sam 9–10) to the pattern. He proposes a five-element model of the appointment of a savior for Israel: the first is Israelite distress; the other four resemble Habel’s numbers 3–6 (Die sogennanten vorprophetischen Berufungsberichte). 7 In the continuation of these stories, the messengers are replaced by God. Thus, in Exod 3:1–15 we find ‫ מלאך ה׳‬in v 2; ‫ ’ה‬in vv 4, 7; and ‫ אלוהים‬in vv 4, 11, 13, 14, 15. In Judges 6:11–24, ‫ מלאך ה׳‬appears in vv 11, 12, 20, 21 (twice), 22; ‫ ה׳‬in vv 14, 16, 23. On this phenomenon, see Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 69–70; T.

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HAVA SHALOM-GUY

ordered differently. In Judges the text reads, ‫( וירא אליו מלאך ה׳‬6:12) and in Exodus, ‫( וירא מלאך ה׳ אליו‬3:2). This expression appears only once more in Scripture: in the mediated through a messenger revelation to Manoah’s wife (Judg 13:3), where it is identical to the expression in Exod 3:2, namely ‫וירא‬ ‫מלאך ה׳ אל האשה‬.8 Note that the combination of the root ‫ רא”ה‬in the nif’al pattern, followed by the preposition ‫אל‬, is common in biblical revelations9 and serves as a key word in the first part of the Moses call narrative (vv 2 [twice], 3 [twice] 4, 7 [twice], 9).10 In contrast, in the narrative of Saul’s appointment, the appointer is not God or his divine messenger, but Samuel, “the man of God.” The Saul narrative stresses the divine transmittal to Samuel of Saul’s mission (1 Sam 9:15–16).

2. THE INTRODUCTORY WORD In both narratives, either God or his messenger calls directly to the hero. These salutations are, however, worded differently. In Judg 6, the divine messenger says: ‫( ה׳ עמך גבור החיל‬v 12).11 In Exod 3 God calls to Moses Rudin-O’Brasky, The Patriarchs in Hebron and Sodom (Genesis 18–19). A Study of the Structure and Composition of a Biblical Story (Jerusalem Biblical Studies, 2; Jerusalem: Simor, 1982), 31–47 (in Hebrew); and especially A. Rofé, “Israelite Belief in Angels in the Pre-exilic Period as Evidenced by Biblical Traditions” (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, 1969), 3–10, 343–46 (in Hebrew). Evidently, the LXX to Judg 6:14 “angel of the Lord” is a harmonistic reading (with v 11); and the LXX’s rendering “The angel of the Lord said to him”: “The Lord shall be with thee” (v 16) reflects an attempt to blur the duality of the divine being that revealed itself to Gideon or to soften its anthropomorphism. See Y. Amit, Judges. Introduction and Commentary (Mikra Leyisra’el; Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1999), 124 (in Hebrew). 8 See Y. Zakovitch, The Life of Samson (Judges 13–16). A Critical-Literary Analysis (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1982), 26, 55 (in Hebrew); Auld, “Gideon: Hacking at the Heart of the Old Testament,” 258; Wong, “Gideon: A New Moses?,” 531. 9 With reference to God: Gen 12:7, 17:1, 18:1; Exod 3:16, 4:1, 5; 1 Kgs 3:5; among others. The presence of the Lord (‫)כבוד‬: Lev 9:23; Num 16:19; 17:7; 20:6. His prophet: 1 Kgs 18:1, 2:15. See Zakovitch, Samson, 48 and nn. 90–93; see also J. A. Soggin, Judges (OTL; London: SCM Press, 1981), 115. 10 See Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 101 and below. 11 The primary meaning of ‫ גבור חיל‬is warrior (Judg 11:1; 1 Sam 16:18), but it can also denote a person of means and standing (2 Kgs 15:20, 24:14), or someone possessing the ability to lead or fill a post (1 Kgs 11:28). Evidently, the primary meaning fits the context of choosing a leader to lead the warriors into battle, as Soggin, Judges, 115; and Amit, Judges. Introduction and Commentary, 124 suggest. Cf. Boling, Judges, 128, 131 who interprets the phrase here in its secondary meaning of a

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303

from the burning bush by name: ‫( משה משה‬v 4). This emphatic duplication of the name indicates the importance and urgency of the message (cf. Gen 22:11).12 A doubled name also occurs in Samuel’s call narrative (1 Sam 3:1– 4:1a): Samuel Samuel (v 10). There it highlights the theophany and constitutes the fourth element of a literary pattern of three and four, as it follows three unanswered divine calls.13 In the story of Saul’s appointment as nagid, however, not only is there no direct divine call to Saul; it is he who turns to Samuel, without knowing the latter’s identity (1 Sam 9:18).

3. THE COMMISSION In both narratives the hero’s mission is to save the Israelites. Naturally, the enemy differs in the Gideon and Moses narratives: Moses must deliver the Israelites from the Egyptians and Gideon from the Midianites. In their descriptions of the mission both narratives use the roots ‫ הל׳׳ך‬and ‫של׳׳ח‬: to Gideon the divine messenger says (Judg 6:14): ‫ויאמר לך בכחך זה והושעת את ישראל מכף מדין הלא שלחתיך‬ And to Moses, God says (Exod 3:10): ‫ועתה לכה ואשלחך אל פרעה והוצא את עמי בני ישראל ממצרים‬ The roots ‫ הל׳׳ך‬and ‫ של׳׳ח‬are also paired in the call narratives of Isaiah (6:8) and Jeremiah (1:7), and in additional contexts (e.g., Gen 24:56, 58–59; 37:13; 1 Sam 15:20; 16:1). The root ‫ של׳׳ח‬also appears alone in other appointment and investiture narratives (Exod 4:13; Isa 6:8; Jer 1:7; Ezek 2:3). With regard to Saul’s mission, the enemy from whom he is to rescue the Israelites— “he will deliver My people from the hands of the Philistines” (1 Sam 9:16)—is naturally fitted to its context.

4. THE OBJECTION In both stories the candidates initially refuse to accept the mission, and state their objections along with their underlying rationale. This “refusal” motif, the most common shared element in appointment and investiture narratives (see Exod 4:10; 1 Sam 9:21; Jer 1:6), functions both to frame the choice of the appointee as surprising or unexpected and highlights the authority of propertied, high-status person. 12 See Cassuto, Exodus, 33; Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 71. 13 See Y. Zakovitch, “The Pattern of the Numerical Sequence Three-Four in the Bible” (Ph.D. diss., Hebrew University, 1977), 97 (in Hebrew), and also in other theophanies not related to appointment or investiture (e.g., Gen. 22:11, 46:1).

304

HAVA SHALOM-GUY

the divine appointer.14 In the case of the Gideon and Moses narratives, as in other call narratives, the objections and the rationales are fitted to the specific needs of the context.15 Gideon names two reasons why he is unsuited to lead the fight against Midian, both connected to status—tribal and personal. His clan (‫)אלפי‬16 is the humblest in Manasseh, and he is the youngest (‫ )הצעיר‬in his father’s household. His claim that the family unit ranks low within the tribal framework contrasts with the continuation of the story, in which his family is described as wealthy (vv 19, 25, 27),17 but this gap ensues from the modeling of Gideon’s investiture on a pattern in which refusal is a major motif.18 His second claim relates to the fact that, as the youngest son,19 he lacks experience, especially in the military sphere.20 Moses grounds his refusal in personal unfitness: “Who am I (‫ )מי אנכי‬that I should go to Pharaoh and free the Israelites from Egypt?” (Exod 3:11). The expression ‫ מי אנכי‬contrasts his lowliness to the immensity of the task: going before Pharoah and taking the Israelites out of Egypt.21 14

Amit, Judges. Art of Editing, 247. E.g., the rationales offered by Moses (in the prophetic tradition in Exod 4:1– 17 [v 10]) and Jeremiah (1:6) have the shared element of difficulty in speaking and unsuitability for the proposed task: Moses to negotiate with Pharaoh; Jeremiah to prophesy to the people. See Amit, Judges. Art of Editing, 253–55. 16 The ‫אלף‬, if it does not appear in its numerical sense of 1000, denotes a clan. On this and related terms, see S. Bendor, The Social Structure of Ancient Israel. The Institution of the Family (Beit ‘Ab) from the Settlement to the End of the Monarchy (Jerusalem Biblical Studies, 7; Jerusalem: Simor, 1996), 94–97. Occasionally, this term also denotes a fighting unit as in Num 31:4–5, where we find both meanings: clans and units of one thousand. See also G. F. Moore, Judges (ICC, 7; Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1895), 187; Y. Kaufmann, The Book of Judges (Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer, 1961), 160 (in Hebrew); Amit, Judges. Introduction and Commentary, 125. 17 As Moore (Judges, 186), Kaufmann (Judges, 160), Soggin (Judges, 119–20), and Amit (Judges. Introduction and Commentary, 125) note. 18 See Amit, Judges. Introduction and Commentary, 125. 19 This preference is unexpected in a society that favors the firstborn; see Amit, Judges. Art of Editing, 253 n. 43. However, transfer of hegemony from the firstborn is a widespread theme in the stories of the patriarchs (Ishmael and Isaac, Esau and Jacob, Zerah and Perez, Manasseh and Ephraim) and also appears in the stories of the election of David as king (1 Sam 16:11, 17:14; cf. Mic 5:1). 20 See Amit, Judge. Art of Editing, 253–55; Amit, Judges. Introduction and Commentary, 125, where she notes the similarity to David, called ‫הקטן‬, who remained at home while his older brothers went to war (1 Sam 17:14). 21 See Cassuto, Exodus, 36; Weisman, “Charismatic Personality”, 196 n. 45 on the biblical meaning of this phrase and of the phrase ‫( מי עבדך‬1 Sam 18:18; 2 Sam 15

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305

With regard to Saul, his refusal is in harmony with the context in which it appears: the choosing of a king (1 Sam 9:21). Saul stresses the unlikely nature of his choice because he is a member of one of the smaller tribes, implying that someone from a larger tribe would be more suitable. There is some resemblance between Gideon and Saul’s refusals: Saul states, “But I am only a Benjaminite, from the smallest of the tribes of Israel, and my clan is the least of all the clans of the tribe22 of Benjamin” (1 Sam 9:21). Both underscore the relative weakness of the tribal units to which they belong: the ‫( אלף‬Gideon) and ‫ השבט‬and ‫( המשפחה‬Saul) and both use the term ‫צעיר‬: Gideon to refer to himself and Saul to refer to his tribe and clan.

5. THE REASSURANCE Here we find a close linguistic parallel: the use of identical language. As worded in both the Gideon and Moses narratives, the expression ‫כי אהיה‬ ‫( עמך‬Judg 6:16; Exod 3:12), which follows the hero’s refusal, is unique. This language, and its allusion to the divine name,23 manifests divine support for the chosen appointee. Although the phrase ‫ היה עם‬appears as a formula of encouragement and support in other call narratives (e.g., Josh 1:5, 9; 3:7; 1 Sam 10:7) and contexts (Gen 26:3; 31:3; Deut 31:23; 1 Sam 17:37; 2 Sam 7:9//1 Chr 17:8), this precise wording is found only in the Moses and Gideon narratives.24 Moreover, even though the phrase ‫( כי אלוהים עמך‬1 Sam 10:7) appears in the Saul narrative, as opposed to the Gideon and Moses stories, it does not follow the refusal, but is placed between the description of the future signs (10:2–6) and their realization (10:9–10).

9:8; and 2 Kgs 8:13). For these phrases in Hebrew epigraphic sources, see S. Ahituv, Handbook of Ancient Hebrew Inscriptions (Biblical Encyclopedia Library, 7; Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1992), 36 (in Hebrew). 22 The plural form found in the MT probably reflects the influence of the preceding ‫שבטי ישראל‬. The LXX and Peshitta have the singular. See P. Kyle McCarter, 1 Samuel (AB, 8; Garden City: Doubleday, 1980), 170; S. Bar-Efrat, 1 Samuel (Mikra Leyisra’el; Jerusalem: Am Oved, 1996), 141 and passim (in Hebrew). 23 Cassuto, Exodus, 36–38; D. N. Freedman, “The Name of the God of Moses,” JBL 79 (1960), 151-56; and Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 81-84. 24 As noted by S. R. Driver, The Book of Exodus (Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges; Cambridge: The University Press, 1911), 22; Boling, Judges, 132; Wong, “Gideon: A New Moses?,” 534. On the LXX’s harmonistic version, see n. 7 above.

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HAVA SHALOM-GUY

6. SIGNS In each story the hero is granted a sign which certifies that he is the chosen divine emissary. Gideon requests a sign to validate the messenger’s supernatural nature: ‫( ועשית לי אות שאתה מדבר עמי‬Judg 6:17). The test is the reception of the meal offered by Gideon: if the messenger eats, he is human; if not, he is superhuman. The messenger’s refusal to eat the meal, the fire that springs up from the rock, and the messenger’s subsequent disappearance attest both to his supernatural nature and to the fact that Gideon is the chosen emissary who will rescue Israel from the Midianites. The offering of a meal to the divine messenger represents the degeneration of a motif of divine visits to humans in which the meal represents a stage of hosting, or a divine test of human behavior, commonly found in folktales.25 In the case of the Gideon narrative, the messenger’s refusal to partake of the meal reflects a relatively late notion, which has additional biblical (Judg 13:16) and post-biblical exemplars (such as Tob 12:19), that angels do not partake of food in the company of humans.26 To Moses, God offers a sign in order to prove that he is his chosen emissary (Exod 3:12): ‫וזה לך האות כי אנכי שלחתיך בהוציאך את העם ממצרים תעבדון את‬ ‫האלהים על ההר הזה‬ There is lack of clarity with regard to the referent of the deictic pronoun ‫—וזה‬is it the first strophe of v 12, namely, the bush, or the future event of the Israelites’ worshiping on this mountain27—and the commentators are divided as to the nature and timing of this sign. I suggest that this sign was not given at the theophany,28 but was intended to take place in the future: E.g., Ovid, Metamorphoses, 1.8 lines 611–724; Ovid, Fasti, 5.493–540; Aqhat 2.5 lines 4–31). 26 In post-biblical recountings of the visit of the divine messengers to Abraham, the former do not actually engage in the act of eating. See T. Ab.; Josephus, Ant. 1.11.2; b. Baba Meṣ’ia 86b; Gen. Rab. 45; Lev. Rab. 34:8; Qoh. Rab. 3:14; and Tg. Ps.-J. to Gen 18:8. See also A. Rofé, The Prophetical Stories (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1988), 174–81; Rudin-O’Brasky, Patriarchs, 55 and n. 24 there; Zakovitch, Samson, 57; and Amit, Judges. Art of Editing, 255–56 and 255 n. 45. 27 See Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 74–77 and n. 2 there; and Childs, Exodus, 56–60. 28 The sign is that he acts by divine power (see Exod. Rab. 3:4). See also A. Ehrlich, Mikrâ Ki-Pheshutô. The Bible According to Its Literal Meaning (Library of Biblical Studies; reprint, New York: Ktav, 1969), 1:138 (in Hebrew); or the bush (Ibn Ezra and S. D. Luzzato). 25

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307

the sign being that after their exodus from Egypt, the Israelites will worship God on the mountain where God had revealed himself to Moses in the burning bush.29 Unlike other suggested exegeses of this verse, this one addresses both parts of the verse and not just its opening. Thus the signs in the Gideon and Moses narratives differ as to initiator, nature, and time of occurrence. Gideon initiates the request for a sign, whereas God offers a sign to Moses unasked. Also, in Gideon’s case the signs are integral to the appointment scene; the one given to Moses will apparently take place in the future. The Saul narrative, like the Gideon one, has three signs: the information that his father is concerned for him, the offering made by persons unknown, and Saul being gripped by the spirit of the Lord (1 Sam 10:2–13).

LITERARY DEPENDENCE Many scholars interpret the shared features from appointment-investiture narratives in identical order in the Gideon and Moses narratives, their topical-linguistic similarities, but also their distinctive features, as reflecting the adaptation of these conventions to the specific contextual needs of each narrative.30 I suggest, however, that the discussion can be taken one step further. I argue that consideration of additional data from these narratives has the ability to show that they not only share a type-scene but that there is direct literary dependence between them, and its direction: namely, that the Moses call narrative served as a building block for the Gideon call narrative and his commissioning as savior. In demonstrating literary dependence between traditions, it is the confluence of multiple shared structural, topical, linguistic, and stylistic features that is decisive. In the case of the Gideon and Moses call narratives, the narratives display a level of shared elements unmatched by any other biblical call narratives, including Saul’s investiture. An initial indication of dependence comes from the presence of additional topical-linguistic similarities outside the literary pattern of appointment. These elements include (1) an unanticipated revelation; (2) national distress; (3) fire; and (4) fear inspired by an encounter with divinity.

29

See Driver, Exodus, 23; Cassuto, Exodus, 36; Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 76, among others. 30 This assumption is found in studies carried out from the mid-1950s to the early 1970s, which attempted to establish a literary model of appointment and investiture recognizable by fixed elements that appear in undeviating, or nearly undeviating order. These two narratives served as an important stratum for building this model. It is also found in more recent studies. See n. 3 above.

308

HAVA SHALOM-GUY

As was the case for Habel’s six defining characteristics of call narratives, here too we find adjustments to each narrative’s specific context.

1. AN UNANTICIPATED REVELATION In both narratives, the unexpected revelation comes while the protagonist is busy with everyday tasks,31 though the tasks differ: Gideon was threshing wheat in the winepress (Judg 6:11) in order to keep the Midianites from destroying the produce (see Judg 6:1–3; cf. 1 Sam 23:1);32 Moses was engaged in herding his father-in-law Jethro’s sheep in the desert (Exod 3:1– 2).33 Samuel’s commissioning of Saul as nagid is also unexpected, and takes place while Saul was seeking his father’s asses (1 Sam 9:3–19).

2. NATIONAL DISTRESS The call to both leaders to deliver the Israelites from an external enemy comes at a time of crisis.34 Gideon makes reference to the state of national distress, described at greater length in the cycle’s exposition (6:1–6): “If the Lord is with us, why has all this befallen us…Now the Lord has abandoned us and delivered us into the hands of Midian” (Judg 6:13). In the Moses narrative, God refers to the distress of the people: “I have marked well the plight of My people in Egypt and have heeded their outcry because of their taskmasters; yes, I am mindful of their sufferings” (Exod 3:7) and “Now the cry of the Israelites has reached Me; moreover, I have seen how the Egyptians oppress them” (v 9).35 The Saul narrative as well contains a Habel, “Call Narratives,” 298, 303; Weisman, “Charismatic Personality,” 194; Wong, “Gideon: A New Moses?,” 533. 32 See Kaufmann, Judges, 158; Amit, Judges. Introduction and Commentary, 123–24. 33 On the widespread biblical (and ancient Near Eastern) motif of leaders as shepherds, or their denotation as shepherds and the people as their flock (Num 27:17; Jer 23:1–4; Ezek 34: Ps 78:70–72, among others), a metaphor applied to God as well, see Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 67–68 and n. 1 there; R. Kasher, Ezekiel. Introduction and Commentary (Mikra Leyisra’el; Jerusalem: Am Oved, 2004), 2:674–76 (in Hebrew). 34 Richter (Die sogennanten vorprophetischen Berufungsberichte, 15–17) and other scholars in his wake view this as the first component of the appointment typescene. See n. 3 above. 35 The description of the people’s distress in v 9 is superfluous and sheds light on the complex process of the story’s formation. Scholars who accept the documentary thesis ascribe the superfluity to the conflation of two parallel sources (J and E). See Noth, Exodus, 38–45; Childs, Exodus, 52–53. R. Rendtorff (“Tradition-Historical Method and the Documentary Hypothesis,” Proceedings of the Fifth World Congress of Jewish Studies [Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 31

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description of the Israelites’ distress, in God’s words to Samuel: “for I have taken note of My people, their outcry has come to Me” (1 Sam 9:16b). This description contains language found in the Moses narrative (Exod 3:7, 9), creating a parallel between present Israelite distress and what it experienced in Egypt.36

3. FIRE The revelation in both stories involves fire,37 a typical element in descriptions of divine theophany (e.g., Gen 15:17; Lev 9:24; Judg 13:20; 1 Kgs 18:38). But the fire signs are not identical. In Gideon’s case, “A fire sprang up from the rock and consumed the meat and the unleavened bread…” (Judg 6:21); in Moses’ case, “a messenger from the Lord appeared to him in a blazing fire out of a bush. He gazed, and there was a bush all aflame…” (Exod 3:2).

4. FEAR INSPIRED BY AN ENCOUNTER WITH DIVINITY In both stories the protagonists express fear at having seen God or his divine messenger face-to-face,38 and the root ‫ יר"א‬is used to describe their reaction. This fear of seeing God or a divine messenger is a frequent component of biblical divine revelation to humans and its most definitive expression, which reflects the notion that death results from seeing God, is found in Exod 33:20.39 Note, however, that in the Moses and Gideon 1969], 9), and A. Rofé (Introduction to the Composition of the Pentateuch [The Biblical Seminar, 58; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999], 98–101) maintain that vv 8–9 are an addition aimed at incorporating the continuation of the history of Israel and its inheritance of the land into an Egyptian-Sinai tradition. Greenberg (Understanding Exodus, 101–2) argues that vv 9–15 constitute a unit added from a different call narrative. Note these verses’ distinctive vocabulary: the leading root is ‫של׳׳ח‬, God is called ‫אלוהים‬, whereas in the larger framework we find ‫( רא׳׳ה‬3:2, 3, 4, 7, 16; 4:1, 5) and YHWH. Moreover, their elimination does not affect narrative continuity. 36 See McCarter, 1 Samuel, 179; Bar-Efrat, 1 Samuel, 140. The affinity between the texts is even greater in the LXX to 1 Sam 9:16, where ‫ עני‬precedes ‫עמי‬. See I. L. Seeligmann, “Menschliches Heldentum und Göttliche Hilfe: Die doppelte Kausalität im alttestamentlichen Geschicht sdenken,” Erhard Blum (ed.), Gesammelte Studien zur Hebräischen Bibel (FAT, 41; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 156 n. 44. 37 See Webb, The Book of Judges, 148. 38 Weisman, “Charismatic Personality,” 194. 39 Cf. Isa 6:5 and Gen 16:13, 32:31, which show that the individuals in question understand that they will not die in consequence. See Moore, Judges, 189; Boling,

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HAVA SHALOM-GUY

narratives, each of these figures expresses his fear at different stages in the narrative: Moses at its beginning, and Gideon, at its conclusion. They also express their fear differently: Moses hides his face, “for he was afraid (‫ )כי ירא‬to look at God” (Exod 3:6), and Gideon voices his concern with the words, “Alas, O Lord God! For I have seen a messenger from the Lord face to face (‫( ”)כי על כן ראיתי מלאך ה׳ פנים אל פנים‬Judg 6:22). In his comforting words to Gideon, God refers to this fear, saying, “Have no fear (‫)אל תירא‬, you shall not die” (Judg 6:23). The expression ‫כי על כן ראיתי מלאך ה׳ פנים אל פנים‬, used to describe Gideon’s fear, appears only once more in the Bible, in the story of Jacob’s struggle with a “man” at the ford of Jabbok (Gen 32:23–33): ‫כי ראיתי אלהים‬ ‫( פנים אל פנים ותנצל נפשי‬v 31).40 Evidently, the author of the Gideon story borrowed this phrase from the Jacob narrative. The suggestion that it was the author of the Gideon narrative who borrowed this phrase is based first of all in the fact that the expression ‫אל פנים את פנים‬/‫ ראה מלאך‬is well grounded in the Jacob story, where it serves as a covert name-midrash for Penuel, mentioned in the following verse (v 32). It appears that the namemidrash in v 31 is a secondary addition.41 In addition, the phrases ‫רא׳׳ה‬ ‫ראה פני אלוהים‬/‫ פנים‬serve as a leitmotif in the story of Jacob’s struggle at the Jabbok.42 There are additional similarities between the Jacob and Gideon stories: in both a heavenly being appears in human guise; both of the protagonists discover the heavenly nature of the “human” at the close of their encounter; both assign names—one to a place, and the other to an altar—in commemoration of the experience they have undergone. The basic similarity between these two stories that treat different subjects—one the investiture of a leader, the other a struggle with a heavenly being—led

Judges, 225; Zakovitch, Samson, 55, 67–68; Amit, Judges. Introduction and Commentary, 226. 40 The combination ‫ פנים אל פנים‬appears three more times in the Bible but with different verbs: Deut 34:10; Exod 33:11; and Ezek 20:35. The combination ‫ראה‬ ‫ פנים‬also appears elsewhere in the Bible, where it can signify actual vision (by humans)—Gen 31:2, 5 among others; refer to God—Exod 23:15, 33:20, 23, 34:20 among others; or encounter in war—2 Kgs 14:8, 11. 41 See B. O. Long, The Problem of Etiological Narrative in the Old Testament (BZAW, 108; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1968), 29; C. Westermann, Genesis 12–36. A Commentary (trans. J. J. Scullion; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1985), 519; Y. Zakovitch, “Yabbok, Peniel, Mahanaim, Bethel: Name Midrashim as Reflections of Ideological Struggles,” Ariel 100–101 (1994), 191–204 (192) (in Hebrew). 42 See Zakovitch, “Yabbok,” 193.

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the author of the Gideon story to draw attention to the resemblance between the stories by inserting the phrase ‫ראה מלאך ה׳ פנים אל פנים‬.43 Nonetheless, proof of literary dependence relies not only on the shared features of the call narrative type-scene as adapted to the individual contexts, but also on features shared only by the two traditions in question. In the case of Gideon and Moses, this is the phrase ‫כי אהיה עמך‬. As noted above, the phrase ‫ היה עם‬appears as a formula of encouragement and support, with variants, in other call narratives (and literary contexts).44 This exact phrasing, however, appears only in the Gideon and Moses narratives, where it provides evidence of divine support. Even though the combination ‫ היה עם‬functions as a leitmotif in the Gideon call narrative, scholars identify the source of the phrase in the Moses story,45 because of the accompanying name midrash containing the divine name ‫אהיה‬: ‫אהיה‬ ‫ אהיה שלחני אליכם‬... ‫“( אשר אהיה‬Ehyeh asher Ehyeh…He who calls himself Ehyeh has sent me to you”—Exod 3:14).46 The name-midrash exegesis enhances and underscores the quality of divine support for Moses. The proximity of the two in the Moses narrative and the emphasis on the element ‫ אהיה‬demonstrate that this formula is well entrenched there and originated in that context. This further supports my contention that the author of the Gideon call narrative was familiar with, and used, elements from the Moses one. Another significant linguistic affinity is the use of the phrase ‫וירא מלאך‬ ‫ ה׳‬in both narratives, albeit in slightly different word order. A final, added similarity outside the scope of the call narrative type-scene relates to the use of the Exodus context in the Gideon appointment narrative. In referring to divine salvation, Gideon asks: “Where are all His wondrous deeds (‫)נפלאתיו‬ about which our fathers told us, saying, ‘Truly the Lord brought us up from Egypt (‫( )הלא ממצרים העלנו ה׳‬Judg 6:13). Although 47‫ העלה ממצרים‬or ‫נפלאות‬48 frequently appear in biblical descriptions of the Exodus, note that According to Wong (“Gideon: A New Moses?,” 536), the restricted phrase ‫פנים אל פנים‬, two of whose five occurrences in the Bible refer to Moses (Exod 33:11; Deut 34:10), voices the special divine-Moses relationship. 44 See near n. 24 above. 45 See Moore, Judges, 185, 186; Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 91; Boling, Judges, 132. 46 See Boling, Judges, 132. 47 The combination ‫ עלה ממצרים‬is used to denote the departure from Egypt (Gen 13:1, 46:4; Exod 3:8, 17; 13:18; Judg 11:13, among others), whereas ‫ירד‬ ‫ ממצרים‬refers to going to Egypt (Gen 12:10, 42:3, 46:3, 4, among others). See Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 21 and n. 2 there. 48 Biblical prose consistently uses this term for God’s redemption of his people 43

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both appear in the Moses call narrative: “I have come down to rescue them from the Egyptians and to bring them out (‫ )להעלתו‬from that land” (Exod 3:8); “and I have declared: I will take you (‫ )אעלה‬out of the misery of Egypt (v 17); I will…smite Egypt with various wonders (‫( ”)בכל נפלאתי‬v 20). I suggest that their appearance in the Gideon story again demonstrates that its author deliberately drew upon the Moses narrative, which he had in front of him. It seems less likely that he simply inserted phrases belonging to the biblical descriptions of the Exodus. Through these means the author of the Gideon story drew analogies between Gideon’s call, patterned on the model of appointment stories, and that of Moses, the ideal emissary, as portrayed in such verses as Num 12:7; and Deut 18:18, and 34:10.49 As shown here, the two narratives share not only the fundamental topical and linguistic similarities inherent in the appointment pattern, but additional topical and linguistic ones as well. The comparison to Saul’s appointment as nagid further strengthens my negation of the proposition that the similarities between the Moses and Gideon narratives are simply attributable to their belonging to type-scenes of appointment of investiture. Although the Saul narrative has all the elements of this pattern and can be considered a close exemplar, they are ordered differently and the degree of affinity between the Gideon and Moses narratives—even though each adjusts the elements to its specific needs and context—remains greater than that of either to the Saul narrative. These similarities are summarized in the following tables.

through the Exodus and the conquest (Exod 3:20, 34:10–11; Josh 3:5, among others). See Y. Zakovitch, The Concept of the Miracle in the Bible (Broadcast University Series; Tel Aviv: Ministry of Defence, 1991), 13–16; and Moore, Judges, 184–85. On this term in biblical poetry, see Zakovitch, Miracle, 13–16. 49 As Greenberg (Understanding Exodus, 91, 96) argues.

THE CALL NARRATIVES OF GIDEON AND MOSES The Call Narratives of Gideon, Moses, and Saul

A. Shared features of appointment and investiture stories

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HAVA SHALOM-GUY B. Additional shared features

Assimilation between heroes in similar national or cultural roles is frequent in biblical narrative and motifs are transferred from one character to another, intensifying the initial resemblance between them and between events in different stories.50 Here I note that a number of biblical figures are assimilated to the figure of Moses and mention two of the best-known examples: Joshua and Moses, and Elijah and Moses. Thus the strong resemblance between the appearance of “the captain of the Lord’s host” to Joshua (Josh 5:13– 15) and the initial divine revelation to Moses at Horeb (Exod 3:1–15) is obvious (see especially, Josh 5:15 // Exod 3:5) as is that between the crossing of the Jordan (Josh 3–4) and the splitting of the Red Sea and the Israelite passage on dry land (Exod 14). It serves to establish Joshua’s authority as a worthy successor to Moses. In the episode related in 1 Kgs 19, the figure of Elijah at Horeb is assimilated to that of Moses during the revelation at Horeb after the sin of the golden There are many examples of assimilation in the Bible. See Y. Zakovitch, “Assimilation in Biblical Narratives,” J. H. Tigay (ed.), Empirical Models for Biblical Criticism (Philadelphia: Univ. of Pennsylvania Press, 1985), 175–96. For a consideration of comparative structure, analogy, and parallels, see M. Garsiel, The First Book of Samuel. A Literary Study of Comparative Structures, Analogies and Parallels (Ramat Gan: Revivim, 1985), 19, 22–23. 50

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calf (Exod 33:17–23). Here the purpose of this assimilation is criticism of the prophet who, instead of pleading for them, asks for heavenly vengeance against his people.51 Throughout his literary life in Judges, Gideon is depicted as a complex personality with varied, even opposing characteristics; this duality is a feature of the initial stratum of the cycle and also the additions to the original narrative.52 In the first part of the narrative, the outstanding feature of Gideon’s behavior is his lack of confidence and hesitation regarding his ability to lead the fight against the Midianites (Judg 6:13, 15) and his doubts concerning divine support for him, which leads him to request signs (6:17– 21, 36–40). Another, related aspect is his cowardice: he threshes wheat in a winepress and not in the field because of his fear of the Midianites (6:11); and descends to the Midianite camp with his attendant Purah because he is afraid to go unaccompanied (7:10–11).53 This contrasts with Gideon’s portrayal in other units of the cycle as the chosen emissary of God and his regime as a period of divine rule.54 The author of the cycle created this image by using repeated elements from descriptions of other judge-saviors, in particular the aspects that shape him as a divine choice: direct or mediated (by messenger) divine revelation, signs, or divine inspiration of the hero. The assimilation to Moses enhances Gideon’s aspect as God’s chosen messenger.55 Nonetheless, in the case of 51 See Y. Zakovitch, “‘A Still Small Voice’: Form and Contents in I Kings 19,” Tarbiz 51 (1982), 329–46 (in Hebrew). On the similarities between Joshua and Moses, and Elijah and Moses, see E. L. Greenstein, “The Formation of the Biblical Narrative Corpus,” AJSR 15 (1990), 151–78 (171–72). Greenstein, however, proposes a different basis for these similarities. 52 The growth of the Gideon cycle is a debated matter, which I will not discuss here. For a comprehensive survey, see Shalom-Guy, “Gideon Cycle,” 52–56, 251– 57 (English abstract—9, 16–19). 53 Others have commented on Gideon’s hesitation, doubts, and fearfulness as found in different units of the Gideon cycle. See Block, Judges-Ruth, 272–73; J. C. Exum, “The Center Cannot Hold: Thematic and Textual Instabilities in Judges,” CBQ 52 (1990), 417–18; O’Connell, The Rhetoric of the Book of Judges, 150, 160; and more recently, G. T. K. Wong, Compositional Strategy of the Book of Judges. An Inductive, Rhetorical Study (VTSup, 111; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 158–60. 54 This latter feature has been overblown in some studies. See, for example, J. Dishon, “Gideon and the Beginnings of Monarchy in Israel,” Tarbiz 41 (1971–72): 255–68 (in Hebrew). 55 This is not the place for further discussion of the complex portrayal of Gideon in the cycle. For a treatment of the multifaceted and multilayered portrayal of Gideon as reflected in the different strata of the cycle, see Shalom-Guy, “Gideon Cycle”; idem, “Jeroboam’s Reform and the Episode of the Golden Calf,” Shnaton

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the Gideon narrative, the purpose of the assimilation to Moses is not in my opinion to shape Gideon as a “new Moses,”56 but rather to create a more positive image of Gideon as a worthy divine choice to lead the Israelite campaign against Midian. I also briefly note that in portraying the appointment of Gideon as savior the author does not confine himself to assimilation to the figure of Moses alone. For example, Gideon’s request for a sign and the corresponding sign has parallels to Abraham’s hosting of the divine messengers (Gen 18:1–15). I also noted the similarity between Gideon’s fear of having experienced a divine encounter and Jacob’s fear at the conclusion of his struggle with the messenger at the ford of Jabbok (Gen 32:31). This indicates that the author of the Gideon story also sought to compare Gideon to Abraham, and to Jacob. Like the comparison to Moses, the purpose of these allusions to these great leaders of the Israelite people was to elevate Gideon’s stature in the reader’s eyes. In summation, the similarities between the Gideon and Moses call narratives go beyond those of the shared features of stories of appointment and investiture, which are found here in identical order. Additional topical similarities, and shared expressions, one unique to these two stories, indicate literary dependence by the author of the Gideon narrative on the Moses story in creating his story. Could there be a more effective way of elevating the Gideon portrayed as a timid, cowardly individual into a worthy leader of the Israelites than by comparing him to Moses, the archetypical leader?

16 (2006), 15–27 (in Hebrew), which shows how this unit criticizes Gideon and his actions. 56 As some scholars claim. See Beyerlin, “Geschichte und heilgeschichtliche Traditionsbildung,” 9–10, 24; Block, Judges-Ruth, 257.

THE MOUND ON THE MOUNT: A POSSIBLE SOLUTION TO THE “PROBLEM WITH JERUSALEM” ISRAEL FINKELSTEIN, IDO KOCH AND ODED LIPSCHITS TEL AVIV UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION The conventional wisdom regards the City of David ridge1 as the original mound of Jerusalem. Yet, intensive archaeological research in the last century—with excavations in many parts of the ca. six hectares ridge (see Fig. 1), has proven that between the Middle Bronze Age and Roman times, this site was fully occupied only in two relatively short periods: in the Iron Age IIB-C (between ca. the mid-eighth century and 586 BCE) and in the late Hellenistic period (starting in the second half of the second century BCE). Occupation in other periods was partial and sparse—and concentrated mainly in the central sector of the ridge, near and above the Gihon spring. This presented scholars with a problem regarding periods for which there is either textual documentation or circumstantial evidence for significant occupation in Jerusalem; we refer mainly to the Late Bronze Age, the Iron IIA and the Persian and early Hellenistic periods.2 Scholars attempted to address this problem in regard to a specific period. Na’aman (2010a) argued that the Late Bronze city-states are underrepresented in the archaeological record also in other places; A. Mazar (2006; 2010) advocated the “glass half full” approach, according to which We are using the term “City of David” in its common archaeological meaning, that is, the ridge to the south of the Temple Mount and west of the Kidron Valley, also known as the southeastern hill. For the biblical term see Hutzli, in press. 2 The intensive archaeological work in the City of David in the last century (probably unparalleled in anywhere else in the region), renders the “absence of evidence is not evidence for absence” argument irrelevant in this case. 1

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with all difficulties, the fragmentary evidence in the City of David is enough to attest to a meaningful settlement even in periods of weak activity; one of us (Lipschits 2009) argued for enough spots with Persian Period finds on the ridge; another author of this paper (Finkelstein 2008) maintained that the weak archaeological signal from the late Iron I—early Iron IIA (the tenth century BCE) and the Persian and early Hellenistic periods reflects the actual situation in Jerusalem—which was only sparsely populated in these periods. Still one must admit that the bigger problem—of many centuries in the history of Jerusalem with only meager finds—has not been resolved. In what follows we wish to put forward a solution to this riddle. Following the suggestion of Knauf (2000) regarding the Late Bronze Age and Iron Age I, we raise the possibility that similar to other hilly sites, the mound of Jerusalem was located on the summit of the ridge, in the center of the area that was boxed-in under the Herodian platform in the late first century BCE. Accordingly, in most periods until the second century BCE the City of David ridge was outside the city. Remains representing the Late Bronze, Iron I, Iron IIA, and the Persian and early Hellenistic periods were found mainly in the central part of this ridge. They include scatters of sherds but seldom the remains of buildings, and hence seem to represent no more than (usually ephemeral) activity near the spring. In two periods—in the second half of the eighth century and in the second half of the second century BCE—the settlement rapidly (and simultaneously) expanded from the mound on the Temple Mount to both the southeastern ridge (the City of David) and the southwestern hill (today’s Jewish and Armenian quarters). The theory of “the mound on the Mount” cannot be proven without excavations on the Temple Mount or its eastern slope—something that is not feasible in the foreseen future. Indeed, Na’aman (1996: 18-19) stated that since “the area of Jerusalem’s public buildings is under the Temple Mount and cannot be examined, the most important area for investigation, and the one to which the biblical histories of David and Solomon mainly refer, remains terra incognita”, and Knauf (2000: 87) maintained that “AbdiKhepa’s and David’s Jerusalem lies buried under the Herodian-throughIslamic structures of the Temple Mount, thus formulating a hypothesis which cannot be tested or refuted archaeologically.” We too regard our reconstruction below as no more than a hypothesis. In other words, for clear reasons—the inability to check our hypothesis in the field—we cannot present a well-based solution for the “problem with Jerusalem.” Rather, our goal in this paper is to put this theory on the table of scholarly discussion.

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THE SETTLEMENT HISTORY OF THE CITY OF DAVID What follows is a brief discussion of the City of David’s settlement history—a summary rather than a thorough description of every parcel of land excavated. The ridge should be discussed in three sectors: north, south, and center (Fig. 1). In “north” we refer to excavations between the southern wall of the Temple Mount and the City of David visiting center (E. Mazar’s “palace of King David”). In B. and E. Mazar’s “Ophel” excavations, Hellenistic remains were found superimposed directly on Iron IIB-C remains, which were founded, in turn, on bedrock (B. Mazar and E. Mazar 1989). Kenyon’s Sites R and S revealed remains from the Roman period and later (Kenyon 1974). Recent excavation in the Giveati Parking Lot by Reich and Shukron and by BenAmi and Tchehanovetz revealed remains from medieval times down to the late Hellenistic period, and below them, on bedrock on the slope to the Tyropoeon, late Iron II and some Iron IIA remains (Ben-Ami and Tchehanovetz 2008; 2010). The latter should be understood, in fact, together with the remains in the central sector of the ridge (below). Remains unearthed nearby by Crowfoot (Crowfoot and Fitzgerald 1929) were interpreted as a Bronze Age, Iron Age and Persian Period western gate to the City of David (e.g., Alt 1928; Albright 1930-31: 167); in fact, they comprise a sub-structure covered by a fill for a large late Hellenistic or early Roman building (Ussishkin 2006a). To sum up this evidence, no remains of the Middle Bronze, Late Bronze, Iron I, Persian and early Hellenistic Periods have so far been discovered in the northern sector of the City of David. It is also significant that apart from a few pottery sherds and some other scanty remains, finds of these periods were not reported from B. Mazar’s excavations near the southwestern corner of the Temple Mount either (B. Mazar 1971). On the other hand, rich Iron IIB-C remains were unearthed near the southern wall of the Temple Mount. By “south” we refer to all soundings south of Shiloh’s Area D1 (see Fig. 1). Here too the Middle Bronze, Late Bronze, Iron I, Iron IIA and Persian and early Hellenistic Periods are absent. In Area A1, Early Roman remains were found over late Iron II remains (De Groot, Cohen and Caspi 1992). In Kenyon’s Site K, located on the southwestern side of the City of David, ca. 50 m to the north of the Siloan Pool, late Iron II sherds were found on bedrock, superimposed by Late Hellenistic finds (Kenyon 1966: 84). Shiloh’s Area K, in roughly the same line as Kenoyon’s Site K, was excavated to bedrock; the earliest remains date to the Early Roman period. In this case a large-scale clearing operation, which could have destroyed

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earlier remains, seems to have taken place in the Roman period (also Kenyon 1965: 14; 1966: 88 for her excavations nearby). The central part of the City of David—between the visitors center/Shiloh Area G and Shiloh’s Area D1—should in fact be divided into west and east. Only a few, limited in scope excavations have been carried out in the former; they did not reveal early remains. The eastern part of the central sector includes mainly the Macalister and Duncan dig/E. Mazar’s visitors’ center excavations (Macalister and Duncan 1926; E. Mazar 2007; 2009), Kenyon’s Area A (Steiner 2001), Shiloh’s Areas G, E and D (Shiloh 1984) and Reich and Shukron work near the Gihon spring (e.g., 2004; 2007; 2009). Iron IIB-C and late Hellenistic remains were found here too. In addition, this is the only sector of the City of David that produced finds from the “missing periods.” These include: the impressive Middle Bronze fortifications near the Gihon spring and remains of this period in Kenyon’s Area A and Shiloh’s Area E1; Late Bronze pottery in Shiloh’s Areas E1 and G and in E. Mazar’s excavations in the area of the visitors’ center; Iron I finds under the terraces on the slope and in the visitors’ center excavations; and Iron IIA, Persian and early Hellenistic finds between Shiloh’s Area D1 and G and in E. Mazar’s excavation. Still, even in the central part of the City of David ridge the finds from the “missing periods” are fragmentary: Not a single building, in fact, not a single floor of the Late Bronze Age or Persian Period has so far been found, and only one structure of the early Hellenistic Period has been unearthed (in Shiloh’s Area E1). Actual building remains of the Iron IIA exist only in two places: 1. The Stepped Stone Structure (Cahill 2003; A. Mazar 2006; in fact, only its lower part—Finkelstein et al. 2007; Finkelstein, in press a). This is a stone mantle that covers terraces constructed in order to stabilize the steep slope. Its dating is circumstantial—it may belong to the late Iron IIA or to the Iron IIB (Finkelstein et al. 2007); 2. Several walls in E. Mazar’s excavations in the area of the visitors’ center may date to the Iron IIA (Finkelstein, Fantalkin and Piasetzky 2008; Finkelstein, in press a). E. Mazar (2009), A. Mazar (2010) and Faust (2010) reconstruct a major complex which constituted a revetment on the slope (the Stepped Stone Structure) and a fortress or a palace on the ridge. Though this is

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possible, evidence for a large edifice on the ridge is meager, and physical connection between the two structures non-existent (Finkelstein, in press a). Late Iron IIA (or transitional Iron IIA/B) finds—pottery and bullae—were retrieved from a fill deposited in the rock-cut pool near the Gihon spring (Reich, Lernau and Shukron 2007; Reich and Shukron 2009; De Groot and Fadida 2010). A summary of this short review of the settlement history of the City of David is as follows: In the Late Bronze, Iron I, Iron IIA, Persian and early Hellenistic Periods activity—sparse in nature and with very little building remains—concentrated in a strip on the center-east part of the ridge, mainly its slope, from the Gihon spring to Shiloh’s Area D about 200 meters to its south.

THE PROBLEM WITH JERUSALEM In recent years a formidable Middle Bronze fortification and elaborate water system have been unearthed near the Gihon spring (Reich and Shukrun 2004; 2009). These finds, however, are not accompanied by habitation remains, which raise a question as for the location of the Middle Bronze settlement of Jerusalem. The Amarna letters indicate that in the 14th century BCE Jerusalem was one of the most influential city-states in Canaan. Jerusalem dominated a vast territory in the southern hill country (Finkelstein 1996; for a somewhat different view see Na’aman 1992; 2010b: 45–48) and its political sway reached large areas in the lowlands. Pointing out to the meager finds also in sites of other Late Bronze city-states in Canaan, Na’aman (2010a: 167–169) linked this situation to the general decay of Canaan at that time. Still, the question is, whether a few pockets of pottery in the center of the City of David—without evidence for the construction of a single building—can represent Jerusalem of the Amarna period. Difficulties regarding the Iron IIA emerge from both archaeology and text. Archaeologically speaking, the first fortifications in Judah, in the Shephelah (Lachish IV and possibly Beth-shemesh 3) and Beer-sheba Valley (Arad XI and Tel Beer-sheba V) date to the late Iron IIA in the mid- to second half of the ninth century BCE (Finkelstein 2001; Herzog and Singer Avitz 2004; for absolute dating see Finkelstein and Piasetzky 2009; 2010). The Great Wall of Tell en-Nasbeh (Mizpah) seems to have been built at that time on the northern flank of Judah (Finkelstein, in press b). No fortification has so far been found on the western side of the City of David (see recently Ben-Ami and Tchekhanovets 2010: 72) and the Iron Age

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fortifications along the eastern slope of the ridge date to the Iron IIB (Shiloh 1984; recently Reich and Shukron 2008b). It is illogical to assume that Judahite countryside towns were strongly fortified in the late Iron IIA while the capital was left unprotected. From the textual perspective, 2 Kings 14:13 relates how Joash, king of Israel (who reigned in 800–784 BCE, that is, in the end-phase of the Iron IIA), “broke down the wall of Jerusalem” (see Na’aman 2010a: 169–170). No wall which can be associated with this account has been found. The Tel Dan Inscription supports the biblical testimony that Judah participated in the struggle against the Arameans in the days of Hazael. 2 Kings 12:18–19 says that Jehoash paid tribute, probably as a vassal, to the Damascene king. This source seems to be reliable historically, mainly because of the reference to Gath, which has recently been supported by the results of the excavation at Tell es-Safi (Maeir 2004). The meager late Iron IIA finds near the Gihon spring can hardly account for Jerusalem of that time. Jerusalem of the Persian Period has recently been a focus of debate between two of the authors of this article (Finkelstein 2008; Lipschits 2009). Setting aside the disputed issues of the nature and date of the description of the city-wall in Nehemiah 3 (Lipschits 2007), it is clear—from an Elephantine letter (Porten 1996: 135–137) which mentions priests and nobles in Jerusalem, and seemingly also from the distribution of the yhwd stamp impressions—that during the Persian period Jerusalem was the center of the province of Yehud (Lipschists and Vanderhooft 2007). Early Hellenistic sources such as Ben-Sirah testify for the importance of Jerusalem in the Ptolemaic and early Seleucid periods. Finally, it seems clear that a significant number of biblical texts were compiled in Jerusalem in the Persian and early Hellenistic periods. Some of these works are of special importance, for example, the Priestly material in the Pentateuch, prophetic works, a late redaction of the Deuteronomistic History, and at least parts of Ezra and Nehemiah and Chronicles. The extremely poor finds in the City of David ridge can hardly account for a town that produces such a large and varied number of literary works.

A SOLUTION: A MOUND ON THE TEMPLE MOUNT? Over a decade ago, Axel Knauf (2000) proposed that Late Bronze and Early Iron Age Jerusalem had been located on the Temple Mount. Knauf rightly argued (ibid.: 76) that from the strategic point of view a town covering the southeastern hill would have been indefensible without commanding the top of the ridge—the Temple Mount. In what follows we wish to elaborate on Knauf’s proposal, adapt it to what we know about the archaeology of

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Jerusalem today, and interpret it in view of the textual evidence for the “missing periods” in the City of David. To start with, it should be noted that major Bronze and Iron Age towns in the central hill country were located on relatively small mounds. Shechem (Tell Balata) and Hebron (Tell er-Rumeideh) covered an area of 4–4.5 hectares each; the mound of Bethel covers an area of ca. 3 hectares (Kelso 1968: 2); and most other mounds are smaller. Even ninth century Samaria—the center of a relatively large and powerful kingdom which competed with Damascus on the hegemony in the Levant—covered an area of no more than 8 hectares (Finkelstein, in press c). Hence, one should not expect Late Bronze-to-Iron IIA Jerusalem to have covered a much larger area. There can be no question that the ruling compound of Iron Age Jerusalem—the Temple and the palace of the Davidic kings—was located on the Temple Mount. But scholars seem to evaluate Iron Age Jerusalem with the notion of the Herodian Temple Mount and current Haram el-Sharif in mind. In Herodian times, when the city covered a very large area of some 180 hectares, the Temple Mount featured substantial open areas— somewhat similar to the situation today. Yet, there is no reason to telescope this situation back to the Bronze and Iron Ages. Bronze Age city-states in the Levant, such as Megiddo and Lachish, were the hub of territorial entities. They accommodated a palace, temple(s), and other buildings which served the bureaucratic apparatus, as well as residential quarters for the ruling class. Most members of other sectors of the society lived in smaller settlements in their hinterland. The same holds true for the hubs of Iron Age territorial kingdoms in the southern Levant, such as Samaria and Hama. Jerusalem probably looked the same: The Temple Mount must have accommodated the temple, the palace, other buildings related to the administration of the kingdom as well as habitation quarters for the kingdom’s bureaucrats; one should not envision large open spaces in its midst. How big could a mound located under the Temple Mount have been? Had there been such a mound, the huge construction project which had taken place on the Temple Mount in Herodian times, including major leveling operations, must have eradicated much of its remains. Still, one could have expected to find pottery representing Bronze and Iron Age activity (as well as finds from the Persian and Early Hellenistic periods), for example in B. Mazar’s excavations near the southwestern corner of the Temple Mount and in B. and E. Mazar’s excavations to the south of the Temple Mount. The fact that no such remains have been found may be linked—among other reasons—to intensive later construction activities,

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which cleaned these areas down to bedrock, or to intensive post-Iron Age erosion or accumulation of debris. However, there may be another explanation: The current Temple Mount is comprised of the rectangular Herodian platform; had there been an ancient mound on the hill, it could have covered a smaller area, with its lower slopes located dozens of meters away from the current boundaries of the platform. Judging from the situation in other hilly mounds, if one walks a few dozen meters away from the slopes, the ancient sherds diminish in number and then disappear. This factor—together with erosion, leveling and accumulation of debris—could have resulted in the absence of Bronze and Iron Age debris on the slopes of the hill. The Herodian platform covers an area of ca. 470 x 280 m (about 13 hectares). Taking down 50–60 m on each side—to account for the paucity of Bronze and Iron Age as well as Persian and Hellenistic pottery around the hypothetical tell—one gets a mound of ca. 350 x 180 m, that is, an area of about 5 hectares (Fig. 2)—equivalent in size to or bigger than Tell Balata (Shechem). This is a meaningful mound-size even in the lowlands, taken into consideration that Iron Age Megiddo (the top of the mound) covered just below 5 hectares and that Iron Age Lachish stretched over an area of 5.7 hectares. According to this reconstruction, an ancient mound was completely “trapped” under the Herodian platform.3 Such a mound would be well-defended topographically on almost all sides: by the steep slope to the Kidron Valley in the east, by the relatively steep slope to the Tyropoeon in the west (which, according to results of excavations, was much deeper in the Iron Age than today, see e.g., Ben Ami and Tchehanovetz 2010: 68; section in B. Mazar 1971: Fig. 1), and by the steep slope to the Valley of Bethesda under the northeastern sector of the current Temple Mount in the northeast (see topography of the Temple Mount in Hubbard 1966: Fig. 1). The vulnerable sides would be the northwest and the south. In the northwest, a moat must have been cut in the saddle which separates the hill from the continuing ridge. Warren (Warren and Conder 1884: 136 ff. and see Hubbard 1966: Fig. 1) mapped the natural rock around and inside the Temple Mount by digging shafts alongside the Herodian supporting walls, and by examining the subterranean chambers within the Haram el-Sharif compound. While doing so, he investigated the saddle that connects the Temple Mount with the northeast hill, and reported on two ditches there—one to the north of the Temple Mount and 3 Somewhat similar to the ancient mound of Atlit, or the Moabite site of ancient Kerak, which both seem to have been boxed-in under the large medieval castles there.

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another inside its limits. The latter is a six-meter ditch that disconnects the Temple Mount from the ridge (Warren and Conder 1884: 215, and cf. Wilson and Warren 1871: 13). This trench in the rock, which was identified as a fosse or a dry moat, was also documented by Vincent (1912: section K– L; see also Bahat 1980: 11a; Ritmeyer 1992: 32–33), and was dated by Hubbard (1966: Fig. 3), Ottosson (1979: 31; 1989: 266), Oredsson (2000:92–95), and Ussishkin (2003: 535; 2006a: 351; 2009: 475) to the period of the Judahite Monarchy. If one envisions the temple on the highest point of the hill, the ruling compound could have been located on the edge of the ancient mound, in approximately one third of the site in its northwestern sector, with the palace, possibly, behind the temple (e.g., Ussishkin 2003: 535; 2006b: 351– 352; 2009: 473, and cf. Wightman 1993:29–31). This leaves the entire southern and eastern parts of the hill for the rest of the city. According to this proposal, during the second millennium and the early first millennium BCE—until the great territorial expansion of Jerusalem in the Iron IIB—as well as during most of the second half of the first millennium, after the 586 destruction and until the late Hellenistic period, Jerusalem had been located on a mound which was later leveled and boxed-in under the Herodian platform.4 This area could have been fortified in the late Iron IIA—in parallel to the fortification of major Judahite towns such as Lachish, Tel Beer-Sheba, and possibly Mizpah. This means that until the Iron IIB the southeastern hill (the City of David) was an open area outside of the city, which probably featured agricultural installations, sporadic activity areas and several buildings, mainly near the spring. It was only during the late eighth century BCE that the southeastern ridge, together with the southwestern hill, was incorporated into the city and fortified. In other words, in both the Iron IIB and the late Hellenistic periods the expansion of Jerusalem to the south (the City of David = the southeastern ridge) and the southwest (the southwestern hill) took place at approximately the same time. This, in turn, is the reason why no fortification of these periods has ever been found in the west of the City of David: simply, there was no period when this was the outer line of the city and therefore there was no need to fortify it (Ussishkin 2006a: 153). 4 Another clue for the location of Bronze and early Iron Age Jerusalem comes from the distribution of burials: The two more significant Middle and Late Bronze tombs found close to the Old City are located on Mount Olives—to the east of the Temple Mount (map in Maeir 2000: 46), whereas the late Iron II tombs surround the large city of that period (Barkay 2000). We wish to thank Ronny Reich for drawing our attention to this issue.

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The only ostensible difficulty with this scenario is the location of the spring—outside and relatively far (over 300 m) from the city. This could have been compensated by water cisterns on the Temple Mount. Those mapped by Warren (Waren and Conder 1884: 163ff; Gibson and Jacobson 1996) probably represent later periods in the history of Jerusalem, mainly in Herodian times; but as indicated by Tsuk (2008: 114) at least some of them had first been cut in earlier days. In any event, it is noteworthy that Samaria too is far from a spring and on a daily routine must have subsisted on rockcut cisterns.

DISCUSSION In what follows we suggest a brief reconstruction of the extent of Jerusalem from the Middle Bronze Age to the late Hellenistic Period.5

MIDDLE BRONZE The situation in the Middle Bronze is perplexing. The massive, monumental stone walls uncovered near the Gihon were erected in order to protect the spring and provide a safe approach to the water from the ridge (Reich and Shukron 2009; 2010); this includes the segment of the wall unearthed by Kenyon (1974: 81–87; Reich and Shukron 2010). The key area is E1, where Shiloh (1984: 12, Fig. 14) uncovered a stretch of a fortification with fills carrying Middle Bronze pottery on its inner side. More important is a floor with Middle Bronze vessels, which ostensibly abuts the fortification. No fortification has been unearthed in the western side of the City of David; as mentioned above, the “gate” dug by Crowfoot is probably a substructure for late Hellenistic or early Roman building (Ussishkin 2006a). No Middle Bronze finds have been detected in the northern sector of the City of David. Accordingly, E. Mazar (following Macalister and Duncan 1926: 15) proposed that the Middle Bronze city was limited to the southern part of the City of David, south of Shiloh’s Area G and the visitors’ center, with the fortifications near the spring located in its northeastern corner (E. 5 The sifting of the debris taken from the southern part of the Temple Mount by the Islamic Waqf has revealed a small number of sherds representing early times, except for the Iron IIB-C and the Hellenistic periods (Barkay and Zweig 2006: 219–220; 2007, especially table in p. 59). As a result, Barkay and Zweig (2007: 59) reject the possibility of an ancient mound on the Temple Mount (ibid.). We do not agree and do not incorporate this information into our discussion, because: A) the debris was taken from the southern end of the Mount, away from the supposed mound; B) much of the debris there was not in situ and there is no way to know where it had come from and for what reason it was deposited there in antiquity.

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Mazar 2006; 2007: 16−17, 28, 52; 2009: 24, 26). This idea is also based on Macalister and Duncan’s assumption (1926: 15) that a depression (labeled by them the “Zedek Valley”) ran in this place from east to west across the ridge. Yet, “Rock Scarp A” (Macalister and Duncan 1926: Fig. 39 and Pl. I)—probably the reason for this theory—seems to be no more than an ancient quarry. Indeed, Kenyon indicated the obvious—that the bedrock along the crest of the ridge rises toward the north (Steiner 2001: Fig. 4.18). Also, there is no parallel to a town built on the lower slope of a ridge, dominated by higher grounds immediately outside its walls. We would suggest that the Middle Bronze city was located on the supposed mound under today’s Temple Mount. If the fortification in Area E1 indeed dates originally to the Middle Bronze, then the city of this period could have stretched over a bigger area, comprising both the Temple Mount and the north-center sectors of the City of David. This scenario raises three difficulties: first, Middle Bronze finds are absent from the north of the City of David ridge; second, no other Middle Bronze city in the hill country, not even Shechem, covered such a large area; third, no fortification has so far been unearthed in the western side of the City of David. The other possibility—that the fortification in Area E1 is later than the Middle Bronze (this can be checked only when detailed sections are published)— also raises difficulties: In this case, the city was located on the mound in the north, with a separate fortification near the spring—an arrangement unknown in any other city in the Levant. In any event, since no connection between the mound on the Temple Mount and the fortification near the spring has so far been discovered and no finds from this period were unearthed in the northern part of the City of David, the nature of at least some of the Middle Bronze remains in the City of David ridge, as well as the extent of the Middle Bronze city, remain a riddle.

LATE BRONZE The Late Bronze city was located on the mound under today’s Temple Mount (Knauf 2000). The small quantity of Late Bronze pottery found here and there in the City of David above the Gihon Spring probably represents ephemeral presence outside the city, near the water source.

IRON I Activity near the spring intensified in the Iron I. Remains of buildings were uncovered under the terraces on the slope (Steiner 1994) and in E. Mazar’s excavations in the area of the visitors’ center (2009: 39–42). Poor finds— mainly pottery—were retrieved by Shiloh from his Areas D1 and E1 (1984: 7, 12). The quantity of Iron I pottery in the brown deposits found under E.

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Mazar’s “palace of King David” (2007: 48) is also significant. All this seems to indicate that activity near the spring intensified. Yet, the area between the spring and the mound in the north remained uninhabited.

IRON IIA In the Shephelah and the Beer-sheba Valley, the Iron IIA can be divided stratigraphically, and in the case of large-enough assemblages of finds also ceramically, into two phases—early and late Iron IIA (Herzog and SingerAvitz 2004). The results of excavations in Jerusalem, as well as in other sites in the highlands, do not provide enough data for such a distinction. Still, it seems that both the original Stepped Stone Structure and the early walls in E. Mazar’s excavations date to the later phase of the period (Finkelstein 2001; in press a; Finkelstein et al. 2007; 2008). At that time, the main settlement, which was probably fortified by a massive wall similar to the Great Wall of Tell en-Nasbeh (Mizpah), was still located on the Temple Mount. Assuming that the story in 2 Kings 14:13 is historically sound, this could have been the wall which had been breached by King Joash of Israel in the very early eighth century. It is possible that the Stepped Stone Structure was erected outside of the city in order to support a large building on the eastern flank of the ridge—possibly a fortress (A. Mazar 2010 and Faust 2010 suggested the existence of such a fortress but dated it to the Iron I), which protected the approach to the water source. Yet, there is no link between the Iron I rooms and the large walls around them, and the connection between the stone revetment and the walls on the ridge is impossible to verify today (Finkelstein, in press a).

IRON IIB The turning point in the settlement history of Jerusalem came in the Iron IIB, in the mid-to-late eighth century BCE. Prosperity in Judah as an Assyrian vassal and demographic changes—be they sharp and quick following the fall of the Northern Kingdom (Finkelstein and Silberman 2006; Finkelstein 2008), or slow and more graduate (Na’aman 2007; 2009)—brought about a major urbanization process in Jerusalem. For the first time the settled area expanded to the entire City of David ridge, which was now densely occupied. During the same time, the city expanded to the southwestern hill (today’s Jewish and Armenian quarters). The new quarters were surrounded by a city wall, which must have been connected to the older (probably Iron IIA) fortification on the mound under the Temple Mount (Ussishkin 2009: 473). In the City of David, the new city-wall is known only along the eastern side, above the Kidron Valley (Steiner 2001: 89–92; Shiloh 1984: 8–10, 28; Figs. 30, 33; Reich and Shukrun 2000; 2008).

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Segment of this fortification, already noticed by Warren, was excavated by E. and B. Mazar (1989) in the “Ophel.” On the southwestern hill it has been uncovered in the modern day Jewish Quarter (Avigad 1983:46–60; Avigad and Geva 2000; Geva and Avigad 2000), and possibly also under the western wall of the Old City (near Jaffa Gate—Geva 1979; 1983: 56–58) and in HaGai (el-Wad) Street (Kloner 1984). There was no need to fortify the western side of the City of David (Ussishkin 2006a: 153).

PERSIAN AND EARLY HELLENISTIC In the Persian and early Hellenistic periods the settlement shrank to the original mound on the Temple Mount. The City of David was again an open, desolate area. Pockets of pottery found in the center of the ridge testify for some activity in the vicinity of the spring and possibly on the eastern slope to the south of it. According to Finkelstein, the description of the construction/repair of the wall of Jerusalem in the “Nehemiah Memoir,” with no reference to specific places, should probably be connected to the old, Iron Age fortification of the mound on the Temple Mount, while the detailed description in Nehemiah 3, which represents an insertion into the original text (e.g., Torrey 1896; 37–38; 1910: 249; Mowinckel 1964: 109–116), probably relates to the long Hellenistic fortifications, which encircles the southeastern ridge and the southwestern hill. According to Lipschits, the verses in Nehemiah 3 that describe the construction of six gates are unique in their sentence structure, word order, and verbs used; they differ from the usual formula deployed to describe the construction of the wall itself (see already Reinmuth 2003: 84, who pointed out the different sources of the verses, and Lipschits 2007, who demonstrated that gates-verses are part of two different later additions to the original list of people who supported the building of the wall). Without the burden of the many gates, the original account described the course of the city wall of the small mound of Jerusalem on the Temple Mount.

LATE HELLENISTIC The entire City of David ridge was settled again in the late Hellenistic (Hasmonean) period. Similar to the situation in the Iron IIB, the city expanded in parallel to the southeastern and southwestern hills, and hence in this period too there was no need to fortify the western side of the City of David.

SUMMARY There are two solutions for the “problem with Jerusalem”—the fact that archaeology does not supply enough data for several periods in the second

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and first millennia BCE which are well-documented by textual material. According to the first, the acropolis, with the temple and the palace only, was located on the Temple Mount and the town itself extended over the ridge of the City of David. This means that in the Late Bronze, Iron I, Iron IIA, Persian and early Hellenistic period Jerusalem was a small, sparsely settled settlement. In this article, we suggest a second solution to the quandary: The original mound of Jerusalem—that is, the acropolis and the settlement— which had been located on the Temple Mount, was boxed-in under the Herodian platform in the late first century BCE. This theoretical mound could have covered a significant area of ca. 5 hectares—the size of the larger Bronze and Iron Age mounds in the hill country. It was probably fortified in the Middle Bronze Age, and again in the late Iron IIA in parallel to the fortification of important towns in the countryside of Judah, mainly Lachish, Tel Beer-sheba and Mizpah. This mound on the Temple Mount was the sole location of the town in the Middle Bronze, Late Bronze, Iron I, Iron IIA, Persian and early Hellenistic periods. In all these periods activity in the City of David was meager and restricted to the central part of the ridge, mainly its eastern side near the Gihon spring. In two periods—the Iron IIB and the late Hellenistic—the settlement expanded to include the southeastern ridge (the City of David) and the southwestern hill; the new quarters were fortified, but there was no need to build a city-wall in the western side of the City of David, as this line ran in the middle of the city.

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FIGURES Fig. 1: Map of the City of David indicating main excavation areas mentioned in the article.

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Fig. 2: Map of Jerusalem showing the possible location of the supposed mound on the Temple Mount, the City of David and the line of the Iron IIB-C city-wall.

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Weksler-Bdolach, S., Greenhut, Z. and Onn, A. 2008. An Impressive Architectural Complex from the First Temple Period in the Western Wall Plaza. In: Amit, D. and Stiebel, G. D., eds. New Studies in the Archaeology of Jerusalem and its Region (Collected Papers, Vol. II). Jerusalem: 35–43. Wightman, G. J. 1993. The Walls of Jerusalem: from the Canaanites to the Mamluks (Mediterranean Archaeology Supplement 4). Sydney. Wilson, C. W. and Warren, C. 1871. The Recovery of Jerusalem: A Narrative of Exploration and Discovery in the City and the Holy Land. London.

LOT AND HIS DAUGHTERS (GEN 19:30–38). FURTHER LITERARY & STYLISTIC EXAMINATIONS TALIA SUTSKOVER TEL AVIV UNIVERSITY INTRODUCTION After the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen 19:1–29), Lot and his two daughters take refuge in a cave. When night falls, the daughters intoxicate Lot and have sexual intercourse with him, one each night on two successive nights. As a result of these two acts of sexual congress,1 Lot’s daughters become pregnant and give birth to Moab and Ben-ammi, the fathers of the biblical nations known as Moab and Ammon. Although the wider context of the Torah reinforces the position that the sexual encounter between family members is to be viewed negatively (e.g. Lev 18:6–7), the text of Gen 19:30–38, on the other hand, does not explicitly condemn the physical contact between the father and daughters. The Lot story is oddly reminiscent of the narrative of Gen 9:18–29, when the son of the drunk Noah sees his father’s nakedness. Here, too, the intoxicated father is viewed in an unseemly way by a child. But that story strongly condemns the act. The two older sons who cover their father are deemed praiseworthy (vv 25– 27). In the following discussion I shall look closely at some of the stylistic and literary features of Gen 19:30–38, and consider whether the account employs judgmental features, whether it favors certain characters or is neutrally phrased. My approach is literary and synchronic, with a particular 1 Westermann cautions that it would be best to avoid labeling the daughters’ actions with terms such as “incest” or “incestuous” that have judgmental or pejorative connotations (C. Westermann, Genesis 12–36. A Commentary [trans. John J. Scullion; Minneapolis: Ausburg, 1985], 314).

341

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interest in semantics and the micro-structures of the text.2 I intend to show that the dominant semantic fields of kinship and sexual encounter, the recurrence of certain possessive suffixes, and the focal points chosen by the narrator all contribute to shaping both the theme and the reader’s attitude toward the actions of Lot and his daughters. But first, as a preliminary to my own findings, some of the main approaches to this text will be surveyed. When examining this short narrative, many commentators focus on the statement attributed to the elder sister in Gen 19:31: “Our father is old, and there is not a man on earth to come in to us after the manner of all the earth” (biblical quotations in English follow the RSV unless stated otherwise). As for these words of the elder sister, Westermann comments that inhabitants of a city might well experience its destruction as the destruction of the world.3 According to Speiser: “from the recesses of their cave somewhere up the side of a canyon formed by the earth’s deepest rift, they could see no proof to the contrary.”4 We can further develop these arguments, which attempt to delve into the characters’ heads, by considering the larger context of this episode; Lot’s personal biography indicates that he has probably already acquired some geographical perspective. When separating from Abraham in Genesis 13, he is specifically described as lifting up his eyes and looking at the Jordan valley before choosing it (Gen 13:10); he has also travelled through the land of Canaan before, and has come from Haran (Gen 11:31, 12:5). Hence, it is quite possible that Lot would not think the whole world had been destroyed. Moreover, if Lot did not perceive the destruction to be total, he could have said something to reassure his daughters. Nevertheless, it may be that his orientation in the land remained personal knowledge that he purposely never shared with them. If this were so, the readers might ask themselves why, and come to the conclusion that Lot was an abusing father

In this literary approach to the biblical text I follow the methodology of commentators such as S. Bar-Efrat, Narrative Art in the Bible (trans. Dorothea Shefer-Vanson in conjunction with the author; Sheffield: Almond, 1989); R. Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981); F. Polak, Biblical Narrative. Aspects of Art and Design (Jerusalem: Mosad Bialik, 1999; in Hebrew); Y. Amit, Reading Biblical Narratives: Literary Criticism and the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2001); A. Berlin, Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative (Sheffield: Almond, 1983); and M. Bal, Narratology. Introduction to the Theory of Narrative (Toronto: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1997). 3 Westermann, Genesis 12–36, 297, 311–312. 4 E.A. Speiser, Genesis (AB; Garden City NY: Doubleday, 1964), 145. 2

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who relished the prospect of remaining isolated in a cave with his two virgin daughters.5 Gunkel thinks the daughters’ acts were at some point considered heroic.6 Historic-documentary analyses such as those of Westermann, Speiser, and Skinner distinguish between different layers of the account. These commentators speak of an old form of the story, embodying the judgment and annihilation that befell Sodom, with the addition of a further brush stroke and its genealogical implications, to describe ancient Israel’s contemporary neighbors. Hence, the discord between the elder daughter’s words (that there is no man left in the land) and our knowledge, based on the previous paragraphs that tell of a local destruction, is resolved through an approach that posits different authorial layers.7 Von Rad comments that in spite of the coarse material, the emphases are nicely put, and no judgment is expressed concerning the happenings. But he also observes: “without doubt the narrative now contains indirectly a severe judgment on the incest in Lot’s house, and Lot’s life becomes inwardly and outwardly bankrupt.”8 He defines this as a product of popular political wit by which Israel tried to get even with her sometimes powerful enemies, the Moabites and Ammonites, for everything she had suffered at their hands, by means of this derogatory story “about their most disgraceful origin.” However, he also suggests that in the original tradition, the Rashkow, as shall be discussed further on, describes Lot as an abusive father. See I. N. Rashkow, “Daddy-Dearest and the ‘Invisible Spirit of Wine’,” A. Brenner (ed.), Genesis. A Feminist Companion to the Bible (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 82–107. See also I.N. Rashkow, Taboo or Not Taboo. Sexuality and Family in the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2000). 6 H. Gunkel, Genesis (trans. Mark E. Biddle; from the third German edition, 1910; Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1997), 216–217. 7 J. Skinner, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Genesis (ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1930), 314; Westermann, Genesis 12–36, 314–315; Speiser, Genesis, 145– 146. Weisman suggests that this narrative aims to exclude Lot’s descendants from the genealogy of Abraham, and links it to Ezra and Nehemiah’s prohibition to marry foreign women. Hence, as opposed to the above mentioned critical commentators, who generally attribute the story to the authorship of J, Weisman proposes a rather late date of composition or redaction, assigning it to the Second Temple period (Z. Weisman, “Ethnology, Etiology, Genealogy, and Historiography in the Tale of Lot and his Daughters (Genesis 19:30–38),” M. Fishbane and E. Tov (eds.) Sha’arei Talmon. Studies in the Bible, Qumran, and the Ancient Near East Presented to Shemaryahu Talmon [Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1992], 43*–52*.) 8 G. Von Rad, Genesis. A Commentary (trans. J. H. Marks; OTL; London: SCM Press, 1963), 218–219. 5

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ancestral mothers were glorified, since they are not ashamed of the origin of their children, but rather proclaim it openly and fix it in their sons’ names.9 Von Rad also suggests that the daughters’ actions may be explained more simply from the circumstance that Lot and his daughters had been separated from their native group and found themselves living by other rules. A different and more recent view is suggested by Rashkow and Exum who psychoanalyze Lot’s behavior and suggest that offering his daughters to the Sodomites (Gen 19:8) is the first expression of Lot’s secret fantasy to have sexual relations with them. They argue that the design of the story as if the daughters initiate sexual contact, actually conveys the father’s unconscious, unacknowledged desires.10 Miller however argues that Lot might hand his daughters over to the mob to protect his guests, but he would not knowingly have had intercourse with his daughters. Hence he had to be intoxicated.11 Still, Low insists on going back to the Sodom and Gomorrah scene and states that he feels repulsion in a much earlier stage in the story, when Lot assumes that his daughters’ sexuality is at his disposal, and offers their bodies to the angry mob.12 Tonson argues that this narrative is morally ambiguous. In the Sodom and Gomorrah narrative Lot has to choose between his guests and his daughters and offers the latter to the Sodomites to protect his guests, while ambiguity also characterizes the position of the daughters, who can find fulfillment as mothers only by violating the code of sexual relationships.13 The narrator may have intended to reflect ambiguity, and hence, suggests Tonson, a moralistic reading should be avoided. Nevertheless, I find too many literary and semantic elements that point to a certain characterization of Lot and his daughters, even if they are unconsciously invoked by the narrator. The following examination of the microstructures of the narrative will uncover further

Following Gunkel, von Rad thinks that the story once glorified the heroic mothers and stressed the proud sons who were born with pure blood (Gunkel, Genesis; von Rad, Genesis. A Commentary, 218–219). 10 Rashkow, “Daddy-Dearest”; J. C. Exum, “Desire Distorted and Exhibited: Lot and His Daughters in Psychoanalysis, Painting, and Film,” S. M. Olyan and R. C. Culley (eds.) A Wise and Discerning Mind. Essays in Honor of Burke O. Long (Providence, RI: Brown University, 2000), 83–108. 11 J. E. Miller, “Sexual Offences in Genesis,” JSOT 90 (2000), 41–53 (42). 12 K. B. Low, “The Sexual Abuse of Lot’s Daughters,” JFSR 26 (2010), 37–54 (40). 13 P. Tonson, “Mercy Without Covenant: A Literary Analysis of Genesis 19,” JSOT 95 (2001), 95–116. 9

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notions that can be posited as complementary to Rashkow and Exum’s psychological portrayal of the characters involved.

SEMANTIC FIELDS, POSSESSIVE SUFFIXES, AND REPETITION A close examination of the nine verses of the story of Lot and his daughters reveals a frequent occurrence of words from the semantic fields of kinship and sexuality. Such terms appear repeatedly at key points in the plot, some of them highlighted by sound play and semantic puns, as I will soon show. Characters and place names in this narrative also consist of terms from the recurring semantic fields, a phenomenon which stresses their role as theme markers.14 The story begins as follows: “Now Lot went up out of Zoar, and dwelt in the hills with his two daughters, for he was afraid to dwell in Zoar; so he dwelt in a cave with his two daughters” (Gen 19:30). Twice in this verse it is said that Lot is with his two daughters. It would have sufficed for the narrator to write “them” the second time, but the long wording and the repeated specification of the family relations among the people now dwelling in the cave were preferred. Reinharz notes that in Genesis 19 all actors are unnamed, apart from Lot. The two women are designated exclusively as his daughters. This designation, says Reinharz, emphasizes the primacy of their relationship with their father. Their anonymity actually allows us to focus on their identities as Lot’s daughters.15 In the next verse, the elder daughter embarks on the controversial, much debated dialogue. In vv 31 and 32 the elder sister addresses the younger: “And the first-born said to the younger, our father is old, and there is not a man on earth to come in to us after the manner of all the earth. Come, let us make our father drink wine, and we will lie with him, that we may preserve offspring through our father.” The kinship terms in v 31 are: ‫( בכירה‬first born), ‫( צעירה‬the younger), and ‫( אבינו‬our father). “Our father is old,” says the older sister, using “father” with the addition of the possessive suffix ‫נו‬- (‫)אבינו‬, stressing the family relationship: that he is their 14 Faber and Wallhead analyze the semantic field of vision in John Fowels’ The French Lieutenant’s Woman (P. Faber and C. Wallhead, “The lexical field of visual perception in The French Lieutenant’s Woman by John Fowles,” Language and Literature 4 (1995), 127–144. They too connect between the dominant semantic field and the themes of the narratives, explaining that the field of vision in this novel portrays the Victorian age as an age of appearances. For the connection between dominant semantic fields and theme see T. Sutskover, “The Themes of Land and Female Fertility in the Book of Ruth,” JSOT 34 (2010), 283–294. 15 A. Reinhartz, “Why Ask My Name?,” Anonymity and Identity in Biblical Narrative (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 127.

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father. In her suggestion that they make their father drink wine and then sleep with him (v 32), the older sister uses the kinship terms: ‫“ זרע‬seed” or “offspring,” and “father.” She repeats the word ‫( אבינו‬our father), used in the previous statement, again in the possessive, thus emphasizing the close familial relationship between father and daughters. Going on to v 33 we read of the implementation of the elder sister’s suggestion to lie with Lot. Instead of giving a general summary saying that she has carried out what she had planned, the narrator gives a detailed description of what has transpired, an almost word for word repetition of the suggestion. Here the word “father” is repeated twice, again with suffixes that stress the family relations between father and daughters: “their father” and “her father.” The word “first-born” from the semantic field of kinship is mentioned, as well as the verbs: ‫( ותבא‬went in), ‫( ותשכב‬lay), ‫( ידע‬knew), ‫( בשכבה‬when she lay), from the semantic field of sexual encounter. Repetition of phrases, sentences, and paragraphs in the Hebrew Bible often deserves close attention: here too repetition requires explanation.16 Why has the narrator chosen to describe the implementation of the sister’s suggestion in detail? I wish to raise another explanation apart from that concerning the emphasis on the act of incest between father and daughters. Perhaps the elder sister’s initiative was not carried out exactly as she planned. The Bechirah (the first-born sister) tries to persuade the younger sister to sleep with their father. As we have seen, she initiates the plan and explains its necessity. She uses the first person plural ‫( נשקה‬let us make our father drink wine), ‫( ונשכבה‬we will lie with him), ‫( ונחיה‬we may preserve). Her intention is that they act together. Nevertheless, during the execution described in v 33, they both make their father drink wine, but only the elder sister lies with Lot on the first night. Has the younger sister shown resistance? The text doesn’t say anything about the younger sister’s feelings or thoughts, but the Bechirah needs to repeat the suggestion in order to convince the younger to also lie with their father.17 It is this initiative and persistence of the Bechirah that is stressed by the repetition. No verbal response comes from the younger sister but we know she is convinced, because on the second night, both sisters give their father wine and the younger lies with him. The second instance is described in almost the exact Bar Efrat, Narrative Art in the Bible, 22–26, 169–172. Polak, Biblical Narrative. Aspects of Art and Design, 59–81. 17 Num. Rab. 20:23 explicitly condemns the elder sister for initiating the sexual act. This interpretation is based on the different preposition used to describe the sexual acts between sisters and father. The elder sister is described ‫ותשכב את אביה‬ (she lay with her father, v 33) and the younger sister ‫( ותשכב עמו‬she lay with him, v 35). 16

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words of the suggestion. This repetition together with the initiation on the part of the elder sister form a pattern which departs from a common biblical pattern in which the younger siblings are dominant and theologically prominent (e.g. Jacob, Isaac, Joseph).18 Not only in their actual doings, but in their way of thinking and in the way they conduct their dialogue, Lot’s daughters form a pattern distinct from the ones the Israelites had created for themselves.19 Within the repetitive description of the younger daughter lying with her father, kinship terms are mentioned again, v 35: ‫( אביהן‬their father), ‫( צעירה‬the younger), together with terms from the domain of sexuality: ‫( ותשכב‬lay), ‫( ידע‬knew), ‫( בשכבה‬when she lay with). According to v 36, both women became pregnant as a result of these initiatives. The exact wording is: “Thus both the daughters of Lot were with child by their father.” The women are referred to as “the daughters of Lot,” and the father is alluded to as ‫( מאביהן‬by their father), with the addition of the possessive suffix. The use of the possessive in this fashion and its repetition also contributes to the formation of uncommon narrative patterns; instead of the usual and expected patriarchal relationship in which daughters belong to their fathers,20 in the present narrative, the use of possessive suffixes conveys the sense that the daughters own and control their father.21 It may be that the possessive pronouns are inevitable since the daughters weren’t given personal names, but still, since they are mentioned and repeated, they add their own specific semantic input to our understanding of the narrative. F. E. Greenspahn, When Brothers Dwell Together. The Preeminence of Younger Siblings in the Hebrew Bible (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994). 19 This may not be considered surprising by commentators such as Gunkel or Skinner, who hold the view that the narrative has a Moabite Sitz im Leben. However, since I refer to the MT in its present version, I can treat this initiative of the elder sister as an interesting finding, whether structured by an Israelite or Moabite narrator. 20 Num 30:5–6, and Exod 21:7 are only two of many biblical examples that demonstrate patriarchal relations in which fathers govern and own their daughters. See Esther Fuchs, Sexual Politics in the Biblical Narrative. Reading the Hebrew Bible as a Woman (JSOTSup, 310; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 64. 21 Westermann explains the almost literal repetition in the cases of vv 33 and 35, and the implementation (34) repeating the suggestion as “simply to say that the plan went without hitch” (Westermann, Genesis 12–36, 313). Exum explains that the repetitions express the secret desire of the narrator himself to have sexual intercourse with his daughters: “The narrator obviously enjoys replaying the scene in his mind” (Exum, “Desire Distorted and Exhibited,” 94). Exum (p. 91) suggests that the characters in the scenario represent split-off parts of the narrator. 18

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The last two verses of this short narrative are genealogical in character. Verses 37–38 consist of words from the field of kinship: ‫( ותלד‬bore), ‫( הבכירה‬first-born), ‫( בן‬a son), ‫( אבי־מואב‬the father of the Moabites, v 37); ‫( והצעירה‬the younger), ‫( ילדה‬bore), ‫( בן‬a son), ‫( בן־עמי‬Ben-ammi), ‫בני־עמון‬ ‫( אבי‬the father of the Ammonites, v 38).

NAMES RELATED TO THE DOMINANT SEMANTIC FIELDS There are instances in which place names that denote the setting of biblical scenes, as well as the names of the characters, are connected to the dominant semantic field in the story, even drawing attention to it.22 Commentators acknowledge that both names, Moab and Ben-ammi, are etymologized to refer to incest: Moab is construed as ‫מ(ן)– אב‬, “from the father,” and Ben-ammi (yielding the name of the nation ‫ בני־ עמון‬is construed as “my own kinsman’s son.”23 The very names of the children born are connected to a semantic field dominant in this episode, that of kinship. Moreover, the name of the place in which the actions occur (the cave) and one of the main characters (the younger daughter), are formed by terms from the fields of sexual relations and kinship. According to Rashkow and followed by Exum, the noun ‫ מערה‬suggests puns on several terms with sexual connotations, such as: the verb ‫( ערה‬be naked, bare), ‫( ערוה‬genitals), ‫( מעור‬nakedness).24 Taking into account that ‫ ערה‬appears in biblical contexts concerning inappropriate sexual intercourse, e.g. Lev 20:19, Isa 3:17, Lam 4:21, ‫ מערה‬can be connected to the field of sexuality by sound resemblance, and hint at the sexual act that is performed in it.25 See, for example, Sutskover, “The Themes of Land and Female Fertility in the Book of Ruth,” 285–286. 23 R. Alter, Genesis. Translation and Commentary (New York: W.W. Norton 1996), 90. M. Garsiel, Biblical Names. A Literary Study of Midrashic Derivations and Puns (trans. P. Hackett; Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1991), 33–34. Garsiel speaks of the pun ‫ מאביהן – מואב‬and the recurrence of the preposition ‫“( עמו‬with him” vv 30, 32, 34, 35), which together stress that the daughters have slept with their father (Garsiel’s emphasis). 24 Exum, “Desire Distorted and Exhibited,” 96. See also Rashkow, “Daddy Dearest,” 102. 25 The semantic fields dominant in this story connect to the previous Sodom and Gomorrah narrative of Gen 19:1–29. Repetition of the sounds of ‫ ערה‬in the words ‫עמרה‬, ‫הערים‬, ‫( מערה‬19:28, 29, 30) contribute to the cohesion of the two stories. These are verses that Westermann suggests have emerged from different authorial layers. See also ‫( צערה‬23), ‫( מצער‬20), and ‫( הרעה‬19). But based on such 22

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In addition, the name of the place to which Lot was afraid to go was Zoar, which according to biblical dictionaries stems from the root ‫צער‬ meaning “little, to be slight,” a root that is related to the Akkadian ṣeḫru(m) meaning “small, young.”26 Zoar derives from the same root as the adjective ‫צעירה‬, used in reference to Lot’s younger daughter, mentioned four times in the narrative (19:31, 34, 35, 38). Hence, through etymological connections to the word ‫צעירה‬, Zoar is related to the semantic field of kinship in the present context. Moreover, mentioning the place name Zoar foreshadows the sexual intercourse between Lot and the daughters, the younger one in particular. This is especially noticeable in the words of v 23, ‫ולוט בא צערה‬ (“Lot came to Zoar”). Significantly, the verb ‫בא‬, carries the meaning of “to come to a place,” but it may also mean to come into a woman, that is, to have sexual relations.27 Hence, Lot comes to Zoar, but he will also be coming into the ṣeirah.

FOCALIZATION Most significantly, in connection with the focal point of the story, the assertion that there is no man left is not a report given by the all-knowing biblical narrator, but rather is put into the mouth of the elder sister. According to Bal, the speech act of narrating is actually separated from the vision, the memories and thoughts that are being recounted. She argues that focalization is the layer between the linguistic text and the fabula, and the focalizer serves as the point from which the elements are viewed.28 repetitions of sounds in words of the prominent semantic fields, I would prefer to see the account of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, 19:1–29, together with Lot’s plea to flee to Zoar vv 18–22, and the episode of Lot and his daughters, as a single well-constructed and cohesive unit. 26 HAL, “‫( ”צעיר‬Koehler, L., and W. Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament [trans. M. E. J. Richardson; revised by W. Baumgartner and J.J. Stamm; Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1994-1999]); CAD, vol. Ṣ, 179 (A.L. Oppenheim, et al., The Assyrian Dictionary (CAD; Chicago: Oriental Institute, 1956). 27 Jackson points at the irony in the story of Lot’s daughters. Lot knows (sleeps with) his daughters without knowing (being aware). The irony is aided by the use of the Hebrew ‫ ידע‬with its connotations of both sexual and cognitive awareness (M. Jackson, “Lot’s Daughters and Tamar as Tricksters and the Patriarchal Narratives as Feminist Theology,” JSOT 98 [2002], 29–46 [39]). 28 Bal, Narratology, 142–174. Seymour Chatman, Story and Discourse. Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1978), 151–153. Berlin, Poetics, 43–82. On focalization and parallel terms see S. Horstkotte, “Seeing or Speaking: Visual Narratology and Focalization, Literature to Film,” S. Heinen and

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Accordingly, not only is the elder sister in this narrative more dominant in her actions, as I have suggested above, but she is also the focalizer in vv 31– 32, and 34. Her point of view has been chosen by the narrator, and we learn of the isolation of the remnants of this family specifically through her eyes. According to Berlin, direct speech is the most dramatic way of conveying the characters’ internal psychological and ideological point of view.29 We may note the implications that arise from a comparison of the focalizers of the story. Verses 30 and 36 are told from the perspective of the narrating voice, and use the proper name “Lot.” In vv 33 and 35 the narrating voice stays with the kinship term “father,” thus continuing the elder daughter’s point of view, giving it additional narrative volume. By using the same kinship terms as she has, and by also avoiding the use of the personal name of the father, it is as if the distorted point of view of the elder sister is taken on by the narrator, enhancing it and thus drawing attention to it. Bal points out that if the focalizer coincides with the characters, the position of that character in the story will be enhanced. The reader watches with the character’s eyes, and will be inclined to accept the vision presented by that character.30 Thus it is not surprising, as noted above, that various commentators side with the sisters, ascribe positive motivation to their acts and even describe them as heroic. Moreover, taking into account that a critical statement in this narrative is attributed to the elder sister, the biblical text opens up the possibility of questioning her reliability. When words are put into the mouth of a particular character rather than being attributed to the narrator or to God, then the reader is free to suspect that some hidden motive is being imputed to the character.31 This aspect of the dialogue, which emerges from attending to changes of focalization, strengthens the suggested reading of this narrative, in which the elder sister is seen as dominant and negative.

CONCLUSIONS To conclude, although there is no explicit condemnation of the events involving Lot and his daughters in the cave, an attentive reading would consider certain telling semantic and stylistic features; the prominent repetitive appearance of terms from the semantic fields of kinship and sexuality; the word-for-word repetition of the elder sister’s proposal to sleep R. Sommer (eds.), Narratologia. Narratology in the Age of Cross-Disciplinary Narrative Research (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009), 170–192. 29 Berlin, Poetics and Interpretaion of Biblical Narrative, 64. 30 Bal, Narratology, 146. 31 Polak, Biblical Narrative. Aspects of Art and Design, 313, 318–319.

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with the father; the frequent occurrence of the possessive suffixes (“our father,” “their father”), and the accounts of the plan’s implementations all contribute to awareness that this is an account of incest between father and daughters. The possessive suffixes underline the stark contrast between the roles commonly assigned to daughters, and their father’s present objectification. The grounds for the act are put as a statement made by the elder sister, and this makes it possible to question her credibility and reliability. Together with that sister’s general initiative and prominence, these stylistic aspects reveal a narrative pattern that diverges from the common Israelite pattern, which focuses on the younger siblings and their theological precedence. Significantly, the younger sister does not initiate the sexual act, and the elder sister did have to repeat her suggestion twice in order to bring the younger to act. In my opinion, the cumulative effect of these rhetorical means is to underscore the implicit portrayal of the violation of family relationships in this story. The larger context of this narrative makes it possible to deduce that Lot knew that the destruction was not the end of the world. This is with accordance to psychological analyses of Lot’s character, which convey his unconscious attraction to his daughters, and suggest that he is to blame for this violation. However, in addition, and according to the findings shown in this paper, the narrator holds the elder sister as heavily responsible for initiating and performing sexual relations with her father. She may also to be blamed for persuading her younger sister to do what she has done. Thus, this narrative demonstrates how a detailed analysis of the syntax, semantics, and style of a textual unit may lead to conclusions regarding intent and meaning different from those based on the immediately apparent content, however explicit.

THE TYPOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATION OF THE HEBREW OF GENESIS: SUBJECT-VERB OR VERBSUBJECT?* ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO 1. INTRODUCTION The recent publication of another monograph on word order variation in ancient Hebrew (Moshavi 2010) suggests that the issue is at once important, complex, and unsettled. It is important in that understanding the word order patterns and what motivates the choice of one pattern over another better enables us to interpret the syntactic subtleties of ancient Hebrew texts. That the issue is complex is established both by the diversity of word orders exhibited in the ancient texts, especially the Bible, and by the attention that word order variation receives in general linguistics.1 And that * I thank John A. Cook, John Screnock, Andrew R. Jones, and Krzysztof Baranowksi for providing critical feedback on my argument. This study, divided into six parts and written for on-line consumption, was also published on the blog I co-own: ancienthebrewgrammar.wordpress.com. The ideas promoted within this study, as well as any errors of presentation or fact, are my sole responsibility. 1 For example, doing a basic keyword search for the year 2010 using “word order” in the CSA Linguistics and Language Behavior Abstracts database produced 129 peer-reviewed journal articles and with eighteen doctoral theses (database accessed 6/11/2011, http://search2.scholarsportal.info.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/ids70/results.php?SID=5744e36d53aad4128574d3108085ed6e&id=2). In fact, the journal Lingua ran two issues devoted to word order issues: 120/2 was on the theme “Verb First, Verb Second” and 120/3 was on “Exploring the Left Periphery.” These articles represent the full spectrum of language interests, from formal syntax, typology, and pragmatics to psycholinguistics and language acquisition.

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it is unsettled—that a universally satisfying, comprehensive, adequate description of ancient Hebrew word order variation has yet to appear—is confirmed by the appearance of Moshavi 2010, which joins the monographs of Gross 1996, 2001, Rosenbaum 1997, Goldfajn 1998, Heimerdinger 1999, Shimasaki 2002,2 and Lunn 2006,3 besides numerous articles and a few theses.4 The monographs and articles listed above or in note 4 approach the analysis of word order variation in the Hebrew Bible from different linguistic frameworks (although it is notable that only DeCaen, Doron, and myself utilize some form of generative syntactic theory), take up differing pragmatic concepts that influence word order (e.g., topic, focus, theme, rheme), and often use different corpora from within the Bible (for example, Rosenbaum 1997 uses Isaiah 40–55, while Lunn 2006 addresses poetic texts including Pss 1–50, whereas most, including Moshavi 2010, use data from Genesis to 2 Kings). Yet, for all the differences, there is one clear point of agreement: that Hebrew should be classified typologically as a Verb-Subject (VS) language. Moshavi devotes more space to this issue than the others, and it is no small item that the arguments of the small minority who disagree and classify Hebrew as a Subject-Verb (SV) language have been promoted from brief footnote to full-scale consideration.5 As one of those in the small SV minority and whose views were given respectful consideration in this latest word order contribution, I will take advantage of the appearance of Moshavi’s monograph (a revision of her 2000 thesis) to clarify a few points on which my arguments have been misunderstood and to re-issue an empirical challenge.6 In doing so, I will 2 See

Holmstedt 2003 for a review article. Holmstedt 2009c for a short review. 4 In alphabetical order: Bailey 1998, Bailey and Levinsohn 1992, Buth 1990, 1992, 1999, DeCaen 1995, Doron 2000, Fariss 2003, Floor 2003, 2004, 2005, Gross 1993a, b, 1994, Hornkohl 2005, Jongeling 1991, Longacre 1992, 1995, van der Merwe 1991, 1997, 1999a, b, van der Merwe and Talstra 2002/2003, Moshavi 2000, 2006, Myhill 1995, Myhill and Xing 1993, Payne 1991, de Regt 1991, 1996. 5 See Joüon 1923, Schlesinger 1953, DeCaen 1995, 1999, Holmstedt 2002, 2003, 2005, 2009a, b; Screnock 2011. 6 Moshavi neither understands the generative analysis underlying my word order studies nor engages the typological study of word order with any rigor. She thus misses the importance of applying the four typological criteria, which allows her to freely (but inaccurately) dismiss my application of the four criteria as “somewhat precarious.” She concludes that basic word order determined as I have done (i.e., following the typologists) “bears little resemblance to the way the language is most frequently used” (2010:15). In her short counter-argument, Moshavi builds her case against my analysis in 3 See

TYPOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATION OF THE HEBREW OF GENESIS

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present here in published (and revised) form the Genesis data I used in my thesis (2002), which will complement my published analyses of Proverbs (2005) and Ruth and Jonah (2009a) and will anticipate works in progress on Qoheleth and the Minor Prophets.

2. THE QUESTION OF ‘BASIC WORD ORDER’ Although there are six primary word order types when the three core constituents are considered at the same time—SVO, SOV, VSO, VOS, OVS, and OSV—Dryer (1997) has argued that only two contrastive sets reflect fundamental properties of languages: VO vs. OV and SV vs. VS. For Hebrew, there is, to my knowledge, no debate about where Hebrew falls within the division VO/OV distinction—it clearly patterns with VO languages. That is, there is a consensus that the Object normally follows the three questionable ways (2010:7–16, esp. pp. 14–16). First, she summarizes the typological approach to basic word order on pp. 7–10, but then ignores most of it when she evaluates my arguments. Second, the structure of her discussion in chapters 5–9 acknowledges that clause-type distinctions (e.g., indicative versus modal, declarative versus interrogative, negative versus non-negative) can be salient for word order analysis. But Moshavi does not acknowledge that cross-linguistically these pairs often exhibit word order differences, as with English, in which declarative clauses are Subject-Verb (e.g., Jim reached the house yesterday) but interrogatives have an inverted Verb-Subject order with a fronted wh-word (e.g., When did Jim reach the house?). It is inexcusable to overlook the possibility of similar patterns in Hebrew and the role that such distinctions might play in both the basic word order discussion as well as the assignment of pragmatic marking to the constituents in such clauses. Third, the relationship between language use and that language’s grammar is a complex issue and cannot be invoked without at least some discussion of the complexities involved. Imagine this scenario: an author composes a text made up entirely of interrogative clauses, which reflect an order like English wh-Vfinite-SVnonfinite (e.g., Where do I come from? Where am I going?). That text then, for some reason, becomes the database for a linguistic analysis of word order in that language (for which the vast majority of other texts exhibit the non-interrogative SubjectVerb order as both dominant and pragmatically neutral). Since interrogative clauses (and the order exhibited within this clause type) are taken as the dominant pattern (and so would be taken as basic by those who favor the frequency criterion), the description of the language based on the interrogative-heavy text is radically different than other analyses based on different texts. This is a case where usage transparently skews the reconstruction of the grammar. And that is why one cannot simply use language use as an out-of-hand argument for or against some other grammar proposal. (For the differences between grammar and usage, see Newmeyer 2003).

356

ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT

Verb; when the Object precedes the Verb, it does so due to literary (e.g., chiasm) or discourse-pragmatic (e.g., Focus fronting) reasons. The other word order distinction, SV vs. VS distinction, is also generally agreed upon in Hebrew studies, though it is almost always simply assumed rather than supported with linguistic argument. Beyond the purely typological question of classifying Hebrew among languages of the world, determining whether Hebrew is SV or VS has great explanatory significance. That is, whether a language has SV or VS as its “basic order” (more on this concept below) is critical for explaining the various patterns that are described for a given linguistic text. My contention is that the VS classification of Hebrew has neither been empirically supported nor has it been made within a clear linguistic theory.7 This remains the case, the most recent arguments (Moshavi 2010) notwithstanding. In §3 I will walk through the typological issues again, using data from the book of Genesis to illustrate word order variation in Hebrew. But first let me be clear that my argument has both an analytical and methodological component. And it is the methodological component that must be heard, even if one does not find the analytical component compelling. The methodological argument can be succinctly summarized as follows: the standard VS analysis of Hebrew has not been empirically supported using any modern linguistic framework;8 rather, it has been and continues to be 7 Perhaps the best attempt is an excerpt from an MA thesis (Hornkohl 2005). Although Hornkohl’s survey of the issues is impressive, his handling of the linguistic issues and Hebrew data lacks critical reflection. One example must suffice: Hornkohl misunderstands (and misrepresents) the arguments against including the wayyiqtol given in DeCaen 1995 and Holmstedt 2002, and so accepts without sufficient justification Moshavi’s stance regarding the inclusion of the wayyiqtol in the frequency analysis (2005:43–44). 8 For example, van der Merwe explicitly states that his assessment of Biblical Hebrew as a VSO language “is not merely based on statistics, but on arguments from various points of view” (1999a:294). In the footnote for that statement, van der Merwe briefly cites a few scholars who hold a VSO analysis, but no Biblical Hebrew data are provided for a VSO claim (1999a:294, note 34). In an earlier article on Biblical Hebrew information structure, van der Merwe (1991) proceeds from the assumption that Biblical Hebrew is VSO without any discussion or presentation of examples. Similarly, Rosenbaum (1997) briefly reviews previous studies of word order and then takes as his starting point, without any study of the data, the position that “the basic functional pattern” for Biblical Hebrew is VSO (21). It is in his Appendix A, that Rosenbaum takes the VS “blindness” a step further. There he discusses the word order statistics from the fifteen chapters of Isaiah that he analyzed. He notes that Isaiah 40–55 contains essentially an equal number of SV (189) and VS (184)

TYPOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATION OF THE HEBREW OF GENESIS

357

assumed, and even when the question is raised, as in the works mentioned above, it is done perfunctorily, in the manner of “we take this truth, that Biblical Hebrew has VS basic word order, to be self-evident and so it hardly needs mentioning.” Clearly, any argument even approaching my snide characterization is unacceptable scholarship, and yet it persists. I recognize, though, the momentum created by a long-standing tradition and therefore I am willing to re-issue my challenge for those who support a VS classification to provide the supporting argument. I will also extend my argument that Biblical Hebrew can be accurately classified as an SV language by analyzing the data from Genesis while also considering the typological features of SV and VS languages.

3. THE TYPOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATION OF WORD ORDER The study of word order variation is a fascinatingly complex task. While languages vary on a cline of flexibility, from strict to ‘free’, even those that are strict exhibit more than one word order and those that are ‘free’ arguably exhibit limited patterns, although the patterns may be influenced by features other than syntactic roles. Mithun (1992), for instance, has questioned whether some languages can be assigned to a typological word order category such as SVO, VSO, or SOV. In particular, for languages with an apparently ‘free word order’, Mithun argues that we should not be looking for a basic word order in terms of the position of subject, verb, and modifiers. Rather, she suggests that in these languages the syntactic role of an item (subject, object, etc.) is less important than its discourse role (e.g. topic-hood, identifiability, ‘newsworthiness’). Thus, the order of the clauses (1997:222). Furthermore, he comments that, “Biblical Hebrew is commonly classified as a VSO language. It appears, however, from a comparison of the statistics for Isaiah 40–55 of all three constituents in a clause … that the pattern for Isaiah 40–55 may be SVO (42.48%; VSO is 31.37%). But this is an example of how surface statistics of word-order can be deceptive. Our discussion of the various sub-types of VSO languages demonstrate (sic) that such surface statistics may be the result of the frequent use of special positions” (1997:222–23; emphasis added). Rosenbaum’s argument illustrates how one’s assumptions drive the interpretation of the data, sometimes stretching the limits of logic and the scientific spirit of objective investigation. Jongeling (1991, 2000) represents the exception that proves the (unfortunate) rule: he uses both frequency arguments and typological comparison with Welsh to argue that Biblical Hebrew is VSO. The fundamental problem with Jongeling’s analysis is that he does not deal with the wayyiqtol form and whether it should or should not be included in the statistical analysis. On the use of the wayyiqtol, see §3.2 below. For my criticism of Moshavi 2010, see note 6 above.

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ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT

constituents, subject noun phrase, verb, complements, etc., will change in a ‘basic clause’, depending on the information status of the constituents. Clearly, while describing the full range of word order variation is a challenge in and of itself, setting out to determine a ‘basic word order’ poses significant additional challenges―challenges that have led some to give up on the notion altogether, as many have for ancient Greek.9 And yet, even if we were to admit that some languages, like ancient Greek, might not have a basic word order that is syntactic in nature (i.e., subject, verb, object) but pragmatic, even this must be argued carefully and empirically. The typological study of word order has most often been traced back to Joseph Greenberg’s 1963 article, “Some Universals of Grammar with Particular Reference to the Order of Meaningful Elements.” This essay set in motion a rich comparative linguistic method with the goal of discerning morphological and syntactic ‘universals’ (or better, ‘tendencies’10) among human languages. In the first section in Greenberg’s essay he focused on ‘certain basic factors of word order’ and proposed using three criteria to identify the basic word order of any given language (Greenberg 1963:76):11 • the use of prepositions versus postpositions; • the relative order of subject, verb, and object in declarative sentences with nominal subject and object; • the position of qualifying adjectives, either preceding or following the modified noun. Although these three criteria have been modified as the typological program has matured, they still reflect the fundamental question involved in determining how a language patterns: does a head (i.e., the constituent being modified) precede or follow its modifier? To answer this question, four criteria are typically used, in varying degrees: 1) frequency, 2) distribution, 3) clause type, and 4) pragmatics (Siewierska 1988:8–14; Payne 1997: 76–77; Bickford 1998:214–16; Dryer 2007:73–78).

For studies that explicitly address Greek word order, see, for example, Dunn 1988, Davison 1989, Matic 2003. 10 Greenberg himself lists exceptions in his footnotes and so subsequent typological research has generally recognized the non-universal nature of the typological ‘universals’ but focused on the strength, breadth, and nature (absolute versus implicational) of the tendencies observed. 11 For a concise summary of the basic issues involved in the typological quest for determining ‘basic word order’ in any given language, see Newmeyer 1998:330– 37. 9

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3.1 THE CRITERION OF FREQUENCY The ‘frequency’ criterion focuses on that word order that is numerically dominant. This is perhaps the most common criterion and was adopted early in the typological approach by Greenberg himself: “The so-called normal order, it would seem, is necessarily the most frequent” (1966:67). Certainly this criterion has dominated in Biblical Hebrew studies; it is succinctly summarized by Muraoka in his study of emphatic structures in Biblical Hebrew: “[W]e are not interested in discussing the theory that [VS] order is normal because action is the most important piece of information to be conveyed by this sentence type called verbal clause. In other words, by saying that V-S is the normal word-order we do not mean that it is logically or intrinsically so, but simply statistically” (1985:30). Hawkins, in his monograph on word order, suggests three criteria for determining word order based upon frequency: For the majority of the word orders in this study in the majority of our languages the basicness issue is not problematic, for the simple reason that only one order occurs. English has this man, never *man this . . . But for at least some word orders in the majority of languages, variants do exist, and the question then arises as to which order, if any, is the “basic” one. For example, English has both preposed and postposed genitives (the king’s castle/the castle of the king) . . . [I]n general I shall follow these three (overlapping) criteria when making a basicness decision: 1. Where one doublet (e.g., NAdj) occurs with greater frequency than the other (AdjN) in attested samples of the relevant language, then, all things being equal, the more frequent doublet is the basic one. 2. Where one doublet (e.g., NAdj) is more frequent within the grammatical system of the language than the other (e.g., the quantity of adjective lexemes that occur postnominally exceeds the number that occur prenominally), then, all things being equal, the grammatically more frequent doublet is the basic one. 3. Where one doublet is grammatically unmarked and the other marked (i.e., a special type of grammatical meaning may be associated with one order of Adj and N, but not the other, over and above their lexical meanings; one word order may not undergo certain general rules that the other does, or may be generated by rules of a more restricted nature; one word order may be the one chosen by exceptional modifiers, whose exceptional status is marked in the lexicon, etc.), then, in all these cases, the unmarked order is the basic one. (1983:12–13)

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ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT

By Hawkins’ first and second criteria, Biblical Hebrew appears to be a strong VS language, with a more than 5-to-1 ratio of VS to SV clauses in Genesis. And this is where most discussions of basic word order in Biblical Hebrew have stopped (excepting only Jongeling 1991 and Moshavi 2010). However—and this is a critical point—though the frequency criterion may appear to be a straightforward tool for determining the basic order of a variety of grammatical constructions, deep problems with the unqualified application of this criterion have long been noted. First, some languages do not appear to exhibit a clear preference for one order over another (Tomlin 1986:34; Dryer 2007:73–74). In such cases, if other criteria are not invoked, one cannot make a basic word order determination; if this is so, the result is that one must eschew any comment on overall basic word order and limit the syntactic description to word order patterns in various contexts. It may be that such an approach is best for Biblical Hebrew and we should remain open to the possibility. A second problem with the naïve application of the frequency criterion is embedded within Hawkins’ third criterion: the issue of markedness.12 That is, many languages allow more than one order for some grammatical constructions and so determining which order is basic must recognize the context of use. In fact, this markedness issue leads directly to the other three criteria, distribution, clause type, and pragmatics.

3.2 THE CRITERION OF DISTRIBUTION The first criterion that recognizes the salience of context in the basic word order discussion is the test of distribution. Given two or more alternatives for a syntactic construction, the one that occurs in the greater number of environments is unmarked and, hence, the basic order. Note that this is not the same as statistical dominance, because the issue at hand is not simply ‘occurrence’ but ‘environment’. For instance, in English, manner adverbs like slowly may both precede and follow the verb (He walked slowly and He slowly walked), but as the more highly restricted option, the Adverb-Verb order is the marked choice, thus leaving the Verb-Adverb option the basic order (Dryer 2007:69, 74). For the Hebrew of Genesis, the test of distribution can be illustrated well by considering the wayyiqtol form. First, if we take the wayyiqtol to Markedness theory developed out of the Prague School of linguistic analysis. The basic concept is, given two similar constructions, the one occurring more often and in a greater number of environment is unmarked while the one the occurs less often and in restricted environments is marked. See Battistella 1996 for an introduction to markedness theory in both Jakobsonian and Chomskyan schools of linguistics. 12

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361

include an indicative finite verb and compare it to other indicative finite verbs, an asymmetry is easily observable: (1) DISTRIBUTION OF WAYYIQTOL

a. VS (866x):13 Gen 22:13 ‫ת־עינָ יו‬ ֵּ ‫וִַ ּיִ ָשא ִַא ְב ָר ָהם ֶא‬ 14, 15 ִ ‫ִַבּיֹום ִַה ְש ִל‬ b. Adjunct-VS (34x): Gen 22:4 ‫ת־עינָ יו‬ ֵּ ‫ישי וִַ ּיִ ָשא ִַא ְב ָר ָהם ֶא‬ c. SV: Ø d. Complement-VS: Ø e. Subordinator-V:16 Ø (2) DISTRIBUTION OF QATAL

a. VS(46x):17 Gen 22:20 ‫ם־הוא ָבנִים ְּלנָ חֹור ָא ִחיך‬ ִ ַ‫ִהנֵ ה יָלְּ ָדה ִמ ְּל ָּכה ג‬ b. Adjunct-VS (57x):18 Gen 10:25 ‫ים‬ ‎ ִ‫ּול ֵעבר יֻלַ ד ְּשׁנֵ י ָבנ‬ ְּ Genesis has 866 wayyiqtol clauses (in 742 verses) with an overt Subject. With John A. Cook (personal communication), I take the cases of initial ‫ויהי‬ and ‫ והיה‬in these verses as discourse markers. Thus, the following prepositional phrases, like ‫( ביום השׁלישׁי‬some of which include an infinitive clause, and some of which are continued by a wayyiqtol before the main clause), are temporal (nonargument) adjuncts that have moved higher than wayyyiqtol in the clause. 15 34x—Gen 4:3, 8; 8:6; 11:2; 19:17, 29, 34; 21:22; 22:4, 20; 24:22; 25:11; 26:32; 27:34; 28:6; 29:13, 23; 31:10; 35:17, 18, 22; 37:18; 38:1, 24, 28; 39:7, 11, 13, 15, 18; 40:20; 41:8; 48:1. 16 At this point, the presence and position of an overt Subject is irrelevant; the salient detail is whether or not this form may co-occur with a subordinator, such as ‫ ָאז‬‎, ‫ ִאם‬‎, ‫ ֱאשׁר‬‎, ‫ ֲה‬‎, ‫ ִּכי‬‎, and ‫פן‬. 17 46x—Gen 9:16; 12:3, 13; 16:2; 17:5, 13, 14; 18:18; 19:19, 28; 21:7, 25; 22:18, 20; 26:4; 27:35; 28:14 (2x), 21; 29:3; 30:6, 18, 20, 23, 33, 42; 31:1; 34:5, 30; 37:7; 38:24, 29; 40:10 (2x), 19; 41:30, 36; 42:28, 30, 38; 44:29, 31; 45:9, 16; 48:11, 21. These are non-subordinate clauses. It is important to recognize that the majority of these V (qatal)-Subject clauses are likely not indicative, but the so-called wawconsecutive perfect, or more linguistically accurate, the modal use of the perfect (qatal) verb for the apodosis of conditional clauses, result clauses, habitual actions, or instructions. When these modal uses are removed, only twenty-two remain as candidates for non-subordinate VS indicative clauses with the qatal verb: 16:2; 19:19, 28; 21:7, 25; 22:20; 27:35; 30:6, 18, 20, 23; 31:1; 37:7; 38:24, 29; 40:10 (2x); 42:28, 30; 45:9, 16; 48:11. Also note that the exclamative/deictic ‫ ִהנֵ ה‬‎’look!’ and the conjunction ‫ וְּ ַע ָתה‬‎‘and now’ (or even ‫ ִּכי‬used asseveratively) do not affect word order and are thus included in this list. 13 14

362

ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT c. SV (168x):19 Gen 4:18 ‫ל‬‎‫ת־מחּויָ ֵא‬ ְּ ‫וְּ ִע ָירד יָלַ ד א‬ 20 d. Complement-VS(15x): Gen 22:23 ‫ְּשׁמֹנָ ה ֵאלה יָלְּ ָדה ִמ ְּל ָּכה ְּלנָ חֹור‬ e. Subordinator-V:21 Gen 25:12 ‫ן־א ְּב ָר ָהם ֲאשׁר יָלְּ ָדה ָהגָ ר‬ ַ ‫יִ ְּשׁ ָמ ֵעאל ב‬

57x—Gen 4:6, 26; 7:11, 20; 8:5, 9, 13, 14; 9:14, 19; 10:18, 25, 32; 11:9 (2x); 13:6; 15:1, 18; 17:26; 18:7, 12; 19:15, 22; 20:5, 18; 22:1; 23:19; 24:30; 25:10, 26; 26:10; 27:30; 29:35; 31:7, 32; 32:5; 33:7, 17; 34:19; 36:7; 37:33; 38:21, 22; 39:19; 40:1, 23; 42:4, 11, 21; 43:3, 7; 45:1 (2x), 3, 9, 15; 48:7. This list includes the 15x with a negative particle as a verbal adjunct (Gen 2:5; 8:9; 13:6; 31:7, 32; 34:19; 36:7; 38:21, 22; 40:23; 42:4, 11; 45:1 (2x), 3). 19 168x—Gen 1:2; 3:1, 11, 12, 13, 20, 22; 4:1, 2, 4, 18 (3x), 20, 21, 22; 6:1, 4, 8; 7:6, 10, 11, 19; 8:5; 10:8 (2x), 9, 13, 15, 24 (2x), 26; 11:3, 12, 14, 27 (2x); 13:12 (2x), 14; 14:3, 18, 23; 15:12, 17 (2x); 16:1, 5; 17:27; 18:12, 13, 17, 33; 19:4, 9, 15, 23 (2x), 24, 31, 38; 20:4, 5 (2x), 6; 21:1, 7, 26 (3x); 22:1, 23; 24:1 (2x), 16, 35, 56, 62; 25:3 (2x), 19, 34; 26:26, 27; 27:6, 30; 28:16; 29:9, 17; 30:26, 29; 31:5, 6, 7, 19, 25 (2x), 29, 32, 34, 38, 47; 32:2, 13, 22; 33:3, 17; 34:5 (2x), 7, 27; 35:18; 36:2, 4, 5, 12, 13, 14; 37:2, 3, 11, 20, 33, 36; 38:14, 22, 23, 25, 28; 39:1, 8, 22; 41:10, 15, 56, 57; 42:8, 10, 23; 43:5, 22, 23 (2x); 44:3 (2x), 4 (2x), 8, 16, 19, 20 (2x), 27; 45:14, 16, 19; 46:31; 47:5, 26; 48:2, 3, 10, 22; 49:22, 26; 50:5, 16, 20 (2x), 23. Thirty-four of these examples include pronominal Subjects (3:12, 20; 4:20, 21; 10:8, 9; 14:23; 16:5; 18:13; 20:5 (2x), 6; 21:26 (2x); 26:27; 28:16; 30:26, 29; 31:6; 32:13, 22; 33:3; 38:14, 23, 25; 39:22; 41:15; 42:8, 23; 44:4, 27; 45:19; 48:22; 50:20) and seven more are negated (16:1; 20:4; 24:16; 31:32, 38; 39:8; 47:26), leaving 127 cases not negated and with lexical NP subjects (Gen 1:2; 3:1, 11, 13, 22; 4:1, 2, 4, 18 (3x), 22; 6:1, 4, 8; 7:6, 10, 11, 19; 8:5; 10:8, 13, 15, 24 (2x), 26; 11:3, 12, 14, 27 (2x); 13:12 (2x), 14; 14:3, 18; 15:12, 17 (2x); 17:27; 18:12, 17, 33; 19:4, 9, 15, 23 (2x), 24, 31, 38; 21:1, 7, 26; 22:1, 23; 24:1 (2x), 35, 56, 62; 25:3 (2x), 19, 34; 26:26; 27:6, 30; 29:9, 17; 31:5, 7, 19, 25 (2x), 29, 34, 47; 32:2; 33:17; 34:5 (2x), 7, 27; 35:18; 36:2, 4, 5, 12, 13, 14; 37:2, 3, 11, 20, 33, 36; 38:22, 28; 39:1; 41:10, 56, 57; 42:10; 43:23 (2x); 44:3 (2x), 4, 8, 16, 19, 20 (2x); 45:14, 16; 46:31; 47:5; 48:2, 3, 10; 49:22, 26; 50:5, 16, 20, 23). 20 15x—Gen 6:9; 7:20; 10:11; 14:5; 21:6; 22:23; 24:27, 50; 30:40; 31:42; 41:54; 42:4, 36; 46:34; 47:9. These Complements include both accusative (i.e., ‘direct object’ noun phrases) and oblique (i.e., prepositional phrases required by a verb). 21 Relative/Complementizer ‫אשׁר‬‎ ֲ (182x)—Gen 1:21, 31; 2:2, 3, 8, 22; 3:1, 11, 12, 17, 23; 4:11; 5:5, 29; 6:2, 7, 22; 7:4, 5, 9, 16; 8:6, 21; 9:17, 24; 10:14; 11:5; 12:4, 5, 11; 13:3, 4; 14:24; 15:17; 16:15; 17:23; 18:5, 8, 19, 33; 19:5, 19, 21, 27, 29; 20:3, 13; 21:1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 23, 25, 29; 22:2, 3, 9, 18; 23:16; 24:5, 7, 15, 22, 24, 27, 40, 44, 47, 48, 51, 52, 66; 25:10, 12; 26:1, 3, 15, 18, 29, 32; 27:4, 9, 14, 17, 19, 27, 41, 45; 28:4, 15, 18, 22; 29:10; 30:2, 18, 25, 26, 29, 30, 38; 31:13, 16, 18, 43, 49, 51; 32:3, 11, 32; 33:5, 8, 11, 19; 34:1, 13, 27; 35:3, 12, 13, 14, 15, 26, 27; 36:5, 6, 24, 31; 37:6, 10, 23; 38:10; 39:1, 17, 19; 40:13, 22; 41:13, 28, 48, 50, 53, 54; 42:9, 14, 21; 43:2, 14, 17, 27, 29; 44:2, 5, 8, 15, 16, 17; 45:4, 13, 27; 46:5, 6, 15, 18, 20, 22, 25, 27; 47:11, 22; 48:6, 9, 15, 22; 49:28, 30; 50:5, 6, 12, 13, 15, 24; Causal/Temporal/Complementizer ‫ּכי‬‎ ִ 18

TYPOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATION OF THE HEBREW OF GENESIS

363

(3) DISTRIBUTION OF YIQTOL

a. VS (43x):22 Gen 27:41 ‫י‬‎‫יְּמי ֵאבל ָא ִב‬ ֵ ‫י ְִּק ְּרבּו‬ b. Adjunct-VS (44x):23 Gen 2:24 ‫ת־אּמֹו‬ ִ ‫ת־א ִביו וְּ א‬ ָ ‫־אישׁ א‬ ִ ‫ל־ּכן י ֲַעזָ ב‬ ֵ ‫ַע‬ 24 ‫ְך‬‎‫ר־ה ְּת ַה ַל ְּכ ִתי ְּל ָפנָ יו ִי ְּשׁלַ ח ַמלְּ ָאכֹו ִא ָת‬ ִ ‫יְּ הוָ ה ֲאשׁ‬c. SV (71x): Gen 24:40 (116x)—Gen 2:3, 5; 3:1, 14, 19, 20; 4:25; 5:24; 6:6, 7, 12, 13; 7:1; 8:11; 9:6; 10:25; 11:9; 13:6; 14:14; 16:4, 5, 11, 13; 17:5; 18:15, 19, 20; 19:8, 13, 30; 20:6, 9, 10; 21:7, 16, 17, 30, 31; 22:12; 24:14; 26:7, 8, 13, 16, 20, 28; 27:1, 20, 23; 28:6, 11; 29:21, 32, 33, 34; 30:1, 9, 13, 16, 20, 26; 31:6, 15, 22, 30, 31, 32, 36, 37; 32:21, 26, 27, 29, 33; 33:10, 11; 34:5, 7, 19; 35:7, 18; 36:7; 37:4, 17; 38:11, 14, 15, 16, 26; 40:14, 15, 16; 41:21, 49, 57; 42:4, 5, 12; 43:5, 10, 18, 21, 25, 30; 44:24, 27, 32; 45:3, 5, 26; 46:32; 47:15, 20; 49:4; 50:15, 17; Interrogative ‫( ֲה‬11x)—Gen 8:8; 16:13; 20:5; 27:36; 29:5, 15, 25; 31:15; 41:38; 42:22; 44:15. 22 43x—Gen 1:3, 6, 9 (2x), 11, 14, 20, 24; 9:26, 27 (2x); 16:5; 18:4; 19:20; 22:17; 24:55, 60; 26:28; 27:28, 29 (3x), 31, 41; 30:3, 24; 31:44, 49; 33:14; 37:7; 41:33, 34; 42:16, 20; 44:18, 21, 33; 47:4, 19; 48:16; 49:8 (2x), 17. As with the qatal examples (see above, note 17), many of the yiqtol Verb-Subject examples are clearly not indicative, since the form and/or context point to modal (e.g., jussive) semantics. Eliminating from the list above morphologically modal (jussive, cohortative) examples and morphologically ambiguous but contextually modal examples leaves just five indicative cases: Gen 27:41; 37:7; 42.20; 49:8 (2x). Also note that the exclamative/deictic ‫ ִהנֵ ה‬‎’look!’ and the conjunction ‫ וְּ ַע ָתה‬‎’and now’ (or even ‫ִּכי‬ used asseveratively) do not affect word order and are thus included in this list. For my notion of particles “affecting” word order (that is, the concept of “triggered inversion”), see Holmstedt 2002, 2005, 2009a. 23 44x—Gen 2:24; 6:3; 9:11, 15; 13:8; 15:1, 4; 17:5, 13; 18:28, 29, 30, 31, 32; 21:10; 24:5, 8, 39; 27:12; 29:32, 34; 30:20, 30; 32:29, 33; 34:22; 35:10; 37:10; 40:13, 19; 41:31, 36, 44; 42:38; 43:8, 32; 44:7, 18, 22, 23; 47:19; 48:20; 49:10; 50:25. This list includes the 23x with a negative particle as a verbal adjunct (Gen 6.3. 9:11, 15; 13:8; 15:1, 4; 17:5; 21:10; 24:5, 8, 39; 32:29, 33; 35:10; 41:31, 36, 44; 42:38; 43:8, 32; 44:22, 23; 49:10), which leaves 21x with only a fronted adjunct (Gen 2.24; 17:13; 18:28, 29, 30, 31, 32; 27:12; 29:32, 34; 30:20, 30; 34:22; 37:10; 40:13, 19; 44:7, 18; 47:19; 48:20; 50:25). 24 71x—Gen 1:20, 22; 2:5 (2x), 6; 3:15 (2x), 16; 4:7; 5:29; 8:22; 9:2, 6; 14:24; 15:4, 15; 16:12; 17:6, 9; 18:18; 19:19; 21:24; 22:5, 8; 23:6; 24:7, 40, 45; 25:23; 28:3, 22; 31:39, 53; 33:14; 34:10; 35:10, 11 (2x); 37:27; 38:17; 41:16, 27, 40; 42:19, 37; 43:9, 14, 29; 44:9, 10, 17, 33; 45:20; 46:4 (2x); 47:19, 24, 30; 48:5, 6, 19 (4x); 49:9, 16, 19 (2x), 20; 50:21, 24. Eight of these include modal yiqtol Verbs (Gen 1:20, 22; 22:5; 33:14; 37:27; 43:29; 44:33; 45:20), for thirty the Subject is an independent pronoun (Gen 3:15 (2x), 16; 4:7; 14:24; 15:4, 15; 16:12; 17:9; 19:19; 21:24; 22:5; 24:7, 45; 31:39; 33:14; 38:17; 41:40; 42:37; 43:9; 44:9, 10, 17; 46:4; 47:30; 48:19 (2x); 49:19, 20; 50:21), and three are negated (8:22; 23:6; 47:19). All three issues

364

ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT d. Complement-VS (10x):25 Gen 2:23 ‫ה‬ ‎ ‫ְּלזֹאת י ִָק ֵרא ִא ָש‬ 26 e. Subordinator-V: Gen 17:21 ‫ה‬ ‎ ‫יִ ְּצ ָחק ֲאשׁר ֵתלֵ ד לְּ ך ָׂש ָר‬

The qatal and yiqtol Verbs are found in a wide variety of word order patterns, both preceding (2a, 3a) and following (2c, 3c) the syntactic Subject, allowing Adjuncts (2b, 3b) and Complements (2d, 3d) to be fronted, and existing in main (2a-d, 3a-d) and subordinate (2e, 3e) clauses. In contrast, wayyiqtol clauses exhibit a highly restricted pattern: the Subject always follows the Verb, it cannot be negated, it does not allow the fronting of its Complement, and it does not follow overt subordinators like ‫ ֲאשׁר‬or ‫ּכי‬. ִ In fact, the only constituent that can stand in front of the wayyiqtol is a fronted temporal Prepositional Phrase Adjunct, as in (1b), although that even this is allowed may be considered a controversial claim. Thus, the distributional criterion provides an important filter for the frequency criterion. In this case, distributional asymmetries show the wayyiqtol to be the more restricted form since its use is limited to specific syntactic environments. That the wayyiqtol has a more constrained distribution than the other verbal forms strongly suggests that its fixed VS order should not simply be taken as the basic order for Biblical Hebrew even though the VS wayyiqtol clause is by far the most common clause type in Hebrew prose. This is not to say that the criterion of distribution has provided an argument for SV or VS order; rather, it provides a strong argument against the inclusion of the wayyiqtol data in determining basic word order.

complicate the word order; omitting them leaves thirty-two clauses that are indicative and have lexical NP Subjects: Gen 2:5 (2x), 6; 5:29; 9:2, 6; 17:6; 18:18; 22:8; 24:40; 25:23; 28:3, 22; 31:53; 34:10; 35:10, 11 (2x); 41:16, 27; 42:19; 43:14; 46:4; 47:24; 48:5, 6, 19 (2x); 49:9, 16, 19; 50:24. 25 10x—Gen 2:23; 15:5; 27:39; 31:8 (2x); 32:29; 41:40; 49:6 (2x). The verbs in 32:29 and 49:6 (2x) are modal and negated. 26 Relative/Complementizer ‫ ֲאשׁר‬‎ (39x)—Gen 2:19; 6:21; 9:2; 11:6; 13:16; 15:4, 14; 17:10, 14, 21; 20:9, 13; 21:12; 22:2, 14; 24:3; 26:2; 27:10, 40, 44; 28:15, 22; 29:27; 30:38; 31:32; 32:13; 33:14; 34:11, 12; 38:18; 40:14; 41:36, 55; 42:38; 44:1, 9, 10, 34; 49:1; Causal/Temporal/Complementizer ‫( ִּכי‬35x)—Gen 4:12; 12:12; 13:15, 17; 15:13; 19:2, 22; 20:7; 21:10, 12, 18, 30; 22:17; 24:4, 41; 26:3; 28:15; 29:2, 32; 30:33; 31:35, 49; 35:10; 37:35; 38:16; 43:7, 16, 25, 32; 44:15, 26; 46:3; 48:17; 49:10; 50:3; Interrogative ‫( ֲה‬14x)—Gen 17:17; 18:13, 14, 23, 24, 25, 28; 20:4; 24:5, 58; 34:31; 37:8, 10; 43:7.

TYPOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATION OF THE HEBREW OF GENESIS

365

3.3 THE CRITERION OF CLAUSE TYPE The second criterion used to filter raw frequency results concerns ‘clause type’. This criterion is predicated on the observation that languages often exhibit different word order patterns in different clause types; in such cases, not all clause types present the language’s basic word order. Consider English interrogative clauses, such as When did Noah leave? This clause type in English has the inflected Verb, did, before the Subject, in contrast to the declarative counterpart, Noah left yesterday. On this basis, we would exclude interrogative clauses as a source for basic word order in English. Moreover, although interrogatives are typically a minority clause type in English texts and so their exclusion would not normally affect the frequency results, we can imagine a text that consists predominantly of questions, resulting in a highly skewed frequency-based analysis for English word order. Such observations—that one must consider whether the language in question exhibits word order variation according to clause type—have influenced the typological analysis of basic word order from its beginnings (see Greenberg 1963:80). The result is that basic word order is most often identified as the the word order present in “stylistically neutral, independent, indicative clauses with full nouns phrase (NP) participants, where the subject is definite, agentive and human, the object is a definite semantic patient, and the verb represents an action, not a state or an event” (Siewierska 1988:8; see also Mallinson and Blake 1981:125). Notably, Siewierska also indicates that the basic word order of a language need not be identical to the “dominant linearization pattern” (i.e., statistically prevalent word order) in that language (1988:8). She suggests that this may be the result of the vagaries of human communication, in which diverse structures are utilized, or it may be due to a genre convention (1988:11–12). Genre convention is certainly operative in Hebrew with regard to the restricted distribution of wayyiqtol clauses, which I discussed above. The wayyiqtol form is used as the narrative Verb and, unlike the qatal and yiqtol Verbs, is confined to indicative semantics and a past temporal context (Cook 2004, 2006). Another implication for Biblical Hebrew that follows from Siewierska’s basic clause definition concerns the presence of overt Subjects. Hebrew, like many languages (Spanish and Italian, for example) allows the syntactic Subject to be omitted. Such languages are often referred to as null Subject or ‘pro-drop’ languages (see Holmstedt forthcoming a for an overview). Null Subject languages often exhibit word order differences between clauses with an overt Noun Phrase as the Subject and clauses without an overt Subject (Siewierska 1988:11); similarly, clauses with overt pronominal Subjects often exhibit word order differences from clauses with

366

ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT

lexical Noun Phrase Subjects (Dryer 2007:80). Since Biblical Hebrew allows an overt Subject to be omitted (4a) and arguably uses overt Subject pronouns for Topic or Focus marking (4b), any discussion of basic word order must draw primarily on clauses that have overt lexical Noun Phrase Subjects (4c). (4) TYPES OF SUBJECTS IN BIBLICAL HEBREW

a. Null: Gen 9:6 ‫ת־ה ָא ָדם‬ ָ ‫ֹלהים ָע ָׂשה א‬ ִ ‫ְּבצלם ֱא‬ b. Pronominal: Gen 27:31 ‫וַ יַ ַעׂש גַ ם־הּוא ַמ ְּט ַע ִּמים‬ c. Lexical Noun Phrase: Gen 3:1 ‫ֹלהים‬ ִ ‫ִמכֹל ַחיַ ת ַה ָשדה ֲאשׁר ָע ָׂשה יְּהוָ ה ֱא‬ That clauses with lexical Noun Phrase Subjects are less common in null Subject languages like Hebrew, Spanish, and Italian makes it more difficult but not impossible to identify basic word order clauses in a text. It simply highlights the necessity of using all the criteria together in the investigation of basic word order. The clause criterion holds a number of additional implications for the careful study of basic word order in Biblical Hebrew. First, it has long been noted that the dominant VS pattern of narrative becomes less than dominant in direct speech (MacDonald 1975). Consider the following numerical data from Genesis: (5) NARRATIVE VERSUS SPEECH IN GENESIS

a. the wayyiqtol is used 1971x in narrative but only 123x27 in speech. b. of 250728 main (non-subordinate) narrative clauses, only 10729 are SV (4.3%) while 89630 (including wayyiqtol) are VS (over 35.8%) 27 Gen 3:10 (2x), 12, 13; 12:19; 16:5 (2x); 19:9, 13, 19; 20:6, 12, 13 (2x); 24:35 (2x), 36 (2x), 37, 39, 40, 42 (2x), 45 (3x), 46 (4x), 47 (4x), 48 (3x); 26:27, 28; 27:33 (3x), 35, 36; 29:33, 35; 30:6, 27; 31:9 (2x), 10 (3x), 11 (2x), 12, 15, 26 (2x), 27, 40, 41, 42; 32:5, 6 (2x), 29, 31; 33:10; 37:7; 39:14, 15 (2x), 18 (3x); 40:11 (3x); 41:10, 11, 12 (2x), 13, 18, 20, 21 (2x), 22, 24 (2x); 42:30, 31, 33; 43:7, 21 (2x); 44:20 (2x), 21, 22, 23, 24 (2x), 25, 26, 27, 28 (2x); 45:7, 8; 48:3, 7; 49:15 (2x), 23 (2x), 24 (2x). Only twenty-one of these include an overt Subject: Gen 19:13; 20:6; 24:36, 37; 30:27; 31:9, 11, 40; 32:6; 41:11, 20, 24; 42:33; 44:20, 25, 27, 28; 45:7; 49:23, 24 (2x). 28 The totals in (5b) and (5c) include verbless and participial clauses, though the SV and VS numbers include only finite verbs (including imperatives). 29 107x—Gen 2:5 (2x), 6; 3:1; 4:1, 2, 4, 18 (3x), 22; 6:4, 8; 7:6, 10, 11, 19; 8:5; 10:8 (2x), 9, 13, 15, 24 (2x), 26; 11:3, 12, 14, 27 (2x); 13:12 (2x), 14; 14:3, 18; 15:12, 17 (2x); 16:1; 17:27; 18:17, 33; 19:4, 15, 23 (2x), 24, 38; 20:4; 21:1; 22:1, 23; 24:1 (2x), 16, 62; 25:3 (2x), 19, 34; 26:26; 27:6, 30; 29:9, 17; 31:19, 25 (2x), 34, 47; 32:2,

TYPOLOGICAL CLASSIFICATION OF THE HEBREW OF GENESIS

367

c. of 1748 main (non-subordinate) speech clauses, 13431 are SV (7.7%) and 20032 are VS (11.4%) The remarkable non-use of the wayyiqtol in direct speech confirms its primary role as the narrative or story-telling verb. Add the radical shift towards near balance of SV and VS in speech texts and it is clear that one’s position on the discourse type will significantly impact the methodology and conclusions for basic word order. How do we decide which discourse type is a better candidate for representing basic word order? Narrative is typically taken as the determinative discourse type: “If storyline clauses in narrative discourse in a given language are VSO, then that language should be classified as a VSO language” (Longacre 1995:333); this view holds that dialogue introduces complexities that likely depart from basic word order. However, Payne (1995) suggests that “[m]ost claims about word order have undoubtedly been based on narrative data and, without conscious awareness, the 22; 33:3, 17; 34:5 (2x), 7, 27; 35:18; 36:2, 4, 5, 13, 14; 37:2, 3, 11, 36; 38:14, 25, 28; 39:1, 22; 41:56, 57; 42:8, 23; 44:3 (2x), 4 (2x); 45:14, 16; 47:26; 48:10; 50:23. 30 896x: 842x wayyiqtol. 52x qatal—Gen 4:26; 6:9; 7:11, 20; 8:5, 9, 13, 14; 9:19; 10:5, 11, 18, 25, 32; 11:9; 12:3; 13:5, 6; 14:5; 15:1, 18; 17:26; 18:7, 11; 19:22, 28; 20:18; 21:25; 22:23; 23:19; 25:6, 10, 26; 26:15; 29:3; 30:40, 41, 42; 31:32; 33:7, 17; 34:5, 19; 36:7; 38:29; 40:1, 23; 41:54; 42:4; 45:1, 3, 15. Only 2x yiqtol—Gen 2:24; 32:33. 31 134x—Gen 1:20, 22; 3:11, 12, 13, 15 (2x), 16, 22; 4:7; 5:29; 6:21; 8:22; 9:2, 6, 7; 14:23, 24; 15:4, 15; 16:5, 12; 17:6, 9, 17, 18; 18:12, 13, 18, 25; 19:9, 19, 31; 20:5 (2x), 6; 21:7, 24, 26 (2x); 22:5, 8; 23:6; 24:35, 40, 44, 45, 56, 60; 25:23 (2x); 26:27; 28:3, 16, 22; 30:29; 31:5, 6, 7, 29, 38, 39, 53; 32:13; 33:14; 34:10; 35:11 (2x); 37:20, 27, 33; 38:17, 22, 23; 39:8; 41:10, 15, 16, 27, 40; 42:10, 16, 19 (2x), 37; 43:9, 14, 23 (2x), 29; 44:8, 9, 10, 16, 17 (2x), 19, 20 (2x), 27, 33; 45:19, 20; 46:4 (3x), 31; 47:5, 19, 24, 30; 48:2, 3, 5, 6, 19 (4x), 22; 49:8, 9, 16, 19 (2x), 20, 22, 26; 50:5, 16, 20 (2x), 21, 24. 32 200x—Gen 1:3, 6, 9 (2x), 11, 14, 20, 24; 2:23; 3:3; 4:6, 25; 6:3 (2x), 18; 7:1; 8:16; 9:11 (2x), 14, 15, 16, 26, 27 (2x); 12:13; 13:8; 15:1, 4, 5; 16:2, 5; 17:5 (2x), 13 (2x), 14; 18:4, 12, 13, 14, 18, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32; 19:13, 19, 20; 20:6; 21:6, 7; 22:17, 18, 20; 23:6; 24:5, 18, 27, 30, 31, 36, 37, 39, 50, 55, 60; 26:4, 10, 22, 28; 27:12, 20, 28 (2x), 29 (3x), 31, 34, 35, 38, 39, 41; 28:14 (2x), 21; 29:32 (2x), 34, 35; 30:3, 6, 18, 20 (2x), 23, 24, 27, 30, 33; 31:1, 7, 8 (2x), 9, 11, 40, 42, 44, 49; 32:5, 6, 29; 33:14; 34:8, 22, 30; 35:10; 37:7 (2x), 10, 33; 38:21, 22, 24; 39:19; 40:10 (2x), 13, 19 (2x); 41:11, 20, 24, 30 (3x), 31, 33, 34, 36 (2x), 40, 44, 51, 52; 42:4, 11, 16, 21, 28, 30, 33, 36, 38 (2x); 43:3, 7, 8; 44:7, 18 (2x), 20, 21, 22, 25, 27, 28, 29, 31, 33; 45:1, 7, 9 (2x), 10, 16; 46:34; 47:4, 9, 19 (2x); 48:7, 11, 16, 20 (2x), 21; 49:6 (2x), 8 (2x), 10, 17, 23, 24 (2x); 50:25.

368

ROBERT D. HOLMSTEDT

typological cubby-holes to which languages have been assigned are likely biased by formal features correlating with temporal sequentiality” (1995:454). In other words, precisely because clauses in narrative are strung together in some sort of temporal order, narrative (rather than direct speech/dialogue/conversation) may exhibit departures from standard word order (see also Downing 1995:20). This does not mean that speech clauses do not always contain word order complexities, but that we should not naïvely take the dominant order in narrative as basic simply by virtue of its text-type. Another distinction that may affect the word order discussion involves main and subordinate clauses. Subordinate clauses often appear to be more conservative, that is, they show less syntactic diversity than main clauses (this is what Ross 1973 named the ‘Penthouse-principle’, i.e., that the rules are different if you live in the penthouse = upstairs/main clause). This observation has interesting implications for both word order typology and diachronic syntax. For identifying basic word order, some, like Bickford (1998:214–16), argue that subordinate clauses take priority in the identification of basic word order. For diachronic syntax, it has been noted that word order changes in, for example, English, German, and Kru, first took place in main clauses and only later (often much later) applied to subordinate clauses (see Matsuda 1998 and Bybee 2002 for discussion and bibliography). Importantly, if it is established that a diachronic word order change has affected main clauses but not subordinate clauses in Hebrew, the priority of the clauses for word order typology is reversed: the new order exhibited in main clauses should be taken as basic.33 Biblical Hebrew, I suggest, should be added to the list of languages that exhibit Ross’ Penthouse principle. As the data in (6) illustrate, there is no doubt that subordinate clauses (6b) are overwhelmingly VS in Biblical Hebrew, even when all the criteria are applied, while the number of SV and VS main clauses (6a) are nearly identical. (6) MAIN VERSUS SUBORDINATE CLAUSE WORD ORDER IN GENESIS

a. Main

The older basic word order pattern in subordinate clauses thus becomes a remnant feature. Moreover, since it does not match the new basic order, it is likely that, for example, the older VS order in Hebrew subordinate clauses receives a new syntactic processing so that the native speaker’s grammar associates (by reanalysis) the VS order with a syntactic constraint (in the case of Hebrew, it is associated with ‘triggered inversion’; see Holmstedt 2002, 2005, 2009a). 33

TYPOLOGICA