Stones, Tablets, and Scrolls: Periods of the Formation of the Bible 9783161582998, 9783161583001

Table of contents :
Preface
Table of Contents
Abbreviations
Introduction
Part 1: Write My Commands on the Tablet of Your Heart (Oral and Written Tradition in Israel)
Part 2: The Saviors of Israel (Early Neo-Assyrian Period)
Part 3: Royal Carrot-and-Stick Policy (Late Neo-Assyrian Period)
Part 4: Singing the Lord’s Song in a Foreign Land(Neo-Babylonian Period)
Part 5: Rising from the Ashes (Persian Period)
Part 6: Coping with Western Culture (Greco-Roman Period)
Bibliography
List of Contributors
Index of Citations
Index of Modern Authors
Index of Proper Names

Citation preview

Archaeology and Bible Edited by

Israel Finkelstein (Tel Aviv) ∙ Deirdre Fulton (Waco, TX) Oded Lipschits (Tel Aviv) ∙ Christophe Nihan (Lausanne) Thomas Römer (Lausanne) · Konrad Schmid (Zürich)

3

Stones, Tablets, and Scrolls Periods of the Formation of the Bible

edited by

Peter Dubovský and Federico Giuntoli

Mohr Siebeck

Peter Dubovský, born 1965; 2005 ThD from Harvard Divinity School; 1999 SSL from the Pontifical Biblical Institute; dean at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome and professor of the Old Testament and history. Federico Giuntoli, born 1969; 2003 SSD Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome; currently ­ ssociate professor of Old Testament Exegesis at the Pontifical Biblical Institute. A

ISBN 978-3-16-158299-8 / eISBN 978-3-16-158300-1 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-158300-1

ISSN 2698-4520 / eISSN 2698-4539 (Archaeology and Bible) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2020  Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany. www mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Martin Fischer in Tübingen, printed by Laupp & Göbel in Gomaringen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Nädele in Nehren. Printed in Germany.

Preface This book contains a collection of papers that were presented during a conference entitled “Stones, Tablets, and Scrolls.” The conference was held at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome on May 11–13, 2017. The conference was born after a long discussion with our colleagues at the Pontifical Biblical Institute, to whom we wish to express our deep gratitude. The friendly atmosphere and discussion we enjoyed was thanks to the support of the rector of the PBI, Fr. Michael Kolarcik, and its treasurer, Andrzej Kowalko. However, the conference would not have been possible without the generous financial support of the Gregorian University Foundation and the encouragement of its president, Fr. Alan Fogarty, SJ. We express our appreciation to the staff of Mohr Siebeck and to the editors of „Archaeology and Bible“ for accepting this volume to the series. Peter Dubovský and Federico Giuntoli

Table of Contents Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XV Peter Dubovský Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Part 1: Write My Commands on the Tablet of Your Heart (Oral and Written Tradition in Israel) Diana Edelman The Text-Dating Conundrum: Viewing Genesis and Kings from an Achaemenid Framework . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Jean Louis Ska The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone: Orality and Jurisprudence in Ancient Israel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39

Part 2: The Saviors of Israel (Early Neo-Assyrian Period) Peter Dubovský The Birth of Israelite Historiography: A Comparative Study of 2 Kings 13–14 and Ninth‒Eighth-Century BCE Levantine Historiographies 65 Israel Finkelstein Northern Royal Traditions in the Bibleand the Ideology of a “United Monarchy” Ruled from Samaria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 Thomas Römer Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

VIII

Table of Contents

Part 3: Royal Carrot-and-Stick Policy (Late Neo-Assyrian Period) Alice M. W. Hunt Materiality and Ideology: Negotiating Identity across the Neo-Assyrian Imperial Landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143 Eckart Frahm Texts, Stories, History: The Neo-Assyrian Period and the Bible . . . . . . . . . 163 Peter Machinist Manasseh of Judah: A Case Study in Biblical Historiography . . . . . . . . . . 183

Part 4: Singing the Lord’s Song in a Foreign Land (Neo-Babylonian Period) Jeffrey R. Zorn The View from Mizpah: Tell en-Naṣbeh, Judah, the Sixth Century BCE, and the Formation of the Biblical Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Erhard Blum The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch: The Cases of Deuteronomy 1–3 and the Prophetic Tent of Meeting Tradition . . . . . . . . . 283 Hermann-Josef Stipp The Redactions of the Book of Jeremiah and the Exile . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301

Part 5: Rising from the Ashes (Persian Period) Pierfrancesco Callieri Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architectureas Seen from Persepolis, in a Historical Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315 Agustinus Gianto Some Notes on Bilingualism and Diglossia in Judah during the Achaemenid Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341

Table of Contents

IX

Federico Giuntoli Revising the Pentateuch: The Emergence of a National Identity under Persian Hegemony . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353 Eric M. Meyers The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context . . . . . . . . . . . 379

Part 6: Coping with Western Culture (Greco-Roman Period) Katell Berthelot The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context in Light of the Evidence from Qumran . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 395 Barbara Schmitz The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide: How the Book of Judith Takes Up a Greek-Hellenistic Discourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411 Emanuel Tov The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel in Light of the Judean Desert Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 427 Marcello Fidanzio Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts: Psalms as a Case Study . . 443 Henryk Drawnel The Reception of Genesis 6:1–4 in 1 Enoch 6–7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 461 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Index of Citations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Index of Proper Names . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

485 553 555 565 574

Abbreviations ÄAT AB ABC ABD ABIG ABRL ABSA AD ADPV AIL AJBI ALASPM ANEM ANES ANESSup AnOr AO.SS AOAT AoF AOS ASJ ASOR AThANT ATD AUSS b. BA BaghM BaghMB BaghMB 2 BAR BAR.I BASOR BAT BBB BCHP BE BEATAJ BETL

Ägypten und Altes Testament Anchor Bible Albert K. Grayson, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles. TCS 5. Locust Valley, NY: J. J. Augustin, 1975 Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by David Noel Freedman. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday, 1992 Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte Anchor Bible Reference Library Annual of the British School at Athens Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Edited by Abraham J. Sachs and Hermann Hunger. Vienna: LIT, 1988– Abhandlungen des Deutschen Palästina-Vereins Ancient Israel and Its Literature Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute Abhandlungen zur Literatur Alt-Syrien-Palästinas und Mesopotamiens Ancient Near East Monographs/Monografías sobre el Antiguo Cercano Oriente Ancient Near Eastern Studies Ancient Near Eastern Studies Supplement Series Analecta Orientalia Anecdota Oxoniensia, Semitic Series Alter Orient und Altes Testament Altorientalische Forschungen American Oriental Series Acta Sumerologica American Schools of Oriental Research Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments Das Alte Testament Deutsch Andrews University Seminary Studies Babylonian Talmud Biblical Archaeologist Baghdader Mitteilungen Baghdader Mitteilungen Beiheft Jan van Dijk and Werner R. Mayer, Texte aus dem Rēs-Heiligtum in Uruk-Warka. Baghdader Mitteilungen Beiheft 2. Berlin: Mann, 1980 Biblical Archaeology Review BAR International Series Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Die Botschaft des Alten Testaments Bonner Biblische Beiträge Irving Finkel and Robartus J. van der Spek, “Babylonian Chronicles from the Hellenistic Period.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/sources/about/ mesopotamian-chronicles/ Babylon Tafeln in Berlin Beiträge zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des antiken Judentums Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium

XII

Abbreviations

Albert K. Grayson, Babylonian Historical-Literary Texts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1975 Bib Biblica BibInt Biblical Interpretation Series Biblica et Orientalia BibOr Bulletin of the Jewish Palestine Exploration Society BJPES Biblischer Kommentar, Altes Testament BKAT BM British Museum Biblische Notizen BN Bibliotheca Orientalis BO BSGRT Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana BSOAS Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies Berichte über die Verhandlungen der sächsischen Akademie der BVSAW Wissenschaften zu Leipzig Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament BWANT BZ Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte BZABR Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft BZAW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft BZNW CAD The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 1956–2006 CahRB Cahiers de la Revue biblique CBC Cambridge Bible Commentary Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology CBET Catholic Biblical Quarterly CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series CBQMS CDOG Colloquien der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft Commentaries on Early Jewish Literature CEJL Culture and History of the Ancient Near East CHANE Classical Antiquity ClAnt ClQ Classical Quarterly Cuneiform Monographs CM Coniectanea Biblica: Old Testament Series ConBOT The Context of Scripture. Edited by William W. Hallo and K. Lawson COS Younger. 4 vols. Leiden: Brill, 1997–2016 Classical Philology CP Canadian Society of Mesopotamian Studies Journal CSMSJ Cambridge Studies in Oral and Literate Culture CSOLC CTU Corpus dei testi urartei. Edited by Mirjo Salvini. 5 vols. Documenta Asiana 8/1–5. Rome: CNR, 2008–2018 CUSAS Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology CV Communio Viatorum Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. Edited by David J. A. Clines. 9 vols. DCH Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 1993–2014 Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Studies DCLS Deuteronomistic Historian DH DJD Discoveries in the Judean Desert Der neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike. Edited by Hubert Cancik DNP and Helmuth Schneider. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1996– Dumbarton Oaks Studies DOS DSD Dead Sea Discoveries Daily Telegraph (British Museum London) DT BHLT

Abbreviations Dtr DtrH EDSS

XIII

Deuteronomistic Deuteronomistic History Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Lawrence H. Schiffman and James C. VanderKam. 2 vols. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000 EHAT Exegetisches Handbuch zum Alten Testament Early Judaism and Its Literature EJL ErIsr Eretz-Israel ESV English Standard Version ET English translation The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature ETCSL FAT Forschungen zum Alten Testament FAT II Forschungen zum Alten Testament, Series 2 FB Forschung zur Bibel Feminist Companion to the Bible FCB Forms of the Old Testament Literature FOTL FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments GAT Grundrisse zum Alten Testament GMTR Guides to the Mesopotamian Textual Record HANE/S History of the Ancient Near East/Studies Handbuch zum Alten Testament HAT Hebrew Bible Monographs HBM HBS Herders biblische Studien Hellenistic Culture and Society HCS Handbuch der Orientalistik HdO Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel HeBAI HSCP Harvard Studies in Classical Philology Harvard Semitic Monographs HSM Harvard Semitic Studies HSS Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Alten Testament HThKAT HTR Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual HUCA IAA Israel Antiquities Authority International Critical Commentary ICC IEJ Israel Exploration Journal Inscriptiones Graecae. Editio Minor. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1924– IG Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Culture and Religion ISACR Journal of Ancient Judaism Supplements JAJSup JANER Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions Journal of the American Oriental Society JAOS Journal of Biblical Literature JBL Journal of Biblical Literature Monograph Series JBLMS JBS Jerusalem Biblical Studies Journal of Cuneiform Studies JCS Journal of Hebrew Scriptures JHebS Journal of Jewish Studies JJS JNES Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages JNSL Jewish Quarterly Review JQR Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, JSJ and Roman Periods JSJSup Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods Supplements

XIV JSOT JSOTSup JSPSup JSRC JSS KAI

Abbreviations

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 Jerusalem Studies in Religion and Culture Journal of Semitic Studies H. Donner and W. Röllig, Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften. 5th ed. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2002– KEHAT Kurzgefasstes exegetisches Handbuch zum Alten Testament KHC Kurzer Hand-Commentar zum Alten Testament Klio Klio: Beiträge zur Alten Geschichte Library of Ancient Israel LAI Leipziger Altorientalische Studien LAS LBPL Late Babylonian Priestly Literature Loeb Classical Library LCL Lectio Divina LD The Library of Hebrew Bible / Old Testament Studies LHBOTS Literarische Keilschrifttexte aus Uruk. Edited by Adam Falkenstein. LKU Berlin: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1931 LSTS The Library of Second Temple Studies LXXA Codex Alexandrinus LXXAnt Antiochian/Lucianic recension of the Septuagint Le Monde de la Bible MdB Monuments de Ninive et de Babylone, Louvre MNB NABU Nouvelles assyriologiques brèves et utilitaires The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project NATCP New Century Bible NCB NEchtB Neue Echter Bibel A New English Translation of the Septuagint. Edited by Albert Pietersma NETS and Benjamin G. Wright. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007 Tanakh: The Holy Scriptures: The New JPS Translation according to NJPS the Traditional Hebrew Text NRSV New Revised Standard Version Neuer Stuttgarter Kommentar, Altes Testament NSKAT Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus, Series Archaeologica NTOA.SA Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis OBO ÖBS Österreichische biblische Studien Oriental Institute Museum Publications OIMP Oriental Institute Publications OIP Oriental Institute Seminars OIS OJA Oxford Journal of Archaeology Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta OLA Orality and Literacy in Ancient Greece OLAG Or Orientalia (NS) Oriens Antiquus OrAnt Old Testament Essays OTE Old Testament Library OTL Oxford Theological Monographs OTM OTR Old Testament Readings OTS Old Testament Studies Oudtestamentische Studiën OtSt PAP Past and Present Palestine Exploration Quarterly PEQ Perspectives on Hebrew Scriptures and Its [sic] Contexts PHSC

Abbreviations

XV

PVTG Pseudepigrapha Veteris Testamenti Graece Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft PW Qad Qadmoniot QC Qumran Chronicle Qumranic Hebrew QH Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale RA François Thureau-Dangin, Rituels accadiens. Paris: Leroux, 1921 Racc RB Revue biblique Revue des études grecques REG Revue des études juives REJ RevPhil Revue de philologie Revue de Qumran RevQ Répertoire géographique des textes cunéiformes RGTC Revue de l’histoire des religions RHR The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia, Assyrian Periods RIMA RIMB The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia, Babylonian Periods Royal Inscriptions of the Neo-Assyrian Period RINAP RINAP 3.1–2 A. Kirk Grayson and Jamie Novotny, The Royal Inscriptions of Sennacherib, King of Assyria (704–681 BC). 2 vols. RINAP 3.1–2. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012 RINAP 4 Erle Leichty, The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680– 669 BC). RINAP 4. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011 RINAP 5.1 Jamie Novotny and Joshua Jeffers, The Royal Inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668–631 BC), Aššur-etel-ilāni (630–627 BC), and Sîn-šarra-iškun (626– 612 BC), Kings of Assyria. RINAP 5.1. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns, 2018 RivB Rivista biblica italiana Tablets in the Collections of the British Museum (Rassam) Rm Ricerche storico bibliche RStB Rivista Teologica di Lugano RTLu SAA State Archives of Assyria SAAB State Archives of Assyria Bulletin SAAS State Archives of Assyria Studies Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilizations SAOC Stuttgarter biblische Aufsatzbände SBAB SBH George Reisner, Sumerisch-babylonische Hymnen nach Thontafeln griechischer Zeit. Mitteilungen aus den Orientalischen Sammlungen 10. Berlin: Spemann, 1896 SBLABSt Society of Biblical Literature Archaeology and Biblical Studies Society of Biblical Literature Biblical Encyclopedia SBLBibEnc Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series SBLMS Society of Biblical Literature Resources for Biblical Study SBLRBS SBLSP Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers Society of Biblical Literature Studies in Biblical Literature SBLStBL Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series SBLSymS Studies in Biblical Theology SBT SCS Septuagint and Cognate Studies Studies and Documents SD Sitzungen der deutschen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin SDAW Sem Semitica SHCANE Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East

XVI SMNIA

Abbreviations

Tel Aviv University Sonia and Marco Nadler Institute of Archaeology Monograph Series Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament SJOT SpTU Hermann Hunger (vol. 1) and E. von Weiher (vols. 2–3), Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk. Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft in Uruk-Warka, Endberichte, 9, 10, 12. Berlin: Mann, 1976–1988 Studia Semitica Neerlandica SSN ST Studia Theologica Studia Biblica Slovaca StBiSl Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah STDJ SubBi Subsidia Biblica Studia in Veteris Testamenti Pseudepigraphica SVTP TA Tel Aviv Transactions of the American Philological Association TAPA Theologische Bücherei: Neudrucke und Berichte aus dem 20. Jahrhundert TB TBN Themes in Biblical Narrative Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible. 3rd ed. Minneapolis: TCHB Fortress, 2012 Textes cunéiformes. Musée du Louvre TCL TCS Texts from Cuneiform Sources Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Edited by G. Johannes TDOT Botterweck and Helmer Ringgren. Translated by John T. Willis et al. 8 vols. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974–2006 TENTS Texts and Editions for New Testament Study Transeu Transeuphratène Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum TSAJ TSJTSA Texts and Studies of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America TU François Thureau-Dangin, Tablettes d’Uruk a l’usage des prêtres du Temple d’Anu au temps des Séleucides. TCL 6. Paris: Geuthner, 1922 UF Ugarit-Forschungen UTB Uni-Taschenbücher VAT Vorderasiatisches Museum (Berlin), Tontafelsignatur VeEc Verbum et Ecclesia Vetus Testamentum VT Supplements to Vetus Testamentum VTSup WAAFLNW Wissenschaftliche Abhandlungen der Arbeitsgemeinschaft für Forschung des Landes Nordrhein-Westfalen Writings from the Ancient World WAW WMANT Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament WZKM Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes Jerusalem Talmud y. Yale Near Eastern Researches YNER ZABR Zeitschrift für altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte Zeitschrift für Assyriologie ZA Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ZAW Zürcher Bibelkommentare, Altes Testament ZBK.AT ZDPV Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins ZTK Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

Introduction Peter Dubovský The discussions presented in our collection of articles are not new, since the mutual interaction among the archaeological evidence (stones), extrabiblical texts (tablets), and biblical accounts (scrolls) is far from being a new topic. Nevertheless, the last century has witnessed new discoveries as well as new approaches in analyzing the data that call for a reevaluation of previous scholarship. A continual reassessment of the new archaeological and textual material unearthed and edited in recent decades is a recurrent duty of ancient and modern scholars. In other words, to reevaluate the complex process of the formation of the Bible is a scholarly task that must be constantly pursued. Thus, this book is one ring in the long chain of the continual scholarly effort to understand better how the Bible was born, written and rewritten, redacted, edited, and translated. When Julius Wellhausen, William F. Albright, or other scholars were undertaking a similar reassessment of extant data, the task was to a certain degree feasible for one scholar, albeit a scholar with extraordinary gifts. In the last decades the situation has changed radically. No single scholar can be competent in all fields required for a reevaluation of the sources, be they material or textual. Since the amount of archaeological, extrabiblical, and biblical data has grown exponentially in the last decades, a proper evaluation of the data must be conducted in dialogue with the experts in a given field. A conference organized by the Pontifical Biblical Institute in May 2017 and generously sponsored by the Gregorian University Foundation aimed at bringing together and creating an atmosphere of friendly discussions among three groups of scholars: archaeologists; experts in cuneiform studies, Greek-Roman literature, and Qumran; and biblical scholars. The present volume, thus, allows readers to engage in discussion with specialists in different fields. Moreover, recent discussions on the formation of the Bible, its editions, and its rewriting often tend to emphasize one period over another. Thus, the history of the biblical scholarship can be seen as a series of waves: there were periods when most biblical texts were dated to the preexilic period; then the pendulum shifted and several scholars preferred to date the biblical texts to the Persian or Hellenistic period; then again the Assyrian period became important, and so on. Each wave of scholarship brought to light new evidence, cast new light on the formation of the Bible, and set up some milestones that later generations must take

2

Peter Dubovský

into account. Recognizing the changing trends in scholarship, this book aims to give space to the most important currents that in the last centuries marked the scholarly writings concerning the formation of the Bible. Thus, the goal of this book is to present four major periods that left significant traces on the Bible: the Assyrian, Babylonian, Persian, and Greco-Roman periods. Even though we can distinguish more than four historical periods, we opted for these four because they had a great impact not only on the literature of the ancient Near East, but also on its culture, politics, and religion. The book is divided into six parts. The first part starts with the paper of Diana Edelman. This paper is a theoretical enterprise that tries to imagine what could have happened in different periods of the formation of the Hebrew Bible. Similarly, Jean Louis Ska evaluates the traces of the oral tradition preceding the written sources. The second and third parts are dedicated to the Assyrian period (ninth–­ seventh centuries BCE). Part 2 contains three papers that evaluate the first wave of Assyrian expansion, i. e., before the advent of Tiglath-pileser III. Peter Dubovský discusses the birth of Israelite historiography, dated here to the early eighth century BCE; Israel Finkelstein evaluates textual and archaeological evidence for an eighth-century Northern Kingdom; and Thomas Römer proposes to link the Jeroboam II stories with foundational stories of the Pentateuch. Part 3 is dedicated to the second phase of Neo-Assyrian expansion (from the late eighth century BCE until the end of the Assyrian Empire). Archaeologist Alice Hunt presents the archaeological background, and Assyriologist Eckhart Frahm evaluates various proposals to link a given stratum of the Bible with the Neo-Assyrian period. Assyriologist and biblical scholar Peter Machinist presents a rereading of the reign of King Manasseh and the biblical traditions linked with this king. Part 4 studies the stones, tablets, and scrolls of the Babylonian period (seventh–sixth centuries BCE). Archaeologist Jeffrey Zorn discusses the importance of Tell en-Maṣbeh as a window on the material culture of sixth-century Judah. Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse, specialists in Neo-Babylonian cuneiform material, examine the priestly aspects of Babylonian culture, which can provide a point of comparison for the priestly sources of the Bible. The last two papers of part 4, presented by Erhard Blum and Hermann-Josef Stipp, discuss evidence for dating texts from the Pentateuch and the book of Jeremiah to the Babylonian period. The Persian period is the focus of part 5. Pierfrancesco Callieri, who has excavated several Persian sites, summarizes important archaeological evidence that can inform our understanding of cultural and religious continuity between the Babylonian and Persian periods. Agustinus Gianto presents a linguistic evaluation of the use of Aramaic and other languages in Judah. Federico Giuntoli and Eric Meyers explored the questions of which strata of the Bible may be linked

Introduction

3

with the Persian period, and what redactional processes occurred during this period. The last part of this collection is dedicated to the Hellenistic and Roman periods. The first paper, written by Katell Berthelot, describes the historical background of these periods. Barbara Schmitz discusses links between the book of Judith and Hellenistic literature. Finally, three papers written by Emanuel Tov, Marcello Fidanzio, and Henryk Drawnel engage the Dead Sea scrolls and the textual and archaeological evidence for the editing and rewriting of the Bible at the end of the first millennium BCE. Without pretending that this collection is the last word in the discussion of the formation of the Bible, we believe that the discussions generated during the conferences and the papers presented in this volume mark further advances in the never-ending scholarly endeavor to understand how the Bible came to be.

Part 1

Write My Commands on the Tablet of Your Heart (Oral and Written Tradition in Israel)

The Text-Dating Conundrum: Viewing Genesis and Kings from an Achaemenid Framework Diana Edelman Scholars of the Hebrew Bible continue to debate the reasons and historical contexts for the creation of individual books now found in the Tanak and the Old Testament. Their subsequent expansion, collection, arrangement into larger subgroupings, and elevation to authoritative status remain open issues without firm answers as well. Hypotheses abound because manuscript evidence for the stages of creation and adaptation is lacking before the time of the Dead Sea Scrolls (ca. 250 BCE–68 CE), due to the perishable nature of papyrus and parchment, the two main writing surfaces used in the southern Levant for letters and various compositions. Joining the ongoing debate, I will consider the types of written documents and literature we can logically associate with the three periods that are commonly viewed as possible periods of composition for the books of the Hebrew Bible: the late monarchic era (ca. 720–586 BCE), the Neo-Babylonian and early Persian periods (ca. 586–450 BCE), and the later Persian period after the rebuilding of Jerusalem (ca. 450 BCE–332 BCE). I will then undertake two case studies using the books of Genesis and Kings, looking at how the main themes, plotlines, and ideologies in each are best explained as features of compositions initially created in the later Persian period. Biblical scholars largely agree on a few points about the manner in which individual books were created. The first is that those responsible worked in a cultural setting where oral tradition and composition were prevalent and written texts were limited primarily to specialized genres. Second, the majority of the population was illiterate. Third, the producers of individual books likely drew on preexisting oral and written sources, stock patterns, motifs, images, and idioms. There is less agreement over the extent to which the producers used their imagination when composing. Fourth, each book has been adapted over time, both inadvertently, through the errors of scribes, but also deliberately, in order to bind together more closely the books within the collection and to make their contents relevant to later audiences. As a result, the Masoretic Text of each book does not reflect how it was initially conceived and executed as a coherent composition but represents a later, final form of the text that gives us partial access to some stages in the limited expansion of the original creation. This much is

8

Diana Edelman

widely agreed, although the degree of authorial creativity involved in the creation of each book as a coherent composition is disputed. Before we can begin to think about what kind of written texts would have been produced, and by whom, in the three time periods usually associated with literary production, two important issues need to be addressed. The first is what the assumption of a written-oral continuum means in ancient Judahite and Judean culture in terms of the creation and adaptation of individual biblical books. The second is the question whether the individual books are the products of authors, as opposed to editors or tradents. These preliminary issues are interrelated and can be treated together. After these issues have been discussed, I will survey the three historical periods and the kinds of texts we might expect to be produced in each and then consider the compositional dates of the books of Genesis and Kings.

A. The Oral-Written Continuum and the Role of Authors versus Editors and Tradents It is widely recognized that literacy was quite limited in ancient Israel and Judah; they were primarily oral cultures in which written records backed up oral statements and agreements for archival purposes but did not serve as the primary medium of expression or of transmitted memory. Ruth Finnegan describes such a cultural situation as operating on an oral-written continuum.1 Noting that the various compositions in the Hebrew Bible display traits typically associated with orally composed works, Susan Niditch argues that it is best to view them as belonging to an “oral register.” She does not use the term to refer to a specific mode of composition but rather to “the style of compositions whether the works were created orally or in writing.” The term also includes “the patterns of content that are the plots of biblical narratives and … various recurring literary forms, employed by a range of biblical authors.”2 Because the same story patterns and literary devices and techniques could appear in oral or written compositions, there is no foolproof method for deciding which units of material might have originated as oral compositions that were subsequently appropriated by the creators of biblical books, and which were composed from scratch by the individual who conceived of a given book as a whole. The impact of this concept of an oral-written continuum on scholarly thinking about scribal activity, especially on composition, has varied. So, for example, Eugene Ulrich, a Dead Sea Scrolls scholar, has paid lip service to authorial 1 Ruth H. Finnegan, Literacy and Orality: Studies in the Technology of Communication (Oxford: Blackwell, 1988), 139–74. 2 Susan Niditch, Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature, LAI (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 10.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

9

activity in the creation of the present biblical books but more or less rules it out in his description of the formation of books. In his view, the texts originated and developed for the most part as traditional literature in a largely oral culture and so were created by a community: “Each book is not the product of a single author, such as Plato or Shakespeare, but of multiple, anonymous bards, sages, religious leaders, compilers, or tradents.”3 Each was constituted by the repetition, augmentation, and reshaping of earlier traditions by later authors, editors, or tradents over the course of many centuries. “Thus,” Ulrich concludes, “the text of each of the books is organic and developmental, a composition-by-multiple-stages, sometimes described as a rolling corpus.”4 He acknowledges the oral-written continuum and the role of orality, but his view of the creation of the texts is heavily influenced by his understanding of the work of scribes in the transmission of texts and the pluriformity of the texts of various biblical books in the Qumran collection. I reject this model of scribal activity, which denies to scribes any sort of creative literary impulse. The presence of earlier source material, whether written or oral, within a given biblical book does not rule out the fact that a single individual conceived of the book project as a coherent composition with a beginning, middle, and ending, and a storyline with plot developments, twists, and a final denouement that followed set conventions used in composing both oral and written material. The first manuscript of any narrative-based biblical book formed a coherent literary unit, conveying its messages through the contents. In the model used by Ulrich, it is impossible to identify at what stage in a book’s growth it could have been regarded as a coherent literary unit. Certainly, changes were subsequently introduced, both inadvertently in copying and deliberately, to update a book and eventually to integrate it into the current collection. Nevertheless, its overall shape and the elements that comprise its storyline reflect the creative conception of the book’s first composer. Similarly, every oral performance is the creation of its bard or storyteller, who shapes the specific form and content of a tale in accord with the type of audience, the particular setting, and the allotted time frame, even when using standard elements. The biblical writers were not authors or narrators who composed in the same way as Plato or Shakespeare, who did not incorporate source material to the same extent.5 Nonetheless, they were anonymous authors or narrators who 3 Eugene Ulrich, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Developmental Composition of the Bible, VTSup 169 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 2. 4 Ulrich, Dead Sea Scrolls, 10. 5 For the distinction between a real author and the narrator whose voice is heard in a work of literature, see, e. g., Jean-Louis Ska, “Narrator or Narrators?,” in The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions, FAT 66 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 221–24. For the concept of the implied author, who is constructed in the imaginations of readers on assumptions deriving from texts written by a real author, see Wayne C. Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), 431. This “virtual” author often does

10

Diana Edelman

created coherent narratives, and not simply editors who cut and pasted together earlier sources to create longer and longer narrative sequences that grew organically over time, or tradents who preserved and passed on oral traditions, committing some to writing and adapting some along the way.6 To be sure, the concept of a “rolling corpus” mentioned by Ulrich is more appropriate in the context of the prophetic books, but even in this setting it remains problematic. The term designates a process in which short pieces of existing text attract exegesis or commentary that becomes part of the text, which leads to gradual growth over time and eventually to a book.7 It certainly is possible to discern such exegesis within individual prophetic books, but does this necessarily reflect a long-term, gradual process of growth, as is commonly assumed, or rather, was the exegetical commentary incorporated during the creation of the book, with some expansions added subsequently?

B. Types of Literature in the Monarchic Era What sort of texts would have existed during the monarchy? Logically, they would have included a range of genres, such as treaties, letters, petitions, contracts, lists, royal annals, inventories, land registries, tax registers and payment lists, collections of legal cases and prescriptions, commemorations of royal deeds, records of income from royal estates, and oracles and ecstatic pronouncements relating to the king or the kingdom. In addition, some wisdom texts – for example, proverb collections – and liturgical texts, psalms, myths, and possibly omens and incantation collections probably existed in written form. Many texts would have been produced in an administrative context. Exemplars of all of these genres logically would have been included as set texts in the training of scribes at different levels of their apprenticeship. The curriculum would have reflected the range of texts that future scribes would be expected to produce during their careers as civil servants, even if some ended up working in the private sector for wealthy or influential clients. What remains unclear is not correspond to the traits of the real author. Behind the narrator’s voice and the implied author is the actual author who created the work of literature, even if he must remain anonymous and unknowable. 6 Here I agree with John Van Seters, who helpfully traces the history of the impact of the Romantic movement and its definitions of author and editor on German biblical scholarship. See The Yahwist: A Historian of Israelite Origins (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015), 164–77. However, I also agree with Jean-Louis Ska, who endorses the concept of an anonymous author who shaped inherited tradition to create a new composition, that we need to retain the concept of redactor to cover the subsequent reworkings of the initial edition of any given book, even if the content of such reworkings cannot be identified with certainty. Ska, “A Plea on Behalf of the Biblical Redactors,” in Exegesis of the Pentateuch, 232–45. 7 See, e. g., William McKane, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah, 2 vols., ICC (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 1 xlix–l, lxxxiv–lxxxv.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

11

whether all scribes-in-training would have been taught the full range of exemplars as part of their professional education, or whether all scribes reached a certain level of proficiency using a set group of school texts and then specialized in specific genres for future employment. Scribes may have received specialized training, for example, as accountants, royal tutors, and temple scribes. Those who excelled at mathematics likely would have received in-depth training in hieratic numerals and the use of ledgers and would have been employed as accountants.8 Future tutors of princes, and possibly of the sons of the wealthy and influential, would likely have studied collections of proverbs, some other forms of wisdom literature, and perhaps some historiographical texts, but some of these genres might also have been included in the general curriculum used to instill behavioral norms in members of the scribal profession. Conspicuously lacking from this list of genres to be mastered by scribes are extensive epics or book-length literature. Would the crown have been interested in sponsoring the creation of a national epic by its scribes and perpetuating it by having it memorized and used as a set text in scribal training and perhaps in royal education? We have no known examples of such epics from any other ancient Near Eastern culture that were commissioned by the leadership and used as a means of creating a sense of national identity premised on loyalty to the crown. The Epic of Gilgamesh in its various written forms explores the tensions between extraordinary heroic ideals and values and institutionalized, ordinary royal ideals and values.9 The eleven-tablet standard Babylonian version likely was used to educate princes in their future responsibilities as kings governing a people,10 but it narrates the adventures of a royal prince and his companion. It does not focus on the formation of a nation or provide a sense of group identity. We have, however, mythic traditions that might have served to unite the populace who participated annually in festivals or religious celebrations at specified temples. Examples include the Enuma Elish from Assyria and Babylonia and the Baʿal cycle from Ugarit.11 These may have reinforced a sense of participation in a national cult. There are references to five extended written texts cited as sources in the existing narrative books. These include the scroll of the wars of YHWH (Num 21:14), the scroll of the upright one (Josh 10:13; 2 Sam 1:18), the scroll of the deeds/words of Solomon (1 Kgs 11:41), the scroll of the yearly deeds of the kings of Israel  8 For the role of accountants in the Jerusalem temple in various periods, see, e. g., Marty E. Stevens, Temples, Tithes, and Taxes: The Temple and the Economic Life of Ancient Israel (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2006), 71–77, 82–166. I do not agree with most of her dating of texts, but she provides a good summary of the responsibilities of temple accountants and administrators in many time periods.  9 See, e. g., Tzvi Abusch, “The Development and Meaning of the Epic of Gilgamesh: An Interpretative Essay,” JAOS 121 (2004): 614–22 (615–16, 619). 10 E. g., Abusch, “Epic of Gilgamesh,” 620. 11 For the Enuma Elish, see COS 1.111; for the Baʿal cycle, see COS 1.86.

12

Diana Edelman

(1 Kgs 14:19; 15:31; 16:5, 14, 20, 27; 22:39; 2 Kgs 1:18; 10:34; 13:8, 12; 14:5, 28; 15:11, 15, 21, 26, 31), and the scroll of the yearly deeds of the kings of Judah (1 Kgs 14:29; 15:7, 23; 22:46; 2 Kgs 8:23; 12:20; 14:18; 15:6, 36; 16:19; 20:20; 21:17, 25; 23:28; 24:5). What little can be established from the snippets of quotations from the first two sources is that they included the description of a boundary, perhaps in the wake of a successful battle; a poem celebrating a military victory; and a dirge over the death of the king and heir-elect in war. War is a common theme of social memory across time and cultures, whether handed on in oral or written form. The final two sources appear to be royal annals, while the contents of the scroll of the deeds/acts/words of Solomon would likely have contained a mix of legendary materials that had developed about King Solomon over time, including proverbial sayings attributed to him. All are arguably royally commissioned compositions that deal with events that date to the monarchic period, even if some are presently cited in premonarchic contexts (e. g., Num 21:14). Any of these could have been used as set texts in the training of scribes for royal service, alongside other genre exemplars. In addition, they could have been used in the education of sons of the extended royal household and sons of influential and powerful members of the court and society at large. Clearly, writing was taking place during the monarchy, in administrative and royally supported contexts. In addition, the possibility that scribes in their spare time wrote and read literature that was shared among fellow scribes needs to be considered. Philip Davies has argued that as part of an urban elite, scribes would have developed their own culture distinct from both that of the peasants and that of the ruling class they served. In his view, it would have been expressed partially in oral form, but given the skill set of the scribes, also in written forms that were created, copied, and catalogued in libraries.12 I think it might be more accurate to posit a scribal culture separate from the urban elite, but perhaps constituting a primarily urban group. Some scribes undoubtedly were posted to more remote locations, but by virtue of their training they would have shared a common scribal mindset and skill set with their urban peers.13 There is no clear textual evidence for a hereditary landed aristocracy in Israel or Judah, but certainly there would have been influential, wealthy people who moved in royal circles and wielded power over the general populace. They would not necessarily have shared the same intellectual interests as scribes, however, but more likely would have emulated royal culture and practice. 12 Philip R. Davies, Scribes and Schools: The Canonization of the Hebrew Scriptures, LAI (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 18. 13 For the scribal mindset, see, e. g., Ehud Ben Zvi, “The Urban Center of Jerusalem and the Development of the Literature of the Hebrew Bible,” in Aspects of Urbanism in Antiquity, ed. Walter G. Aufrecht, Neil A. Mirau, and Steven W. Gauley, JSOTSup 244 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 194–209; Ehud Ben Zvi, “The Concept of Prophetic Books and Its Historical Setting,” in The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud, ed. Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi (London: Equinox, 2009), 73–95.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

13

As employees of the crown, scribes would have experienced the reality underlying the ideology they promoted in their work. While common wisdom taught them not to rock the boat or question unpredictable authority,14 among themselves they might well have written compositions that questioned official worldviews, religious concepts, views of cause and effect, and versions of events, providing what they considered to be more rational understandings and explanations. Such works would have been part of private libraries, but some might have been kept in palace libraries as well, where they would have been accessible only to experienced readers who also knew the cataloguing system – in other words, to fellow scribes. Anonymity of authorship would have prevented retaliation if a fellow member of the literati decided to report potentially subversive literature.15 Handwriting would not have sufficed as a proof of authorship, since the manuscript could have been copied, although it could have led to censure if an investigation took place. Finally, oral compositions, including songs that told of the memorable events and deeds of local and national heroes and kings, were created, performed in various venues, and handed on for one or more generations. It has been noted that the Hebrew Bible contains a number of segments that seem to have originated as folktales or popular oral compositions. Examples include the patriarchal traditions, the stories about the judges, the story of Ruth, a truncated folktale about Saul (1 Sam 9:1–10:16), the folktale about David’s battle with Goliath (1 Sam 17– 18:5), the cycle of stories in Dan 2–6, and the Elisha-Elijah traditions. We simply do not know whether some of these compositions were eventually collected and written down, and later accessed in written form by the creators of the biblical books, or whether the creators of the biblical books themselves were the first to record oral narratives and integrate them into their own compositions. We also do not know whether scribes would have engaged in creating similar traditional literature as part of their job, or even in their leisure time.

C. Types of Judean Literature in the NeoBabylonian and Early Persian Periods The kingdom of Judah was terminated in 586 BCE but what replaced it as an administrative structure remains debated. Albrecht Alt proposed some eightyfive years ago that the territory of Judah was joined to Samaria and administered 14 The best illustrations are found in Qohelet (5:7; 8:2–5; 10:20), which is a product of the Persian or Hellenistic era. Nevertheless, the advice and attitudes found there would have applied in either a monarchic or imperial setting. 15 For a more central rationale for the anonymity of biblical books, see Ska, “Narrator,” 229–30. My suggestion would apply only to certain books.

14

Diana Edelman

from that location.16 His hypothesis, built primarily on claims of Samarian opposition to the rebuilding of Jerusalem in the time of Nehemiah, when it was first made an independent province, and the lack of reference to governors after Gedaliah, was influential until the 1990s, when the view that it became the NeoBabylonian province of Yehud, administered from Mizpah, gained followers.17 Finally, it has recently been proposed that after the murder of the appointed governor, Gedaliah, in 582 BCE, Judah might have been assigned by the crown as an endowment gift to a Neo-Babylonian temple that administered the territory.18 Whichever form of administration was implemented, after 582 BCE the Judean population was divided into those who remained in the territory of Judah, deportee groups in Babylonia, and refugees in Egypt. What sort of documents and literature would have been produced or preserved in each location?

16 Albrecht Alt, “Die Rolle Samarias bei der Entstehung des Judentums,” in Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel, vol. 2 (Munich: Beck, 1953), 316–37. The question whether the continued use of stamped jars in some sort of administrative capacity in Yehud after the end of the monarchy automatically signals that this territory was an administrative unit independent of Samaria, where such practice had never taken hold, needs more detailed consideration. Had Yehud been placed under direct Samarian administrative oversight, the governor might have had no problem leaving in place preexisting practices administered by one or more appointed officials, who perhaps bore the title pḥwʾ, and who lived on estates at, for example, Ramat Raḥel, Nebi Samwil, and Môṣah. For an affirmation that these officials provide evidence that Yehud was a separate province at least by the beginning of the fifth century BCE, see, e. g., H. G. M. Williamson, “The Governors of Judah under the Persians,” in Studies in Persian Period History and Historiography, FAT 38 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 46–63; Oded Lipschits and David S. Vanderhooft, The Yehud Stamp Impressions: A Corpus of Inscribed Impressions from the Persian and Hellenistic Periods in Judah (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 758–61. The catalogue of stamps does not include the earlier Neo-Babylonian Môṣah stamps or the animal stamps, which seem to precede the Yehud series of stamps. Once the catalogue of animal stamps under preparation by Oded Lipschits and Tallay Ornan is published, the issue of any possible change in the administrative status of Yehud in the mid-fifth century BCE can be revisited. 17 So, e. g., Kenneth G. Hoglund, Achaemenid Imperial Administration in Syria-Palestine and the Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah, SBLDS 125 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 22; Gösta W. Ahlström, The History of Ancient Palestine from the Palaeolithic Period to Alexander’s Conquest, ed. Diana Edelman, JSOTSup 146 (Sheffield, JSOT Press, 1993), 801; Oded Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 97–122, 149–50. 18 Yuval Levavi and Michael Jursa, “The Neo-Babylonian Empire: The Imperial Periphery as Seen from the Center,” paper presented in the “Current Historiography and Ancient Israel and Judah” section at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, San Diego, November 23, 2014. This proposal could complement an earlier one by J. N. Graham, who suggested that the territory of Judah was reconfigured into agricultural estates worked by the remaining population. “Vinedressers and Plowmen: 2 Kings 25:2 and Jeremiah 52:16,” BA 47 (1984): 56–57. Such estates could have been assigned to one or more Babylonian temples to own and manage, with local minor officials occupying villas like those at Ramat Raḥel, Nebi Samwil, and Môṣah within the estates.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

15

Some palace archives may have been moved from Jerusalem to Mizpah before the final destruction and looting of the city,19 but probably not. On the one hand, the new administration would have needed to know who owned land and was liable for taxation and corvée conscription, but on the other hand, it is more likely that the new administration conducted a fresh census and registration of land ownership and oversaw new land allotments. The new overlords were free to develop the conquered territory as they saw fit, including the confiscation and redistribution of land. In that case, any archival material from the palace that might have survived the destruction of Jerusalem would not have been of intrinsic interest to the conquerors. Although the palace archives probably did not survive, some temple archives could have been removed to Mizpah if a Yahwistic cultic establishment was still operating in the new provincial seat. It is likely that the town had contained one or more religious shrines or temples that were used by the local inhabitants prior to the expansion and building of new administrative complexes by the NeoBabylonians.20 Thus, an existing facility might already have been storing some religious texts on its premises. Religious archives associated with an ongoing cult of YHWH that had been removed from the temple in Jerusalem could have been added to the collection at that site, or another facility might have been expanded to accommodate the rescued documents. While the Neo-Babylonians wanted to punish the local population for its third infraction of the terms of its vassal treaty, the king might have thought it a good idea to treat the local deity with a modicum of respect. Nevertheless, whatever set texts had been used in scribal training and thus committed to memory could have been written down again and used to train the next generation. Oral traditions would have continued to circulate, and any private scribal texts that had been memorized could have been rewritten. During this period of some one hundred twenty years, whether the former Judah was administered as a province or by a temple, the new administrative archives 19 Lipschits,

Fall and Rise, 92–97. what can be reconstructed of the Neo-Babylonian occupational level at Tell enNaṣbeh/Mizpah, see Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Tell en Naṣbeh and the Problem of the Material Culture of the Sixth Century,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period, ed. Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 413–47 and his contribution in this volume, “The View from Mizpah: Tell en-Naṣbeh, Judah, the Sixth Century BCE, and the Formation of the Biblical Text,” especially the section titled “The Continued Occupation and Importance of Mizpah (Tell en-Naṣbeh) in the Babylonian and Persian Periods,” 229–252. This site was dug without tight stratigraphic controls. The Neo-Babylonian layer has been identified primarily through overlapping architecture. Erosion of the edge of the mound has left only partial remains of some large building complexes belonging to this phase, making it difficult to begin to identify their possible functions. No temple site has been identified, but under the circumstances, this should not be taken as a strong indication that no temple was located in the town. 20 For

16

Diana Edelman

would have recorded income, necessary outlays, corvée labor, and taxable individuals or kinship groups. As for the question of literary production at this time, we need to think about how many native scribes would have been incorporated into the local administration, and whether they would have felt a need to write about the loss of native kingship and the destruction of Jerusalem or to establish a new vision of unity and identity for the local Judean population in this period. As employees of the new administration, these scribes were now perhaps the most high-status and influential group among the native population. They came out of the trauma of war with enhanced prestige and affirmed security and probably were able to reintegrate their experiences with little effort. They were the righteous remnant spared from YHWH’s punishment of the king and people for breaking the terms of the vassal treaty with Neo-Babylonia and perhaps for engaging in corruption and injustice more generally. Did this self-perception need to be expressed in writings that could be shared within this small circle of scribes? Those deported to Babylonia as prisoners of war are unlikely to have taken scrolls with them. Thus, the scribes among them would have been in the same position as the scribes left in the territory of Judah: they would have been able to reproduce the contents of set training texts and any texts from a private collection that they had memorized, if they had the opportunity to do so in their new location. As prisoners of war, the deportees could have been sold to private owners, dedicated to temples as permanent temple slaves, incorporated into the imperial workforce and assigned to a number of imperial building projects in the Babylonian heartland, added to the tenant labor force on crown estates, or freed and given land grants in new settlements on virgin land that was to be brought into productive cultivation, where they would pay taxes, supply corvée labor, and perform obligatory military service. We know the names of a few settlements where Judeans ended up grouped together, like Tel Aviv and the town of the Judeans near Borsippa, as well as other small settlements around Borsippa, Sippar, and Nippur, but we should not assume they were all relocated in this fashion, given that they were prisoners of war who could be disposed of in a number of ways. Preserved documents confirm that Judeans lived in Sippar and its environs, including Til Gubbi; Zazanna; Opis; Babylon; Kish, Alu-shaNashar, al-Yahudu, and Bit-Nabu-leʾ, all probably in the vicinity of Borsippa; Marad; Nippur and its environs, including Bit-Eriba, Bit-Gera, Bit-Muranu, Bitrab-urati, Bit-Abi-ahi, Sha-rese, Bit-Suraya, Gammale, Parak-Mari, Ishqallunu Hashba, Tel-Gabbari, Titurru, Sin-magir canal, Bit-Shula, Sin-belshuni, Enlilashabshu-iqbi, Pusaya, Hiduya, Husseti, Naqidim, and Nar-Bel-aba-usur; Isin; and at Alu-sha-Bane near Uruk(?). These same records show that some Judeans worked as farmers, foremen, or fishermen; other occupations attested include a royal or commercial agent, a messenger of a royal official, a summoner for taxes

The Text-Dating Conundrum

17

and corvée work, an assistant rent collector, a tax collector, one in charge of the king’s poultry, a gardener, a shepherd, an alphabet scribe (writing in Aramaic), and a chancellor.21 If deported scribes were fortunate enough to have been placed in situations that allowed them to continue to work as scribes within the new imperial system in Babylonia, they would likely have been producing Aramaic documents, since that was the second official language of the empire alongside Akkadian. They would have needed to write in Hebrew only when drawing up documents involving Judeans in one of the Judean settlements in Babylonia. Nevertheless, they could have written down their memorized, native Hebrew scribal curriculum and any memorized private scribal compositions and taught them to their sons, to perpetuate their heritage. As for their ability to create new literary productions, these displaced scribes would have had more trauma to process than their counterparts who had remained in the homeland. Not all necessarily continued to work as scribes; some might have been made farmers, tenant farmers, or physical laborers. Many would have lost their former status and the privileges they had enjoyed at home as employees of the Judahite crown. Some might not have been able to reintegrate their sense of self in light of what they had experienced; it can take two or three generations to create a new narrative that incorporates disruptive events into an explanatory scheme.22 Some conceivably could have written new narratives or poems or adapted earlier set texts to account for the destruction of Jerusalem and their captivity and deportation. Interestingly, these deported scribes also could lay claim to being the righteous remnant spared during YHWH’s punishment of the king and people for violating the terms of the vassal treaty with Neo-Assyria, and perhaps for corruption and injustice in Judah more generally. They were survivors, even if they no longer lived in their native land. Finally, we need to consider the Judean refugees in Egypt. We know the names of some settlements where Judeans might have gone to augment existing expatriate communities, like Migdol, Tahpanes, Memphis, and Pathros, the latter of which is a more general designation for Upper Egypt (e. g., Jer 44:1, 15). As in Babylonia, any scribes in this group who continued in their occupation would have produced Aramaic documents in their new setting but likely would have lost their former privileged lifestyle and influence. They, too, could have written down whatever they remembered of their Hebrew scribal curriculum or of private scribal compositions and transmitted them to their sons. 21 See Ran Zadok, The Earliest Diaspora: Israelites and Judeans in Pre-Hellenistic Mesopotamia (Tel Aviv: The Diaspora Institute, Tel Aviv University, 2002). 22 So, e. g., Aleida Assmann, “Impact and Resonance – Towards a Theory of Emotions in Cultural Memory,” in The Formative Past and the Formation of the Future: Collective Remembering and Identity Formation, ed. Saphinaz-Amal Naguib and Terje Stordalen, Institute of Comparative Research in Human Culture Series B (Oslo: Novus, 2015), 52–58.

18

Diana Edelman

Surviving documents from the Judean colony at Elephantine indicate two generations of a functioning scribal family, Nathan ben Ananiah and his son Mauziah.23 There are no preserved book scrolls among the archived personal letters and document drafts, although there is a copy of the Bisitun inscription and of Aḥiqar.24 These might have served as set texts in Aramaic scribal training. We must be careful, however, not to use this negative evidence to claim that no books of any sort were known in the community, especially given the perishable nature of papyrus and the possibility that the houses of scribes might not have been excavated or the possibility that a library room in the temple complex was razed by Vidranga and his henchmen when, in collusion with the priests of Khnum, they destroyed the temple to Yao.25 Depending on their experiences, Judeans in Egypt could have experienced minimal to serious trauma as refugees. Like those in Babylonia, some might not have been able to reintegrate their sense of self in light of what they had experienced, but others might have. Some conceivably could have written new narratives or poems or adapted earlier set texts to account for the destruction of Jerusalem and their escape to Egypt. Even though these scribes no longer lived in their native land, they too, like the other two groups of surviving scribes, could lay claim to being the righteous remnant spared during YHWH’s punishment of the king and people for breaking the vassal treaty with Neo-Assyria or for general corruption and injustice in Judah. Oral traditions passed down from the monarchic era and supplemented by new material need to be added to possible hands-on traditions available in all three settings where Judean scribes found themselves. A predominately oral culture will emphasize the memorization of oral traditions deemed important to a given subgroup or larger culture. Professional memory-keepers have been common in oral cultures all over the world.

D. Types of Literature in the Persian Period after the Rebuilding of Jerusalem and the Temple Jerusalem was rebuilt to serve as the Achaemenid provincial seat, possibly in place of Mizpah, sometime around 450 BCE, and the temple was likely rebuilt at the same time. The date for the rebuilding of the temple given in the book 23 For details, see Bezalel Porten, Archives from Elephantine: The Life of an Ancient Jewish Military Colony (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1968), 193. 24 Bezalel Porten and Ada Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt, 4 vols. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1986–1999), 3.C1; 3.C2.1. 25 For details, see conveniently Porten, Archives, 278–98; Reinhard G. Kratz, “The Second Temple of Jeb and of Jerusalem,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oehming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 252–55.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

19

of Ezra is probably not historically reliable; it is based on Jeremiah’s prediction of seventy years of devastation for Jerusalem before restoration, and it is not probable that a temple would have been rebuilt in an otherwise destroyed settlement.26 It also is unclear whether the claims of Persian sponsorship of its rebuilding are historically reliable. They might be, if the building was also to serve as the provincial treasury and a secure storehouse facility for taxes paid in kind, and if a tax on sacrifices was assessed that went into Persian coffers. It is equally possible, however, that the Persians gave permission for the locals to rebuild the temple, providing they paid for its upkeep and gave the crown a cut of the annual revenues. They were known to have revoked the former tax-exempt status of temples in Babylonia and Egypt,27 and the example of the temple built for Kandawas, the god of Kaunos, and for his Companion by Carian mercenaries stationed at Xanthus, recorded in three languages on the Letoon Stele, also demonstrates that the Persians would allow new temples to be built as long as they did not have to support them from the royal coffers.28 The rebuilding of Jerusalem appears to have been part of a larger imperial initiative to expand the local population base in Yehud in order to boost food and wine production and provide adequate supplies for the armies being sent overland for the reconquest of Egypt.29 The present lack of extensive Persian archaeological remains in Jerusalem should be attributed to the tendency of later builders to place their foundations on solid bedrock. Extensive building activities in the Hellenistic and Roman periods would have removed Persian remains as well as earlier ones in many areas of the settlement. This absence is not an indication that the site was an insignificant town of four or five hundred people, including around one hundred adult men, rather than a fortified bīrâ housing a military contingent and administrative and temple personnel, as the texts describe it.30 26 Diana V. Edelman, The Origins of the ‘Second’ Temple: Persian Imperial Policies and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem, BibleWorld (London: Equinox, 2005), 92–106, 167–75. 27 So, e. g., Amélie Kuhrt, “The Problem of Achaemenid ‘Religious Policy,’” in Die Welt der Götterbilder, ed. Brigitte Groneberg and Hermann Spieckermann, BZAW 376 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2007), 126–27. 28 For the text, see, e. g., Javier Teixidor, “The Aramaic Text in the Trilingual Stele from Xanthus,” JNES 37 (1978): 181–85; André Lemaire, “The Xanthos Trilingual Revisited,” in Solving Riddles and Untying Knots: Biblical, Epigraphic, and Semitic Studies in Honor of Jonas C. Greenfield, ed. Ziony Zevit, Seymour Gitin, and Michael Sokoloff (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995), 423–32. 29 E. g., Hoglund, Achaemenid Imperial Administration, 97–164; Edelman, Origins, 332–51. 30 So, e. g., Nadav Na’aman, “Text and Archaeology in a Period of Great Decline: The Contribution of the Amarna Letters to the Debate on the Historicity of Nehemiah’s Wall,” in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honor of Lester L. Grabbe, ed. Philip R. Davies and Diana V. Edelman, LHBOTS 530 (London: T&T Clark, 2010), 20–30, pace Israel Finkelstein, “Jerusalem in the Persian (and Early Hellenistic) Period and the Wall of Nehemiah,” JSOT 32 (2008): 504–507. It is possible that some or all of the administrative and temple staff lived offsite and only worked in the bīrâ.

20

Diana Edelman

Administrative records for the existing local population probably would have been moved from Mizpah to Jerusalem, and new records would have been made of the land allotments given to settlers arriving under imperial initiative from Babylonia, possibly Elam (bny ʿylm, Ezra 2:7; Neh 7:12), possibly Persia (bny bgwy, Ezra 2:14; Neh 7:19), and perhaps Syria (bny ʿzgd, Ezra 2:12; Neh 7:17), if the three gentilics are construed as geographical rather than ethnic terms. If the labels are construed ethnically, the Syrians/Arameans would likely have been settlers while the Elamites and Persians in the group would have been primarily administrative and military personnel sent to oversee the interests of the king. Nevertheless, the latter two groups could have been assigned land allotments as well for their support while in the province. According to the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, many of the new arrivals were of Judean descent, but not all,31 and we can see that at the end of the Persian period, the population of Idumea – the province south of Yehud that was carved out from land that had once belonged to the kingdom of Judah and possibly Yehud – included a mix of residents of Judean, Arab, Edomite, and Aramean/Syrian extraction. This is revealed by the personal names found in the so-called Idumean ostraca probably dug illicitly from Makkedah.32 The Arameans/Syrians would appear to be the descendants of settlers introduced into the area. After the temple was rebuilt, any literature that might have been archived in a temple in Mizpah could have been transferred to the new facility. In addition, materials that had been part of other local temples and shrines might have been moved before those temples were closed down in order to ensure that the temple in Jerusalem was the single Yahwistic facility in the province. Temples might have existed at Bethel and Gibeon, for example. The rebuilding of the old monarchic capital probably would have prompted a resurrection of its past associations as well, especially among the literati and priests assigned to work there.33 The scribal staff at Mizpah would have been relocated there, and they could have been augmented by some scribes of Judean descent who were transferred from Babylonia as part of the forced resettlement. In both cases, we should expect proficiency in Aramaic as well as a knowledge of the inherited set of Hebrew texts passed on from father to son. These texts would have included many that were royally oriented and perhaps were focused on Jerusalem. 31 It may be noted that Ezra 2:59 records settlers arriving from Tel-melah, Tel-harsa, Cherub, Addan, and Immer who could not prove ancestry within Israel. Thus, even if one does not construe the three gentilics ethnically, there remains a hint in the narrative that not all those being resettled in Yehud were of Judean descent. 32 For the texts, see Bezalel Porten and Ada Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Ostraca from Idumea, 2 vols. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014–2016). 33 Ehud Ben Zvi, “Exploring Jerusalem as a Site of Memory in the Late Persian and Early Hellenistic Period,” in Memory and the City in Ancient Israel, ed. Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014), 213–16.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

21

Although Aramaic was the official language of imperial administration, Hebrew likely was still spoken among the population that had continued to live in the province as well as perhaps the Judean descendants sent back to their ancestral land. Hebrew might have been used for local transactions. In the province of Yehud, which contained a group of scribal literati that had a secure base in a Hebrew-speaking territory, a single temple devoted to the native deity as the main religious facility, and an augmented population base that included nonHebrew-speaking settlers, the circumstances were ripe for the production of the books of Genesis–Kings and the prophetic corpus.

E. The Main Themes and Foci of Individual Books as Pointers to Their Period of Composition As commonly recognized, a book provides insight into the worldview and ideas current at the time of its creator. The contents of a given book tell us how its author in his own day conceived of the period being portrayed and thus provides evidence about the worldview and assumptions of the period of composition. In the case of biblical books with a long history of transmission, some ideas subsequent to the author’s time will have been added, but they will represent a minority. It can be assumed that ideas that are well integrated into the texture of the story and that provide its underlying assumptions stem from the book’s composer and reflect his cultural setting and chronological horizon. Any earlier source materials that are being used will be modified at the time of composition if they are inconsistent with the current worldview or circumstances.34 Thus, in theory, the rough date of a book’s initial composition should be able to be established from internal clues in the text. In realistic terms, this will mean the late monarchic period (ca. 720–586 BCE), the Neo-Babylonian and early Persian periods prior to the reestablishment of Jerusalem and its temple as the provincial seat of Yehud (ca. 586–450 BCE), and the remaining span of the Persian period (ca. 450–332 BCE). However, we also need to be honest about the fact that often, what we know of each of these three periods comes primarily from the texts whose storylines or date superscriptions indicate that they are set in a given period. Thus, it is almost impossible to escape circular reasoning. When we survey the themes and messages that predominate in Genesis–Kings and the prophetic corpus, for example, it becomes apparent that their composers lived in a period of religious transition. The books model behavior and norms for what would become emerging Judaism and are explicitly rejecting former 34 Jean-Louis Ska notes the presence of multiple narrative voices in the final form of a biblical text, which represent both redactional voices and voices in preexisting source materials that were incorporated into the composition when it was created. “Narrator,” 226–29.

22

Diana Edelman

behavioral norms and beliefs that had been standard under monarchic Yahwism. This includes a strong henotheistic claim that YHWH is the only deity for the religious community of Israel, a claim that becomes monotheistic in only a few statements (e. g., Deut 4:35, 32:39; 1 Kgs 8:60; 2 Kgs 5:15; Isa 37:19). It also includes a rejection of an earlier family religion that typically appealed to ancestors and to a family god to serve as intercessors with the more powerful main divine couple, YHWH and Asherah, and Baʿal (e. g., Lev 19:31; Deut 18:11). YHWH alone is now to be prayed to directly.35 Placing inscriptions on houses and fringes/tassels on clothes, wearing textually-based personal amulets, making three annual pilgrimage festivals to the central temple in Jerusalem, and, possibly, observing the Sabbath and practicing infant circumcision now become visible signs of the new religion. The ark of the covenant seems to have been eliminated as a former symbol of the monarchic deity, YHWH Ṣebaot, in favor of the Torah, which represents YHWH Elohim. Genesis–Kings and the prophetic books focus on the constitution of Israel as a community of families, clans, and tribes directly bound to YHWH as its king. There is no need for a human king. This is likely an adaptation of former royal ideology, where the king was the vice-regent of the god, an arrangement that may or may not have been concretized via a formal pact tablet, as it was in Assyria, for example.36 Otherwise, the constitution of Israel is modeled on a political treaty, the form of which is used to express the novel idea that the religious community of Israel constitutes a social entity bound directly to a deity, with stipulated norms and behavior that serve as the basis of ongoing membership. One might be born to parents who are part of this community, and one is entitled to membership via kinship affiliation, as Genesis emphasizes, but it becomes an individual obligation to self-identify as a member of Israel by abiding by divine torah. Thus, not all persons of Judean descent are necessarily members of the religious community of Israel. 35 So, e. g., Diana V. Edelman, “Adjusting Social Memory in the Hebrew Bible: The Teraphim,” in Congress Volume, Stellenbosch 2016, ed. Louis C. Jonker, Gideon R. Kotzé, and Christl M. Maier, VTSup 177 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 127–42. 36 A text that includes selected oracles proclaimed during enthronement rituals of Esarhaddon states that after an oracle from Assur was given and the šulmu (peace [‑offering?]) was placed before the statue of Assur in the temple, the covenant tablet (ṭuppi adê) was read to him. For the text, see Simo Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies, SAA 9 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1997), 22–27. For comments on its relevance to the biblical concept of a royal covenant, see, e. g., Eckart Otto, Das Deuteronomium: Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien, BZAW 284 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999), 79–86; and Martti Nissinen, “Spoken, Written, Quoted, and Invented: Orality and Writtenness in Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy,” in Writings and Speech in Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Michael H. Floyd, SBLSymS 10 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000), 251–54. It is unclear whether this was an exceptional or regular part of the Assyrian coronation ceremony since we have no other relevant texts with which to compare it. Cautiously, then, it can be seen as possible corroboration of such a practice in the Judahite coronation ceremony as well, as depicted in 2 Kgs 11:12. I thank Helge Kvanvig for steering me to this text and the related literature.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

23

This concept of a voluntary religious Israel only makes sense in a postmonarchic setting where a central cult of YHWH is operational and influential and serves to highlight the deity’s role as the most important overlord in the lives of the community’s members.37 In the real world, the inhabitants of the Persian province of Yehud were all small cogs in the imperial system, with a real Persian king as their actual overlord. Annual taxation rates were levied by the imperial crown on provinces and specified how much was to be rendered in silver and gold and how much in foodstuffs. It was up to the local appointed imperial representatives to come up with the annual amounts, using whatever methods of collection or delivery they chose.38 For Judeans who identified as members of the religio-social entity called Israel, an additional “tithe” from their incomes was to be rendered annually to YHWH, the divine king and source of blessing. As sketched in the book of Deuteronomy, for example, this tithe was to be paid in person, thrice annually during the pilgrimage festivals, at the site that YHWH would choose as the dwellingplace for his name, i. e., the temple in Jerusalem (12:5–7, 17–18, 26; 14:22–26; 16:1–17). Unlike imperial taxes, however, which disappeared with little return to the payees, this “tax” was consumed “before YHWH” during mandated rejoicing directly by the families that paid it and could be as much or little as the family could afford each year (16:16–17). It reinforced a positive sense of “Israelite identity”, where members held the status of chosen followers of YHWH Elohim (e. g., 14:2). This would have been a voluntary form of identity that supplemented their identity as Persian provincials. The date of the introduction of the poll tax for the temple becomes important in this discussion. If Persian in date, it strongly suggests that when the imperial administration authorized the rebuilding of the temple, it specified that it would not support the upkeep and operating costs of the temple. The poll tax (Exod 30:13–15; Neh 10:33–34; cf. 2 Kgs 12:4, where it is not yet operational) would have been designed to raise the necessary capital; in the official bookkeeping records there would have been a separate line entry dedicated to that purpose. The collection of the poll tax in Yehud could have been used to cover normal operating costs as well as to pay a percentage of imperial taxes owed on sacrifices and temple income, had this been a separate obligation that fell outside the annual provincial tax. Temple revenue would have been generated during the three annual pilgrimage festivals when temple personnel sold animals and food to those participants who had brought silver in lieu of supplies (Deut 14:23–26). Apparently, however, either this proved to be an insufficient source for meeting the operating costs 37 This

point is argued in detail in Ben Zvi, “Urban Center,” 196–206. e. g., Pierre Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire, trans. Peter T. Daniels (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2002), 410–507. 38 So,

24

Diana Edelman

and the poll tax was subsequently added to ensure adequate income, or the poll tax was instituted from the beginning of the temple’s operation, but the author of Deuteronomy chose not to acknowledge it in his vision. In the latter case, the writer might have considered the pilgrimage festivals an adequate source of income and the poll tax a device used by the priests for personal enrichment. The practice of using a poll tax to meet temple operating costs might have been in force ca. 400 BCE to support the altar house at Elephantine, for example. A document bears the heading “this is (= these are) the names of the Judean garrison who gave silver to YHW the God, each person silver, sh(ekels)” and proceeds to lists the names of men and women and the amount of two shekels in each case. This amount is higher than the one-third of a shekel (Neh 10:33–34) or the half-shekel (Exod 30:13) that was eventually used to support the temple in Jerusalem, but the smaller size of the community in Elephantine might have required a higher assessment to cover the operating costs of the facility and its dedicated personnel. The list ends, however, with the summary: “herein: for Yao 12 karsh 6 shekels; for Eshembethel 7 karsh, for Anatbethel silver, 12 karsh” (lines 126–128), which suggests that the altar house was used in the worship of all three deities.39

F. The Book of Genesis Genesis models as correct religious views a number of beliefs that align with Judaism rather than Yahwism. These are not minor additions in the text but part of its very fabric, being the point of many stories. Abraham plants a tree at Beersheba (Gen 21:33) for the sole purpose of “calling on the name of YHWH,” not Asherah, who could be symbolized during the monarchic period as a tree (Deut 16:21). He also builds altars at Shechem (Gen 12:6), Bethel (12:8), and Hebron (13:18) without explicitly offering any animal sacrifice at any of them. These altars seem to link up with the one built in Transjordan by the eastern tribes, who had no intention of offering animal sacrifice (Josh 22). Also, importantly, they reflect an attitude that likely contributed to the restriction placed on the reestablished altar house in Elephantine. Animal sacrifice had taken place prior to the destruction of the altar house ca. 410 BCE, following a long-standing tradition, but the authorities in Yehud and Samaria who supported its rebuilding ca. 405 BCE imposed the condition that only incense and meal offerings could be made there in the future.40 In all of these examples, it is presumed that animal sacrifice can be performed only at a centralized single sanctuary – be it in 39 Porten and Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents, 2.C3.15. For a discussion, see Porten, Archives, 162–63. 40 Porten and Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents, 1.A4.9.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

25

Jerusalem or on Mount Gerizim – but personal prayer and communing with God by offering incense or making a meal offering are permitted anywhere. YHWH is also equated with four generic categories of god in Genesis, represented by the terms ʿelyôn (14:18–22), rōʾî (16:13), šadday (17:1, 28:3, 35:11, 43:14, 48:3), and ʿôlām (21:33). These identifications assert that YHWH alone encompasses the functions that otherwise and formerly have been associated with separate types of deities.41 The repeated motif of barren foremothers may be partly a folk tradition, but it sends the very strong message that YHWH alone is responsible for human fertility, not Asherah or the ancestors, as in the monarchic period.42 In addition, the burial of the těrāpîm at Shechem models the need to abandon the use of ancestral representations and the idea that the dead become part of the spiritual realm, as ʾĕlōhîm, and that their advice can be sought because they are intermediaries between humans and the more important deities in the spiritual realm.43 Is it feasible to see the original form of the book as being produced during the monarchy? We would need to subtract Gen 1–11 as a compilation of Babylonian traditions that would have become known to those forcefully resettled in Babylonia.44 We also would likely need to eliminate the novella about Joseph and his brothers, which reads like a diaspora court tale and currently serves as a thematic bridge to the book of Exodus. Do the remaining portions of the book, Gen 12–39 and possibly 49, reflect monarchic concerns? The three ancestral figures of Abraham,45 Isaac, and Jacob might be derived from oral traditions associated with Hebron, Beersheba, and Bethel, respectively, although Abraham might also be an artificial character created to represent the diasporic communities of both Judah and the former Northern Kingdom. He has origins in both Ur of the Chaldeans and in Harran. Would the kings of Israel or Judah, individually or jointly, have felt it worthwhile to sponsor the creation of a common past, forged from stories of the ancestors, for those living in contiguous kingdoms with a shared national god? 41  Diana Edelman, “What is Persian About Genesis?,” in Assessing Biblical and Classical Sources for the Reconstruction of Persian Influence, History and Culture, ed. Anne FitzpatrickMcKinley, Classica et Orientalia 10 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2015), 167–68. 42 Edelman, “Persian Genesis,” 168–69. 43 Edelman, “Adjusting Social Memory,” 139–41. 44 It may be noted, however, that Van Seters thinks Genesis 1–11 includes at least one native West Asian element alongside the borrowed Babylonian ones. Yahwist, 19–20. 45 Thomas Römer, who assumes that the reference to Abraham in Ezek 33:24 dates between 597 and 586 BCE and the one in Isa 51:2 to the beginning of the Persian period, has concluded that Abraham was an autochthonous figure associated with Hebron, the regional capital of the Negev, and that traditions about him originated in the eighth or seventh century BCE and that the P writer was responsible for giving him a Mesopotamian origin to establish a literary link between the patriarchs and the traditions of the exodus and the desert. See “Recherches actuelles sur le cycle d’Abraham,” in Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction and History, ed. André Wénin, BETL 155 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2001), 190–94.

26

Diana Edelman

The concept of a twelve-tribe Israel dwelling from Dan to Beersheba and including Transjordan might derive from historical reality. The Transjordan was remembered as having remained under firm Israelite control through the reign of Jehoram (died ca. 841 BCE), whose successors Jehu and Jehoahaz fought for the territory against kings Hazael and Ben-hadad of Aram-Damascus. The Galilee is not mentioned as extensively but likely also was a territory contested between Israel and Aram-Damascus during the same period. Both were permanently lost during the reign of Pekah (ca. 735–732 BCE), when the Assyrian king TiglathPileser III annexed them (2 Kgs 15:29) and turned them into provinces. It is likely that the final Omride, Jehoram, ruled directly over both Israel and Judah in the mid-ninth century for at least a decade,46 creating a situation in which all those in the two territories could have been considered “brothers.” Would he have commissioned a common origin story using Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and the twelve tribes to teach tolerance to the princes or the common people, in the hope that this situation would be continued by his heirs? Perhaps. Christoph Levin, however, has provided a set of arguments for why the twelve-tribe scheme is a late literary fiction.47 If, on the other hand, two kings named Jehoram coincidentally occupied the thrones of Israel and Judah simultaneously, with marriage ties cementing the two dynastic families,48 would their close cooperation as allies have given rise to the same concept of brotherhood? If so, then we could look to an earlier point under the Omrides when Judah and Israel would have been allies, or to a later moment, under the Nimshide dynasty founded by Jehu, for the development of the twelve-tribe concept and an initial monarchic-era production of a shared common history. It is thought to be unlikely, however, that the author of Kings has given an accurate portrayal of the political relationship between Israel and Judah; rather, he has exaggerated Judah’s status as Israel’s ally rather than vassal during most of this period.49 Under the circumstances, it would seem unlikely that the dominant kingdom would have bothered to create a common origin story 46 For differing reconstructions based on the contradictory and confusing information in Kings and Chronicles that propose a single, historical Jehoram, see, e. g., John Strange, “Joram, King of Israel and Judah,” VT 25 (1975): 192–95; J. Maxwell Miller, “The Omride Era,” in J. Maxwell Miller and John H. Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986), 280–84; John H. Hayes and Paul K. Hooker, A New Chronology for the Kings of Israel and Judah and Its Implications for Biblical History and Literature (Atlanta: John Knox, 1988), 30, 34–36; W. Boyd Barrick, “Another Shaking of Jehoshaphat’s Family Tree: Jehoram and Ahaziah Once Again,” VT 51 (2001): 12, 20–24. 47 Christoph Levin, “Das System der zwolf Stämme Israels,” in Congress Volume: Papers Read at the Congress of the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament, Held July 19–24, 1992, in Paris, ed. John A. Emerton, VTSup 61 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 163–78. 48 So, e. g., Ahlström, History, 588–96, 598–600; Mario Liverani, Israel’s History and the History of Israel, trans. Chiara Peri and Philip R. Davies, BibleWorld (London: Equinox, 2003), 110–14, 128, 130. 49 So, e. g., Miller, “Omride Era,” 251–87; Hayes and Hooker, New Chronology, 29–36.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

27

that included traditions from a vassal kingdom.50 If we eliminate the Abraham and Isaac stories as Judahite, can we say that the book of Genesis could have first been conceived as a coherent composition that featured just the Jacob cycle of stories? These stories focus on the sanctuary at Bethel, not on Samaria, the capital of the kingdom. A compositional date for Genesis in the Neo-Babylonian or early Persian period is possible, but not likely, if we assume that it was composed in Judean circles.51 We have seen that Genesis rejects key elements of the monarchic Yahwistic religion, but Trito-Isaiah’s complaints seem to indicate that Yahwistic religion continued to be practiced in Yehud as it had been during the monarchy. Thus, scribes at Mizpah probably did not create the book of Genesis. The Elephantine documents describe a form of Yahwism in Egypt that accepted the existence of other gods and the sharing of temple space with three other deities. That leaves Judean scribes in Babylonia. The Primeval History rejects the claim of the Enuma Elish that Marduk is the main creator god, asserting instead that YHWH is the only god and creator of everything; it appropriates the Babylonian flood myth and reworks it from a monotheistic point of view; and its story of the tower of Babel critiques Nebuchadnezzar’s building program, which made Babylon one of the most impressive cities of the ancient Near East for over a century.52 This attack on Babylonian traditions and values would make sense as a strategy to convince people of the need to maintain their native god even outside their homeland. Abraham would be a model for a hoped-for return. Why, though, would the Judean scribes have included Jacob, who represented the north, or have associated Abraham with the northern diaspora via Harran? And why the twelve-tribe scheme? Why would the scribes envision Israel, the future religious community, to include all twelve tribes? The Israelite deportees in 721 BCE were settled primarily in northern Syria. There is no evidence that any were settled in the region where the Judeans 50 For the alternate suggestion that the twelve-tribe concept originated during the reign of Hezekiah in the wake of the termination of the kingdom of Israel as a way to incorporate large numbers of Israelite refugees who settled in Judah, see Shamai Gelander, From Two Kingdoms to One Nation – Israel and Judah: Studies in Division and Unification, SSN 56 (Leiden: Brill, 2011). 51 Since Genesis is also part of the Samaritan Pentateuch, the possibility cannot be ruled out that it was composed in Samaria rather than Yehud, or that it was a cooperative venture by scribes from both provinces. In the latter case, it would be hard to know who might have taken the lead in composition. 52 So, e. g., Paul-Alain Beaulieu, “Nebuchadnezzar’s Babylon as World Capital,” CSMSJ 3 (2008): 7, and Angelika Berlejung, “Living in the Land of Shinar: Reflections on Exile in Genesis 11:1–9,” in The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of Torah, ed. Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl, and Jean-Pierre Sonnet, FAT 107 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 89–111. Others, however, have derived the story of the tower from Sargon II’s palace-building at Dur-Sharrukin; see, e. g., Christoph Uehlinger, Weltreich und “eine Rede”: Eine neue Deutung der sogenannten Turmbauerzählung (Gen 11,1–9), OBO 101 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990), 516–42.

28

Diana Edelman

ended up, and thus no reason to expect that some sort of rapprochement occurred in Babylonia between two groups worshipping a deity known by the same name. In the Persian period, however, after the construction of new temples for YHWH on Mount Gerizim in the province of Samaria and in Jerusalem, the new provincial seat in Yehud, such a rapprochement is plausible. By drawing on earlier oral and perhaps written traditions from both former kingdoms, scribes could have created a concept of a people of YHWH that included both Samarian and Judean diasporic communities outside Cisjordan as well as YHWH-worshippers in Cisjordan. The widest definition of the Promised Land in Genesis is from the Euphrates to the Nile (15:18), or from Babylonia to Egypt, which would include settlements belonging to both diasporic communities, while the narrower one includes the tribes living in the territory of the provinces of Samaria, Yehud, Galilee, and Transjordan (e. g., in the book of Joshua), which would include descendants of both former monarchic kingdoms. In this scenario, the reworking of Babylonian materials in Gen 1–11 would have been aimed at the recently resettled Judeans in Yehud, to show them why YHWH was more powerful than Marduk. The book presumes a present in which Israel is a religious community, not a political one. The book became authoritative for the Samaritans as well as other early Jewish communities, demonstrating that its strategy of defining membership in an inclusive community was successful alongside its religious innovations. The Joseph novella, which provides a bridge to the book of Exodus, is consistent with Genesis’s larger interest in diasporic communities, developed through Abraham’s two points of origin and his sojourn in Egypt, as well as Jacob’s family relations in Harran. If one adopts John Van Seters’s position that the Yahwist author conceived of and produced the extended narrative now covering Genesis, Exodus, and Numbers,53 then the reused novella would have been an integral element in the original, extended composition. If one thinks that Genesis and Exodus were independent compositions that were subsequently joined more closely together through the addition of the Joseph novella, then it would not have been included in the original version of Genesis.

G. The Book of Kings The book of Kings appears to have drawn on royal annals, but it is not likely a monarchic composition. Its author has chosen to report selected deeds during the reigns of the kings of Judah and Israel that involved military actions and the temple, both of which were royal responsibilities.54 It is possible that the base 53 Van

Seters, Yahwist, 126. to Erhard S. Gerstenberger, the emphasis on reforms in relation to the temple and its cultic operation throughout the book presumes the functioning of the Persian-era temple, its rituals, and the reading and interpretation of the Torah. See Israel in the Persian Period: 54 According

The Text-Dating Conundrum

29

text here was a set instructional school text, or perhaps a text used in the education of princes, but the inclusion of the kings of Israel as exemplars to be studied by Judahite princes makes the latter option less likely. It is not easy to explain how the interwoven extracts describing the deeds of Judahite and Israelite kings would have functioned in a monarchic context, before the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BCE.55 A central question addressed in the work is why the kingdoms of Israel and Judah both ceased to exist. This recommends a date of composition after 586 BCE. The reasons cited for the fall of the kingdoms are the constant evil behavior of the people and the kings, especially their failure to walk fully in the path of YHWH. In Judah, the people continued to worship at the bāmôt after the construction of the temple in Jerusalem, and in Israel, they continued to worship both the bull-form of YHWH established at Bethel and Dan and Baʿal in Samaria. In addition, they disregarded the messages of YHWH that were delivered by his prophets throughout the duration of both kingdoms. Finally, there are ten strategically placed references to torah in the book of Kings: the torah of Moses (1 Kgs 2:3; 2 Kgs 14:6; 21:8; 23:25), the torah of YHWH the god of Israel (tôrat yhwh ʾĕlōhê yiśrāʿēl, 2 Kgs 10:31), the torah more generally commanded to the ancestors and sent via the prophets (2 Kgs 17:34, 37), and the scroll of the torah (2 Kgs 22:8, 11; 23:24), which defined more specifically the disobedient behavior that doomed the kingdoms. These references to torah do not appear to be integral elements of the original composition but The Fifth and Fourth Centuries B. C. E., trans. Siegfried Schatzmann, SBLBibEnc 8 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 290. For other arguments that the composition of the book took place after 586 BCE, without specifying whether it occurred during the Neo-Babylonian and early Persian period or after the rebuilding of the temple, see Juha Pakkala, “Why the Cult Reforms in Judah Probably Did Not Happen,” in One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives, ed. Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann, BZAW 405 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 201–35. 55 A date of composition of an early form of the book under King Jehoram, if he indeed ruled both Israel and Judah directly for at least a decade, could be postulated; it could have served as a manual for training his princes to assume future governance over the combined kingdoms. Of course, this early form of Kings, composed before the end of the Northern Kingdom, would not have blamed the fall of both kingdoms on their failure to follow the path of YHWH, and it would have been updated continuously until 586 BCE, somewhat like a rolling editorial corpus. A sixth-century version of Kings could also conceivably have been developed if the Judahite crown was preparing for a possible conquest of the province of Samaria as Assyrian power waned. This composition could have served as a means of teaching the present or future king that such a conquest could be justified by the common history shared by Judah and Israel before the split into two independent kingdoms, but that would have required a more substantial account of the reign of David, the founder of the “United Monarchy.” For literary arguments that Samuel and Kings were separate compositions, with Kings written first, see Jürg Hutzli, “The Literary Relationship between I–II Samuel and I–II Kings: Considerations Concerning the Formation of the Two Books,” ZAW 122 (2010): 505–19. I do not agree with his proposed initial date of composition for Kings, but the literary points are well taken and their validity does not rest on a particular date of composition.

30

Diana Edelman

subsequent expansions that redefine the older and more original concept in the book, the path of YHWH, in terms of the commands, precepts, and rules given at Mount Sinai/Horeb when YHWH established a formal pact directly with his people, Israel. To determine when the book of Kings was composed, it is necessary to decide whether certain of its characteristic features are integral to the book or secondary expansions, namely (1) references to ongoing worship at the bāmôt, mainly by the people; (2) references to the introduction of the symbols and worship of gods other than YHWH into the official cult in Samaria, Bethel, and Jerusalem by members of the ruling dynasties; and (3) references to the unheeded prophetic warnings delivered to the king. The condemnation of the bāmôt presumes emerging Judaism and its cult centralization rather than ongoing Yahwism (e. g., 1 Kgs 3:2–5; 8:16; 14:21). There are a few specific references to these bāmôt (smaller holy sites) housing the cults of deities other than YHWH, especially those of Baʿal and Asherah (e. g., 1 Kgs 14:15, 23; 15:13; 16:33; 18:19; 2 Kgs 13:6; 17:10, 16; 18:4; 21:3, 7; 23:4, 6, 7, 14, 15), although these deities were also part of the official cult in Samaria, Bethel, and Jerusalem as well. The hostile references to the bāmôt and deities other than YHWH presume the first commandment. This need not imply that the author of Kings was familiar with either of the two collections of ten commandments embedded in the accounts of events at Mount Sinai/Horeb (Exod 20 and Deut 5), however, since the list of commandments could have circulated independently of this larger story of covenant-making, both before and after its creation. As for the many references to kings disregarding revelations delivered by named and unnamed prophets throughout the monarchic period, they can be construed as further illustrations of how the leader did not follow YHWH’s path. These references plausibly reflect the practice of consulting prophets during the monarchic period to determine YHWH’s support and intentions in political decision-making. Prophets would be able to highlight what YHWH’s path should be in a given situation. Thus, it is not necessary to posit the existence of one or more prophetic books known to the author of Kings. But are these references to unheeded revelations part of the original form of the book? As noted by E. A. Knauf, if the records of prophetic activity in Kings are combined with the date superscriptions in the prophetic books, each king is associated with one or more prophets,56 effectively creating an unbroken chain of prophetic warning during the existence of the kingdom of Judah. Yet, out of the twelve prophets associated with the monarchic period who are also associated with written compositions included in the Hebrew Bible, only Isaiah (2 Kgs 56 Ernst Axel Knauf, “Kings among the Prophets,” in The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud, ed. Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi, BibleWorld (London: Equinox, 2009), 133.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

31

19–20) and Jonah (2 Kgs 14:25) are mentioned in Kings. Thus, it is clear that the author of Kings did not intend to link his work to preexisting prophetic books. Had this been the case, he would have included specific references to all twelve in his book.57 The concept of an unbroken chain of prophetic counselors during the monarchy seems to be a later development that derived in part from an attempt to link the book more tightly to other works in the so-called prophetic collection that followed the Torah. However, it remains unclear whether the original form of Kings contained references to unheeded warnings delivered by some anonymous prophets – and perhaps some named prophets – to highlight royal disobedience, which might have been expanded subsequently to create an unbroken chain of such figures. Ehud Ben Zvi has noted that the anonymous prophets in the book are portrayed according to five “images”: (1) “a faithful minority of servants of YHWH who are likely to be persecuted if the ruling leader is sinful”; (2) “a group aware of Israel’s history of misconduct that justified the extreme divine punishment against monarchic Israel”; (3) “a group that unsuccessfully tried to bring Israel to YHWH”; (4) “a group that embodies a reminder of Israel’s history of rejecting YHWH and disregarding the advice of YHWH’s servants”; and (5) “a group … which stood at the earliest spot in the chain of transmission of [YHWH’s] teachings that leads directly to the readers and rereaders of the book of Kings.”58 Of these five images, only the last one hints at the existence of a written corpus of definitive essential teachings revealed through prophets that are now to be found in written prophetic books, but this hint may be misleading. Let us consider whether the book of Kings could be a product of the NeoBabylonian period that was updated in the Persian period. The concept of the way of YHWH as a positive path in life that has been chosen or rejected occurs in many biblical books but is a less standard concept in other ancient Near Eastern cultures. It appears, for example, in Zoroastrian teaching, as reflected in the inscription on Darius’s tomb: “O Human, may what is Ahura Mazda’s command not appear evil to you. Do not leave the right path. Do not be obstreperous.”59 The concept of the path of a deity and of a deity guiding one’s heart along that 57 In the case of the book of Jonah, which is likely Persian (e. g., Ben Zvi, Signs of Jonah, 8, 98, 105–110) or Hellenistic (e. g., Thomas M. Bolin, Freedom beyond Forgiveness: The Book of Jonah Re-examined, JSOTSup 236, Copenhagen International Seminar 3 [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997], 40, 182–83) in date, it is widely assumed that the author of Jonah used the reference to this prophet in Kings as the sole source for his creative composition, without drawing on any preserved prophetic statements recorded in his name. See, e. g., Ehud Ben Zvi, Signs of Jonah: Reading and Rereading in Ancient Yehud, JSOTSup 367 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003), 40–64. 58 Ehud Ben Zvi, “‘The Prophets’ – References to Generic Prophets and Their Role in the Construction of the Image of the ‘Prophets of Old’ within the Postmonarchic Readership/s of the Book of Kings,” ZAW 116 (2004): 562–63. 59 Cited in Gerstenberger, Israel in the Persian Period, 50–51.

32

Diana Edelman

path appears in Egyptian wisdom texts, which may have derived the idea from the Book of the Two Ways, the oldest guide to the underworld.60 Significantly, however, this concept of a deity’s path is not a common motif in Assyrian or Babylonian thought, where the path of a deity can refer to the astronomical orbits of planets associated with deities, or more figuratively to the deity’s own behavior. It also refers concretely to divine traveling and journeys.61 If an Egyptian origin of the concept is favored, a pre-Persian date is possible, but otherwise a Persian model and date is likely. Two other key concepts in Kings, however, appear in Mesopotamian literature. First, the idea that human sin may lead the gods to destroy a city is found in two of the five preserved Sumerian city laments from the Old Babylonian period (2000–1600 BCE), while a third assumes that human action triggered the divine anger that led to the city’s demise. Line 430 of the lament over Ur reads, “Nanna, after you have absolved that man’s sin, may your heart relent toward him who utters prayers to you,”62 while the lament over Uruk includes the phrase “bore a heavy burden of sin” in what is otherwise a broken context (sec. A3).63 Lines 74–75 of the lament over Nippur posit that human action triggered the divine anger that led to the city’s demise: “What did they do? What did they forsake, that their Lord became enraged with them and walks in anger?”64 Secondly, the rejection of a dynasty for inappropriate behavior is found in the Curse of Agade, where King Naram-Sin’s impiety toward Enlil prompts an immediate decision by the divine assembly to remove the kingship from his dynasty and to destroy his city, Akkad.65 All four texts provide very old parallels to the destruction of Samaria and Jerusalem due to the evil deeds of the people of Israel and Judah and their kings. Given the prevalence of war, it is likely that the scribal template for a lament over a destroyed city was shared by many ancient Near Eastern cultures and that it included human sin committed by both royalty and the people as possible causes of divine wrath.66 Thus, the absence of any explicit reference to sinning by breaking the terms of the Sinai/Horeb covenant in the original version of Kings and its presence in secondary references to the torah generally, the torah 60 J. Bergman,

“Derekh II.1,” TDOT 3:273–74. and H. Ringgren, “Derekh II.2,” TDOT 3:275–76. 62 “The Lament for Urim,” The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature, http://etcsl. orinst.ox.ac.uk/cgi-bin/etcsl.cgi?text=t.2.2.2# (last revision June 1, 2003). 63 M. W. Green, “The Uruk Lament,” JAOS 104 (1984): 267n8. 64 Steve Tinney, The Nippur Lament: Royal Rhetoric and Divine Legitimation in the Reign of Išme-Dagan of Isin (1953–1935 B. C.), Occasional Publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund 16 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum, 1996), 103. 65 For a full translation, see “The cursing of Agade,” ETCSL, http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/ section2/tr215 htm (last revision September 7, 2001). 66 Diana V. Edelman, “The ‘Empty Land’ as a Motif in City Laments,” in Ancient and Modern Historiography / L’historiographie biblique, ancienne et modern, ed. George J. Brooke and Thomas Römer, BETL 207 (Leuven: Leuven University, 2007), 127–42. 61 A. Haldar

The Text-Dating Conundrum

33

scroll, the torah of Moses, or the torah of YHWH the god of Israel could be consistent with a date of composition for Kings in the Neo-Babylonian period, before the creation of the five books of the Torah individually or as a collection. The reason for the inclusion of the Northern Kingdom alongside the Southern Kingdom is hard to explain, however, in an exilic setting. It seems that the twelve-tribe scheme is in the background (e. g., 1 Kgs 12:24). As noted earlier, such a concept might have arisen in the mid-ninth century if a single Jehoram ruled over both kingdoms, but many accept the accuracy of the biblical account, which places two namesakes on the northern and southern thrones for an overlapping period of eleven years, with Jehoram of Israel reigning in Israel alone for four to five years longer than his counterpart in Judah.67 Alternatively, the idea of a twelve-tribe Israel might conceivably have been created in the waning years of Assyrian power, when Josiah hoped to build an independent kingdom that included some or all of the former territory of the kingdom of Israel. But if the scheme had originated in the ninth or the seventh century BCE, would it have been preserved and handed on when hopes for long-term unity were dashed quite quickly in both instances? An alternative explanation of the origin of the twelve-tribe scheme assumes the validity of Alt’s proposal that after 582 BCE, the Neo-Babylonians assigned the territory of Judah to the administration of Samaria. This would provide a plausible setting for the invention of the concept that Israel derived from twelve brothers, including Simeon, Judah, and Levi; in geographical terms, the twelvetribe model would have expanded the preexisting northern tradition of tribal areas in the central Samarian hill country, Galilee, and Transjordan to include the hill country of Judah and the Shephelah. The community of Israel, as a voluntary society within the Neo-Babylonian Empire that viewed itself as bound by a covenant to a single deity, could have used this fiction of the sons of Israel to construct a common origin to reinforce group identity. The same concept of joining together the two former kingdoms as part of a single religious covenantal community occurs in Isaiah (11:12–13), Jeremiah (3:7–10, 18; 13:11; 30:3; 31:27, 31; 32:30, 32; 33:7; 36:2; 50:33; 51:5), Ezekiel (9:9; 37:16, 19), Hosea (1:11; 6:4; 11:12; 12:2), Micah (1:4, 9), and Chronicles (1 Chr 2:1–8:40; 17:5–6, 21–22; 28:8 and passim), but it is very difficult to pinpoint the time and circumstances of its origin.68 A future union of Israel and Judah only 67 See n47 above. The Tel Dan Stele mentions the defeat of [Jeho]ram, king of Israel, and [Ahaz]iah of the House of David by a king of Aram-Damascus, and the writer of Kings states that the two were killed as part of Jehu’s coup when he returned from battle in Transjordan at Ramoth-gilead. In order for there to have been a single Jehoram, Ahaziah would have had to have been his son, whom he appointed as ruler of Judah in a form of coregency. 68 For the alternative suggestion that Judean scribes appropriated Israelite traditions after Bethel became part of Judahite or Judean administrative territory and created the concept of the religious community of twelve-tribe Israel, see Philip R. Davies, The Origins of Biblical Israel, LHBOTS 485 (New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 129–77.

34

Diana Edelman

makes sense as an integral part of the concept of the religious community of Israel bound to YHWH, which includes those YHWH-worshippers living from Dan to Beersheba but might also be intended to include those in Transjordan as well.69 The territory occupied by this community would correspond to either the traditional boundaries of the Promised Land or to the largest area that either kingdom ever controlled politically, in which case the territory above Galilee to Damascus, the Negev highlands, and the territory down to Kadesh-barnea in the Sinai would need to be added. The elaboration of the concept of the twelve-tribe religious Israel – even if the twelve-tribe scheme itself might have emerged already in the Neo-Babylonian period – may plausibly be set in the years after the construction of the temples on Mount Gerizim and in Jerusalem, when literature explaining the creation of this people bound directly to its god in a formal pact defined by torah began to be generated and collected. Friendly cooperation between the two provinces in the mid-fifth century BCE is indicated by the marriage of the daughter of Sanballat, the governor of Samaria, to the son of the high priest in Jerusalem, and by the acceptance of the Pentateuch as an authoritative text by both religious communities. This amity continued until the end of the fifth century, as evidenced by the memorandum at Elephantine from functionaries in both Yehud and Samaria who offered support for the rebuilding of the local temple, provided that animal sacrifice was replaced by meal offerings and incense.70 The inclusion of both former kingdoms in the religious community of Israel is definitely part of the design of the original composition of Kings. It is curious, however, in this case, that sinning and doing evil was not specified throughout the book of Kings, especially at the beginning, as a failure to follow the Sinai/Horeb torah. Perhaps a tentative explanation for this omission can be sought in the royal focus of the composition. As noted earlier, there likely was a practice at accession of establishing a pact (the ʿēdût, as in 2 Kgs 11:12) between the god of the kingdom and the new king, his earthly vice-regent, on the one hand, and perhaps also between the king and his people on the other (2 Kgs 11:14), with periodic renewals undertaken (so, e. g., 2 Kgs 11).71 Certainly, within the framework of the book, the author is focusing primarily on the pact between god and king. The covenant that YHWH was to have established with David is referenced a few times and, significantly, a similar covenant is offered to Jeroboam I (1 Kgs 11:37–38). The two kings who were offered this pact initially became the measuring sticks for determining whether their successors followed the path of YHWH. The point 69 For a discussion of Judean settlement, expansion, and trade in the Persian and Hellenistic periods that included Galilee and Transjordan, see Ernst Axel Knauf, “Biblical References to Judean Settlement in Eretz Israel (and Beyond) in the Late Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods,” in Davies and Edelman, Historian and the Bible, 175–93. 70 Porten and Yardeni, Textbook of Aramaic Documents, 1.A4.9. 71 See n36 above.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

35

of the Sinai/Horeb covenant is to regulate Israel without relying on a king as an intermediary between the people and the divinity. With this in mind, it appears that the purpose of Kings extends beyond justifying the destruction of Samaria and Jerusalem to include an exploration of whether native monarchy would be needed in the emergent religious community of Israel. Is the Davidic covenant temporarily suspended but intact, or has it been divinely terminated after multiple generations of infractions? The lesson of the Northern Kingdom in particular shows that dynasties will be terminated for not walking the path of YHWH. The fiction that Judah was ruled by a single dynasty throughout its history72 would suggest the conclusion, in light of the fate of the kingdom of Israel, that the Davidic covenant was over, but this seemed to be a point of contention amongst the literati. Some seemed to cling to the hope that it had only been suspended and could be reinstated, as seen in the claims that Zerubbabel, a Davidic descendant, had returned to Yehud (e. g., Hag 1:1, 12–14; 2:2–4, 21–23; Zech 4:6–10; Ezra 3:2, 8; 5:2; Neh 12:1) so that one of his descendants would be eligible to become king in the future, or in the hope expressed in Ezekiel’s vision of the future temple (chs. 40–48) that a Davidide might occupy the office of nāsîʾ. In the original conception of Kings, divine torah is delivered via prophets; in the altered form of the book, the torah given at Sinai/Horeb was misplaced during much of the monarchy until the reign of Josiah, and prophets were required to remind the king what he needed to do. By using old, standard templates that placed the conditions for dynastic success in the framework of a divine-royal pact and cited reasons why a city might be destroyed, the author of Kings raised the important question of the need for human kingship in the Achaemenid-era, religiously based covenant community of Israel.

H. Conclusion We know nothing of what comprised the set school texts in Hebrew for scribal training during the monarchy of Judah (or Israel). Nevertheless, we can assume that these texts would have been memorized, so that wherever Judahite scribes ended up after the loss of the monarchy in 586 BCE, they would have been able to write them down again. Had there been a reason to continue to educate scribes in Hebrew, the texts could have been used again in this capacity. If a new Aramaic curriculum of set texts became the standard for training scribes in an imperial context, the corpus of set Hebrew school texts might still have been 72 For detectable breaks in the Davidic dynasty, see Donald V. Etz, “The Genealogical Relationships of Jehoram and Ahaziah, and of Ahaz and Hezekiah, Kings of Judah,” JSOT 71 (1996): 39–53; Lowell K. Handy, “Speaking of Babies in the Temple,” Proceedings of the Eastern Great Lakes and Midwest Biblical Societies 8 (1988): 155–65.

36

Diana Edelman

written down again by former Judahite scribes and kept in personal or administrative libraries in Yehud, Babylonia, and Egypt. Thus, traditions relating to the monarchic era as well as texts created in that period could have been accessible in literate circles generations later. The first edition of any single book currently within the collection of the Tanak or the Old Testament would have been a coherent composition with a beginning, middle, and ending that followed the literary conventions of its genre. This is the case regardless of the amount of oral or written source material that was incorporated or drawn upon. The person who created the book conceived of an overall plan and would have adapted existing material to fit the requirements and parameters of the governing patterns, conventions, and ideologies being used to shape it. Subsequent changes to a composition would have been made within the existing framework and are not likely to extend to more than 25 percent of most books. We only have the final forms of books, and identifying expansions and additions is a precarious task; success is most achievable when working with manuscript variants, although the evidence often remains open to more than one understanding. Success is much more elusive when attempting to identify stages of growth in a given book that are attested in all extant manuscripts of that book.73 Determining when a book was initially put into writing has to be done on the basis of internal clues and ideology. Certainty in most cases is unachievable, which becomes clear when one reads a survey of existing opinions and proposals for dating. Both Genesis and Kings reflect a religious worldview that is postmonarchic; they model behavior and norms for what would become emerging Judaism, not those of monarchic Yahwism. The earliest date of composition that can be assigned to either composition is the Neo-Babylonian period (ca. 586– 538 BCE), even if monarchic-era materials have been included. In addition, the scheme of Israel as a composite of twelve tribes is assumed in both Genesis and Kings. Pinpointing the origin of this idea is difficult, given the limited evidence. It might have been an expansion of an older northern Israelite concept that included groups within the kingdom’s territory at the height of its power, including Transjordan and the Galilee. It could also have built on a past where Judah had been a vassal of the kingdom of Israel in various periods. Once both Israel and Judah had been absorbed within the larger Neo-Babylonian imperial system and its successor, the Achaemenid Empire, the decision to 73 For a recent study that systematically describes editorial techniques on the basis of textcritical principles and manuscript variants, see Reinhard Müller, Juha Pakkala, and Bas ter Haar Romeny, Evidence of Editing: Growth and Change of Texts in the Hebrew Bible, SBLRBS 75 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014). In general, the decision as to which of two variants contains the earlier text remains contested in many instances, as various scholars invoke standard principles in support of opposite solutions. This highlights the inability to obtain certainty in literary-historical questions due to the nature of the evidence.

The Text-Dating Conundrum

37

develop the concept of religious Israel as an ideal community within the imperial reality led to the revival of the name Israel, which had been abandoned as a political designation in favor of Samaria. The older idea of tribal Israel could then have been expanded by adding tribal areas associated with the former kingdom of Judah. Such a move might have been facilitated by the administration of the Judean hill country by Samaria after 582 BCE or by the incorporation of Samaria, Yehud, the Galilee, and Transjordan within the larger administrative unit of Beyond the River. Thus, it is unclear whether this twelve-tribe idea initially developed in Samaria or Yehud and whether under the Neo-Babylonians or the Achaemenids. Its elaboration makes the most sense, however, after the centralized temples to YHWH at Gerizim and Jerusalem were functioning as the centers of this new religious community. If Genesis was composed in Judean circles, the inclusion of chapters 1–11 to persuade those familiar with Babylonian religion and culture to view YHWH, and not Marduk, as the universal creator god presupposes an Achaemenid date. The inclusion of the twelve-tribe scheme presumes a period of cooperation between Samaria and Yehud and a joint process of identity-building. It seems most appropriate to place this period after the building of the temple in Jerusalem, when a segment of the population would have been resettled from Babylonia, even if the period of cooperation between Samaria and Yehud might have begun already in the short-lived Neo-Babylonian period (586–538 BCE). The book of Kings similarly reflects postmonarchic concerns. It uses the concept of adherence to the way of YHWH to evaluate the behavior of the kings and people of Israel and Judah. This “way” requires members of religious Israel to worship YHWH as the only deity and to abandon the bāmôt. Parallels to this concept are known from Egypt and Achaemenid Persia but not Mesopotamia. The unique interweaving of sources from two independent political kingdoms illustrates more than how repeated failure to adhere to the “way” resulted in the exile of the ancestors of current members of religious Israel in Samaria and Yehud. An equally central theme of the book is the questioning of the need for the return of a “Davidic” monarchy in the leadership of the postmonarchic religious community of Israel. A subsequent expansion equated the “way of YHWH” explicitly with Mosaic torah. While plausible arguments can be made for placing the initial composition of Kings in the Neo-Babylonian period, its failure to be accepted in Samaria suggests it was a specifically Judean composition. It could have originated after the period of cooperation among the leadership or literati located in the Cisjordanian highlands had ended, or it might have been “sectarian” literature intended to assert Judean superiority even during the period of cooperation, to be circulated only within Yehud. This essay is meant to provoke reflection on how little is known about the compositional process of the books now comprising the Hebrew Bible. It is hoped that by taking the time to ascertain how much of that knowledge is based

38

Diana Edelman

on actual data and how much is conjecture, scholars might become more selfconscious about why they favor the approaches they use and about what is at stake when opting for one set of methods and its underlying presumptions over another. The admission by those espousing different approaches that firm, testable solutions are not possible under the circumstances could reduce polarization in the debate over the origins of biblical literature.

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone: Orality and Jurisprudence in Ancient Israel* Jean Louis Ska My son, keep my words and treasure up my commandments with you; keep my commandments and live; keep my teaching as the apple of your eye; bind them on your fingers; write them on the tablet of your heart (‫)על־לוח לבך‬. – Prov 7:1–3 (cf. Prov 3:1–3; Jer 31:32)

This passage from the book of Proverbs expresses in a graphic way the question that will be developed in these pages.1 The last sentence contains a paradox, namely the exhortation to write on the “tablet of the heart,” something that seems impossible. One can write on many different materials, but not on a heart. A similar phrasing is found in the English expression, “to learn by heart,” which means “to learn by rote,” “to memorize.” Proverbs 7:1–3 goes somewhat further, however, since it exhorts its audience not only to remember but also to put into practice. In other words, teachings and commandments should become a kind of second nature, and the disciple is invited to act out of conviction rather than out of coercion or compulsion. Another aspect deserves attention: in this exhortation, the son is invited to remember and observe his parents’ commandments as long as he lives. Writing, in this context, is synonymous with enduring effect. This is, as we will see, one of the main features of writing as distinct from oral expression. This passage indicates that Proverbs privileges oral transmission, since writing on the heart is the equivalent of remembering and assimilating. Curiously enough, we find in the Old Testament hardly any exhortations to read. The * I would like to thank in a special way Charles Conroy for correcting the English of this article and for several valuable pieces of information. My thanks go also to Bernard S. Jackson for many fruitful exchanges and comments. All remaining flaws and shortcomings are my own responsibility. 1 The quotation is alluded to in the title of an important work by David M. Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). All biblical translations follow the ESV, with occasional slight modifications for the sake of clarity.

40

Jean Louis Ska

usual exhortation is to listen and to obey. Deuteronomy is full of exhortations to “listen,” the most famous being the Shema, “Hear, O Israel” (‫ׁשמע יׂשראל‬, Deut 6:4). In 2 Chr 17:7–9, King Jehoshaphat sends officials and Levites to teach the people from a written text of the Law, but they do not distribute copies of the book to be read.2 This emphasis on listening means that the superiority of writing over oral transmission and memorizing is perhaps not so evident as it seems at first sight.3 This is also the case in a biblical narrative describing all the operations connected with a book or scroll (‫)ספר‬, starting with oral transmission and leading to its transcription and its public reading (Exod 24:3–8). After the public reading of the “book of the covenant” (v. 7), the response of the audience, the people of Israel at Mount Sinai, is not “we will read” but “we will listen” (‫ונׁשמע‬, v. 7b). There are, as everyone knows, many theories and debates about the different aspects of oral traditions in biblical research, both in Old and New Testament scholarship.4 There is one field, however, that is often neglected and deserves, perhaps, a more comprehensive treatment. I have in mind the world of biblical law. Looking back at the huge amount of literature dedicated in the past and in recent years to the problem of oral tradition, there is surely a strong predominance of studies on narrative. This situation can be explained easily, I think. First, the major work of biblical scholarship that triggered research on oral tradition in recent times was Hermann Gunkel’s commentary on Genesis. Second, New Testament scholars studied oral tradition in their inquiry about the origin and composition of the Gospels and, especially, about the connection between the oral preaching of Jesus of Nazareth and the writing of the Gospels, which took place several decades afterwards. One can also mention the fact that Christian exegesis is generally more interested in narratives than in laws. We may see in this phenomenon a consequence of the Law–Gospel (Gesetz–Evangelium) opposition, which is surely not a Lutheran monopoly. Third, the most important of the extrabiblical studies on oral tradition that have influenced biblical scholarship are those of Millman Parry and Albert Lord on the Homeric poems. In 2 On the problem of literacy in Israel, see Bernard S. Jackson, Wisdom-Laws: A Study of the Mishpatim of Exodus 21:1–22:16 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2006), 59–74. According to most specialists, general literacy was not widespread in ancient (biblical) Israel. It did not really appear before the eighth century BCE, and only in restricted circles. 3 This is underscored by Susan Niditch, Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature, LAI (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), and by William M. Schniedewind, How the Bible Became a Book: The Textualization of Ancient Israel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); and Carr, Writing on the Tablet of the Heart. 4 For a survey of the history of research up to 1950, see Eduard Nielsen, Oral Tradition: A Modern Problem in Old Testament: Introduction, SBT 11 (London: SCM, 1954). For more recent works, see Robert D. Miller II, Oral Tradition in Ancient Israel, Biblical Performance Criticism Series 4 (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2011); Brian B. Schmidt, ed., Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production, AIL 22 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2015).

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

41

these three cases, the focus of research is the world of narrative. The oral transmission of laws and juridical traditions is studied only accessorily. This is evident in some of the surveys of recent research in the field, for instance in the two main books dedicated to oral traditions in the Old Testament, by Eduard Nielsen and Robert D. Miller II. Nielsen mentions the important works by August Klostermann, Albrecht Alt, and Martin Noth on the origin of biblical law, but hardly develops the topic.5 Miller, for his part, is not very much interested in this question since he allots just one sentence to the problem: “It is, moreover, probable that the codes of customary law throughout ancient Western Asia were oral in nature.”6 A rapid survey of the literature on the topic confirms this first impression. All this is to say that we have some good reasons to study the problem of oral tradition in the world of biblical law. In this short article, I would like to treat three main topics, hoping to contribute to a better knowledge of the nature and function of ancient biblical law. First, I would like to say a word about a pioneer in this field, namely the German jurist Friedrich Carl von Savigny (1799–1861). He is hardly mentioned by exegetes, but his influence was nevertheless decisive in the academic world. Second, I will discuss the Icelandic parallel invoked by Klostermann, Alt, and Noth, namely the annual assembly of the Althing, during which the Icelandic law was orally proclaimed. Third, I will try to prove the existence of an oral juridical tradition in ancient Israel by analyzing a certain number of Old Testament narratives about lawsuits and juridical matters that, in my opinion, cannot be explained except by reference to oral rather than to written customary laws.

A. Friedrich Carl von Savigny A few words about Friedrich Carl von Savigny (b. 1799, Frankfurt am Main; d. 1861, Berlin) are in order to situate this important personality in the intellectual world of his time.7 His family was of French origin and migrated from Lorraine to Germany after Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes in 1685, denying freedom of religion to Protestants in France. His wife, Kunigunde Brentano, was a Catholic; she was the sister of Bettina von Arnim and Clemens Brentano, the poet. The brothers Grimm (Jacob [1785–1863] and Wilhelm [1786–1859]) were 5 Nielsen,

Oral Tradition, 47–48. Oral Tradition, 25. 7 For more details, see Iris Denneler, Friedrich Karl von Savigny (Berlin: Stapp, 1985); ­Claudia Schöler, Deutsche Rechtseinheit: Partikulare und nationale Gesetzgebung (1780– 1866), Forschungen zur deutschen Rechtsgeschichte 22 (Köln: Böhlau, 2004), 106–12. For his importance for the study of law in general, see Bernard S. Jackson, Making Sense in Jurisprudence, Legal Semiotics Monographs 5 (Liverpool: Deborah Charles, 1996), 58–61, especially 59; for his importance for the study of biblical law, see Joshua Berman, “The History of Legal Theory and the Study of Biblical Law,” CBQ 76 (2014): 19–39, esp. 23. 6 Miller,

42

Jean Louis Ska

his diligent students at the University of Marburg before becoming his assiduous collaborators. We know Savigny’s juridical methodology thanks to the notes taken by the Grimms during their teacher’s classes in 1802. In 1810, after a few years at the University of Landhut in Bavaria, Savigny was called to the University of Berlin by Wilhelm von Humboldt and became friends with the statesman and historian Barthold Georg Niebuhr (1876–1831) and the jurist Karl Friedrich Eichhorn (1781–1854), the son of Johann Gottfried Eichhorn (1752–1827), one of the pioneers of modern Old Testament criticism. Christian Matthias Theodor Mommsen (1817–1903), the famous German historian, jurist, journalist, politician, archaeologist, and Nobel laureate (in literature, 1902), often considered one of the greatest classicists of the nineteenth century, owed many of his ideas about Roman law and civilization to Savigny. From 1817 until 1848, Savigny collaborated in different capacities with the Prussian government. In 1842, he became Grosskanzler (high chancellor) and headed the juridical organization of Prussia until he resigned in 1848. Savigny was a representative of the so-called historical school of jurisprudence. Riding the wave of nationalism after the Napoleonic wars, some jurists, especially the Heidelberg law professor Anton Friedrich Justus Thibaut (1772– 1840), proposed to unify the civil laws for all the German states.8 He was inspired by a rationalistic spirit and took the Napoleonic codes as a model. Savigny opposed him strongly in a famous pamphlet with the title “On the Vocation of Our Age for Legislation and Jurisprudence” (1814).9 For Savigny, jurisprudence could be neither an abstract, artificial, and academic work nor the product of an arbitrary power. He was therefore opposed to a doctrine of natural law. Inspired by the Romantic movement, Savigny affirmed that jurisprudence was first rooted in the customs (Gewohnheitsrecht) and symbolic actions (symbolische Handlungen) of the peoples. These customs were transmitted orally from generation to generation. As the Romantics looked for old popular tales and songs, Savigny looked for old customs rooted in the ordinary life of the people (Volksrecht). We may see in this kind of inquiry something very similar to Hermann Gunkel’s quest for oral traditions behind the sources of the book of Genesis.10 Law originated therefore in the particular “spirit” of a people and found its first expression  8 See Anton Friedrich Justus Thibaut, Über die Nothwendigkeit eines allgemeinen bürgerlichen Rechts für Deutschland (Heidelberg: Mohr and Zimmer, 1814).  9 Friedrich Carl von Savigny, Vom Beruf unserer Zeit für Gesetzgebung und Rechtswissenschaft, Pandektenrecht 54 (Heidelberg: Mohr und Zimmer, 1814; repr., Goldbach: Keip Reprint, 1997). 10 Hermann Gunkel, Genesis, 3rd ed. (1910; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969); ET: Genesis, trans. Mark E. Biddle (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1997). The part of the introduction on the orally transmitted stories of Genesis was published separately: Hermann Gunkel, The Stories of Genesis, ed. William R. Scott, trans. John J. Scullion (Vallejo, CA: BIBAL, 1994).

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

43

in customs. Only much later did law become the result of formal decisions pronounced by judges in courts of justice. Following Montesquieu and Hegel, Savigny and his disciple Georg Friedrich Puchta (1798–1846) used the word Volksgeist (spirit of the people) to characterize this element of popular jurisprudence. For Savigny, Puchta, and their followers, law and jurisprudence were to be found primarily in the life of the people, and the first object of the study of law was the so-called ius commune (das gemeine Recht, “common law”), still in force in Germany at that time. According to this theory, law and jurisprudence are constantly evolving, and any attempt to replace them with a sophisticated and unified code of laws imposed by a political authority risks severing the exercise of justice from the real existence of citizens. Theory and practice in jurisprudence cannot be divorced without damaging both. Here is a quotation that clarifies the point: The form … in which law lives in the common consciousness of a people is not that of abstract rules but as the living intuition of the institutions of law in their organic connexion, so that whenever the necessity arises for the rule to be conceived in its logical form, this must be first formed by a scientific procedure from that total intuition. That form reveals itself in the symbolical acts which display in visible shape the essence of the jural relation and in which the primitive laws express themselves more intelligibly and thoroughly than in written laws.11

Four essential points in Savigny’s work have a bearing on our understanding of oral tradition in ancient Israel’s juridical tradition. First, it will be important to look for the origin of jurisprudence not in the written law codes but in the actual practice of justice, most of the time in local communities. Second, this actual exercise of justice is not necessarily the work of official judges or trained jurists. This exercise of justice is the product of local communities and follows customary procedures long before it is organized at a national level in an official administration of justice. Even at that stage, much is done on a local level and according to custom. In other words, the existence of written law codes does not necessarily coincide with the end of oral customary law. Third, local and customary law is transmitted orally and is only partially reflected in written codes of law. This makes the study of biblical law more difficult, since we will have to look for unwritten sources behind the collections of laws present in Scripture. Fourth, symbolic acts are frequent in juridical procedures and they have left traces in the language used in ancient laws, where symbolic and narrative elements predominate over abstract and technical language.

11 Friedrich Carl von Savigny, System of the Modern Roman Law, trans. W. Holloway (Madras: J. Higginbotham, 1867), 12; Michael D. A. Freeman, Lloyd’s Introduction to Jurisprudence, 6th ed. (London: Stevens, 1994), 799–800; and Jackson, Making Sense, 59, which includes the passage quoted here.

44

Jean Louis Ska

B. The Icelandic Paradigm In the recent history of biblical exegesis, Icelandic culture has attracted the attention of scholars on several occasions. Claus Westermann used the Icelandic legends to explain some characteristics of the Genesis narrative.12 In the same way, studies on the ancient institutions of Israel found some surprising parallels in the regular assembly of Iceland, the Althing, with its legislative, executive, and juridical functions. The first exegete to draw attention to the Icelandic Althing and its law book, the Grágás (Grey Goose), was Heinrich August Klostermann in his studies on the Pentateuch, published for the first time in 1893.13 I. Heinrich August Klostermann and the Icelandic Althing and the Grágás Heinrich August Klostermann (1837–1915) is perhaps best known as the exegete who coined the term Heiligkeitsgesetz (Holiness Code) for the laws found in Lev 17–26.14 In a series of essays on the Pentateuch, he discussed the nature and origin of the book of Deuteronomy. One feature of this book attracted his attention, namely its combination of law and commentary. Klostermann was friendly with excellent specialists in Nordic, and especially Icelandic, literature. It does not come as a surprise that he proposed to identify a close parallel to Deuteronomy in Icelandic customs: This book [Deuteronomy] seems to have a uniquely double nature. Sometimes it appears as the law itself, sometimes as a commentary on a presupposed law. This phenomenon can be explained fully by the history of its origin. It never presents itself as the product of a lonesome and ingenious mind working at his desk, but as the result of a continuous process, i. e., the living praxis of official recitals of the law. This uniqueness loses its astonishing aspect, however, when we find a striking equivalent in the field of juridical teaching in another nation, in a written work that was conceived in similar circumstances. This is the old Icelandic lawbook Grágás, i. e., “Grey Goose.” (347)15

12 Claus Westermann, “Arten der Erzählung in der Genesis,” in Forschung am Alten Testament, TB 24 (Munich: Kaiser, 1964), 9–91. Cf. André Jolles, Einfache Formen: Legende, Sage, Mythe, Rätsel, Spruch, Kasus, Memorabile, Märchen, Witz (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1930; 2nd ed., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1958; 3rd ed., Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1968). 13 Heinrich August Klostermann, Der Pentateuch: Beiträge zu seinem Verständnis und seiner Entstehungsgeschichte, 2 vols. (Leipzig: Georg Böhme, 1893; 2nd ed., 1907). 14 For more details on Klostermann, see Dirck Ackermann, August Klostermann und der Pentateuch: Ein forschungsgeschichtlicher Beitrag zum Pentateuchproblem, Neukirchener theologische Dissertationen und Habilitationen (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1997). For a short notice, see John H. Hayes, ed., Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation (Nashville, TN: Abingdon, 1998), 32–33. On the Holiness Code, see Klostermann, Pentateuch, 1:369–418 (“Ezechiel und das Heiligkeitsgesetz”). 15 This and subsequent quotations from Klostermann’s Pentateuch are taken from vol. 2, with page numbers given in parentheses. All translations from German are mine.

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

45

A few words to describe the Icelandic parallel are in order.16 The main point of similitude between Deuteronomy and the old Icelandic lawbook Grágás is their origin. For Klostermann, Deuteronomy was not composed by an isolated writer working in an office, at a desk, but originated in the continuous praxis of the people, namely in the regular and official recitals of the law. The written form of Deuteronomy, as well the written form of the Grágás, preserves several features of this oral origin, especially the juxtaposition and combination of law and exhortation. The regular recital of the law is prescribed in Deut 31:9–13. Every seven years, the law is to be recited in front of the whole people during the Feast of Tabernacles. The ancient Icelandic laws were recited annually during an assembly of all the free citizens, the Althing (“General Assembly”; in Icelandic Alþing, Alþingi with article). From about 930 CE, this assembly has rallied all the freemen of Iceland and claims to be the longest-running democratic assembly in the world. The outdoor assembly took place every year on the plains of Þingvellir (“Thing Fields”), some forty-five kilometers from the present capital, Reykjavik. The assembly attracted most of the population and was an important social event. The chief moment was the annual proclamation of the law in effect at that time by the elected Lawspeaker (lögsögumaður), who presided over the assembly from the so-called Law Rock (Lögberg). One of his duties was to proclaim the procedural law to all those attending the Althing and to recite every year one third of the common laws. The assembly had also a legislative and juridical function. The legislative section of the Althing, the Lögrétta, settled legal conflicts, promulgated new laws, and also granted exemptions to current laws. As a juridical body, the Althing heard and took a stand on legal disputes. These laws and decrees were put in writing for the first time in 1117 upon the express request of the Althing at the farm of Haflidi Másson. The volume includes the civil laws and the laws of the church and was given the name Grágás, “Grey Goose,” perhaps because the book was written with a goose quill, or because it was bound in goose skin, or because of the age of the laws, since it was believed that geese lived longer than other birds. 16 For more information on the topic, see Jesse Byock, Medieval Iceland: Society, Sagas, and Power (Oakland: University of California Press, 1988); Jón R. Hjálmarsson, History of Iceland: From the Settlement to the Present Day (Reykjavik: Forlagið, 2009). There are other examples of ancient juridical organization based on oral traditions, as for instance in Ireland. On this point, see, among others, Fergus Kelly, A Guide to Early Irish Law (Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1988); Dáibhí Ó Cróinín, Early Medieval Ireland 400–1200 (London: Longman, 1995; 2nd ed., Oxford: Taylor & Francis, 2016); Bart Jaski, Early Irish Kingship and Succession (Dublin: Four Courts, 2013). I am grateful to Charles Conroy for this information. A similar phenomenon is present in India, in the so-called Laws of Manu. See Patrick Olivelle, “Dharmasastra: A Literary History,” in Law and Hinduism: An Introduction, ed. Timothy Lubin, Jayanth Krishnan, and Donald R. Davis Jr. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 112–43. See also Patrick Olivelle, Manu’s Code of Law: A Critical Edition and Translation of the Mānava-Dharmaśāstra (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005).

46

Jean Louis Ska

To come back to our topic, Klostermann explained that the democratic organization of Iceland and the origin of the Grágás attracted his attention when studying the book of Deuteronomy, especially because of the presence of exhortative sections preceding the legislative part: Already in my first lecture course on Deuteronomy in 1870 I taught and gave reasons for the thesis that is extensively presented in these studies, namely that Deut 5–11 contains homiletical addresses introducing and accompanying the recital of the law in official assemblies of the community, and that Deut 12 ff. could only be understood as a reproduction, explanation, and instruction for the practical application of a law that existed independently and whose verbal formulation was presupposed. (348)

An important point, in Klostermann’s explanation, is that Deut 12–26 is not exactly a code or a collection of laws, but rather an exposition and explanation of a law already in vigor. Gerhard von Rad characterized Deuteronomy in the same way when he said that it was a “preached law” (gepredigtes Gesetz).17 This law had been transmitted orally and was known by everyone attending the assembly. Deuteronomy 5–11, thus, reproduces a series of homilies uttered during the regular assemblies of the community when the law was publicly recited. This is exactly what happens in the annual Icelandic Althing and what is recorded in the Grágás: This Icelandic book [Grágás] is the most perfect example of the presentation of a land’s law in the form of a discourse by an individual who is entrusted with the official function of teaching the law. (349)18

Likewise, Klostermann supposed that there were regular recitals of the main content of Deuteronomy, starting with exhortations to observe the law and following with a series of explanations and instructions about the law itself by an individual who, like Moses, was endowed with the authority of teaching and explaining the law to the community. A final point deserves our attention. For Klostermann, orality preceded literacy in ancient Israel and remained predominant in practical life: It is to be assumed from the outset that the oral transmission of legal regulations in practical life played the primary role also in ancient Israel, and that the extant codification of these regulations was kept in the background to legitimize these rules and to be used as a final and decisive document in doubtful cases. (416) 17 Gerhard von Rad, Deuteronomium-Studien, FRLANT 58 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1948), 11. This is also one common explanation of Deut 1:5 (‫הואיל מׁשה באר את־התורה‬ ‫הזת‬, “Moses began to explain this law”); cf. Jean-Pierre Sonnet, The Book within the Book: Writing in Deuteronomy, BibInt 14 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 29–32; Eckart Otto, “Mose, der erste Schriftgelehrte. Deuteronomium 1,5 in der Fabel des Pentateuch,” in L’Écrit et l’Esprit: Études d’histoire du texte et de théologie biblique en hommage à Adrian Schenker, OBO 214 (Fribourg: Academic Press, 2005), 273–84. 18 On this law book, see Andrew Dennis, Peter Godfrey Foote, and Richard Perkins, Laws of Early Iceland: Grágás: The Codex Regius of Grágás with Material from Other Manuscripts, 2 vols. (Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1980–2000).

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

47

Klostermann learned the Scandinavian languages and discussed the matter with several authorities in the field before proposing his hypothesis. He dedicates to the study of the Grágás approximately sixty pages (349–410). Klostermann then searches the Old Testament for other traces of an organization similar to that of the Icelandic Althing. He concedes, right at the beginning of his exposition, that we do not find in the Old Testament any evidence that there were regular official recitations of the law in a general assembly of Israel and an uninterrupted chain of lawspeakers as in Iceland. We can only make hypotheses in this respect (415). In any case, Klostermann concludes that Moses is presented in the book of Deuteronomy both as a lawgiver (Gesetzgeber) and lawspeaker (Gesetzsprecher, corresponding to the Icelandic lögsögumaður), comparable to the president of the Icelandic Althing. In the same way, Joshua proclaims the law in the assembly of Shechem (Josh 24), adding some new statutes to those already known and writing them down in the Book of the Law of God (Josh 24:25–26). This is again very similar to what happened during the Icelandic Althing (416–17). Klostermann agrees that there was probably a succession of judges in ancient Israel between the time of Joshua and the monarchy of Saul and David (419–20). According to him, these narratives cannot be completely invented (419–20). Samuel, the last judge, proclaims the “law of the king” (‫ )מׁשפט המלכה‬before the assembly of Israel at Mizpah and writes it down (1 Sam 10:25) (417). Samuel is the best example of a leader whose office recalls that of the “lawspeaker” (lögsögumaður) in Iceland. He regularly convokes the assembly of Israel, in Rama, Bethel, Gilgal, or Mizpah (420–21). He presides over these assemblies to proclaim and enforce the law. In addition, Samuel conducts assemblies for specific purposes: to bring back the people to their God (1 Sam 7), or to proclaim the “law of the king” and introduce the first king of Israel, Saul (1 Sam 10). In all these cases, the addresses are oral (mündliche Vorträge). Moreover, new decrees and ordinances are added to the already existing laws (421). First Samuel 12:2–24 contains other details about the office of judge in ancient Israel. For instance, Samuel affirms that he has been faithful to the tradition and the religion of Israel’s ancestors (v. 24). More important, he considers it his duty to “instruct [Israel] in the good and the right way” (‫בדרך הטובה והיׁשרה‬, v. 23). Klostermann assumes that the other judges, prior to Samuel, may have had the same responsibility, namely that of guaranteeing fidelity to the law of Moses. Communication between the judge and the people, however, was predominantly oral since written communication was very rare (421). The decision to write down the laws and their explanations was made only in times of trouble, when continuity of the tradition and faithfulness to the past were endangered. Otherwise, oral performances were the norm. The book of Deuteronomy is a compilation of all the documents recording the official addresses on the law of Moses by “judges” in public assemblies (423–24). We do not have, however, any historical record of the compilation of the book of

48

Jean Louis Ska

Deuteronomy itself. According to Klostermann, we can only guess that this work was done around the time of David and Solomon, when Jerusalem was chosen as the central sanctuary, because Deuteronomy refers several times to the place “where the Lord will choose to reside” (cf. Deut 12:5, etc.). Klostermann prefers this solution over proposals to date the composition of Deuteronomy in the time of Josiah or Manasseh (427–28). Several elements of Klostermann’s hypothesis are problematic especially because his ideas often lack a solid argumentation.19 The most important element in his research is, in my opinion, his interest in the living tradition of law and justice in ancient Israel. The parallel between Israelite practices and the Icelandic institution of the Althing is also of great interest, although it is difficult to conduct a detailed comparison. Nonetheless, the existence of a legislative, executive, and juridical institution of this kind outside of Israel, and in a country where the conditions of life were similar to a certain extent, justifies, in my opinion, our inquiry about the oral origin and transmission of many laws in ancient Israel. II. Klostermann’s Posterity Klostermann’s theories did not have much success and very few exegetes followed him. The most important reference to his work is to be found in Albrecht Alt’s study on the origin of ancient Israel’s law.20 Albrecht Alt hypothesized that what he calls “casuistic law,” of Canaanite origin, was proclaimed, discussed, and transmitted in the regular meetings of the tribes under the guidance of the so-called minor judges (Judg 10:1–5; 12:7–15).21 Another exegete who used Klostermann’s idea was Martin Noth, in a lesserknown work of his on the laws of the Pentateuch.22 Noth depends more on Alt than on Klostermann, however, and on his own theories of the amphictyony.23 In Noth’s view, the twelve tribes were organized in an amphictyony similar to 19 Julius Wellhausen did not show much enthusiasm for Klostermann’s theories and called him privately “Issachar” (cf. Gen 49:14, “Issachar is a strong donkey, crouching between the sheepfolds”). See Rudolf Smend, “In the Wake of Wellhausen,” in Magne Sæbø, ed., Hebrew Bible / Old Testament. The History of Its Interpretation, III: From Modernism to Post-Modernism (The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries), part 1, The Nineteenth Century, a Century of Modernism and Historicism (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), 483. 20 Albrecht Alt, Die Ursprünge des israelitischen Rechts, BVSAW 86 (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1934), 1–71, esp. 31. The study is reprinted in Alt’s Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel, vol. 1 (Munich: Kaiser, 1953), 278–332. ET: “The Origins of Israelite Law,” in Albrecht Alt, Essays on Old Testament History and Religion, trans. R. A. Wilson (Oxford: Blackwell, 1966; repr., Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989), 81–132. 21 Cf. Nielsen, Oral Tradition, 48. 22 Martin Noth, Die Gesetze im Pentateuch, ihre Voraussetzungen und ihr Sinn (Halle/Saale: Niemeyer, 1940), 48; ET: The Laws in the Pentateuch and Other Studies, trans. D. R. Ap-Thomas (Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1966), 45–46. 23 Martin Noth, Das System der zwölf Stämme Israels, BWANT 52 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1930; repr., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1966), 65–75.

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

49

that known in ancient Greece and Italy. This system was founded by Joshua in the Shechem covenant (Josh 24). Afterward, the tribes met regularly in a central shrine and recited their common traditions and common laws. The great narrative themes and the major collections of laws recorded in the Pentateuch existed, therefore, long before the monarchy. Noth’s theories, as we know, did not stand up under closer scrutiny.24 The ancient laws, in Israel as in the ancient Near East, were promulgated by kings before being attributed to Moses in postexilic times.25 According to Noth, however, the foundations of Israel’s faith, political organization, and jurisprudence were laid before the monarchy.26 Gerhard von Rad relied on Noth’s arguments in his study on the origins of Israel’s faith. For von Rad, the short historical creed (Deut 26:5b–9) that is the nucleus of the Pentateuch was proclaimed regularly at Gilgal, close to the Jordan, during the celebration of Passover (see Josh 4:19–14; 5:10–12), whereas the basic law of Israel was proclaimed in Shechem every seventh year, during the celebration of Sukkot and a ceremony of covenant renewal (cf. Josh 24 and Deut 31:10).27 These ideas have been abandoned by the majority of specialists.

C. Some Pieces of Evidence in Favor of the Existence of an Oral Tradition in Ancient Israel’s Jurisprudence The marriage of Ruth and Boaz has been the object of countless studies.28 The main problem is the apparent contradiction between the narrative and the text 24 See Nielsen, Oral Tradition, 48; Steven L. McKenzie and M. Patrick Graham, eds., The History of Israel’s Traditions: The Heritage of Martin Noth, JSOTSup 182 (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1994). 25 See Bernard M. Levinson, “The Reconceptualization of Kingship in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History’s Transformation of Torah,” VT 51 (2001), 511–34; Konrad Schmid, “Divine Legislation in the Pentateuch and Its Late Judean and Neo-Babylonian Context,” in The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of the Torah, ed. Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl, and JeanPierre Sonnet, FAT 107 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 129–54; Paolo Merlo, “Il re mediatore di Dio nell’Israele antico. Lineamenti alla luce del contesto storico-religioso,” in “Multifariam multisque modis” (Eb 1,1) – Necessità e vie della mediazione divina nell’Israele biblico, ed. Marco Zappella, special issue, RStB 29.1 (2017): 67–95. 26 Noth was viscerally opposed to National Socialism. For him, demonstrating that the laws of Israel were born in the context of a covenant (German Bund), before David’s and Solomon’s empire (German Reich), was an essential task. 27 Gerhard von Rad, Das formgeschichtliche Problem des Hexateuch, BWANT 78 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1938); repr. in Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament, TB 8 (Munich: Kaiser, 1958), 9–86; ET: “The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch,” in The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, trans. E. W. Trueman Dickman (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966; repr., London: SCM, 1984), 1–78. 28 For a complete list of legal proceedings in biblical literature, see Ze’ev W. Falk, Hebrew Law in Biblical Times (Jerusalem: Wahrmann, 1964; 2nd ed., Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001), 57; cf. Jackson, Wisdom-Laws, 411–12. For a recent treatment of the marriage of Ruth and Boaz, with abundant bibliography, see Bernard S. Jackson, “Ruth, the Pentateuch and the

50

Jean Louis Ska

of the laws that address the two institutions involved in the contract in Ruth 3 and 4, namely levirate and redemption. The law of levirate in Deut 25:5–10 only speaks of levirate, and those on redemption in Lev 25 only speak of redemption. The two institutions are never combined as they are, apparently, in Ruth 4:5. For this reason, exegetes usually try to keep both transactions distinct. The marriage of Ruth is a levirate marriage and has nothing to do with redemption, which is a problem of property and crops up only in Ruth 4 when Boaz mentions Naomi’s field that can be “redeemed.” This obliges commentators to perform a couple of acrobatic exercises, for instance in the interpretation of Ruth 3:9 when Ruth asks Boaz to marry her and adds her main reason: ‫כי גאל אתה‬ – “for you are a redeemer.” This is, in my opinion, the most natural and obvious way of understanding and translating this text. Boaz immediately acknowledges that he is a ‫גאל‬, a “redeemer,” in his answer: “I am indeed a redeemer” (Ruth 3:12), despite the difficulty in the original text (qere, ‫)כי אמנם כי גאל אנכי‬. Now, Naomi’s field is mentioned nowhere in this conversation and appears only in Ruth 4:3. The difficulty arises only, in my view, because one tries to reconcile the matter with the written texts of the laws in Deut 25 and Lev 25. The problem is much simpler when one admits that the book of Ruth supposes a series of customs where the roles of levir and redeemer are combined.29 This is understandable since both roles are assumed by a next of kin. The redeemer can be a levir and the levir can be a redeemer.30 We have a confirmation of this in a prophetic text, Isa 54:1–6: “Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,” says YHWH. 2 “Enlarge the place of your tent, and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out; do not hold back; lengthen your cords and strengthen your stakes. 3 For you will spread abroad to the right and to the left, and your offspring will possess the nations and will people the desolate cities. 4 Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; be not confounded, for you will not be disgraced; for you will forget the shame of your youth, and the reproach of your widowhood (‫ )אלמנותיך‬you will remember no 1

Nature of Biblical Law: In Conversation with Jean Louis Ska,” in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles, ed. Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid, FAT 101 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 75–111, esp. 90–100. For previous studies on the topic, see, among many others, Thomas L. Thompson and Dorothy Thompson, “Some Legal Problems in the Book of Ruth,” VT 18 (1968): 79–99; Edward Lipiński, “Le mariage de Ruth,” VT 26 (1976): 124–27; D. G. R. Beattie, “Redemption in Ruth, and Related Matters: A Response to Jack M. Sasson,” JSOT 5 (1978): 65–68; Jack M. Sasson, “Ruth III: A Response,” JSOT 5 (1978): 49–51; idem, “The Issue of ge’ullah in Ruth,” JSOT 5 (1978): 52–64; Raymond Westbrook, Property and the Family in Biblical Law, JSOTSup 113 (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1991), 38–44, 87–89. 29 On this problem, see, for instance, Tikva Frymer-Kensky, “Israel,” in A History of Ancient Near Eastern Law, vol. 2, ed. Raymond Westbrook, HdO 1.72.2 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 975–1046, esp. 1020. 30 See Bernard S. Jackson, “Ruth’s Conversion: Then and Now,” The Jewish Law Annual 19 (2011): 77–78, 90–91.

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

51

more. 5 For your Maker is your husband (‫)בעליך‬, YHWH of hosts is his name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer (‫)וגאלך‬, the God of the whole earth he is called. 6 For YHWH has called you like a wife deserted and grieved in spirit, like a wife of youth when she is cast off, says your God.”

This text speaks indisputably of marriage, since YHWH promises to marry Jerusalem again.31 Let us note, for instance, that we find in v. 5, side by side, the terms “husband” (‫ )בעל‬and “redeemer” (‫)גאל‬, that is, the terminology of levirate and that of redemption. Moreover, Jerusalem is compared to a barren widow without children (Isa 54:1, 4). This is exactly the case foreseen by the law of levirate in Deut 25:5–10 and the case of Naomi and Ruth in the book that bears the name of the latter. Now, in Isa 54, God promises to marry the childless widow in his capacity of redeemer (‫גאל‬, Isa 54:5), and it is difficult, to say the least, to refute that the redeemer, in this case, acts as a levir (cf. Deut 25:5–10). That we are not in the world of written laws is confirmed in two ways, I think. First, there is neither an explicit nor an implicit reference to any written text in the book of Ruth. The famous expression ‫ככתוב‬, “as it is written,”32 frequent in 1–2 Chronicles and in Ezra-Nehemiah, is nowhere to be found in Ruth. Ruth 4:7 refers not to a written text, but to a “custom” (“Now this was [done] so in former times in Israel concerning redeeming and exchanging: to confirm a transaction, the one drew off his sandal and gave it to the other, and this was the manner of attesting (‫ )התעודה‬in Israel”).33 Again, all the attempts to reconcile the gesture mentioned in Ruth 4:8b, namely the removing of a sandal by the redeemer who renounces his claim on Ruth, with Deut 25:9–10 are condemned to failure. There, the widow whom the levir refuses to marry takes off his sandal, and the house of this man is called “the house of him who had his sandal pulled off,” “the house of the unshod one.” In the book of Ruth, we have most probably a transaction conducted according to local customs and sanctioned by the local authorities – the assembly of ten men convoked by Boaz in Ruth 4:2. We may note that the juridical decision is accompanied by a symbolic gesture, a detail that reminds us of Savigny’s reflections on the ius commune.34 The removal of the sandal corresponds to the renunciation of a right by the “other redeemer” in favor of Boaz.35 31 For more details about this text and the vocabulary used in it, see Ulrich Berges, Jesaja 49–54, HThKAT (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2015), 292–305. Jeremy Schipper alludes to Isa 54:1–5, but does not use it to solve the juridical problem of Ruth and Boaz’s marriage. Ruth: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 7D (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016), 135–36. 32 See Josh 8:31; 1 Kgs 2:3; 2 Kgs 14:6; 23:21; 2 Chr 23:18; 25:4; 30:5, 18; 31:3; 35:12, 26; Ezra 3:2, 4; Neh 8:15; 10:35, 37. 33 On the Greek version of this text, see Alexander Rofé, “Ruth 4:11 LXX – A Midrashic Dramatization,” Textus 20 (2000), 129–40. On this custom, see Jackson, “Ruth’s Conversion,” 55–58. 34 See, on this point, Åke Viberg, Symbols of Law: A Contextual Analysis of Legal Symbolic Acts in the Old Testament, ConBOT 34 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1992), 145–65. 35 See Frymer-Kensky, “Israel,” 1020: “Ruth records an old custom in which the land was

52

Jean Louis Ska

There are no officially appointed functionaries in Bethlehem and no public administration to authorize and endorse Boaz’s marriage with Ruth. This may be required by the narrative itself, at least according to Ruth 1:1, which situates the story during the time of the judges, before the monarchy. Nonetheless, if one accepts the usual dating of the book much later, in the postexilic period and not too far from the time of Ezra–Nehemiah, it is somewhat more surprising that nothing is said about the problems of this marriage. After all, Ruth is a Moabite and, according to Deut 23:4–7, quoted in Neh 13:1–3, Moabites should be excluded from the assembly of YHWH. The interpretation of Deut 23:4–7 and its possible application to the case of Ruth could be discussed, but it remains true, and this is the important point, that this law is never explicitly alluded to in the book of Ruth. In conclusion, we have several good reasons to believe that the marriage of Ruth and Boaz does not conform to the written laws contained in the collections of laws present in the actual Pentateuch but can be explained more satisfactorily by recourse to juridical customs, transmitted orally and applied in the local, traditional, administration of justice. I. The Case of Jer 26 Some may object to my first example on the grounds that in the book of Ruth we are in Bethlehem and not in Jerusalem, and thus at some distance from the official courts of justice. Let us go to Jerusalem for another case, therefore. In Jer 26, the prophet is condemned to death by the ‫ׂשרים‬, “the princes,” “the officials” of Judah.36 This time we are in an official court of justice, most probably appointed by the king since the functionaries come from the royal palace (Jer 26:10).37 then transferred symbolically by the handing over of a sandal (Ruth 4:7).” For a different interpretation, see Jackson, “Ruth,” 93–97 (Boaz removes his sandal because he acts as a levir). 36  For Hans Jochen Boecker, this is the most complete description of a trial in the Old Testament. Recht und Gesetz im Alten Testament und im Alten Orient, Neukirchener Studienbücher 10 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1976), 35–36; ET: Law and the Administration of Justice in the Old Testament and Ancient East, trans. Jeremy Moiser (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1980), 44. See also Pietro Bovati, Re-Establishing Justice: Legal Terms, Concepts and Procedures in the Hebrew Bible, trans. Michael J. Smith, JSOTSup 105 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 228–29, 332. For a thorough examination of the problems of this chapter, see, among others, William McKane, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah, 2 vols., ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 2:659–83; Georg Fischer, Jeremia 26–52, HThKAT (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2005), 19–43; Jack R. Lundbom, Jeremiah 21–36: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 21B (New York: Doubleday, 2004), 281–302; Lundbom assumes the historicity of the chapter (283–85). For some less recent views on the nature and purpose of this chapter (with bibliography), see, among many others, Frank-Lothar Hossfeld and Ivo Meyer, “Der Prophet vor dem Tribunal. Neuer Auslegungsversuch von Jer 26,” ZAW 86 (1974), 30–50 (a first account of Jeremiah’s trial was reworked by a Deuteronomist redactor); Kathleen M.

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

53

Jeremiah is accused by the priests and the prophets of prophesying against the temple and the city of Jerusalem (Jer 26:8–9, quoting 26:6). Now there is no reference whatsoever to any text of law or to any law in this accusation, only, perhaps, an implicit or remote allusion to false prophecy (cf. Deut 18:22). And we do not find any law about the sacrality of the city of Jerusalem or that of its temple in the collections of laws extant in the Old Testament. Jeremiah answers the accusation in 26:12–15 and, again, there is no hint of any legal text or legal procedure in his defense. He simply affirms that he speaks in the name of YHWH and to fulfill a mission. He is acquitted by the officials because they recognize that Jeremiah “spoke in the name of YHWH” (v. 16). This justification for the acquittal does not refer to any special legal document, but rather to a common conception of what a “true prophet” must be. The officials act on their own authority and “make the law”; they do not apply or enforce a written text of law. In the following paragraph, the elders (‫ )הזקנים‬intervene on behalf of Jeremiah and use a well-known procedure, namely, recourse to a precedent (26:17–19).38 They quote the legal case of the prophet Micah who had prophesied against Jerusalem and its temple under King Hezekiah, quoting as Jeremiah himself did the example of the destruction of Shiloh. If Jerusalem does not repent, her fate will be like that of Shiloh. Hezekiah did not condemn Micah to death, instead he repented with all the people of Judah. There is no reason, therefore, to condemn Jeremiah, who prophesied in the same way. It would be more opportune to repent as people did in Hezekiah’s time. My point is that this narrative never uses any written text of law and everything is decided according to principles known to everyone. This happens in Jerusalem, at the court of the king, shortly before the fall of holy city, and not in the countryside at an early stage of Israel’s history.39 II. Jer 32:6–15, a Case of Redemption This passage describes a transaction that is also mentioned in some written laws, namely in Lev 25.40 Jeremiah buys a field because he has the “right of redemption” (‫מׁשפט הגאלה לקנות‬, Jer 32:7) or “the right of inheritance” (‫מׁשפט הירׁשה‬, Jer 32:8), which could be translated as “the right of preemption.” As in the O’Connor, “‘Do not Trim a Word’: The Contributions of Chapter 26 to the Book of Jeremiah,” CBQ 51 (1989): 617–30 (618: Jer 26 is “a midrashic elaboration of chap. 7”). 37 On the juridical function of the śārîm, see Frymer-Kensky, “Israel,” 986. 38 On this section of the chapter, see, among others, McKane, Jeremiah, 2:665–72. 39 For more details about the legal procedures attested in Jer 26, see, among others, Bernard S. Jackson, “The Trials of Jesus and Jeremiah,” Brigham Young University Studies 32.4 (1992): 63–77; idem, Essays on Halakhah in the New Testament (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 33–58. 40 On the textual problems in this chapter, see Andrew G. Shead, The Open Book and the Sealed Book: Jeremiah 32 in Its Hebrew and Greek Recensions, JSOTSup 347 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002).

54

Jean Louis Ska

former case, however, there is no allusion to any written text of law, in particular to Lev 25, nor does Lev 25:23–28 make any reference to a written deed (cf. Jer 32:10–12).41 Here is a precise description of the transaction (Jer 32:9–12): 9 And I bought the field at Anathoth from Hanamel my cousin, and weighed out the money to him, seventeen shekels of silver. 10 I signed the deed, sealed it, got witnesses, and weighed the money on scales. 11 Then I took the sealed deed of purchase, containing the terms and conditions and the open copy. 12 And I gave the deed of purchase to Baruch the son of Neriah son of Mahseiah, in the presence of Hanamel my cousin, in the presence of the witnesses who signed the deed of purchase, and in the presence of all the Judeans who were sitting in the court of the guard.

This is a good example of a contract of sale between individuals on a local level according to local custom.42 We have the use of some juridical terminology such as “right of redemption” or “right of possession/preemption” (Jer 32:7–8), and the LXX adds that Jeremiah has the right to buy the plot of land because he is the “elder” (39:8 LXX, καὶ σὺ πρεσβύτερος; Vulgate, “et tu propinquus es,” “you are the next of kin”), but there is no allusion to a written commercial law. The text is precise: it records the presence of witnesses and of a document, a deed of purchase that has been signed by Jeremiah and by the witnesses and sealed. No officials are present at the purchase, only anonymous witnesses. Clearly, sale and purchase agreements were concluded in that time according to well-established customs, orally transmitted and known to the participants in the deal. No officials and no written codes of commercial law were needed. III. Jer 34:8–22 and the Liberation of Slaves Jeremiah 34 presents another interesting case, because this time we find a reference to an existing law, but with some surprising particularities.43 Even in this 41 See, among many others, Lundbom, Jeremiah, 505. I thank Bernard Jackson for this information. 42 On this procedure, see Frymer-Kensky, “Israel,” 1020. For a detailed exegesis of the chapter and its problems, see McKane, Jeremiah, 2:838–42; Lundbom, Jeremiah, 495–525; Fischer, Jeremia, 184–218. 43 On the legal aspects of this chapter, see Frymer-Kensky, “Israel,” 1020; Jackson, WisdomLaws, 444–45. See also Adrian Schenker, “Die Freilassung der hebräischen Sklaven nach Dt 15,12 und Jer 34,8–22” (1993), in Recht und Kult im Alten Testament: Achtzehn Studien, OBO 172 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 150–57 = “La liberazione degli schiavi a Gerusalemme secondo Geremia 34,8–22,” RivB 41 (1993): 453–58; Yair Hoffman, “The Law as a Literary Shaping Device: The Law of Manumission and the Story in Jeremiah 32:8–22,” Beth Mikra 168 (2001): 2–10 (in Hebrew; English summary, 98). For the literary problems of this chapter, see McKane, Jeremiah, 2:878–84; for a stylistic and intertextual analysis, see Lundbom, Jeremiah, 547–69; Fischer, Jeremia, 242–61. The shorter text of the LXX represents most probably an earlier stage of the composition of the chapter. On this problem, see J. Gerald Janzen, Studies in the Text of Jeremiah, HSM 6 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973), 51; Shirley Lal Wijesinghe, Jeremiah 34,8–22: Structure and Redactional History of the Masoretic Text and of the Septuagint Hebrew Vorlage (Colombo, Sri

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

55

circumstance, we observe a clear distance between theory and practice, between the law and the events. 1. King Zedekiah’s Manumission of Slaves Let us first recount the facts. According to Jer 34:8–22, King Zedekiah concluded a covenant (‫ברית‬, 34:8) with the inhabitants of Jerusalem to proclaim a manumission of the Hebrew slaves (‫דרור‬, 34:8) without giving any precise reason for this measure.44 The slaves are liberated, but after a while the people change their mind and return all the slaves, male and female, to servitude (Jer 34:8–11). Jeremiah’s oracle that follows condemns this action with severity. This time, however, the prophetic oracle quotes a law that was proclaimed after the exodus and can be found, it seems, in Deut 15:12–15, since Jer 34:9, 10, 11, and 16 mention slaves, both male and female, exactly as Deut 15:12 mentions explicitly both categories (‫אחיך העברי או העבריה‬, “your kinsman [brother] either male or female”; cf. 15:17), whereas Exod 21:7 makes a clear distinction and excludes the manumission of female slaves after six years: “When a man sells his daughter as a slave, she shall not go out as the male slaves do.” Here is the text of Jeremiah’s oracle: The word of YHWH came to Jeremiah from YHWH: “Thus says YHWH, the God of Israel: I myself made a covenant with your fathers when I brought them out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, saying, 14 ‘At the end of seven years each of you must set free the fellow Hebrew who has been sold to you and has served you six years; you must set him free from your service.’ But your fathers did not listen to me or incline their ears to me. 15 You recently repented and did what was right in my eyes by proclaiming liberty, each to his neighbor, and you made a covenant before me in the house that is called by my name, 16 but then you turned around and profaned my name when each of you took back his male and female slaves, whom you had set free according to their desire, and you brought them into subjection to be your slaves.” 12 13

One point in this passage is of major importance with respect to our problem. Interestingly, the decision of the king is not supported by any reference to a law.45 Lanka: Centre for Society and Religion, 1999). On the possible Deuteronomic/Deuteronomistic redaction of this chapter, see McKane, Jeremiah, 2:882–84; Mark Leuchter, The Polemics of Exile in Jeremiah 26–45 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 84. On the liberation of slaves and the Jubilee, see Robert North, Sociology of the Biblical Jubilee (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1954); Raymond Westbrook, “Jubilee Laws,” Israel Law Review 6.2 (1971): 209–26; idem, Property and the Family in Biblical Law, JSOTSup 113 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 36–57; Yairah Amit, “The Jubilee Law – An Attempt at Instituting Social Justice,” in Justice and Righteousness: Biblical Themes and Their Influence, ed. Henning Graf Reventlow and Yair Hoffman, JSOTSup 137 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), 37–59. 44 For some possible reasons, see Bernard S. Jackson, “Justice and Righteousness in the Bible: Rule of Law or Royal Paternalism?,” ZABR 4 (1998): 238–42. 45 McKane observes that “Even this [viz., that the terms of the proclamation reflect a generosity of spirit, an extraordinary magnanimity spurred by solidarity in the face of a common danger] does not effectively relate the proclamation of chapter 34 to the laws of Exod 21.2 and

56

Jean Louis Ska

The king acts on his own authority and, apparently, has no need to refer to any kind of legislation in this matter.46 Zedekiah’s covenant was made “before me [YHWH]” (Jer 34:15, 18), but not “according to the law of YHWH” (cf. Exod 24:8). As Bernard Jackson aptly observes, “That indicates the absence of modern concerns with the distinction between legislation and adjudication.”47 Some commentators have tried to reconcile King Zedekiah’s decision with the law quoted by Jeremiah in 34:14.48 This is problematic, however. First, the king’s decision itself is not referred to any law, custom, or juridical statement. Second, the manumission is collective, simultaneous, and immediate for all slaves and does not occur individually after six years of indenture, as required by the law in Deuteronomy. Third, the law in Deuteronomy mentions neither a king’s adjudication nor the necessity of a covenant. Fourth, it is not certain that Jer 34:14 quotes the wording of Deut 15:12 (see below). For all these reasons, one may question the presupposition of some scholars that the written law has a positive or statuary force. This is a typical “continental” and “Western” conception of law that does not necessarily apply to ancient or biblical administration of justice.49 In a few words, it is not indisputable that Deut 15.12.” Jeremiah, 2:880. See also Simeon Chavel, “‘Let My People Go!’ Emancipation, Revelation, and Scribal Activity in Jeremiah 34.8–14,” JSOT 76 (1997): 74–75: “Zedekiah makes no reference to the Pentateuchal codes. He simply declares deror, similar more to the ancient Near Eastern andurarum acts than to the law in Leviticus 25.” For a thorough demonstration, see Moshe Weinfeld, “Sabbatical Year and the Jubilee in the Pentateuchal Laws and their Ancient Near Eastern Background,” in The Law in the Bible and in Its Environment, ed. Timo Veijola (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 1990), 39–62, esp. 39–42. 46  This procedure is known in the ancient Near East, especially in Mesopotamia. Cf., among others, Gregory C. Chirichigno, Debt-Slavery in Israel and the Ancient Near East, JSOTSup 141 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 57–58. Among the most important and well-known edicts, see that of Ammisaduqa. Cf. Jacob J. Finkelstein, “Ammisaduqa’s Edict and the Babylonian ‘Law Codes,’” JCS 15 (1961): 91–104. Cf. Jackson, Wisdom-Laws, 445: “this evidence suggests that the source of such normative paragraphs is royal proclamation, communicated orally, but no doubt from a written text prepared for that purpose.” 47 Jackson, Wisdom-Laws, 445. 48 Schenker, for instance, proposes to understand Zedekiah’s measure as the implementation (“Inkraftsetzung”) of a forgotten or neglected law. “Freilassung,” 152. It seems to me that this solution is very close to that proposed here, with a difference, however. King Zedekiah applies a “common law” or refers to a custom rather than to the written text of a positive and statuary law. 49 For a discussion of this problem, see, among others, Jackson, “Justice and Righteousness,” 218: “I have argued that the biblical model of law is quite different [from modern forms of administrating justice based on recognized and authorized rules]. First, there is no privileging of the legal system as the medium for the resolution of disputes; indeed, there are strong expressions of a preference for private settlement, thereby avoiding the shame of public exposure. Secondly, there are both literary and substantive reasons to believe that many of the rules of biblical law (especially those found in what is widely regarded as the earliest collection, the ‘Covenant Code’ of Exodus 21:1–23:19) originated as ‘practical wisdom’ designed for private settlement (often providing a framework for self-help) and for didactic use, rather than application by courts of law. Third, the descriptions of the functions of courts in the pre-exilic sources are remarkably consistent in omitting all reference to any duty to apply general legal rules: rather, they simply bid the judges avoid corruption and ‘do justice.’ I have argued that

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

57

King Zedekiah enacts the written text of a previous law and that this law is to be found in the literal content of Deut 15:12 or even in the form quoted in Jer 34:14. It is not even sure that kings, officials, or judges, in ancient Israel and in the ancient Near East, were bound to apply the law in its literality. To come back to our text, the decision in Jeremiah 34 is sanctioned by a covenant between the king and the inhabitants of Jerusalem.50 This means that we have a personal commitment involving the king and his subjects before God. To quote William McKane, “The ‫ ברית‬here seems to be a bargain or a contract; it is concluded between two parties and it defines services to be performed and payment to be received.”51 The procedure for sealing a covenant was well known, since Jeremiah alludes to the symbolic act of passing through the two parts of a calf in 34:18, a traditional ritual of covenant-making. We have, again, a typical juridical procedure regulated by tradition rather than by legal codes and sealed by a symbolic gesture, the passing through the halves of an animal cut into two parts. This corresponds exactly to Savigny’s description of ius commune. 2. Jeremiah’s Oracle and a Double Shift in Mentality The other point that deserves attention is the scathing critique in Jeremiah’s oracle (34:12–22). My contention is that this oracle shows a double shift in mentality. On the one hand, for Jeremiah, the supreme authority passes from the king to the Law, in this case the Deuteronomic Law, and, on the other, the prophet replaces the king as the representative of God on earth and as “lawspeaker.” As a first step, let us establish with more precision the relationship between Jer 34:14 and Deut 15:12.52 This problem is often discussed, and scholars offer different solutions. It seems to me, however, that the most convincing opinion is that Jer 34:14 freely quotes a known law, but with a certain freedom, typical of a mentality well described by Savigny. The law quoted in Jer 34:14 belongs to a ius commune rather than to a written code of positive and statuary laws.

this ‘justice’ is conceived as an amalgam of local custom and divinely-inspired intuition as to the appropriate solution on the facts of the particular case.” See also 244–45, and cf. Jackson, Wisdom-Laws, 23–39. For a slightly different opinion, see Raymond Westbrook, “What is the Covenant Code?,” in Theory and Method in Biblical and Cuneiform Law: Revision, Interpolation and Development, ed. Bernard M. Levinson, JSOTSup 181 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 15–36. 50 For an analysis of the text and its juridical value, see Jackson, “Justice and Righteousness,” 238–42. Jackson insists on the theological shape of the narrative: “After the event, however, the incident is written up in a form better designed to stress its theological significance” (242). 51 McKane, Jeremiah, 2:881. 52 For a comparison between the two texts, see, among others, Chavel, “Let My People Go,” 77–79 and passim; Fischer, Jeremia, 255, who insists on the presence of a real quotation (“Zitat”).

58

Jean Louis Ska

A close reading of both texts corroborates this opinion. Actually, the content of Jer 34:14 is very similar to that of Deut 15:12, but the formulation is not. We hear the same music but not always the same notes. This means that we do not have in this case a literal quotation from a written text, but rather an interpretation of and a free reference to either a law or a well-established custom.53 In other words, the reference is more to a ius commune than to a written code. Here are the main reasons in favor of this opinion: (1) In Jer 34:14 there is no clear reference to a written text with the usual expression “as it is written” (‫)ככתוב‬. The text uses the verb ‫( אמר‬v. 13), which supposes an oral rather than a written communication. (2) The text in Jer 34:14 begins with the expression, “at the end of seven years” – ‫מקץ ׁשבע ׁשנים‬ – which does not really fit the context and does not belong to Deut 15:12 but to Deut 15:1 (cf. Deut 31:10; see also the LXX: ὅταν πληρωθῇ ἓξ ἔτη, “when six years are complete”).54 (3) There are slight differences between the MT of Deut 15:12 and Jer 34:14, as between the MT of Jer 34:14 and the Greek translation of this text in Jer 41:14.55 Deut 15:12

Jer 34:14

‫י־יִּמ ֵכר ְלָך ָא ִחיָך ָה ִע ְב ִרי אֹו ָה ִע ְב ִרּיָ ה וַ ֲע ָב ְדָך ֵׁשׁש‬ ָ ‫ִּכ‬ ‫יעת ְּת ַׁש ְּל ֶחּנּו ָח ְפ ִׁשי ֵמ ִע ָּמְך׃‬ ִ ‫ּוב ָּׁשנָ ה ַה ְּׁש ִב‬ ַ ‫ָׁשנִ ים‬

‫ת־א ִחיו ָה ִע ְב ִרי ֲא ֶׁשר־‬ ָ ‫ִמ ֵּקץ ֶׁש ַבע ָׁשנִ ים ְּת ַׁש ְּלחּו ִאיׁש ֶא‬ ‫יִּמ ֵכר ְלָך וַ ֲע ָב ְדָך ֵׁשׁש ָׁשנִ ים וְ ִׁש ַּל ְחּתֹו ָח ְפ ִׁשי ֵמ ִע ָּמְך‬ ָ

If your fellow [kinsman, brother], a Hebrew man or a Hebrew woman, is sold to you, he shall serve you six years, and in the seventh year you shall let him go free from you.

At the end of seven years each of you must set free the fellow Hebrew who has been sold to you and has served you six years; you must set him free from your service.

The order of words is not the same; Jer 34:14 does not mention explicitly the female slave,56 as Deut 15:12 does (cf. 15:17); Jer 34:14 uses the plural at the 53 Leuchter, Polemics of Exile, 85: “an actual oral citation.” Cf. especially Bernard M. Levinson, “The Manumission of Hermeneutics: The Slave Laws of the Pentateuch as Challenge to Contemporary Pentateuchal Theory,” in Congress Volume, Leiden 2004, ed. André Lemaire, VTSup 109 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 281–324, esp. 302n61: “halakhic interpretation.” See also the different nuances in Chavel, “Let My People Go!,” 77, 78, 81, 83, 85. 54 See, among many others, Chavel, “Let My People Go,” 82; Mark Leuchter, “The Manumission of Slaves in Leviticus and Deuteronomy: The Jeremiah Connection,” JBL 127 (2008): 635–53, esp. 641–44. Leuchter prefers to see a connection between Jer 34:14 and Deut 31:10 rather than Deut 15:1. This would connect Jeremiah’s oracle with the septennial proclamation of the Law of Deuteronomy by the Levites. A first problem with this hypothesis is that we do not find anywhere in our sources attestations that there was ever an actual public reading of the law every seven years. A second difficulty is that the manumission of slaves, according to Deut 15:12, happens individually, after six years of indenture, and not collectively. Third, Deut 31:10 mentions explicitly the šěmiṭṭā, a release of debts (Deut 15:1), and does not speak of the manumission of slaves (Deut 15:12–18). 55 See, among others, Chavel, “Let My People Go,” 77–85. 56 For this reason, Jackson proposes to see a connection between Jer 34:14 and the “statutes and ordinances” proclaimed at Marah (Exod 15:25), rather than to Deut 15:12, as do the Mekilta, b. Sanhedrin 56b, and Rashi and Ramban on Exod 15:25. Wisdom-Laws, 151.

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

59

beginning of the sentence and a different verbal form (‫)ּת ַׁש ְּלחּו‬ ְ than Deut 15:12 (‫)ּת ַׁש ְּל ֶחּנּו‬. ְ 57 A literal quotation would have avoided such differences, which are more common in oral transmissions or in an interpretation of a known regulation. The prophet’s oracle seems, therefore, to quote freely a law that corresponds in its content to Deut 15:12.58 (4) There are also differences between Jer 34:14 MT and its Greek translation in the LXX. Jer 34:14 MT

Jer 41:14 LXX

‫ת־א ִחיו ָה ִע ְב ִרי‬ ָ ‫ִמ ֵּקץ ֶׁש ַבע ָׁשנִ ים ְּת ַׁש ְּלחּו ִאיׁש ֶא‬ ‫ר־יִּמ ֵכר ְלָך וַ ֲע ָב ְדָך ֵׁשׁש ָׁשנִ ים וְ ִׁש ַּל ְחּתֹו ָח ְפ ִׁשי‬ ָ ‫ֲא ֶׁש‬ ‫ֵמ ִע ָּמְך‬

ὅταν πληρωθῇ ἓξ ἔτη ἀποστελεῖς τὸν ἀδελφόν σου τὸν Εβραῖον ὃς πραθήσεταί σοι καὶ ἐργᾶταί σοι ἓξ ἔτη καὶ ἐξαποστελεῖς αὐτὸν ἐλεύθερον

At the end of seven years each of you must set free the fellow Hebrew who has been sold to you and has served you six years; you must set him free from your service.

When six years are complete, you will send away your Hebrew brother who has been sold to you and has worked for you six years and you will send him free.

Let us quote Gerald Janzen’s accurate comment on Jer 34:14 MT // 41:14 LXX. According to him, Jer 34:14 MT // 41:14 LXX “has filled out from Deut. 15.12–13 (cf. also 15.18). That the passage is not quoting Deuteronomy precisely is suggested by another reading in this verse ‫[ איׁש את־אחיו העברי‬M] G = ‫את־אחיך‬ ‫העברי‬. In this latter instance, G (or its Vorlage) may be secondarily attracted to Deut. 15.12, while M probably is the original, slightly paraphrased citation of this law.”59 (5) Let us add one more point about Jer 34:8–22 since it has a bearing on the exegesis of 34:14 as well. The passage uses some terminology foreign to Deuteronomy. Two terms deserve attention. First, the manumission is described by the term ‫(דרור‬Jer 34:8, 15, 17bis) in the syntagma ‫( קרא דרור‬to proclaim liberty), present in Lev 25:10 (Holiness Code), Isa 61:1, and Ezek 46:17, but not in Deuteronomy.60 Second, we find the term ‫ ׁשפחה‬in Jer 34:9, 10, 11bis, 16, another term absent from the laws in Deut 15, which prefers to use the term ‫ אמה‬in 15:17 (cf. Exod 21:7). These are slight variations, undoubtedly; we know that copying is not photocopying, and that, for instance, ‫ ׁשפחה‬and ‫ אמה‬are often interchangeable (cf. Gen 30:3, 4; 1 Sam 1:16, 18),61 but these differences are easier to explain in an oral transmission than in a literal quotation. 57 See,

for instance, the observations by Chavel, “Let My People Go,” 81. Polemics of Exile, 85. 59 Janzen, Studies, 51. Cf. Wijesinghe, Jeremiah 34,8–22, 90–93; Innocenzo Cardellini also considers Jer 34:14 to be a free quotation. Die biblischen “Sklaven”-Gesetze im Lichte des keilschriftlichen Sklavenrechts: Ein Beitrag zur Tradition, Überlieferung und Redaktion der alttestamentlichen Rechtstexte, BBB 55 (Königstein: Peter Hanstein, 1981), 318. 60 On this term, see Leuchter, “Manumission of Slaves,” 648–49. 61 See the still valuable article by Alfred Jepsen, “Amah und Schiphchah,” VT 8 (1958): 293– 97. See also Jackson, Wisdom-Laws, 88, and esp. 96n100. 58 Leuchter,

60

Jean Louis Ska

In conclusion, we may say that there is a genuine correspondence between Deut 15:12 and Jer 34:14, but the latter is not a literal quotation of the former. We cannot simply contrast the king’s decision with a written law. The main point, however, is that the prophet subordinates the king’s authority to another, superior, authority, that of a law proclaimed by God himself and prior to the monarchy. Jeremiah could have accused King Zedekiah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem of perjury simply because they broke their covenant. The prophet, however, adds two important elements to his act of accusation. First, he mentions another, previous, covenant, which YHWH concluded with the ancestors of the people “when I brought them back out of Egypt” (Jer 34:13). The allusion to the exodus is most probably intentional in this context of liberation of slaves.62 Second, the prophet quotes a law that goes back to the time of the exodus and requires the regular manumission of slaves, both males and females, after six years of service. The prophet compares the violation of Zedekiah’s covenant with the violation of the covenant made with the generation of the exodus (Jer 34:14b–15). Doing this, Jeremiah uses the Exodus covenant as a paradigm and criterion in judging Zedekiah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem.63 We can pinpoint here, it seems to me, the beginning of a new mentality. First, the king is no longer the supreme authority or the main channel between God and the people. Second, there is another moment in Israel’s history that precedes the monarchy, the exodus. The people’s history begins with the exodus and not with the monarchy. Moreover, the king and the citizens of Jerusalem are judged according to a precedent going back to the time of the book of Exodus. They are condemned because they violated a covenant concerning slaves just as the generation of the exodus was condemned for breaking the Exodus covenant about slaves (Jer 34:12–15). We have here a shift of authority, from the authority of the king to the authority of a previous, fundamental, and paradigmatic, law, that of Exodus.64 The second important element is that the “lawspeaker,” to go back to the Icelandic paradigm, is the prophet, in this case Jeremiah. He does not proclaim the law, rather he reminds the people of their commitment to their God and to the Law. Jeremiah also interprets the law of Deut 15:12 according to the circumstances of Zedekiah’s reign.

62 Interestingly, Jer 34 mentions neither Moses nor Mount Sinai/Horeb. The same holds true for Jer 31:31–34. 63 See Chavel, “Let My People Go,” 77. 64 We do not know how Zedekiah reacted. As usual, biblical narratives follow the “law of thrift” and leave it up to the reader to draw the right conclusion. On the “law of thrift,” see Ska, “Our Fathers Have Told Us,” 70. I thank Bernard Jackson for drawing my attention to this detail as to many others.

The Tablet of the Heart and the Tablets of Stone

61

D. Conclusion In short, our inquiry on some biblical texts tends to confirm Savigny’s insights, namely that ius commune, transmitted orally and often accompanied by symbolic gestures, is also present in the Old Testament. Second, the Icelandic paradigm proposed by Klostermann proved less fruitful, but his insistence on oral transmission and the institution of lawspeakers could be used in an analogous way to understand the role of prophets such as Jeremiah. In Jer 34, the prophet recalls the covenant of God with Israel in the foundation time of the exodus and the law proclaimed on that occasion.65 It would be difficult to see an opposition here between the Law and the prophets, as was done in Wellhausen’s time. The prophet, in this case, is the authentic custodian and defender of the law. Eventually, Jer 34 shows that the authority of God’s law is superior to that of the king. Later, the Torah will become the supreme authority as written code and as positive law, as in Ezra–Nehemiah.66

65 See also the conclusion of Malachi’s prophecy (4:4; Hebrew 3:22): “Remember the law of my servant Moses, the statutes and rules that I commanded him at Horeb for all Israel.” 66  Even in this case, the texts quoted are interpreted. See, for instance, Juha Pakkala, “The Quotations and References of the Pentateuchal Laws in Ezra-Nehemiah,” in Changes in Scripture: Rewriting and Interpreting Authoritative Traditions in the Second Temple Period, ed. Hanne von Weissenberg, Juha Pakkala, and Marko Marttila, BZAW 419 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011), 193–221. See already, for instance, Michael Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 109–12 (on Neh 8:13–17), 126–29 (on Neh 13:1–3). According to Jackson, Neh 5 is the first example of an application of a positive law: “Nehemiah presents us, for the first time in the history of Israel, with evidence of a ‘royal (retrospective) deror’ leading to incorporation of prospective rules which we can identify as positive law.” “Justice and Righteousness,” 242–43. Positive law is “the standard basis of judicial settlement” (243n93).

Part 2

The Saviors of Israel (Early Neo-Assyrian Period)

The Birth of Israelite Historiography* A Comparative Study of 2 Kings 13–14 and Ninth‒Eighth-Century BCE Levantine Historiographies Peter Dubovský The first wave of Assyrian expansion in the ninth and eighth centuries brought important changes in the ancient Near East. Besides political changes, these centuries witnessed variegated scribal activities including the composition of historiographic corpora. In this paper I will focus on regions that experienced the coercion or blessing of Assyrian expansion, namely Urartu (Assyria’s archenemy), Suḫu (competing with Assyria for territorial control), Hamath and Moab (partially or fully independent kingdoms), Sam’al (Assyrian vassals), and Til Barsip (the annals of Assyrian governor Šamši-ilu). These regions were chosen, first, because of the variety of their relations with Assyria; second, because of differences in their proximity to and relations with Israel; and third, because they produced important historiographic corpora that can be compared with 1–2 Kings. The textual remains of these diverse kingdoms will illustrate how the new political situation made its way into historiographies. Since only a few documents from Israel have been unearthed, and none of them can be classified as Israelite royal annals, the fundamental question is, When did the Israelites begin to reflect on their past?1 Comparing a range of ancient Near Eastern historiographies with 1–2 Kings, I will argue that Israelite reflection on its own past started during the first period of the Neo-Assyrian expansion, i. e., in the late ninth and early eighth century.

* Biblical quotations are taken from the NRSV unless otherwise indicated. All dates are BCE. 1  For a review of previous studies, see Alexander Rofé, “Properties of Biblical Historiography and Historical Thought,” VT 66 (2016): 433–55; Rainer Kessler, Sozialgeschichte des Alten Israel: Eine Einführung, 2nd ed. (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2008); Shmuel Ahituv, Echoes from the Past: Hebrew and Cognate Inscriptions from the Biblical Period (Jerusalem: Carta, 2008); H. G. M. Williamson, Understanding the History of Ancient Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007); Lester L. Grabbe, Ancient Israel: What Do We Know and How Do We Know It? (London: T&T Clark, 2007); Mario Liverani, Israel’s History and the History of Israel, trans. Chiara Peri and Philip R. Davies, BibleWorld (London: Equinox, 2005); Abraham Malamat, History of Biblical Israel: Major Problems and Minor Issues, CHANE 7 (Leiden: Brill, 2001).

66

Peter Dubovský

A. Similar Historical Milieus and longue durée Theory Fernand Braudel’s analysis of climatic change in the Mediterranean basin gave birth to the concept of longue durée. In his monumental trilogy2 he argued that certain climatic conditions tend to produce similar cultural and sociological responses. The concept of longue durée has also been applied to the political and sociological domains of the ancient Near East.3 So, the first step in our investigation is to explore whether there was a historical period in the ancient Near East that could generate historiographic narratives. It is generally accepted that the first phase of Assyrian expansion, namely the late ninth and early eighth century, profoundly altered relations among ancient Near Eastern kingdoms. The extant documents attest that this new political and cultural milieu was a fruitful ground for generating historiographic writings. I. The Levant under Assyria in the Ninth–Eighth Century In the ninth–eighth century Assyria expanded in all directions.4 Some kingdoms fiercely resisted, while others opted for submission and enjoyed the protection of Assyria. The Levantine kingdoms were no exception. The Assyrian sources report that the Levantine kings formed an anti-Assyrian coalition that attempted to stop an Assyrian army led by Shalmaneser III (858–824) from marching through Syria (RIMA 3 A.0.102.2 ii 86–89). Despite the defeat of the coalition at Qarqar in 853, twelve Levantine kings continued to oppose Assyria and thus Shalmaneser III organized four more campaigns against the west in 849, 848, 847, and 845.5 Israel participated or was forced to participate in at least three of these campaigns.6 Even though Assyria was unable to subjugate the Levant, the Assyrian campaigns destabilized the region. 2 Fernand Braudel, La Méditerranée et le Monde méditerranéen à l’epoque de Philippe II, 3 vols. (Paris: A. Colin, 1949). 3 The application of the longue durée methodology has been extended to different regional and historical situations; see, for example, Ignacio Olabarri, “‘New’ New History: A Longue Durée Structure,” History and Theory 34 (1995): 1–29; Ahmed Fekry Ibrahim, “Rethinking the Taqlīd Hegemony: An Institutional, Longue-Durée Approach,” JAOS 136 (2016): 801–16. 4 See in this volume Alice M. W. Hunt, “Materiality and Ideology: Negotiating Identity across the Neo-Assyrian Imperial Landscape,” 146–61, and the remarks by Eckart Frahm in “Texts, Stories, History: The Neo-Assyrian Period and the Bible,” 163–81, and by Israel Finkelstein in “Northern Royal Traditions in the Bible and the Ideology of a ‘United Monarchy’ Ruled from Samaria,” 113–126. Assyria became a world empire only during Tiglath-pileser III’s reign; see Mario Liverani, Assiria: La preistoria dell’imperialismo (Bari: Laterza, 2017), ix–xviii. 5 Shigeo Yamada, The Construction of the Assyrian Empire: A Historical Study of the Inscriptions of Shalmanesar III (859–824 B. C.) Relating to His Campaigns to the West, CHANE 3 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 165–85. 6 The annals record various types of campaigns against the west. The Aram-led coalition consisting of twelve kings along the sea is mentioned in the campaigns of 849 (RIMA A.0.102.6 ii

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

67

The year 842/841 marked a decisive turn in Assyrian control of the Levant.7 After the death of Hadad, Hazael (ca. 842–800) usurped the throne and for four decades became the most important player in the Levant.8 Shalmaneser III marched against the Aramean usurper. After the Assyrians defeated the Aramean troops at Saniru, Hazael took refuge in the fortified city of Damascus where he was “imprisoned”;9 meanwhile the Assyrians looted and devastated the country.10 The defeat at Saniru did not terminate Hazael’s expansionistic policy, and three years later, in 838, Shalmaneser III marched again against Hazael (RIMA 3 A.0.102.13 r.4ʹ–11ʹ; 14:102–104). A series of revolts that began near the end of Shalmaneser III’s reign in 827 and continued until 821, however, reduced Assyria’s territorial holdings.11 The inscriptions of Shalmaneser III’s successor, Šamši62), 848 (RIMA A.0.102.6 iii 4–5), and 845 (RIMA A.0.102.10 iii 14–25). The coalition is mentioned in the description of the battle at Qarqar (RIMA A.0.102.2 ii 95) and Ahab of Samaria is listed among the twelve kings. In the rest of Shalmaneser III’s inscriptions there is no longer a full list of kings, and the coalition is variously designated in the royal inscriptions. They are usually referred to as “twelve kings on the shore of the sea” (12 MAN.MEŠ-ni ša ši-di tam-di; RIMA 3 A.0.102.6 ii 28) or simply “twelve kings” (12 MAN.MEŠ-ni; RIMA 3 A.0102 14:91). But sometimes they are also called “twelve kings along the seashore” (12 MAN.MEŠ-ni šá aḫat A.AB.BA; RIMA 3 A.0.102.28:30), “twelve kings along the seashore and the banks of Euphrates” (12 MAN.MEŠ-ni šá a-ḫat tam-ti [u a-ḫat] ˹ÍD˺.A.RAD; RIMA 3 A.0.102:30:23–24), “the twelve kings of Hatti on the shore of the sea” (12 MAN.MEŠ-ni ša KUR ḫat-ti [šá ši]-di tam-di; RIMA 3 A.0.102.16:78ʹ–79ʹ), or only “twelve kings of Hatti” (a reconstructed text reads 12 MAN.MEŠ šá [KUR] ḫat-[t]e [xxx]; RIMA 3 A.0.102.24:15), or just “twelve princes” (12 mal-ki.MEŠ; RIMA 3 A.0.013.40:15). The designations that include geographical references indicate that these terms referred to anti-Assyrian coalitions formed in the western Levant. Since the first occurrence of this term refers to the coalition at Qarqar, of which Israel is listed as a member, it is reasonable to suppose that when the Assyrian scribes mentioned twelve kings/ princes, they intended the coalition created in 853, including Israel. Moreover, since Israel was under Aramean influence during this period, it is likely that Damascus asked Israel to participate in the anti-Assyrian coalition.  7 Yamada, Construction, 185–95. This analysis relies on an evaluation of the sources collected in Shuichi Hasegawa, Aram and Israel during the Jehuite Dynasty, BZAW 434 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012), 84–147; Manfred Weippert et al., Historisches Textbuch zum Alten Testament, GAT 10 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 242–84; and Omer Sergi, “The Battle of Ramoth-Gilead and the Rise of the Aramean Hegemony in the Southern Levant during the Second Half of the 9th Century BCE,” in Wandering Arameans: Arameans Outside Syria: Textual and Archaeological Perspectives, ed. Andreas Schüle, Angelika Berlejung, and Aren M. Maeir, LAS 5 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017), 81–97.  8 Cf. RIMA 3 A.0.102.40 i 26. According to 2 Kgs 8:7–15, Hazael killed his father and then became king in Damascus.  9 RIMA 3 A 102.8:16″. The verb esēru is often used in Shalmaneser III’s inscriptions to indicate that the Assyrian besieged the city but did not conquer it (cf. RIMA 3 A.0.102 5 i 4, iv 4, v 2). 10 RIMA 3 A.0.102.8:1″–27″; 9:1ʹ–9ʹ; 10 iii 45–iv 15; 12:21–30; 16:122ʹ–137ʹ. For a shorter version, see RIMA 3 14:97–99. A small cylinder (RIMA 3 A.0.92) mentions booty taken from Damascus. 11 Luis R. Siddall, The Reign of Adad-Nīrārī III: An Historical and Ideological Analysis of an Assyrian King and His Times, CM 5 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 129.

68

Peter Dubovský

Adad V (824–811), do not mention any campaign or conflict in the Levant that would have provided Hazael with an opportunity to expand his reign. The constant Assyrian pressure on Syria and the dynastic change in Damascus resulted in the disintegration of the Levantine anti-Assyrian coalition.12 Nevertheless, Hazael’s military campaigns enlarged Aramean control over Israel, allowing him to establish a more powerful Aram-Damascus kingdom than any of his predecessors did.13 Hazael’s kingdom at its peak incorporated parts of Israel, Philistia, Judah, and Transjordan as echoed in the biblical narrative (2 Kgs 10:32; 12:12–18; 13:2, 22) and as attested in the destruction layers of some Israelite and Judahite cities.14 The death of Hazael around 800 and Adad-nirari III’s accession to the throne (811–743) changed the political equilibrium in the Levant. Adad-nirari III conducted four campaigns against the west.15 It can be concluded from the inscriptions that the rulers of Samaria were no longer allying themselves with Aramean kings against Assyria.16 Aram-Damascus itself, however, was still a center of resistance that had to be eradicated. Adad-nirari III’s major achievement in the west was his victory against Aram-Damascus in 796. This victory gave him access to the Mediterranean Sea. Toward the end of his reign, Adad-nirari III described himself as the conqueror of the entire west (RIMA 3 A.0.104.8:11–14). Obviously, there is no evidence that he conquered the southern Levant, but it is likely that the “regions showed some form of submission by paying tribute by the end of the 790s.”17 Although most Levantine kingdoms submitted to Assyria, they were still ruled by local administrators. The presence of seemingly autonomous local administrators, the so-called “four strong men,” was not a sign of 12 Hazael’s accession to the throne marked the end of the strong coalition between Hamath and Damascus. It seems that after 841 Hamath joined the Assyrians and made a treaty with them, since Hamath is not subsequently mentioned in the Assyrian inscriptions. Michael C. Astour, “841 B. C.: The First Assyrian Invasion of Israel,” JAOS 91 (1971): 384. Combining the biblical sources with the Tel Dan stele, it is reasonable to conclude that due to constant Assyrian pressure, Hamath was no longer able to resist Assyria and left the anti-Assyrian coalition. Omer Sergi suggested that sometime in this period Joram invaded Aram-Damascus and was defeated. Jehu’s revolt thus toppled the Omride dynasty when it was at its nadir. Sergi, “Battle of Ramoth-Gilead,” 91–93. 13 Aram-Damascus expanded under Hazael’s reign, and it seems likely that 2 Kgs 8 echoes this period of Aramean supremacy; cf. Liverani, Israel’s History, 113–16. 14 The destruction layers dated to this period were unearthed in Tell el-Hammah, Hazor (Stratum IX), Megiddo (Strata VA–IVB), and Tell eṣ-Ṣafi (Stratum IV). Israel Finkelstein, The Forgotten Kingdom: The Archaeology and History of Northern Israel, ANEM 5 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 119–22. 15 The campaigns targeted Guzana in 808, north Syria in 805–803, Lebanon and Arwad in 802, and Aram-Damascus in 796. Siddall, Adad-Nīrārī III, 63–64; Walter Mayer, Politik und Kriegskunst der Assyrer, ALASPM 9 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 1995), 293–96. 16 The campaign conducted in 847 (RIMA A.0.102.6 iii 16–20) mentions Paqarhubuni (close to Sam’al), and it is difficult to assume that Israel would have provided military support for this anti-Assyrian resistance. 17 Siddall, Adad-Nīrārī III, 68.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

69

Adad-nirari III’s weakness but a strategic plan. The “four strong men” and the king’s mother Sammu-ramat (Semiramis)18 helped him to control the western Levant. As a result, after 796 this region was free from rebellion and Adad-nirari III could concentrate on the northern and eastern regions. As Luis Siddall observed, “In this way Sammu-ramat and the magnates were key figures in the maintenance of the empire.”19 In reality, the operative freedom given to local administrators aimed at assuring Assyrian control over the volatile regions of Syria-Palestine. Even though we have only a few texts from the later period, it is still possible to deduce that Assyria continued to play an important role in the western Levant. According to the Eponym Chronicles, Shalmaneser IV (783–773) conducted campaigns in 775 to the Cedar Mountain and in 773 against Damascus.20 His successor Ashur-dan III (773–755) marched against Hatarikka in 765 and 755 and against Arpad in 754.21 This relative independence in the Levant ended under Tiglath-pileser III. II. The Levantine Political Ballet Hazael and his fierce opposition to Assyria was only one example of how ancient Near Eastern kingdoms negotiated their relationships with Assyria. The spectrum of reactions varied from animosity to submission. Five Urartian kings maintained their independence, and Assyria is not mentioned at all in their inscriptions. Two kings of Suḫu also maintained their independence from Assyria, and Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur, a governor of Suḫu, organized his own military campaigns and provided military support to anti-Assyrian movements. Levantine kingdoms such as Hamath, Sam’al, and Israel negotiated with Assyria and some paid tribute.22 Moab, located beyond Assyria’s reach, took advantage of 18 Luis R. Siddall, “Sammu-Ramāt: Regent or Queen Mother,” in La famille dans le ProcheOrient ancien: Réalités, symbolismes, et images. Proceedings of the 55th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Paris, 6–9 July 2009, ed. Lionel Marti (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014), 502. 19 Siddall, Adad-Nīrārī III, 129. 20 Alan R. Millard (with a contribution by Robert Whiting), The Eponyms of the Assyrian Empire, 910–612 BC, SAAS 2 (Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1994), 39. 21 Shuichi Hasegawa attributes the last campaign of the king to the first campaign of his successor, thus the campaign in 772 is attributed to Ashur-dan III and the campaign in 754 against Arpad is attributed to Ashur-nirari V. Aram and Israel, 135. 22 It remains unclear whether Zakkur, king of Hamath, became an Assyrian ally. Hamath is not listed in the Nimrud Wine Lists, so there is no evidence that Hamath’s kings were vassals who brought tribute to Assyria. Nevertheless, Hamath is never mentioned among Assyria’s enemies. Moreover, neither Hamath nor Zakkur are mentioned in a small fragment found in Nineveh (RIMA 3 A.0.104.4) that lists enemies of Adad-nirari III. Zakkur, however, is mentioned on a stone stele (RIMA 3 A.0.104.2:4–8) that describes how Adad-nirari III and his field marshal Šamši-ilu settled the boundaries between Zakkur and Ataršumki. This stele indicates that Assyria had enough power to impose such an important decision upon Zakkur, and thus we

70

Peter Dubovský

the changing equilibrium and recovered territories lost to Israel. Finally, one of the “strong men,” Šamši-ilu, Assyrian governor of Til Barsip, also organized his own campaigns, obviously under the auspices of Assyria. Along this spectrum of reactions we may locate the political games of the Israelite king Jehu and his successors (the Nimshide dynasty) and compare Israel with the kingdom of Sam’al. Relations between Israel and Assyria in the ninth–eighth century can be divided into four phases that are paralleled in the contemporary relationship between Assyria and Sam’al. 1. Israelite Political Games The Israelite political ballet can be divided into four phases. Phase 1: Anti-Assyrian resistance. The Assyrian sources report that in the ninth century, Samaria entered into open conflict with Shalmaneser III and allied with Phoenician and Aramean states. Omri’s dynasty allied with Phoenician states through a diplomatic treaty sealed by the marriage between Jezebel and Ahab (1 Kgs 16–19), and Omri’s son Ahab joined the anti-Assyrian coalition in the battle at Qarqar in 853. Phase 2: Pro-Assyrian submission. The change on the throne in Damascus overlapped with a military putsch in Samaria (842/841). Omri’s dynasty was eliminated and Jehu usurped the throne (2 Kgs 9–10). In 841, when Shalmaneser III decided to attack Hazael, Jehu together with Sidon and Tyre opted to ally with Assyria (RIMA 3 A.0.102.8:24″–27″). Even though the biblical accounts do not mention Jehu’s submission to Assyria,23 the inscription on the Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III (RIMA 3 A.0.102.88) and the accompanying relief depicting Jehu prostrate before the king confirm that Jehu looked for support from Assyria. However, neither Shalmaneser III nor Šamši-Adad V was able to rescue Israel and Judah from Hazael’s clutches.24 So, until ca. 800 the Nimshide dynasty lived in the shadows of Hazael’s expansionistic politics.25 may conclude that Zakkur was an Assyrian ally who had to acknowledge Assyrian control of the region; nevertheless, he was free enough to behave as an independent king and to make his kingdom prosper (contra John C. L. Gibson, Aramaic Inscriptions, vol. 2 of Textbook of Syrian Semitic Inscriptions [Oxford: Clarendon, 1975], 6). 23 Omer Sergi argues that the biblical silence regarding Jehu’s submission to Assyria is unsurprising because the last Omride king, Joram, had already sided with Assyria. “Battle of Ramoth-Gilead,” 93–94. 24 For a summary of this period, see Finkelstein, Forgotten Kingdom, 119–28. 25 The Aramean presence in Israel is attested at Tell eṣ-Ṣafi (Gath; cf. 2 Kgs 12:17, 18) and possibly at Bethsaida, Tel Hadar, and Ein Gen. Aren M. Maeir, “Can Material Evidence of Aramean Influences and Presence in Iron Age Judah and Israel Be Found?,” in Schüle, Berlejung, and Maeir, Wandering Arameans, 55–61. Destruction layers in Israel have been attributed to Hazael on the basis of radiocarbon dating. Israel Finkelstein and Eli Piasetzky, “Radiocarbon, Iron IIA Destructions and Israel–Aram Damascus Conflict in the 9th Century,” UF 39 (2007): 261–79.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

71

Phase 3: Assyrian alliance and freedom to expand. The Israelite pro-Assyrian policy was continued by Jehoahaz (817–800), Joash (800–784), and Jeroboam II (788–747). An inscription of Adad-nirari III found at Tell al-Rimah and dated around 797/796 confirms that the Israelite king Joash maintained his loyalty to Assyria together with the Phoenician states and Damascus (RIMA 3 A.0.104.7:8). Further evidence of the pro-Assyrian stance of the Nimshide kings comes from the administrative accounts preserved in Nimrud. The wine list ND 6212, dated to the early part of the eighth century, reports that Samarian ambassadors brought tribute to Assyria.26 As argued above, Adad-nirari III entrusted his loyal “strong men” with the task of keeping the region under control while he conducted a campaign in the east, and his subordinates evidently prospered and even conducted military campaigns. Thus, the Assyrian policy in Syria-Palestine and the end of Aram-Damascus’s supremacy in the southwestern Levant allowed Israel to thrive politically and economically. Jehu and his four patrilineal successors reigned in Samaria for almost one hundred years (842–747), becoming the longest dynasty in Israel. According to the Bible, Israel rose from the ashes, began to prosper, and conquered Judah. Phase 4: The end of independence. The relative freedom of Israel ended with the campaigns of Tiglath-pileser III. His first series of campaigns was directed at northern Syria; after a revolt orchestrated by the Syro-Ephraimite coalition, Assyria conducted three campaigns in the southern Levant in 734–732. The campaigns reduced Damascus to an Assyrian ally. The next wave of rebellions was severely punished and Samaria was fully integrated into the Assyrian administrative orbit during the reigns of Shalmaneser V and Sargon II.27 2. Kulamuwa of Sam’al – Suspicious Similarities The small city-state of Sam’al (Zincirli), which had hardly any contact with Samaria, went through the same four phases that Israel experienced in the ninth– eighth century.28 26 Frederick Mario Fales, “A Fresh Look at at the Nimrud Wine List,” in Drinking in Ancient Societies: History and Culture of Drinks in the Ancient Near East. Papers of a Symposium Held in Rome, May 17–19, 1990, ed. Lucio Milano, HANE/S 6 (Padua: S. A. R. G. O. N., 1994), 370. 27 Bob Becking, The Fall of Samaria: An Historical and Archaeological Study, SHCANE 2 (Leiden: Brill, 1992); Gershon Galil, “The Last Years of the Kingdom of Israel and the Fall of Samaria,” CBQ 57 (1995): 52–64; John H. Hayes and Jeffrey K. Kuan, “The Final Years of Samaria (730–720 BC),” Bib 72 (1991): 153–81; Nadav Na’aman, “The Historical Background to the Conquest of Samaria (720 BC),” Bib 71 (1990): 206–25; Peter Dubovský, “Tiglath-Pileser III’s Campaigns in 734–732 B. C.: Historical Background of Isa 7, 2 Kgs 15–16 and 2 Chr 27–28,” Bib 87 (2006): 153–70; Luis R. Siddall, “Tiglath-Pileser III’s Aid to Ahaz: A New Look at the Problems of the Biblical Accounts in Light of the Assyrian Sources,” ANES 46 (2009): 93–106. 28 K. Lawson Younger, A Political History of the Arameans: From Their Origins to the End of Their Polities, SBLABSt 13 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2016), 390.

72

Peter Dubovský

Phase 1: Anti-Assyrian resistance. Both Samaria and Sam’al first opposed Shalmaneser III. Ironically, both anti-Assyrian coalitions also included traditional enemies: Israel allied with its enemy Aram and Sam’al with its oppressor Que. Both coalitions were defeated. When Shalmaneser III started his campaigns against the west in 858, the Sam’alean king Ḥayyyānu aligned himself with other Neo-Hittite states against Assyria (RIMA 3 A.0.102.1:53ʹ–64ʹ).29 The anti-Assyrian coalition consisting of Carchemish, Bit-Adini, Pattina/Unqui, and y’dy/Sam’al was defeated.30

Phase 2: Pro-Assyrian submission. Shortly after the defeat both Sam’al and Israel surrendered to Assyria during Shalmaneser III’s reign and paid regular tribute to Assyria. After the defeat of the anti-Assyrian coalition, Sam’al was no longer listed among Assyria’s enemies.31 Kulamuwa claimed that the city was oppressed by Que.

Phase 3: Assyrian alliance and freedom to expand. Both Samaria and Sam’al experienced a period of liberation from their oppressors followed by a period of thriving. A Phoenician inscription recovered in Sam’al (KAI 24) describes a shift in Sam’alean international politics. King Kulamuwa (ca. 840/835–815/810) claimed to engage the Assyrians

29 The

Iron Age kingdom of Sam’al adopted Neo-Hittite iconography, but it “was not neoHittite in a political and cultural sense. Its non-Hittite rulers employed prevailing Neo-Hittite symbols of royal power but they presumably did so not to show allegiance to Carchemish or any other truly Neo-Hittite polity but to bolster their own authority.” J. David Schloen, “The City of Katumuwa: The Iron Age Kingdom of Sam’al and the Excavation of Zincirli,” in In Remembrance of Me: Feasting with the Dead in the Ancient Middle East, ed. Virginia Rimmer Herrmann, J. David Schloen, and Anna R. Ressman (Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2014), 36. 30 The first target of this campaign was La’la’te of Bit-Adini. The people escaped and the Assyrians destroyed the deserted city before advancing on Til-Barsip. The next target was Burnar’ana. The Assyrians surrounded and conquered it, then crossed the Euphrates and moved to Gurgum. After receiving tribute Shalmaneser III directed his forces toward Lutibu, belonging to the Sam’alean king Ḥayyyānu. The Assyrian army approached the kingdom of Sam’al from the north, crossing the Maras plain. Ḥayyyānu formed a coalition with Sapalulme of Patin, Ahuni of Bit-Adini, and Sangara of Carchemish. The coalition was defeated, but the annals do not mention that the city was captured. It seems that the coalition somehow survived the Assyrian aggression, a sort of tactical victory for the Assyrians. Next, the Assyrians approached the city of Alimuš, a fortified city of Sapalulme of Patinu/Unqi. The coalition was reformed and four kings, together with four other kings – Kate of Que, Phirim of Hiluka, Bur-Anate of Yasbuq, and Adanu of Yahan – once again faced Shalmaneser. Shalmaneser defeated the new coalition at Alimuš. Shigeo Yamada, “Qurdi-Assur-Lamur: His Letters and Career,” in Treasures on Camels’ Humps: Historical and Literary Studies from the Ancient Near East Presented to Israel Ephal, ed. Mordechai Cogan and Dan’el Kahn (Jerusalem: Hebrew University Magnes Press, 2008), 296–311. 31 Probably the kingdom was too small to oppose Assyria and preferred to collaborate and pay tribute to the empire (RIMA 3 A.0.102.1:92ʹ–95ʹ).

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

73

against his Danunian enemies, i. e., the kingdom of Que.32 Kulamuwa’s decision to become an Assyrian vassal brought positive results, since the territory of Que (Danunians) and Gurgum was placed under his jurisdiction.33 The period after the death of Kulamuwa is immersed in fog. The inscriptions mention a king QRL; however, it is not clear whether there was another king between Kulamuwa and QRL.34 Despite these uncertainties, extant Assyrian administrative documents prove that Sam’al was a loyal Assyrian vassal during this period.35 Sam’al is mentioned in wine list no. 8 (ND 10047 r.18), just three lines after Samaria (r.15).36 The tribute was brought to Kalhu around 803.37 Thus, during Adad-nirari III’s reign, neither Samaria nor Sam’al was identified as participating in an anti-Assyrian coalition,38 and both continued to bring regular tribute to Assyria (see the Nimrud wine lists) until the first half of the eighth century. Submission to Assyria brought prosperity to the people (KAI 24) and allowed Kulamuwa and his successors to undertake important building projects (KAI 214, 216).39 German excavations unearthed a flourishing settlement with a strongly fortified lower and upper city and bit-ḫilani buildings.40

Phase 4: The end of independence. In both Israel and Sam’al the situation changed during Tiglath-pileser III’s reign. Both kingdoms went through a turbulent period of rebellions, and the pretenders to the throne sought help from Tiglath-pileser III. Both kingdoms were conquered and turned into Assyrian provinces during the reigns of Shalmaneser V and Sargon II; the eponym lists report the names of the governors of the Assyrian provinces of Samaria and Sam’al. The last important shift in the history of Sam’al took place during Tiglath-pileser III’s reign. In the middle of the eighth century, a usurper rose in Sam’al and killed Panamuwa I’s son Barṣūr. The rebellion aimed to suppress the pro-Assyrian faction in Sam’al. Tiglath-pileser III confirmed Panamuwa II (Barṣūr’s son) as king. This support made the 32 Kulamuwa’s decision to bribe Assyria probably took place around the time when Shalmaneser III campaigned against Que and Tarsus in 834/833. 33 Héléne S. Sader, Les états Araméens de Syrie: Depuis leur fondation jusqu’à leur transformation en provinces assyriennes (Beirut: Franz Steiner, 1987), 178–80. 34  Sader, Les états Araméens, 175–77. 35 RIMA 3 A.0.102.16:268ʹ–286ʹ. When the rebels in Patinu/Unqi murdered the pro-Assyrian king and organized resistance against Assyria, Sam’al did not join the rebels. The Zakkur inscription, however, states that when Hazael organized a new anti-Assyrian coalition with the support of Urartu, Sam’al joined it in 790/780 (KAI 202:4ff). 36  There is another fragment mentioning both Samaria and Sam’al (ND 10025) but it is heavily damaged and it is impossible to be sure about the reconstruction of the toponyms. J. V. Kinnier Wilson, The Nimrud Wine Lists: A Study of Men and Administration at the Assyrian Capital in the Eighth Century B.C, Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud 1 (London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq, 1972), 111. 37 Kinnier Wilson, Nimrud Wine Lists, 93. 38 It is difficult to determine whether Sam’al joined the anti-Assyrian coalition mentioned in RIMA 3 A.0.104.3:11–15. 39 Josef Tropper, Die Inschriften von Zincirli: Neue Edition und vergleichende Grammatik des phönizischen, sam’alischen und aramäischen Textkorpus, ALASP 6 (Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 1993), 11–13. 40 The University of Chicago is conducting new excavations under the direction of David Schloen at the site. Only preliminary studies have been published to date: Schloen, “City of Katumuwa”; Hans-Peter Mathys, Das Astarte-Quadrat (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 2008).

74

Peter Dubovský

vassal kingdom of Sam’al even more dependent on Assyria (RINAP 1 14:10–12; cf. also 27:2–7; 32:1–12; 35 iii 1–23; 47 r.6–13). Panamuwa II brought tribute to Tiglath-pileser III in 738,41 and he died while participating in Tiglath-pileser III’s campaign against Damascus in 733/732. His son Barrākib was involved in large building activities. The kingdom of Sam’al ceased to exist at the turn of the eighth–seventh century.

III. Implications The Assyrian campaigns forced Levantine kingdoms to negotiate their relationships with Assyria. Some kings opted for military resistance, others for vassalage. The close similarity between the political histories of Sam’al and Israel in the ninth–eighth century shows that what happened in Samaria followed a normal pattern in the Levant under Assyrian rule.42 Kingdoms that submitted to Assyria, such as Israel, enjoyed a certain degree of freedom and could directly or indirectly rely on Assyrian support while fighting their neighbors. Returning to Braudel’s model, we may suggest that the rise of the Assyrian Empire in the ninth–eighth century generated an unprecedented state of affairs in the ancient Near East, namely a political longue durée during which the historiographies of the ninth–eighth century were born. Since Israel lived in the same political and cultural climate that gave birth to historiographies in the ancient Near East, can we determine whether Israel also at this moment began to produce its own historiography?

B. Events Worthy of Commemoration However appealing Braudel’s model might seem, we should ask a question: Is a political and cultural milieu a sufficient reason to conclude that Israelite historiography was also born in the ninth–eighth century? Israel Finkelstein has argued, based on analysis of the written material unearthed in Israel, that in this 41 Tropper,

Inschriften von Zincirli, 14–16. pattern can be observed in the political history of Hamath. Both Hamath and Samaria formed part of the anti-Assyrian coalition at the battle at Qarqar in 853 (RIMA 3 A.0 102.2 ii 88). During Hazael’s reign, both kingdoms suffered under the iron fist of Aram-Damascus. After Hazael’s death and a series of Assyrian campaigns in the western Levant, both Hamath and Samaria expanded their territories at the expense of Aram-Damascus. Neither Zakkur’s inscription nor the Bible mentions that Hamath and Samaria surrendered to Assyria; nevertheless, there are sufficient reasons to suspect that both Samaria and Hamath negotiated their territorial control with Assyria. Whereas Samaria became an Assyrian vassal obliged to pay regular tribute, Hamath probably maintained a higher level of independence from Assyria. Both Hamath and Samaria inflicted a defeat upon Aram-Damascus and expanded their territory. Finally, the independence of both kingdoms ended during the second wave of Assyrian expansion, i. e., under the kings from Tiglath-pileser III to Sargon II. For more details see Younger, Political History, 425–500. Essentially similar successions of political events can be observed in other NeoHittite kingdoms such as Arpad and Bit-Adini. Cf. Younger, Political History, 307–72, 501–48. 42 A similar

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

75

period there were a sufficient number of scribes capable of composing a historiographic work.43 However, in the absence of significant political events worth recording, the longue durée argument and the presence of scribes capable of writing is not a sufficient reason to conclude that Israelite historiography was born during the Nimshide dynasty. Thus, it is necessary to investigate the typical content of ninth–eighth century historiographic inscriptions elsewhere in the ancient Near East. I. Motives for Writing a Historiographic Work Using the example of the Zakkur stele, I will illustrate that military campaigns and building projects constituted two topoi regularly commemorated in ancient Near Eastern inscriptions. 1. Motives for Writing the Zakkur Stele After the demise of Hazael around 800 and the Assyrian campaigns in the west,44 Zakkur, king of Hamath, profited from the weakening of Aram-Damascus and founded a new dynasty.45 He attached the territory of Lu’ash, which was previously under the control of Aram-Damascus, to his kingdom and founded the city of Hazrach as his new capital.46 Obviously these military and political maneuvers did not pass unobserved by Bar-Hadad (Ben-Hadad III), Hazael’s son. Bar-Hadad mobilized seventeen47 kings and their armies and attacked Hazrach (KAI 202:4–10).48 Zakkur successfully defended himself against the attackers. This event was commemorated by carving an account of Zakkur’s victory upon a royal stele (Zakkur A). The inscription on the left side of the stele (Zakkur B) praised Zakkur for rebuilding Hazrach and its fortifications, the city of Afis, some shrines, and a series of strongholds.49

43 Anat Mendel-Geberovich et al., “A Brand New Old Inscription: Arad Ostracon 16 Rediscovered Via Multispectral Imaging,” BASOR 378 (2017): 113–25; Israel Finkelstein, “A Corpus of North Israelite Texts in the Days of Jeroboam II?,” HeBAI 6.3 (2017): 262–89. 44 Namely in 796, 775, 773, 765, and 755; cf. Millard, Eponyms, 39. 45 Hélène Sader, “History,” in The Aramaeans in Ancient Syria, ed. Herbert Niehr, HdO 1.106 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 33–34. 46 Gibson, Aramaic Inscriptions, 6–7. 47 Following Alan Millard’s restoration in COS 2.35. 48 It is possible to identify Hazrach with modern Tel Afis, where the stele of Zakkur was found. Frederick Mario Fales and Giulia F. Grassi, L’aramaico antico: Storia, grammatica, testi commentati (Udine: Forum, 2016), 126–27. 49 In the first half of the eighth century the prosperity of the kingdom of Hamath reached its peak. Archaeological excavations at Tell Mishref, ancient Qatna, revealed the organization and the glory of one of the district capitals. Sader, “History,” 34. Tiglath-pileser III listed nineteen districts that were under Hamath’s control (RINAP 1 13:9–10; 31:5).

76

Peter Dubovský

2. Main Topoi in the Ancient Near Eastern Inscriptions The two motives for creating Zakkur’s stele  – to commemorate his military victory and to record his building projects  – are hardly unique to that stele; indeed, they are pervasive in ancient Near Eastern texts.50 The celebration of military victories, whether defensive or offensive, became the main theme of first-millennium historiographic writings.51 Thus, Mesha, king of Moab, defeated Israel (KAI 181:1–8), Kulamuwa put an end to the oppression of Danunians (KAI 24:1–8), Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur defeated the Aramean tribes (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.1:15–43), Šamši-ilu led a successful campaign against Urartu (RIMA 3 A.0.104.2010:11–18), and the annals of Urartian kings inscribed on rock faces and monuments are filled with countless accounts of successful campaigns.52 The same was true for the commemoration of royal building activities.53 Thus, Mesha celebrated his rebuilding of numerous cities, including Ataroth, Karchoh, and Aroer (KAI 181); Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur rebuilt the akītu temple and constructed two palaces (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.1:4–14); Kulamuwa claimed that he made his land prosper; and his successor Panamuwa commemorated in a long inscription the reconstruction of the kingdom and building projects (KAI 214). Urartian kings also carved numerous inscriptions celebrating their building projects.54 Reading through the selected historiographic corpora reveals that another theme occurring often in ancient Near Eastern inscriptions is the renewal of cultic activities (cf. RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.3 iv 5ʹ–8ʹ; CTU A 3–1).55 The inscriptions show that royal deeds were presented in superlative language. The campaigns were always a great success and the splendor of new 50 We can also add the Tel Dan stele (COS 2.39) and Hazael’s booty inscriptions (COS 2.40), which are poorly preserved. The Luwian inscription Karatepe 1 also presents similar topoi. Annick Payne and H. Craig Melchert, Iron Age Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions, WAW 29 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012), 21–42. 51 See Megan Bishop Moore, “Fighting in Writing: Warfare in Histories of Ancient Israel,” in Writing and Reading War: Rhetoric, Gender, and Ethics in Biblical and Modern Contexts, ed. Frank Ritchel Ames and Brad E. Kelle, SBLSymS 42 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008), 58–60. As Jacob L. Wright explains, “One of the reasons why ancient kings were so fond of depicting themselves as great warriors is that their power-bases commonly viewed victories on the battlefield as divine confirmation of the king’s rule.” “Military Valor and Kingship: A Book-Oriented Approach to the Study of a Major War Theme,” in Ames and Kelle, Writing and Reading War, 38. 52 Cf. the inscriptions of Išpuini and Minua (CTU A 3–4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11); Minua (CTU A 5–1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, etc.); Argištu I (CTU A 8–1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13); and Sarduri II (CTU A 9–1, 2, 3, etc.). 53 Under the heading of building activities fall the (re)construction of cities, temples, palaces, walls, or canals, as well as planting trees or gardens, etc. (note, for example, the miscellaneous building activities listed by Šamaš-reša-uṣur in RIMB 2 S. 0.1001.1). 54 Cf. the inscriptions of Sarduri I (CTU A 1–2), Išpuini (CTU A 2–9, A 2–10), Minua (CTU A 3–1), and Argištu I (CTU A 8–15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27–41, etc.). 55 Other themes occurred only rarely, such as the introduction of honeybees in Suḫu (RIMB 2 S. 0.1001.1 iv 13–v 6).

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

77

constructions was often beyond compare.56 Although hyperbolic language was used in the royal inscriptions, it is impossible to conclude from the extant inscriptions that these events were completely invented. The scribes might magnify the significance of an event or glorify a building, but they were hardly making things up. II. Achievements of the Nimshide Kings Given that military achievements and construction activities were the main topoi of ancient Near Eastern historiographic writings, can we identify similar achievements of the Nimshide kings that could have become the subject of historiographic writing?57 1. Military Achievements of the Nimshide Dynasty in Context The first series of notes on the achievements of the Nimshide kings are in 2 Kgs 13:25, 14:25, and 14:28.58 Contrary to the long descriptions of Israelite–Aramean wars in 2 Kgs 6 and 8, the Israelite victories over Aram are summarized in these three verses. Even though it is difficult to verify the historicity of these verses,59 they perfectly capture the expanding–shrinking model of Levantine kingdoms: when one of two warring kingdoms was enfeebled, the other expanded its territory at the former’s expense, as illustrated by Moabite–Israelite relations in the ninth century. According to the Mesha Inscription, the Israelite king Omri and his unnamed son subjugated Moab.60 When Assyria started exercising power over Israel 56 Išpuini,

king of Urartu, claimed of the fortress he constructed that nothing of such perfection had ever been built (CTU A 2–1; cf. also A 5–34). 57 Cf. Burke O. Long, 2 Kings, FOTL 10 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991), 162–70; T. R. Hobbs, 2 Kings, WBC 13 (Waco, TX: Word, 1985), 162–65, 176–78; Ernst Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige: 1. Kön. 17–2. Kön. 25, ATD 11.2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984), 359–76. 58 “When King Hazael of Aram died, his son Ben-hadad succeeded him. Then Jehoash son of Jehoahaz took again from Ben-hadad son of Hazael the towns that he had taken from his father Jehoahaz in war. Three times Joash defeated him and recovered the towns of Israel” (2 Kgs 13:24–25). “He (Jeroboam II) restored the border of Israel from Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah” (2 Kgs 14:25). “He (Jeroboam II) recovered for Israel Damascus and Hamath, which had belonged to Judah” (2 Kgs 14:28). 59 For excellent reviews of the political situation in the Levant after the death of Hazael, see Hasegawa, Aram and Israel, 107–49; Younger, Political History, 632–40. For more recent studies, see the series of articles dedicated to Jeroboam II in HeBAI 3 (2017). The expansion of the Northern Kingdom is probably reflected in the reconstruction of Area T at Tell Dan; cf. Andrew R. Davis, “Area T, Stratum II: An Eighth-Century B. C. E. Cult Site,” in Tel Dan in Its Northern Cultic Context, ed. Andrew R. Davis, SBLABSt 20 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013), 89–93. 60 Historical reconstructions of this period based on the Mesha Inscription and its reconciliation with biblical and Assyrian data led to controversy over the chronological problems of

78

Peter Dubovský

and Aram, Moab was not listed among the empire’s adversaries. Moab’s geographical distance from the Levantine anti-Assyrian movements helped Moabite tribes to maintain their independence. When the political balance in the Levant changed after 853 due to Assyrian invasions and Aram-Damascus’s raids on Israel, Mesha took advantage of a weakened Israel and not only recovered territories lost to Israel, but also expanded his territory. Moreover, he rebuilt several cities that were in ruins, fortified his capital, constructed a series of fortresses, and set up a centralized government.61 The traditional model of nation-states applied to Moab has recently been challenged and replaced with a tribal kingdom model.62 Iron Age Moab was a highly polycentric society whose dynamics were generated from the cooperation and tensions among tribes.63 Mesha the Dibonite attempted to reshape the tribal structures of Moab into a tribal kingdom after his victories over the Moabite archenemy, Israel.64 The Moabite kingdom maintained its independence65 until Tiglath-pileser III’s reign, when it became an Assyrian vassal paying regular tribute.66 In the same way, when Aram-Damascus weakened at the beginning of the eighth century, Israel and Hamath expanded their territories and absorbed cities events described in the Mesha Inscription. See John A. Dearman, “Historical Reconstruction and the Meshaʿ Inscription,” in Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab, ed. John A. Dearman, SBLABSt 2 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), 159–64. 61 Udo Worschech, “Enviroment and Settlements in the Ard Al-Karak: Remarks on the Socio-Ecological and Socio-Economic Conditions in the Iron Age,” in Studies on Iron Age Moab and Neighbouring Areas in Honour of Michèle Daviau, ed. Piotr A. Bienkowski, ANESSup 29 (Leuven: Peeters, 2009), 48–50. 62 “In the ‘tribal kingdom’ model, the tribes in the Iron Age of Transjordan would have been kin-based, partially range-tied and nomadic and partially land-tied and settled, with a mixed economy of pastoralism, agriculture, trade, protection and copper-mining, the balance changing according to circumstances.” Piotr A. Bienkowski, “‘Tribalism” and ‘Segmentary Society’ in Iron Age Transjordan,” in Bienkowski, Studies on Iron Age Moab, 9. 63 A discussion of the polemics regarding the nature of Moabite society in the Iron Age is beyond the scope of this paper. See Piotr A. Bienkowski, ed., Early Edom and Moab: The Beginning of the Iron Age in Southern Jordan, Sheffield Archaeological Monographs (Sheffield: Collins, 1992); Bienkowski, Studies on Iron Age Moab; Bruce E. Routledge, Moab in the Iron Age: Hegemony, Polity, Archaeology, Archaeology, Culture, and Society (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004); Erasmus Gass, Die Moabiter: Geschichte und Kultur eines ostjordanischen Volkes im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr, ADPV 38 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009). 64 Routledge, Moab, 139–41; Eveline van der Steen and Klaas A. D. Smelik, “King Mesha and the Tribe of Dibon,” JSOT 32 (2007): 145–51. 65 The independence of Moab and its expansion into Ammonite territory can be deduced from a note on Ammonite captives. John A. Dearman, “Moab and Ammon: Some Observations on Their Relationship in Light of a New Moabite Inscription,” in Bienkowski, Studies on Iron Age Moab, 103–13. 66 Moab became an Assyrian vassal during Tiglath-pileser III’s campaigns into Syria-Palestine in 734–731 (RINAP 1 47 r.10ʹ, Salāmānu of the land of Moab) and remained a dependent kingdom during the reigns of Sennacherib (RINAP 3/1 4:37, Kammūsu-nadbi of the land of Moab) and Esarhaddon (RINAP 4 1 v 56 mentions Muṣurī, king of Moab). See also the references to Moab in letters: SAA I 110 r. 7; XI 33:4; XIX 8:13; 29:4; 159 r. 7.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

79

that were previously under the control of Aram-Damascus. Similarly Judah, after recovering under Amaziah’s reign, expanded its territory at the expense of Edom. In sum, this “accordion” pattern governed international relations before Tiglath-pileser III, and so we have no reason to question that 2 Kgs 13:25, 14:25, and 14:28 reflect moments of Israelite expansion. An Israelite military achievement that is recorded in more detail in 2 Kgs 13–14 is the defeat of the Judahite king Amaziah (2 Kgs 14:8–14) by Joash. According to Mario Liverani, during Omri’s period the tiny Judahite kingdom was an Israelite vassal.67 Once the political balance had changed due to Assyrian interventions in the Levant and the demise of Hazael, the Judahite Amaziah consolidated his kingship by eliminating potential adversaries (2 Kgs 14:5).68 Fueled by his success, Amaziah tried to escape Israelite control by declaring war on Samaria (2 Kgs 14:8–10). The Israelite-Judahite war ended in the military subjugation of Judah. The biblical description of the event is divided into two parts: the Israelite victory at Beth-shemesh (2 Kgs 14:11–13a) and the destruction of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 14:13b–14). 1.1 Defeat at Beth-shemesh The biblical account summarizes the Israelites’ overwhelming victory in two lines. The battle took place at Beth-shemesh and the Judahite troops were defeated and dispersed.69 The historicity of this battle can be indirectly verified from a destruction layer unearthed at Beth-shemesh. This site was excavated in 1911–1912 by Duncan Mackenzie and in 1928–1933 by Elihu Grant and G. Ernest Wright, and the excavations were renewed in 1990 by Shelomoh Bunimovitz and Zvi Lederman. The city suffered a severe destruction witnessed in Grant and Wright’s Stratum IIB, which corresponds to Bunimovitz’s Level 3. Bunimovitz examined the possible interpretations of the destruction of Level 3. He and his team concluded that the “public buildings were destroyed by a fierce fire and showed signs of human agents of destruction (e. g. smashed vessels thrown all over the “Commercial Area” and in the “Pillared Building,” clean floors under a thick layer of ash, apparently a result of the evacuation or heavy looting prior to destruction).”70 67 Liverani,

Israel’s History, 113. a reconstruction of the political events, see Hasegawa, Aram and Israel, 109–10. 69 The phrase ‫ וינגף יהודה לפני יׂשראל וינסו איׁש לאהלו‬is repeated word for word in 1 Sam 4:10, which describes the Philistines’ overwhelming victory over Israel. The word ‫ לאהלו‬can be vocalized ‫ ְלא ָֹה ָליו‬or ‫ל ָא ֳהלֹו‬.ְ The similarity between the account of the Philistines’ victory and that of Jehoash’s capture of Jerusalem lies not only in the syntax but also in the consequences of military success: the capture of the ark (1 Sam 4:10) and the plundering of the temple (2 Kgs 14:14). These similarities underline the importance of Joash’s victory. 70 Shelomoh Bunimovitz and Zvi Lederman, Tel Beth-Shemesh: A Border Community in Judah. Renewed Excavations, 1990–2000: The Iron Age, 2 vols., SMNIA 34 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016), 2:382. 68 For

80

Peter Dubovský

Moreover, the team of archaeologists determined the date of the destruction by comparing the pottery from Beth-shemesh with Stratum A3 at Tell eṣ-Ṣafi/ Gath and Stratum III at Lachish and concluded, “From an archaeological point of view, we would therefore date the destruction of Level 3 to the early 8th century BCE.”71 For this reason Bunimovitz linked the destruction of Level 3 with the clash between Joash and Amaziah.72 1.2 Conquest of Jerusalem Once the Judahite troops were defeated and the king was captured, Judah was paralyzed and could offer no resistance to the advancing Israelite army. Joash easily entered Jerusalem and tore down four hundred cubits (about two hundred meters) of the northern city walls – approximately 20 percent of the circuit surrounding ancient Jerusalem – leaving the city indefensible. In addition, the temple and the palace were looted, which forced the king to settle in Lachish after his return (2 Kgs 14:19). Finally, Jerusalemite hostages were taken to Samaria to assure that the city and its leaders would never again oppose Israel.73 This event had to represent one of the most important achievements of the Israelite kings, especially in light of the continuous tension between Judah and Israel (2 Kgs 14:15).74 The historicity of this event can be argued only indirectly. First, it is difficult to imagine later Judahite scribes inventing a story that belittles Judah and describes with sympathy an Israelite king who looted the temple.75 Second, the destruction of a city’s walls was a customary measure to guarantee that a rebel would no longer be able to pose any resistance.76 Third, a similar destruction of Jerusalem 71 Bunimovitz

and Lederman, Tel Beth-Shemesh, 2:369. and Lederman, Tel Beth-Shemesh, 2:50. 73 The expression ‫ ְּבנֵ י ַה ַּת ֲע ֻרבֹות‬is a hapax legomenon. It can be etymologically linked with the Akkadian erubbātum, “pledge, security” (CAD E, 327), also derived from the root ʿrb, and rightly translated as “hostages.” This etymology underscores that the Jerusalemites taken to Samaria were not normal deportees but probably representatives of the high-ranking social strata. To take them as hostages had a double effect. First, the hostages should guarantee the good behavior of the king, in this case Amaziah, who was allowed to remain on the throne. Mordechai Cogan and Hayim Tadmor, II Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 11 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1988), 156. Second, the city was deprived of people who could possibly organize a new conflict between Samaria and Jerusalem, especially when there was a revolt against the king (2 Kgs 14:19–21). If any new conflict took place, the hostages in Samaria would pay dearly. 74 Joash may have imposed some restrictions on Judahite maritime trade; if so, after his death, during the reign of Jeroboam II, the restrictions were removed and Uzziah was allowed to build Elath and renew Judahʼs participation in trade. Nadav Na’aman, “Azariah of Judah and Jeroboam II of Israel,” VT 43 (1993): 227–29. 75 Hasegawa, Aram and Israel, 109. 76 Immanuel Benzinger, Die Bücher der Könige, KHC 9 (Freiburg im Breisgau: J. C. B. Mohr, 1899), 165. 72 Bunimovitz

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

81

took place during the first Babylonian conquest in 597/596.77 Given that the Babylonian chronicles mentioned this conquest of Jerusalem (ABC 5:11–13), it makes sense that a much smaller kingdom such as Israel would also have considered the conquest of Judah an achievement worth putting in writing. Fourth, new excavations in the Giv‘ati Parking Lot near the City of David showed that there was a gap between stratum XII, dated to Iron Age IIA, i. e., the ninth century, and stratum XI, dated to Iron Age III.78 The missing stratum IA IIB would correspond to the early Assyrian period. This points to the abandonment of some neighborhoods in the city, or at least a shrinking of its territory. 2. Rebuilding Israel The second important theme in ancient Near Eastern commemorations of royal deeds was real estate: expansion of territorial holdings, foundation of new cities, and (re)construction of towns, palaces, walls, and temples. Table 1 lists similar activities attributed to the Nimshide kings: Table 1. Territory conquered or reconquered by Nimshide kings. 4 Regn 13:5 καὶ ἔδωκε Κύριος σωτηρίαν τῷ LXXAnt Ισραηλ καὶ ἐξήγαγεν αὐτοὺς (Jehoahaz) ὑποκάτωθεν τῶν χειρῶν Συρίας καὶ ἀπεστράφη ὃριον Ισραηλ αὐτοῖς (cf. 2 Kgs 14:25 MT)

And the Lord gave Israel deliverance, and he brought them out from under the hands of Syria, and he restored the border of Israel to them. (NETS, modified)

2 Kgs 13:25 MT (Joash)

Then Jehoash son of Jehoahaz took again from Ben-hadad son of Hazael the towns that he had taken from his father Jehoahaz in war. Three times Joash defeated him and recovered the towns of Israel.)

2 Kgs 14:25 MT (Jero­ boam II) 2 Kgs 14:28 MT (Jero­ boam II)

‫ויׁשב יהואׁש בן־יהואחז ויקח את־הערים‬ ‫מיד בן־הדד בן־חזאל אׁשר לקח מיד‬ ‫יהואחז אביו במלחמה ׁשלׁש פעמים הכהו‬ ‫יואׁש ויׁשב את־ערי יׂשראל׃‬

‫ הוא הׁשיב את־גבול יׂשראל מלבוא חמת‬He restored the border of Israel from ‫ עד־ים הערבה‬Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah. ‫ויתר דברי ירבעם וכל־אׁשר עׂשה וגבורתו‬ ‫אׁשר־נלחם ואׁשר הׁשיב את־דמׂשק ואת־‬ ‫חמת ליהודה ביׂשראל הלא־הם כתובים‬ ‫על־ספר דברי הימים למלכי יׂשראל׃‬

Now the rest of the acts of Jeroboam, and all that he did, and his might, how he fought, and how he recovered for Israel Damascus and Hamath, which had belonged to Judah, are they not written in the Book of the Annals of the Kings of Israel?

77 Peter Dubovský, The Building of the First Temple: A Study in Redactional, Text-Critical and Historical Perspective, FAT 103 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 46–47. 78 Doron Ben-Ami, Jerusalem: Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley (Giv‘ati Parking Lot), IAA Reports (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2013), 3–4.

82

Peter Dubovský

Even though it is impossible to confirm the individual deeds celebrated in these verses, three aspects of the renewal of Israel can be traced in the archaeological record: territorial expansion, economic prosperity and reconstruction projects, and reorganization of the cult.79 After reviewing archaeological material from the ninth–eighth century, Shuichi Hasegawa concluded that important construction projects were accomplished during the reigns of Joash and Jeroboam II.80 The expansion of the Northern Kingdom is also reflected in the reconstruction of the cultic area in Tell Dan.81 Furthermore, the Samaria ostraca reflect a burgeoning bureaucracy in this period, and the analysis of seals and seal impressions also points to an increase in the activity of Israelite officials in the economic sphere.82 The expansionistic ambitions of Israel in Judah can be observed at the recently excavated Tell el-Asāwir/Tẹ̄l Ẹ̅sūr, dated to the early eighth century. According to the excavators, this site points to the tendency of the Israelite kings to control the Shephelah.83

 Finkelstein, Forgotten Kingdom, 129–40; Finkelstein, “Corpus.”  These projects are discernible in Strata II and III in Tel Dan, Stratum VI at Hazor, Stratum II in Tel Kinrot (a pillar building that could have served as a fortress for Jehu’s dynasty), Strata P-8-7 in Beth-shean (Stratum P-8 was destroyed, reflecting Jeroboam II’s conquest of the valley; P-7 has impressive buildings dated to the period of Jeroboam II), Stratum III at Tel Rehov (new buildings and a massive fortification wall), Area L in Megiddo (monumental stables attest that international trade [i. e., in horses] was practiced during this period), Stratum XII of Tel Yoqne’am (gallery wall, towers, piazza, perimeter street), Stratum IV of Tel Ta’anach, Stratum IV of Samaria (buildings were repaired and renovated in this period), Stratum VIId of Tell el-Far’ah (a flourishing city), and Strata VII–VI of Tel Gezer (the heyday of the site; the city was enlarged and a new outer wall was built). Hasegawa, Aram and Israel, 140–47. 81 “One of the most important changes to Area T in Stratum II is the new prominence of TCenter. In part, this shift can be demonstrated simply by comparing the size of T-North and TCenter. In the preceding Stratum III there was no question that the podium dominated Area T; with its large size and height it presided over the entire cultic area and also displayed the finest masonry of all the area’s buildings. In this same period, the central platform was a relatively modest structure. Although it was made of ashlar blocks, they were not worked as carefully as those that made up the podium. In Stratum II, by contrast, the importance of T-Center becomes more pronounced, and it even seems to have eclipsed the podium as the architectural center of Area T.” Davis, “Area T, Stratum II,” 89. 82 William H. Shea, “The Date and Significance of the Samaria Ostraca,” IEJ 27 (1977): 16–27; Izabela Jaruzelska, Amos and the Officialdom in the Kingdom of Israel: The Socio-Economic Position of the Officials in the Light of the Biblical, the Epigraphic and Archaeological Evidence, Seria Socjoloia (Poznań: Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1998), 115–18; Roger S. Nam, “Power Relations in the Samaria Ostraca,” PEQ 144 (2012): 155–63. 83 This newly established settlement differs from similar settlements founded in this period. Tell el-Asāwir/Tẹ̄ l Ẹ̅sūr has a fortified tower and a tripartite building used as a storage facility. These elements point to a royal administrative center in the Shephelah. Yiftah Shalev and Shay Bar, “An 8th Century B. C. E. Administrative Centre at Tell El-Asāwir/Tẹ̄l Ẹ̅sūr,” ZDPV 133 (2017): 135–40. 79 80

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

83

III. Implications The Nimshide kings’ military and domestic actions were typical of the achievements commonly commemorated in ancient Near Eastern historiography of the ninth–eighth century. The archaeological record corroborates or at least renders plausible the biblical claims that the Nimshide kings defeated Aram-Damascus (cf. 2 Kgs 13:3–5, 25), and that Israelite troops proved victorious in the battle at Beth-shemesh, conquered Jerusalem, and looted its temple and palace (cf. 2 Kgs 14:11–14). Moreover, the Nimshide kings expanded their territorial holdings and reconstructed some cities (cf. 2 Kgs 14:25, 28). Finally, a short notice in 2 Kgs 13:6 refers to Joash’s cultic reform. These three types of achievement – military victories, building projects, and the renewal of cult – were precisely the accomplishments that motivated ancient Near Eastern scribes to compose their historiographic works. Can we conclude that these achievements of the Nimshide kings were put in writing shortly after they occurred? The application of Braudel’s model showed that the ninth–eighth century was a fruitful period for writing historiographies in the ancient Near East. Moreover, Israel possessed trained scribes capable of composing historiographic works. Finally, the Nimshide kings accomplished deeds that were normally commemorated in writing. Can we therefore conclude that Israelite historiography was born in the ninth–eighth century? Two objections can be raised. First, celebrations of royal achievements could have been composed later than the deeds they record.84 Moreover, there were many other ancient Near Eastern kings who accomplished great deeds but left no written traces. So not all royal achievements made their way into writing.

C. Literary Features Common among Historiographies of the Ninth–Eighth Century Burke O. Long demonstrated that the biblical scribes used different literary forms such as notices, reports, accounts, and historical stories in 2 Kgs 13–14.85 More recent studies of ancient Near Eastern literature have shown that to celebrate the king’s achievements, scribes adopted literary styles characteristic of certain historical periods and regions.86 Therefore this section investigates 84 Cf., for example, 1 Kgs 5–6 (Solomon’s deeds), 2 Kgs 18–19 (Hezekiah’s deeds), and the Luwian inscriptions of Azatiwadas and Warikas. Payne and Melchert, Iron Age Hieroglyphic Luwian, nos. 2.1.1 (Azatiwadas) and 2.1.2 (Warikas). 85 For division into different literary strata, see, for example, John Gray, I & II Kings: A Commentary, 2nd ed., OTL (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1976), 591–617. 86 Mario Liverani, “The Ideology of the Assyrian Empire,” in Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires, ed. M. T Larsen, Mesopotamia 7 (Copenhagen: Akademisk

84

Peter Dubovský

whether the literary forms and genres adopted in 2 Kgs 13–14 match those found in ancient Near Eastern historiographies of the ninth–eighth century. I. Shorter Literary Forms The shortest historiographical form is the one-sentence report, also called a notice or a brief report.87 The concise style of such a report, usually composed in the third-person singular,88 is best suited for curt summaries of royal achievements (cf. 2 Kgs 13:25; 14:12–14, 25). Besides summarizing royal deeds, the brief reports in 2 Kgs 13–14 provide readers with information indispensable for understanding the political situation in Israel and Judah. Thus, we learn about the oppression of Israel (13:4, 7, 22; 14:26) and a conspiracy against Amaziah (14:19–20). These brief reports are normally incorporated into larger narrative units. For example, a notice on the liberation of Israel (2 Kgs 13:5) is inserted into an oppression-liberation account (13:3–5), Joash’s victory over Aram is summarized in one verse (13:25) and incorporated into a more elaborate report (13:22–25), and information about Jeroboam II’s restoration of Israel is first communicated in an example of the oracle-fulfillment genre (2 Kgs 14:25) and later reprised in a concluding formula (2 Kgs 14:28–29). A brief report on the construction of the Asherah in Samaria is inserted into the theological evaluation of Jehoahaz (2 Kgs 13:6),89 notices on continuous war between Judah and Israel are inserted in the midst of concluding formulas (2 Kgs 13:12; 14:15; cf. also 14:22), and a brief report on regular raids conducted by Moabites is included in Elisha’s testament (2 Kgs 13:20). A report on Judahite victories over Edom forms the narrative background for the story of the Israelite–Judahite war provoked by Amaziah (2 Kgs 14:7–14). 1. Ancient Near Eastern Reports The brief report is the literary form most frequently used in historiographic texts of the ninth–eighth century.90 In some cases reports existed as independent Forlag, 1979), 297–318; Paolo Merlo, “Literature,” in The Aramaeans in Ancient Syria, ed. Herbert Niehr, HdO 1.106 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 109–25. 87 Long, 2 Kings, 312. 88 In memorial inscriptions and annals, the reports of the king’s deeds are phrased in the first-person singular. In some cases the inscription oscillates between the first‑ and third-person singular (cf. CTU A 5–1; RIMA 3 A.0.104.2010). 89 The lengthiest sections of ancient Near Eastern inscriptions are dedicated to the construction of temples and cultic installations. Since the construction of the Asherah was considered idolatry, it is inserted into the negative evaluation of King Jehoahaz. 90 Besides the examples listed in Table 2, see, for example, CTU A 3–5 Ro:4–8; A 5–10; A 8–39; RIMB 2 S. 0.1001 ii 17ʹ–26ʹ; ii 37ʹ–41ʹ; RIMA 3 A.0.104.2012:2ʹ–8ʹ. A similar genre of ancient Near Eastern inscriptions is comprised by the memorial inscriptions that, when combined

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

85

inscriptions,91 but in most cases reports were incorporated into larger units.92 Table 2 provides examples from biblical and other ancient Near Eastern sources. Table 2. Comparison of examples of the literary form of the report in 2 Kgs 13–14 with examples from other ancient Near Eastern historiographies. Reports on Royal Achievements 2 Kings 13–14

When King Hazael of Aram died, his son Ben-hadad succeeded him. Then Jehoash son of Jehoahaz took again from Ben-hadad son of Hazael the towns that he had taken from his father Jehoahaz in war. Three times Joash defeated him and recovered the towns of Israel. (2 Kgs 13:24–25) He (Jeroboam II) restored the border of Israel from Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah. (2 Kgs 14:25) He (Jeroboam II) recovered for Israel Damascus and Hamath, which had belonged to Judah. (2 Kgs 14:28)

Mesha (Moab)

I have built Aroer, and I made the military road in the Arnon. I have built Beth Bamoth, for it was destroyed. I have built Bezer, for [it lay in] ruins (KAI 181:26–27)

Kulamuwa (Sam’al)

Now the king of the Danunians was more powerful than I, but I ­engaged against him the king of Assyria. (KAI 24:7–8)

Zakkur (Hamath)

Then Bar-Hadad son of Hazael, king of Aram, organized against me an alliance of [seven]teen kings – Bar-Hadad and his army, Bargush and his army… . All these kings laid siege to Hadrach, they put a rampart higher than the wall of Hadrach, and dug a trench deeper than its moat. (KAI 202 A:3–10)

Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur (Suḫu)

With regard to the people of Ra’il (and) [their] rebels, they had ­[rebell]ed against my father, but my father had defeated them. At the beginning of my governorship, when I ascended the throne of my father, the people of Ra’il revolted against me, but I defeated them. (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.2 iv 15ʹ–19ʹ)

Šamši-ilu (Til Barsip) Šamši-ilu, the field marshal, … put a strong force of soldiers into those mountains… . He (Argištu) abandoned his troops… . He (Šamši-ilu) captured from him his camp, his royal treasure, (and) his … (RIMA 3 A.0.104.2010:17–18)

with specific architectural features shared across the ancient Near East, such as lion motifs and palace architecture, served to convey royal ideology. Martin Weber, “Two (?) Lion Reliefs from Iron Age Moab: Further Evidence for an Architectural and Intellectual Koiné in the Levant?,” BASOR 377 (2017): 97–99. 91 See, for example, the Urartian inscriptions CTU A 1–1, 2–1. 92 An examination of a large and broad corpus of ancient Near Eastern literature shows that historiographic texts can be found within many genres, such as royal annals and chronicles, letters to the gods, and memorial and dedicatory inscriptions, as well as treaties, royal apologies, queries, prayers, and exhortations. This demonstrates that the presentation of royal achievements was a function of the literary form and genre in which they were inserted.

86

Peter Dubovský

This short comparison shows that the literary form of brief reports and notices employed in 2 Kgs 13–14 was the most frequently used literary form in ancient Near Eastern historiographies. II. Longer Literary Forms A comprehensive study of ancient Near Eastern historiographical literary forms, genres, language, and ideology is far beyond the limits of this paper. I refer the reader to Mario Liverani, a pioneer in this field.93 The following discussion treats two types of longer literary forms, namely, accounts and historical stories. An account is longer than a report and normally consists of a few brief reports or even fragments of a story. According to Long, “Accounts may aim at some degree of explanation rather than a simple narration of events. Like reports, however, accounts show a matter-of-fact third-person narrative style and few literary, imaginative, or artistic features.”94 Another literary form found in 2 Kgs 13–14 is the historical story. Long defines a historical story as “a self-contained narrative … with more literary sophistication” than a report or an account. It normally contains at least a rudimentary plot with an introduction, complication, and resolution.95 1. Oppression-Liberation Accounts Second Kings 13–14 contains three accounts of how a Nimshide king-savior liberated Israel from Aramean oppression. These passages can be classified as oppression-liberation accounts. The first oppression-liberation account occurs in 2 Kgs 13:3–5 (Table 3). The events are organized in chronological order through a series of sequential wayyiqtol forms: Once God became angry with Israel, he consigned the people to the hands of Hazael. The reversal of the deplorable Israelite situation took place when God had been appeased. The king pleaded with God, who listened to him and saved Israel. Once Israel was liberated, the people returned to their normal life. The primary protagonist was God, who delivered, saved, and liberated (cf.

93 Mario Liverani, “Storiografia politica hittita – I. Sunassura, ovvero: Della reciprocità,” OrAnt 12 (1973): 267–97; Liverani, “Ideology”; Mario Liverani, “Mesopotamian Historiography and the Amarna Letters,” in Historiography in the Cuneiform World: Proceedings of the XlV e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Part I: Harvard University, ed. I. Tzvi Abusch and Paul-Alain Beaulieu (Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2001); Mario Liverani, Myth and Politics in Ancient Near Eastern Historiography, Studies in Egyptology and the Ancient Near East (London: Equinox, 2004). 94 Long, 2 Kings, 291. 95 Burke O. Long, 1 Kings: With an Introduction to Historical Literature, FOTL 9 (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1984), 250.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

87

LXXAnt). The only deviation from a straightforward sequence of events is a subordinate clause (13:4b) that explains what it meant to be in Hazael’s hands. Table 3. Analysis of the oppression-liberation account in 2 Kgs 13:3–5. 1. Divine anger 2. Oppression

3. King’s prayer/ appeasement 4. God’s response (plus a subordinate clause) 5. Salvation 6. Liberation and aftermath

‫ויחר־אף יהוה ביׂשראל‬

3a The anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel,

‫ויתנם ביד חזאל מלך־ארם וביד בן־‬ ‫הדד בן־חזאל כל־הימים‬

3b so that he gave them repeatedly into the hand of King Hazael of Aram, then into the hand of Benhadad son of Hazael.

‫ויחל יהואחז את־פני יהוה‬ ‫ויׁשמע אליו יהוה כי ראה את־לחץ‬ ‫יׂשראל‬ ‫כי־לחץ אתם מלך ארם‬ ‫ויתן יהוה ליׂשראל מוׁשיע‬ ‫ויצאו מתחת יד־ארם ויׁשבו בני־‬ ‫יׂשראל באהליהם כתמול ׁשלׁשום‬

4a But Jehoahaz entreated the Lord, 4b and the Lord heeded him; for he saw the oppression of Israel, how the king of Aram oppressed them. 5aα Therefore the Lord gave Israel a savior, 5aβ–b so that they escaped from the hand of the Arameans; and the people of Israel lived in their homes as formerly.

The second oppression-liberation section occurs in 13:22–25 (Table 4). A reconstruction of the editorial and textual history of this passage (discussed in detail below and summarized in Table 12) reveals that the original account was a straightforward narrative organized in chronological order. It opened with a waw-PN-qatal clause (2 Kgs 13:22) that describes the narrative background of the account, namely, Hazael’s oppression of Israel,96 followed by wayyiqtol forms (13:24–25) describing the reversal of the situation and the peaceful ­present:

96 If the clause καὶ ἐγένετο μετὰ τὸ ἀποθανεῖν τὸν Ἀζαηλ (LXXAnt) is assigned to the OG, then there is a narrative break between vv. 24 and 25, underlining a new beginning that started after the death of Hazael.

88

Peter Dubovský

Table 4. Analysis of the oppression-liberation account in 2 Kgs 13:22–25. ‫וחזאל מלך ארם לחץ את־יׂשראל כל ימי יהואחז׃‬

Now King Hazael of Aram oppressed Israel all the days of Jehoahaz.

22

But the Lord was gracious to them and had compassion on them; he turned toward them, because of his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and would not destroy them; nor has he banished them from his presence until now. Stage 3

(Verse 13:23 opens with a wayyiqtol, form but it is a later addition; see below) ‫וירחמם ויפן אליהם‬ ‫ויחן יהוה אתם‬ ‫את־אברהם יצחק ויעקב ולא אבה ה‬ ‫למעןבריתו‬ ‫מעל־פניו עד־עתה‬ ‫שׁחיתם ולֹא־השׁליכם‬

23

‫וימת חזאל מלך־ארם‬

24a

When King Hazael of Aram died,

‫וימלך בן־הדד בנו תחתיו׃‬

24b

his son Ben-hadad succeeded him.

‫ויׁשב יהואׁש בן־יהואחז‬ ‫ויקח את־הערים מיד בן־הדד בן־חזאל אׁשר לקח‬ ‫מיד יהואחז אביו במלחמה‬ ‫שׁלשׁ פעמים הכהו יואשׁ‬ ‫ויׁשב את־ערי יׂשראל‬

25aα

Then Jehoash son of Jehoahaz (took) again

25aβ from Ben-hadad son of Hazael the towns that he had taken from his father Jehoahaz in war 25bα 25bβ

Three times Joash defeated him Stage 2

and recovered the towns of Israel.

There are two digressions that introduce divine elements (additions in Stage 2 and 3). The original account (Stage 1) was centered on the king and his liberation of Israel. An insertion (v. 25bα, Stage 2) linked the account with Elisha’s story. A subsequent insertion (v. 23, Stage 3) adds that the liberation was motivated by God’s mercy and faithfulness. The third oppression-liberation account is in 14:25–27 (Table 5). Even though the main theme remains liberation from Aramean oppression, this account differs from the previous ones. The account is not organized chronologically but has a concentric structure. Parts A and Aʹ share the liberation theme, even though expressed in a different way. Their grammatical subject is Jeroboam II. Parts B and Bʹ regard the divine word and share the root ‫דבר‬. Their grammatical subject is God. The central part is a retrospective that resumes the oppression theme from 13:4b and presents it as a past event. Table 5. Analysis of the oppression-liberation account in 2 Kgs 14:25–27. A Liberation

B Divine element (God’s word)

‫הוא הׁשיב את־גבול יׂשראל‬ ‫מלבוא חמת עד־ים הערבה‬ ‫כדבר יהוה אלהי יׂשראל אׁשר‬ ‫דבר ביד־עבדו יונה בן־אמתי‬ ‫הנביא אׁשר מגת החפר׃‬

25a He restored the border of Israel from Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah,

according to the word of the Lord, the God of Israel, which he spoke by his servant Jonah son of Amittai, the prophet, who was from Gath-hepher.

25b

The Birth of Israelite Historiography C Retrospective

Bʹ Divine element (God’s decision) Aʹ Liberation

‫כי־ראה יהוה את־עני יׂשראל‬ ‫מרה מאד ואפס עצור ואפס‬ ‫עזוב ואין עזר ליׂשראל׃‬

89

26 For the Lord saw that the distress of Israel was very bitter; there was no one left, bond or free, and no one to help Israel.

‫ולא־דבר יהוה למחות את־ׁשם‬ ‫יׂשראל מתחת הׁשמים‬

27a But the Lord had not said that he would blot out the name of Israel from under heaven,

‫ויוׁשיעם ביד ירבעם בן־יואׁש׃‬

27b so he saved them by the hand of Jeroboam son of Joash.

1.1 Ancient Near Eastern Oppression-Liberation Accounts Most ancient Near Eastern historiographies focusing on the king’s achievements briefly present the king’s deeds without any additional reference to the political or religious context.97 Some inscriptions provide the reader with a brief comment on a rebellion or an enemy invasion to contextualize the campaign.98 When this brief introductory comment describes a foreign oppression the “just” king was exposed to, we can speak about an oppression-liberation pattern. The ancient Near Eastern accounts of this form, similar to the first two biblical oppressionliberation accounts (2 Kgs 13:3–5, 22–25), recount events in chronological order, as can be illustrated by Šamaš-reša-uṣur’s inscription (Table 6):99 Table 6. Analysis of the oppression-liberation account in Šamaš-reša-uṣur’s inscription. Context (introducing the conditions and reason for the campaign)

Four hundred of the Tuʾmānu came and rose up against the town Ribaniš.

I had gone to the New City for the festival and Military intervention (the reaction of the king to the challenge; the bravery of the king when in the town Baqa I heard (of the uprising), I crossed over (the river) to the landside is often underlined) with the palace troops who were with me and I pursued them. Result (a summary of the defeat, description of booty, etc.)

When I crossed over (the river), I defeated them at Qaqqaru-aradātu. I killed 350 soldiers among them (and) let the remainder go free to (spread the news of my) glory.

97 Most Assyrian inscriptions focus on the kings’ victories (e. g., Shalmaneser III, RIMA 3 A.0.102.1; Šamši-Adad V, RIMA 3 A.0.103.1; Adad-nirari III, RIMA 3 A.0.104.3). 98 The majority of Urartian inscriptions focus on royal achievements and only rarely mention difficulties preceding royal campaigns (CTU A 3–4; A 5–11A; A 8–1d, 8–3 V; A 9–3 IV). 99 RIMB 2 S. 0.1001.1 ii 17ʹ–26ʹ. The chronological organization of the ancient Near Eastern account can be observed across borders; cf. the inscriptions of Assyrian king (RIMA 3 A.0 102.5 iv 1–5), Assyrian governor Šamši-ilu (RIMA 3 A.0.104.2010:11–18), Assyrian vassal-king Kulamuwa (KAI 24:2–8), Zakkur, king of Hamath (KAI 202 A 1–17), Assyrian archenemy Urartu (CTU A 3–4).

90

Peter Dubovský

The oppression-liberation motif represents one of the most frequent literary forms in the ancient Near Eastern historiographic inscriptions; although it is elaborated in multiple forms, they all follow a detectible three-step pattern.100 This three-step pattern organizes events, chronologies, lists, and other shorter literary forms in a larger historiographic narrative. Depending on the purpose of a given inscription, some steps can be expanded while others can be reduced to skeletal form. I. The dark past and the gloomy starting point. Ancient Near Eastern scribes laid out the hostile situation – oppression, war, military aggression, and so on – that a king had to face. This was achieved by employing, for example, a notice, a longer report,101 direct speech,102 or the repetition of an oppression theme. Liverani rightly pointed out that the scenario in which one just king is oppressed by many evil enemies frequently functions as a narrative justification of a military campaign.103 II. The reversal of the situation. Under a new king the situation changes radically. The previous kings’ incapacity to resolve the problematic situation stands in clear contrast with the capacity of the new king, who reverses the hostile situation by means of a political maneuver104 or military action. The scribes underscored the reversal of the situation by employing metaphors that accentuated the king’s bravery.105 Given the religious background of historiographic texts, the description of the reversal was often filled with divine interventions, such as revelatory dreams, prophecies, diviners’ reports, responses to prayers, and so on.106 Thus the new king was successful in two spheres: in the divine sphere the 100 Merlo,

“Literature,” 115–16. that time Argishtu, the Urarlian, the number of whose forces is huge like a thick cloud … rebelled and assembled the people together at the land of the Guti. He put his (forces for) battle in good order (and then) all his troops marched into the mountains for battle” (RIMA 3 A.0.104.2010:11–13). 102 Cf. the Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur inscription (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.3 i 7ʹ–19ʹ) and the Mesha inscription (KAI 181:6). 103 Liverani, Assiria, 113–21. The presentation of the dark past need not be related to a political situation. This pattern is sometimes used as an introduction to dedicatory inscriptions. Thus, Argištu I described as desert and empty land the site where he subsequently constructed a temple (CTU A 8–21). 104 In order to resolve his problems, Kulamuwa allied with the Assyrians: “When the king of the Dunanians became too strong for me, I hired against him the king of Assyria” (KAI 24:7–8). It is important to notice that Kulamuwa presents himself as a king who can hire the Assyrians, whereas the reality was quite different: Kulamuwa became a vassal king who paid tribute to the Assyrian empire. 105 Šamši-ilu adopted a typical Assyrian metaphor: “With the great roar of drums (and) weapons at the ready which reverberate terrifyingly, he (Šamši-ilu) rushed forth like a terrible storm. He let fly the stormy steeds, harnessed to his chariot, against him (Argishtu) like the Anzu-bird and defeated him” (RIMA 3 A.0.2010:15–16). 106 Zakkur received a confirmation from the god Ballshamayn (the Lord of Heaven): “And I lifted up my hands to the Lord of [Heaven], and the Lord of Heaven answered me, [and spoke] the Lord of Heaven to me through seers and astrologers, [and said to me] the Lord of 101 “At

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

91

king was a pious ruler who trusted the gods and followed their advice; in the terrestrial sphere the king stood out as an extraordinary military leader and savvy diplomat who fulfilled the orders of the gods. III. The prosperous present. The reversal of the political situation permitted the king not only to consolidate his kingdom but also to undertake important construction projects such as temples, palaces, and cities (see Table 2 above). After the defeat of the enemy, the whole kingdom prospered, even its neediest members.107 New horizons opened in front of the people after liberation provided opportunities for new development and prosperity.108 A comparison of the biblical oppression-liberation accounts (2 Kgs 13:3–5, 22– 25) with the ancient Near Eastern oppression-liberation accounts shows that they share the same literary form. Both biblical and ancient Near Eastern accounts follow a similar pattern: oppression-reversal-liberation. Moreover, both types of accounts are organized in chronological order and written in a simple style with few digressions. Finally, both types reflect similar religious conceptions: the gods liberated their people/king from the hands of the oppressors. In some cases the divinity’s intervention marked the turning point of the narrative, as in the Zakkur inscription; in other cases it was not mentioned at all, as in the Kulamuwa inscription. 1.2 Non-Chronological Forms and Mixed Genres Geographical proximity as well as political similarities between Moab and Israel suggest that Moabite and Israelite historiographies may share numerous elements. The Mesha Inscription was found at Dhiban in 1868, and it is generally Heaven: Fear not, for I have made [thee king, and I will stan]d by thee, and I will deliver thee from all [these kings who] have set siege against thee” (KAI 202 A lines 11–16). Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur adopted a typical Assyrian phraseology: “I questioned the god Apla-Adad, the great lord, my lord. At the command of the god Apla-Ad[ad], the great lord, my lord, I went up to the steppe against them” (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.1:31–32); similarly Šamši-ilu: “At the word of the father Ashur, the great lord, and the lofty mother Esharra … Šamši-ilu … put a strong force of soldiers into the mountains” (RIMA 3 A.0.2010:13–14). For a study of this Assyrian topos see Liverani, Assiria, 3–18. 107 Kulamuwa claimed: “But I was to some a father; and to some I was a mother; and to some I was a brother. Whoever had never possessed a sheep, I made a lord of a flock. Whoever had never possessed an ox, I made owner of a herd and owner of silver and lord of gold. Whoever from his childhood had never seen linen, now in my days wore byssos” (KAI 24:10–12). 108 For example, “I, Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur, … discovered land (capable of being) cultivated on the top of a cliff and conceived the idea of building a town (there). I laid a stone foundation, reinforced (it), built a town upon (it), and named it Kar-Apla-Adad” (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.2 iii 22ʹ–29ʹ). Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur’s father introduced beekeeping to his domain: “I, Shamashrešu-uṣur, governor of the land of Suḫu and the land of Mari, brought down from the mountain of the people of Habhu the bees which gather honey – which none from among my forefathers had seen or brought down to the land of Suḫu – and I established them in the gardens of the town Al-gabbari-bani” (RIMB 2 S. 0.1001.1 iv 13–16).

92

Peter Dubovský

agreed that it was composed in the second half of the ninth century BCE, probably around 835.109 The inscription can be divided into three parts: 1. Introduction (lines 1–4a); this part reports information that is typical of memorial inscriptions (and, in part, dedicatory inscriptions): a. The king’s name (Mesha), his patronym (the son of Kemosh[‑yatti]), and his titles (the king of Moab, the Dibonite); b. Details about the stela: the name of the deity to whom the stela is dedicated (Kemosh), the object dedicated to the deity (a high place), and the location where the stela was erected (Karchoh); c. The reason for erecting the stela (salvation from enemies). 2. General summary of the king’s military success (lines 4b–7): historical background and Mesha’s victory (Israelite oppression and Mesha’s victory). 3. Summary narratives of the king’s accomplishments (lines 7–34): the recapture of the land of Medeba; the conquest of Araroth, Nebo, and Jahaz; and construction projects in Karchoh, Aroer, Arnon, Bet Bamoth, Bezer, and Horonaim.110

The structure of this inscription has implications for our study. First, in the Mesha Inscription, the oppression-liberation pattern represented in part 2 was incorporated into a larger unit, as in the case of the oppression-liberation sections in 2 Kgs 13–14. Second, the Mesha Inscription can be classified as a memorial inscription111 that presents the king’s achievements. Memorial inscriptions, even though they record the king’s deeds, do not necessarily organize them in a chronological or geographical order,112 contrary to other historiographic genres such as royal  COS 2.137. structure of the Mesha Inscription is assessed differently by Klaas A. D. Smelik and Simon B. Parker. Smelik divides the inscription into five parts: Part I lines 1–4 Introduction lines 4–21 Military operations Part II lines 21–28 Building activities Part III lines 29–31 Conclusion Part IV Part V lines 31– … Appendix Parker identifies four sections: lines 1–4 Introduction Section A lines 4–21 Expulsion of Israel Section B Section C lines 21–31 Building and other activities lines 31–34 Expulsion of Judah Section D Smelik, Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 60; Parker, Stories in Scripture and Inscriptions: Comparative Studies on Narratives in Northwest Semitic Inscriptions and the Hebrew Bible (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 44–46. 111 The literary genres of the historiographic inscriptions vary. For our purposes, it is important to note the chief difference between a dedicatory inscription and a memorial inscription: in the former the king is spoken of in the third person, in the latter he speaks in the first-person singular. But several Levantine inscriptions prove that the two genres can easily be combined; cf. Joel Drinkard, “The Literary Genre of the Meshaʿ Inscription,” in Dearman, Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab, 139. 112 Drinkard, “Literary Genre,” 154. 109

110 The

93

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

annals, chronicles, or diaries. The structure presented above shows that the events described in the Mesha Inscription are organized in a cyclic pattern with some retrospective sections, comparable to 2 Kgs 14:25–27. The stele starts with the description of Mesha’s rebuilding of the high place for Kemosh (lines 3–4). Then, it presents a retrospective narrative of the oppression and liberation (lines 5–7) and continues to list royal achievements with occasional retrospective notices (lines 10, 18, 31). Third, the oppression-liberation section of the Mesha Inscription (KAI 181, lines 4–9), similarly to 2 Kgs 13:22–25, combines various literary elements and reports in an account (Table 7). Both the biblical and Moabite reports start with a summary of the oppression. Moab was afflicted for “many days” by Israel, and Israel was oppressed for “all the days” of Jehoahaz by Aram-Damascus. In each case the reversal of fortune is introduced by a theological justification of the rebellion against the oppressors. The timing of the liberation is also similar. In both cases, the oppressed king seizes the opportunity to revolt just after the oppressor-king dies and his son becomes king. The change in the oppressor’s court allows the oppressed king to recover and free his kingdom. In both cases the report finishes with a short summary7 of liberation. Table 7. Comparison of the oppression-liberation accounts in 2 Kgs 13:22–25 and the Mesha Inscription. Elements

2 Kgs 13:22–25

Mesha Inscription, lines 4–9

Oppressor-father

‫וחזאל מלך ארם לחץ את־יׂשראל כל‬ ‫ימי יהואחז‬

.‫ מאב‬.‫ את‬.‫ ויענו‬.‫ ישראל‬.‫ מלך‬.‫עמרי‬ ‫ רבן‬.‫ימן‬

Divine elements

‫ויחן יהוה אתם וירחמם ויפן אליהם‬ ‫למען בריתו את־אברהם יצחק ויעקב‬ ‫ולא אבה הׁשחיתם ולא־הׁשליכם מעל־‬ 1113‫פניו עד־עתה‬

‫ בארצה‬.‫ כמש‬.‫ יאנף‬.‫כי‬

Change on the ­oppressor’s throne Liberation

‫ וימת חזאל מלך־ארם וימלך בן־הדד‬.‫ את‬.‫ אענו‬.‫ הא‬.‫ גם‬.‫ ויאמר‬.‫ בנה‬.‫ויחלפה‬ ‫בנו תחתיו‬ ‫ אמר‬.‫…מאב בימי‬ ‫ויׁשב יהואׁש בן־יהואחז ויקח את־‬ ‫הערים מיד בן־הדד בן־חזאל אׁשר‬ ‫לקח מיד יהואחז אביו במלחמה ׁשלׁש‬ ‫פעמים הכהו יואׁש ויׁשב את־ערי‬ ‫יׂשראל‬

.‫ אבד‬.‫ אבד‬.‫ ובבתה וישראל‬.‫ בה‬.‫וארא‬ ‫עלם‬ … ‫וישבה כמש בימי‬

Finally, the oppression-liberation section of the Mesha Inscription (lines 5–6), like 2 Kgs 13:3–5, uses the motif of divine anger as a theological justification for explaining why Israel and Moab were oppressed (Table 8). The divine anger 113 A part

of this “divine element” is a later insertion, see below.

94

Peter Dubovský

motif can be found in various ancient Near Eastern cultures.114 The function of the divine anger section in the Mesha stele and in 2 Kgs 13:3–5 is similar to a “local” logic contrary to the Neo-Assyrian imperial logic.115 In Babylonia this pattern was continually employed from the twelfth century until the sixth century. Divine anger was invoked to explain the submission of Babylonia to other nations, similar to the function of divine anger in 2 Kgs 13:3–5. The Babylonian accounts did not end with the notice about oppression but followed up by recounting the reversal of the situation. Like the Babylonian accounts, both the Mesha Inscription and 2 Kgs 13:3–5 describe how a new king-savior transformed the negative past/present into a new glorious present/future, although the sequence of elements differs between the Mesha Inscription and the biblical narrative. Table 8. Comparison of the motif of divine anger in 2 Kgs 13:22–25 and the Mesha Inscription. Divine anger pattern

2 Kgs 13:3–5

Salvation

Mesha Inscription, lines 4–7 .‫ הראני‬.‫ וכי‬.‫ המלכן‬.‫ מכל‬.‫ השעני‬.‫כי‬ ‫ שנאי‬.‫בכל‬

Oppression and ­divine anger

‫ויחר־אף יהוה ביׂשראל ויתנם ביד‬ .‫ מאב‬.‫ את‬.‫ ויענו‬.‫ ישראל‬.‫ מלך‬.‫עמרי‬ ‫ חזאל מלך־ארם וביד בן־הדד בן־חזאל‬.‫ בארצה ויחלפה‬.‫ כמש‬.‫ יאנף‬.‫ רבן כי‬.‫ימן‬ ‫כל־הימים׃‬ ‫ מאב‬.‫ את‬.‫ אענו‬.‫ הא‬.‫ גם‬.‫ ויאמר‬.‫בנה‬ ‫ אמר‬.‫…בימי‬

Divine mercy

‫ויחל יהואחז את־פני יהוה ויׁשמע אליו‬ ‫יהוה כי ראה את־לחץ יׂשראל כי־לחץ‬ ‫אתם מלך ארם׃‬

Salvation

‫ויתן יהוה ליׂשראל מוׁשיע ויצאו מתחת‬ ‫יד־ארם ויׁשבו בני־יׂשראל באהליהם‬ ‫כתמול ׁשלׁשום׃‬

.‫ אבד‬.‫ אבד‬.‫ ובבתה וישראל‬.‫ בה‬.‫וארא‬ ‫עלם‬

114 Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann, eds., Divine Wrath and Divine Mercy in the World of Antiquity, FAT II 33 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008); Jörg Jeremias, Der Zorn Gottes im Alten Testament: Das biblische Israel zwischen Verwerfung und Erwählung, BiblischTheologische Studien (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2009); Peter Dubovský, “Boží hnev v  mezopotámskych kráľovských nápisoch a  v  Knihe Exodus,” StBiSl 2, no. 2 (2010): 112–22; Stefan Wälchli, Gottes Zorn in den Psalmen: Eine Studie zur Rede vom Zorn Gottes in den Psalmen im Kontext des Alten Testamentes und des Alten Orients, OBO 244 (Fribourg: Academic Press Fribourg, 2012); Dankwart Kirchner, Vom Zorne Gottes und vom Zorn des Menschen: Plädoyer für eine nachbiblische Emotionalität (Frankfurt am Main: PL Academic Research, 2013). 115 Cf. Peter Dubovský, “From a Textual History to a History of Israelite Divinity: The Oppression-liberation Pattern in 2 Kings 13:1–9,” forthcoming.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

95

2. Historical Story (2 Kgs 14:8–14) The Israelite scribes sometimes elaborated short reports into a historical story (cf. 1 Kgs 12:1–20). The story recounted events as they occurred, but structured them according to a rudimentary plot containing a tension and its resolution.116 Joash’s conquest of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 14:8–14) represents an example of such a historical story. Using Freytag’s pyramid as a model,117 we can distinguish the following stages of the narrative (Table 9). Table 9. Narrative analysis of 2 Kgs 14:8–14 according to Freytag’s pyramid. Exposition

7 He

(Amaziah) killed ten thousand Edomites in the Valley of Salt and took Sela by storm; he called it Jokthe-el, which is its name to this day.

Conflict

8

Rising action

9 King

Climax

11 But Amaziah would not listen. So King Jehoash of Israel went up; he and King Amaziah of Judah faced one another in battle at Beth-shemesh, which belongs to Judah.

Falling action

12 Judah was defeated by Israel; everyone fled home. 13 King Jehoash of Israel captured King Amaziah of Judah son of Jehoash, son of Ahaziah, at Beth-shemesh; he came to Jerusalem, and broke down the wall of Jerusalem from the Ephraim Gate to the Corner Gate, a distance of four hundred cubits.

Denouement

14 He

Then Amaziah sent messengers to King Jehoash son of Jehoahaz, son of Jehu, of Israel, saying, “Come, let us look one another in the face.”

Jehoash of Israel sent word to King Amaziah of Judah, “A thornbush on Lebanon sent to a cedar on Lebanon, saying, ‘Give your daughter to my son for a wife’; but a wild animal of Lebanon passed by and trampled down the thornbush. 10 You have indeed defeated Edom, and your heart has lifted you up. Be content with your glory, and stay at home; for why should you provoke trouble so that you fall, you and Judah with you?”

seized all the gold and silver, and all the vessels that were found in the house of the Lord and in the treasuries of the king’s house, as well as hostages; then he returned to Samaria.

The historical story of the destruction of Jerusalem consists of a series of short reports. It starts with a report on Amaziah’s victory over Edom (exposition)118 and finishes with a brief summary of the defeat at Beth-shemesh, the capture of the king, and the destruction of Jerusalem (falling action and denouement). 116 Long,

2 Kings, 301. Freytag, Freytag’s Technique of the Drama: An Exposition of Dramatic Composition and Art by Dr. Gustav Freytag, 3rd ed., trans. Elias J. Macewan (Chicago: Scott, Foresman, 1900), 115. Even though this model has been further nuanced in numerous studies on biblical narrative, I will refer to Freytag’s articulation of it, since it is useful for the analysis of 2 Kgs 14:8–14. 118 Second Kings 14:7 thematically belongs to Amaziah’s reign; however, in terms of genre it is different from the theological justification presented in v. 6. It has the same literary style as vv. 11b–14. 117 Gustav

96

Peter Dubovský

While the exposition, conflict, and rising action are well developed, the climax, falling action, and denouement merge, emphasizing the final results of the war rather than the war itself. The rising action comprises the largest part of the story. It is presented in the form of a confrontation between Joash and Amaziah. This dialogue conveys a strong negative judgment on Amaziah, portrayed here as an arrogant and pretentious king who disregarded the history of Judah.119 2.1 Ancient Near Eastern Historical Stories Reports and accounts dominated ancient Near Eastern historiography in the ninth–eighth century, and historical stories were less frequently used. An illustrative example is provided by Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur’s defeat of Aramean enemies. Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur was a governor of Suḫu, and despite being close to Assyria he enjoyed independence from the ninth–eighth century Assyrian kings.120 The story narrates how Aramean tribes invaded the Laqe region. The regional governors begged Ninurta-kudurri-uṣur for help. He intervened and defeated the Arameans.121 The first version of the story has been preserved on two clay tablets (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.1) and presents a long account of the king’s victorious campaign (lines 19–43).122 This straightforward chronological account was later turned into a historical story charged with narrative suspense (RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.2–8). The story starts with a short exposition and conflict describing the invasion of the Arameans in the third person. Then the story elaborates three independent threads of the plot (rising point). The first thread describes in the first person the despair of the governor of Laqe who suffered from the Aramean 119 Namely, when God stopped Rehoboam from fighting against Jeroboam (1 Kgs 12:21–24) or put an end to fratricidal wars between Asa and Basha (1 Kgs 15:16–21, 32). 120 Salvage work in the region of Haditha, on the middle Euphrates, revealed several inscriptions that have been published by Antoine Cavigneaux and Bahija K. Ismail, “Die Statthalter von Suḫu und Mari im 8. Jh. v. Chr.,” BaghM 21 (1990): 321–456. The inscriptions covered the reign of Šamaš-reša-uṣur and his successor Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur, who were in office in the first two-thirds of the eighth century (RIMB 2, 275). The kingdom of Suḫu was defeated by Ashurnasirpal II and paid tribute to Assyria during the reigns of Shalmaneser III, Šamši-Adad V, and Adad-nirari III. However, Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur acted as an independent governor of Suḫu. He defeated Aramean tribes, raided an Arabian caravan, and rescued the city of Anat. These events were put into writing, representing an important historiographic corpus of an independent governor during the first wave of the Assyrian expansion. The period of Suḫu’s independence ended with Tiglath-pileser III. 121 For more details, see J. A. Brinkman, A Political History of Post-Kassite Babylonia, 1158–722 B. C., AnOr 43 (Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum, 1968), 183–84; Cavigneaux and Ismail, “Die Statthalter”; Dominique Charpin, “La ‘toponimie en miroir’ dans le ProcheOrient amorrite,” RA 97 (2003): 3–34; Jean-Marie Durand and Lionel Marti, “Chronique du Moyen-Euphrate: Une attaque de Qaṭna par le Sûhum et la question du ‘pays de Mari,’” RA 99 (2005): 123–32; Nadav Na’aman, “The Contribution of the Suḫu Inscriptions to the Historical Research of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah,” JNES 66 (2007): 107–22. 122 This version does not describe other events and, as is the case in most Assyrian inscriptions, it can be dated before the rest of the corpus.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

97

attack. The second summarizes how the governor of Ruṣapu became afraid and did not fight the Arameans. The third gives the reader a sense of the mood among the Arameans. Some were afraid, but the local hero Šama’gamni delivered a decisive speech that lifted Aramean morale, concluding: “Then we will go and attack the houses of the land of Suḫu” (1002.2 i 25–26). All these threads meet at Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur. Will he back out as the governor of Ruṣapu did? But Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur runs to fight the Arameans. The description is full of metaphors and hyperbole that communicate Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur’s smashing of the Arameans.123 This decisive victory is to be celebrated in present and future times. Both the biblical story about Joash’s defeat of Amaziah and the story about Ninurta-kudurru-uṣur’s defeat of the Arameans develop parallel threads of the narrative, employ direct speeches to increase suspense, and follow a linear plot structure like that described by Freytag. Both stories start with the description of an invasion and both indicate their sympathy with the victorious king. Another element to be noticed is the description of the capture of the king. Capturing the enemy king or the head of the rebels represents an important theme in ancient Near Eastern inscriptions.124 If the king was not captured, he could have easily continued his subversive activities after the battle. Second Kings 14:13 emphasizes the capture of Amaziah through a syntactical change: the chain of wayyiqtol forms is interrupted by the anticipatory object (waw-X qatal). This syntax emphasizes the object (the captured king Amaziah). This is the first time in history when an Israelite king captured a Judahite king. Similarly the capture of Šama’gamni, the Aramean leader, occupies a separate section (RIMB 1002.1:40–43). Finally, both stories convey directly or indirectly the scribes’ judgement. Second Kings 14:9 displays the arrogance of Amaziah’s aspirations through an impressive tale and a direct quotation of Amaziah’s words.125 Ninurta-kudurruuṣur’s scribes referred to the Aramean leader “who [was] thoroughly imbued with falsehood” (RIMB 1002.2 i 12) and also allowed the reader to hear his arrogant words.

123 “I brought about a [cloud]-burst over them and from inside my chariots I washed them away like ch[aff]. Arrows quivered like locusts over [my] forces, (but) no one person among my forces fell … I fell upon them like a blazing fire … I made their blood run like the water of a river … I filled the mountains and wadis with their skulls … I inflicted such a defeat as none among my ancestors had inflicted. My ancestors had defeated the enemy ten times, but they did not achieve as much as I. I inflicted a single defeat (of such an extent that) I surpassed my ancestors” (RIMB 2 1002.2 ii 1–28). 124 Cf. Shalmaneser III’s defeat of Damascus (RIMA 3 A.0.102.13 r.4ʹ–11ʹ; 14:102–104). 125 Mesha’s scribes allowed Omri’s son to speak in order to make clear that the Israelites persisted in their arrogant and unjust oppression of Moab (KAI 181:6).

98

Peter Dubovský

III. Implications and Comparison with Ancient Near Eastern Literary Genres Two important observations can be drawn from the comparison between 2 Kgs 13–14 and other ancient Near Eastern historiographies. First, there was no fixed literary genre for these historiographies. On the contrary, ancient Near Eastern historiographic texts, 2 Kgs 13–14 included, employed several literary forms. Second, literary analysis showed that the genres of reports, accounts, and historical stories used in 2 Kgs 13–14 were also used in the ancient Near Eastern historiographies of the ninth–eighth century. Third, some important themes such as divine wrath, the chronological organization of events, and so on were literary and religious topoi shared across the borders in the ninth–eighth century. Finally, the biblical brief reports, accounts, and stories manifest the flaws and virtues of all ancient Near Eastern brief reports.126 So not only the content but also the styles and themes of narratives about the Israelite king’s achievements correspond to the historiographies of the first millennium. Can we conclude that Israelite historiography started in the ninth– eighth century? Political conditions were conducive to this development, there were important deeds of Israelite kings to be commemorated, there were scribes able to put those deeds in writing, and finally the literary themes and genres employed by the scribes of the ninth–eighth century can be traced in 2 Kgs 13–14. Yet literary themes and forms extant in the ninth–eighth century could have been used by scribes writing original accounts of the Nimshide kings in later periods. Is it possible to demonstrate (or establish to a high degree of probability) that the accounts in 2 Kgs 13–14 examined above were composed not long after the events they describe?

126 First, a great king was expected to do certain deeds to be a respected king, for example, to name a city after himself. Thus Amaziah’s renaming of the conquered Edomite city Sela (Petra) as Jokthe-el makes his victory resemble those of major ancient Near Eastern kings. Second, the king’s military victories were presented as total, although that was not always an accurate picture (cf. Kulamuwa’s and Zakkur’s achievements in KAI 24 and KAI 202). Thus, Jehoahaz, Joash, and Jeroboam II saved Israel (2 Kgs 13:3–5), but their successes fell far short of a lasting victory (cf. 2 Kgs 13:7, 22 and chs. 15–17). Third, reports contained hyperbolic language, as illustrated by the example of Amaziah’s invasion of Edom, when he claimed to have killed ten thousand Edomites (2 Kgs 14:7). This exaggerated number corresponds in scale to the numbers used in the Assyrian annals (cf. RIMA 3 A.0.102.2:91). Finally, the extent of territory controlled by the ruler after the victory was often exaggerated. Thus, Jeroboam II was said to have expanded his territory up to Lebo-hamath in the north (2 Kgs 14:25, 28; see below). Similar exaggerations can be observed in Šamši-ilu’s inscription: “[Šamšī]-ilu, the field marshal, the great herald, [the administrator of] temples, chief of the extensive army, governor of the land Ḫatti (and) of the land of the Guti and all the land Namri, conqueror of the mountains in the West, who lays waste […], (10) who overthrows the lands Musku and Urarṭu, who pillages its people, who devastates the lands Utiû, Rubû, Ḫadalu, (and) Labdudu, who defeats them” (RIMA 3 A.0.104.2010:8–11).

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

99

D. Preexilic Sources and Postexilic Redaction To conclude our investigation, we shall attempt to determine whether there is any evidence that the passages that use the literary forms studied above to describe the Israelite kings’ achievements could have been composed in the preexilic period. Thus the last step of our analysis addresses the integration of the biblical sources into the final editions of the MT (2 Kgs 13–14) and the LXX (4 Regn 13–14). To this end, I will focus on unusual synchronistic formulas, on the redaction of 2 Kgs 13:1–9, 13:22–25, and 14:8–22, and on specific vocabulary that may betray an earlier or later scribal hand. Comparing the results of this study with ancient Near Eastern scribal activities, I will argue that 2 Kgs 13–14 contains passages belonging to the earliest historiographic compositions in Israel. I. A Repeated Succession Formula and a Unique Synchronistic Formula The concluding formula at the end of the account of the reign of the Israelite king Joash/Jehoash in 2 Kgs 13:12–13 is repeated in 2 Kgs 14:15–17. The repetition occurs in the middle of the regnal account of the Judahite king Amaziah. This repetition of Joash’s concluding formula has no parallel in the book of Kings. The repetition, however, is not an exact duplication. A closer examination of 2 Kgs 13:12–13 and 14:15–16 shows that the Hebrew text uses different phrases to describe the succession of Joash’s son, Jeroboam II: ‫ יׁשב על כסא‬versus‫תחתיו‬ ‫( וימלך‬Table 10). Table 10. Comparison of the succession accounts of Jeroboam II and Jehoash. Jeroboam II (2 Kgs 13:13) ‫וירבעם יׁשב על־כסאו ויקבר יואׁש בׁשמרון עם‬ ‫מלכי יׂשראל׃‬ So Joash slept with his ancestors, and Jeroboam sat upon his throne; Joash was buried in Samaria with the kings of Israel.

Jehoash (2 Kgs 14:16) ‫ויקבר בׁשמרון עם מלכי יׂשראל וימלך ירבעם בנו‬ ‫תחתיו׃‬ Jehoash slept with his ancestors, and was buried in Samaria with the kings of Israel; then his son Jeroboam succeeded him.

A comparison of the MT and the Greek witnesses adds another level of complexity to the problem. LXXB presents a different text in 13:12–13127 and LXXAnt places the concluding formula after 2 Kgs 13:25, not after 13:11. Moreover, in LXXAnt the succession formulas are exchanged: the Greek formula corresponding to ‫ יׁשב על כסא‬appears in 14:15–16, and the traditional formula ‫תחתיו וימלך‬ follows 13:25. I have argued elsewhere that the Old Greek text was preserved in 127 LXXB reads: καὶ ἐκοιμήθη Ιωας μετὰ τῶν πατέρων αὐτοῦ καὶ Ιεροβοαμ ἐκάθισεν μετὰ τῶν πατέρων αὐτοῦ καὶ ἐν Σαμαρείᾳ μετὰ τῶν ἀδελφῶν Ισραηλ.

100

Peter Dubovský

LXXAnt.128 The Hebrew Vorlage of the Old Greek had only one concluding formula after 2 Kgs 13:25, it did not include 14:15, and it had an unusual wording in 14:16, namely ἐκάθισεν = ‫ויׁשב‬, instead of the expected ἐβασίλευσεν = ‫וימלך‬. At some point this text was corrupted, as can be partially seen in LXXB; the corruptions were corrected and resulted in the readings of the MT and LXXA and other Greek manuscripts. Moreover, 2 Kgs 14:17 introduces a new synchronizing formula that occurs nowhere else in 1–2 Kings: ‫ויחי אמציהו בן־יואׁש מלך יהודה אחרי מות יהואׁש בן־יהואחז‬ ‫מלך יׂשראל חמׁש עׂשרה ׁשנה‬.129 In sum, the concluding regnal formulas in 2 Kgs 13–14 contain four unusual features. First, the concluding formula of Joash is repeated in the account of Amaziah’s reign. Second, the Hebrew formula describing Jeroboam’s ascension to the throne uses the verb ‫יׁשב‬, which occurs only here in the MT as part of a concluding formula but whose Akkadian cognate was used in the Babylonian chronicles to describe a royal succession.130 Third, there is a new formula that links the reign of the Judahite king Amaziah to the Israelite king Joash. Finally, the wording and position of the formulas differ in the Greek and Hebrew manuscripts, and the MT represents, in this case, a later development of the text. These elements cannot simply be dismissed as scribal mistakes; rather, they seem to have been intended to establish a new synchronism between the chronologies of Judah and Israel. The importance of this new chronological coordination between the two kingdoms can be seen from the context. The description of the Judahite king Amaziah starts in 2 Kgs 14:1–3 with an introductory formula typical of southern kings. Immediately after the description of Amaziah’s defeat and the conquest of Jerusalem, the scribes introduced Joash’s second concluding formula (2 Kgs 14:15–16). According to the Old Greek it contained the verb ‫יׁשב‬, which normally does not occur in concluding formulas. Moreover, scribes established a new synchronistic system in 2 Kgs 14:17 in order to coordinate the reign of the conquered Judahite king Amaziah with that of his overlord, the Israelite king Joash. This new system 128 Peter Dubovský, “‘Typical’ and ‘Atypical’ Concluding Formulas in 2 Kgs 13–14: A Reconstruction of the Old Greek and its Implication,” forthcoming in Biblica. 129 Another potential synchronizing formula appears in 2 Kgs 14:22: “he rebuilt Elath and restored it to Judah, after the king slept with his ancestors.” Is “the king” the Israelite king Joash or the Judahite king Amaziah? The text allows for both interpretations. Some less important Greek manuscripts add the name of Amaziah, suggesting the following interpretation: “He (Azariah, son of Amaziah) rebuilt Elath and restored it to Judah, after the king (Amaziah) slept with his ancestors.” But interpreting the verse as a synchronizing formula that establishes a temporal relationship between the southern king and the northern king is also possible, and in my view preferable: “He (Amaziah) rebuilt Elath and restored it to Judah, after the king (Joash) slept with his ancestors.” This opinion can be supported by the fact that an addendum after the concluding regnal résumé normally describes the reign of the previous king (in this case, Amaziah) and not that of his successor (Uzziah). 130 Cf. ABC 1 i 10, 13, 28.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

101

synchronizing the Israelite and Judean kings could not have been invented after the fall of Samaria or during the Babylonian exile and can rightly be considered the first sign pointing to the preexilic date of the text. II. Oppression-Liberation Narrative I (2 Kgs 13:3–5, 7) Also important for dating the biblical text are oppression-liberation narratives. Second Kings 13:3–5, 7 has often been compared with a similar pattern in the book of Judges, and several scholars concluded that the Judges parallels belong to the Deuteronomistic stratum that can be identified in 2 Kgs 13:2.131 Despite similarities with the book of Judges, however, the Deuteronomistic origin of 2 Kgs 13:3–5 cannot be sustained. First, the condemnation of the king in v. 2 is a standard part of the regnal introductory formula;132 although it appears to supply the cause of the divine anger described in v. 3, divine anger in the book of Kings is not always explicitly justified, nor is the cause of Chemosh’s anger against Moab explained in the Mesha Inscription. Moreover, vv. 2 and 6 are organized in a chiastic pattern that functions as a literary frame for the oppression-liberation narrative in 13:3–5.133 Finally, a comparison of 13:3–5 with the similar oppression-liberation pattern in the book of Judges reveals important differences: – Whereas in the book of Judges the oppression-liberation passages belong to the framework in which the narratives about the major judges are embedded, in 2 Kgs 13 the oppression-liberation account is the center of the narrative. – In the book of Judges this pattern has been applied to several major judges, but in 1–2 Kings it is used only here; no major Judahite king is ever called a “savior” or said to have “saved” Judah. 131 Albert Šanda, Das zweite Buch der Könige, EHAT 9.2 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1912), 153; James A. Montgomery, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Kings, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1951), 433; Würthwein, Könige, 360–61; Dennis J. McCarthy, “2 Kings 13:4–6,” Bib 54 (1973): 409–10; Georg Hentschel, 2 Könige, NEchtB (Würzburg: Echter, 1985), 59; Walter Brueggemann, 1 & 2 Kings (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2000), 427; Marvin A. Sweeney, I & II Kings, OTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007), 355; Marco Nobile, 1–2 Re (Milan: Paoline, 2010), 371. 132 Compare the introductory formula for Jehoahaz with those of Joash and Jeroboam II:

Joash (2 Kgs 13:11) Jehoahaz (2 Kgs 13:2, 6) Jeroboam II (2 Kgs 14:24) ‫ ויעׂש הרע בעיני יהוה‬24 ‫ ויעׂשה הרע בעיני יהוה‬11 ‫ ויעׂש הרע בעיני יהוה‬2 ‫וילך אחר חטאת ירבעם בן־נבט‬ ‫לא סר מכל־חטאות ירבעם בן־‬ ‫לא סר מכל־חטאות ירבעם בן־‬ ‫אׁשר־החטיא את־יׂשראל לא־‬ ‫נבט אׁשר־החטיא את־יׂשראל‬ ‫נבט אׁשר החטיא את־יׂשראל׃‬ ‫סר ממנה׃‬ ‫בה הלך׃‬ … ‫ אך לא־סרו מחטאות בית־‬6 ]‫ירבעם אׁשר־(החטי) [החטיא‬ ‫את־יׂשראל בה הלך וגם‬ ‫האׁשרה עמדה בׁשמרון׃‬ 133 This and the following assumptions are based on Dubovský, “From a Textual History to a History of Israelite Divinity.”

102

Peter Dubovský

– In the book of Judges this pattern conveys a negative evaluation of Israelite behavior, but 13:3–5 evaluates Jehoahaz positively; the negative shadings are produced by the story’s Deuteronomistic frame (13:2, 6). – The word “savior,” which links 13:5 with the book of Judges, does not occur in the earlier versions of the text (cf. LXXAnt) and was added only later (see MT). – Whereas 13:4 uses the root ‫ חלה‬to describe how the king appealed for divine aid, in the book of Judges the Israelites regularly cry out for help (‫ זעק‬and ‫)צעק‬. Thus the root theological concept in 2 Kgs 13:3–5 is different. The angry divinity had to be appeased (‫ )חלה‬by a human being. Such appeasement was normally achieved by presenting sacrifices (1 Sam 13:12134). No such concept occurs in the book of Judges. All things considered, these arguments show that the oppression-liberation pattern in 2 Kgs 13:3–5 belongs to a self-contained unit that was later incorporated into a historiographic framework (13:2, 6). This framework judged all northern kings unfavorably, and it can be attributed to the Deuteronomist(s).135 Originally, however, 2 Kgs 13:3–5 presented a positive view of an Israelite king who delivered Israel from the hands of its oppressor. The oppression-deliverance pattern used to praise Jehoahaz was never adopted by Judahite scribes to glorify kings such as Hezekiah or Josiah; it was applied only to the Nimshide kings (cf. 13:5, 17; 14:27). Once 2 Kgs 13:3–5 was incorporated into the Deuteronomistic framework, the original positive pattern was turned into a negative one, and indeed the resulting narrative suggests that Jehoahaz provoked divine anger through his own behavior. In this way Judahite scribes subverted the positive Israelite historiography and invited the reader to contextualize the Nimshide achievements in light of the eventual fall of Samaria. In conclusion, 2 Kgs 13:3–5 bears the preDeuteronomistic stamp. III. Oppression-Liberation Narrative II (2 Kgs 13:22–25) Scholars have convincingly argued that this account is the result of several scribal interventions. On the basis of previous studies,136 I propose that the MT represents a later version that was preceded by two previous stages (see Table 12 below). In 134 In the ancient Near Eastern tradition, appeasement of the gods entailed rebuilding sanctuaries and reestablishing proper cultic activities and offerings (cf. RIMB 2 B.2.4) 135 Cf., for example, Baruch Halpern and David Vanderhooft, “The Editions of Kings in the 7th–6th Centuries B. C. E.,” HUCA 62 (1991): 179–244. 136 See, for example, Rudolf Kittel and Wilhelm Nowack, Die Bücher der Könige (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1900), 259; Klaus D. Fricke, Das zweite Buch von den Königen, BAT 12.2 (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1972), 166–75; Gwilym H. Jones, 1 and 2 Kings: Based on the Revised Standard Version, 2 vols. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans; London: Marshall Morgan & Scott, 1984), 2:499.

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

103

Stage 1, Jehoahaz is linked with his son Joash not only chronologically but also literarily (vocabulary common to the two passages is indicated in gray): ‫כי ראה את־לחץ יׂשראל כי־לחץ אתם מלך ארם‬4b ‫וחזאל מלך ארם לחץ את־יׂשראל כל ימי יהואחז׃‬22

The narrative was later enlarged by the addition of a prophecy-fulfillment pattern (Stage 2). The secondary nature of this addition is conspicuous not only because of its vocabulary, but also because the insertion of the disjunctive fulfillment clause in the oppression-deliverance narrative resulted in an unusual syntactical shift (Table 11). Table 11. Development of the prophecy-fulfillment pattern in 2 Kgs 13:19, 24–25. Additions to the text are indicated in gray. ‫ ׁשלׁש פעמים תכה את־ארם‬Elisha’s prophecy (13:19) wayyiqtol forms

Subordinate clause Intrusion wayyiqtol form

‫ וימת חזאל מלך־ארם‬Fulfillment of the prophecy ‫ וימלך בן־הדד בנו תחתיו׃‬in 13:24–25 ‫ויׁשב יהואׁש בן־יהואחז ויקח את־‬ ‫הערים מיד בן־הדד בן־חזאל‬ ‫אׁשר לקח מיד יהואחז אביו במלחמה‬ ‫ׁשלׁש פעמים הכהו יואׁש‬ ‫ויׁשב את־ערי יׂשראל׃‬

The prophecy-fulfillment pattern is a sign of the editor’s effort to link the oppression-liberation narrative with the career of Elisha and can be safely attributed to the redactor who integrated the Elisha narratives into 1–2 Kings.137 The final stage of the account follows different courses in the Greek and Hebrew texts (Table 12). LXXAnt contains 13:23 but places it after 13:7 (Stage 3a). Furthermore, LXXAnt expanded the account of Hazael’s oppression (at the end of v. 22) and linked the Aramean defeat with the word of God (at the end of v. 24). MT and LXXA, B added 2 Kgs 13:23 (Stage 3b). As most scholars have concluded, this verse is a later addition. It is absent from LXXAnt, which reflects more closely the Old Greek and thus the Hebrew text preceding the current MT. The vocabulary of this verse also points to a later date of composition. The shift from oppression to liberation is worded ‫ויחן יהוה אתם וירחמם ויפן אליהם‬, recalling, for example, Solomon’s prayer (1 Kgs 8:50). If we read this phrase in light of the toponyms occurring in 2 Kgs 14:25 and in light of the new enthronement vocabulary in 2 Kgs 13:13 (which uses the phrase ‫)יׁשב על כסא‬,138 we can strengthen the 137 Bernhard Stade and Friedrich Schwally, The Books of Kings: Critical Edition of the Hebrew Text (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1904), 246; Šanda, Könige, 158. 138 This formula refers mainly to Solomon as the successor of David (1 Kgs 1–2; 3:6; 8:20, 25), then to Elah (1 Kgs 16:11), and especially to Jehu’s dynasty (2 Kgs 10:30, 11:19, 13:13, 15:12). See also 1 Kgs 22:10, 19.

104

Peter Dubovský

conclusion that 2 Kgs 13:23 is a later addition. By means of this addition, a later editor hoped to present the Nimshide dynasty as a dynasty that aspired to share the glory of Solomon’s reign. Second, the reason for God’s mercy is expressed through the theology of the covenant with the ancestors,139 which links the Nimshide oppression with the Pentateuch.140 Finally, regarding ‫ולא־הׁשליכם מעל־פניו‬ ‫עד־עתה‬, a similar expression, ‫הׁשליכם מעל־פניו עד אׁשר‬, occurs in 2 Kgs 17:20, where it is used to explain the fall of Samaria. Thus it may rightly be concluded that this phrase in 2 Kgs 13:23 was inserted after the fall of Samaria to reassess the importance of the Nimshide victory in the light of later events.141 As a result of this analysis, we may conclude that stage 1 of this account represents the earliest stratum of Israelite historiography in 2 Kgs 13:22–25 for the following reasons: First, this stage contains no Deuteronomistic vocabulary. Thus, stage 1 preceded the Deuteronomistic redaction of the book of Kings. The original text was reworked during stage 2 to link it with the Elisha story and to add Deuteronomistic and post-Deuteronomistic theology. Second, stage 1 made no reference to God’s intervention but focused on the king; only in stage 3 was the short narrative expanded to include a reflection on divine mercy. Third, the territorial growth and liberation of Israel described in stage 1 is corroborated by textual and archaeological evidence, and so the original account could hardly have been invented by Judahite scribes centuries after the events it records. IV. Oppression-Liberation Narrative III (2 Kgs 14:25–27) The concentric structure of this passage suggests that it underwent a different process of formation. The only signs of preexilic origin are in 2 Kgs 14:25a (‫הוא‬ ‫)הׁשיב את־גבול יׂשראל‬, which has a parallel in LXXAnt, 4 Regn 13:5, and 2 Kgs 14:27b (‫)ויוׁשיעם ביד ירבעם בן־יואׁש‬.142 Some elements of these verses occur also in the Mesha Inscription and suggest that the oldest layers of this section drew from 139 These three names are linked in different ways: (1) in references to the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exod 3:6, 15, 16; 4:5); and (2) in references to the covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exod 2:24; cf. the variant in Lev 26:42); here we may also list references to the promise of the land: Gen 50:24; Exod 6:3, 8; 33:1; Num 32:11; Deut 1:8; 6:10; 9:5; 30:20; 34:4. The three ancestors are invoked by Moses when he intercedes on behalf of the Israelites in Exod 32:13; Deut 9:27. Deut 29:12 refers to God’s oath that he will be Israel’s god. 140 Cf. Hobbs, 2 Kings, 171; Sweeney, I & II Kings, 360. 141 It has been characterized as a DtrN insertion (Würthwein, Könige, 369) or a secondary redactional comment (Gray, I & II Kings, 601). 142 Martin Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament, 2nd ed. (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1957), 75; Walter Dietrich, Prophetie und Geschichte: Eine Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zum deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk, FRLANT 108 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972), 110–12. These verses were, however, cited and reworked by a Deuteronomistic redactor. Hentschel, 2 Könige, 66.

Stage 2 (Reconstructed Old Greek, pre-LXXAnt, B)

‫ וחזאל לחץ את־‬22 καὶ Αζαηλ* ‫ יׂשראל כל ימי‬ἐξέθλιψεν τὸν ‫ יהואחז׃‬Ισραηλ πάσας τὰς ἡμέρας Ιωαχας

Stage 1 (pre-Dtr text)

* LXXB lacks βασιλεὺς Συρίας.

2. Reversal a. divine element (God’s mercy)

1. Narrative introduction

Elements of the account

Stages of the account

Table 12. Redactional stages of 2 Kgs 13:22–25.

Καὶ ἔλαβεν ̓Αζαὴλ τὸν ἀλλόφυλον ἐκ χειρὸς αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ θαλάσσης τῆς καθ’ ἑσπέραν ἕως ’Αφέκ

Stage 3b (LXXB)

‫ ויחן יהוה אתם‬23 ‫וירחמם ויפן אליהם‬ ‫למען בריתו את־‬ ‫אברהם יצחק ויעקב‬ ‫ולא אבה הׁשחיתם‬ ‫ולא־הׁשליכם מעל־‬ ‫פניו עד־עתה׃‬

καὶ ἠλέησεν κύριος αὐτοὺς καὶ οἰκτίρησεν αὐτοὺς καὶ ἐπέβλεψεν πρὸς αὐτοὺς διὰ τὴν διαθήκην αὐτοῦ τὴν μετὰ Αβρααμ καὶ Ισαακ καὶ Ιακωβ καὶ οὐκ ἠθέλησεν κύριος διαφθεῖραι αὐτοὺς καὶ οὐκ ἀπέρριψεν αὐτοὺς ἀπὸ τοῦ προσώπου αὐτοῦ

‫ וחזאל מלך ארם‬22 καὶ Αζαηλ ἐξέθλιψεν ‫ לחץ את־יׂשראל כל‬τὸν Ισραηλ πάσας ‫ ימי יהואחז׃‬τὰς ἡμέρας Ιωαχας

Stage 3b Stage 3a (LXXAnt; gray shad- (MT, LXXA) ing indicates later additions)

‫ וחזאל לחץ את־‬22 καὶ Αζαηλ ‫ יׂשראל כל ימי‬βασιλεὺς Συρίας ‫ יהואחז׃‬ἐξέθλιψε τὸν Ισραηλ πάσας τὰς ἡμέρας Ιωαχας

Stage 2 (a proposed Hebrew text based on the OG)

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

105

τρὶς ἐπάταξεν αὐτὸν Ιωας

καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν Ιωας υἱὸς Ιωαχας καὶ ἔλαβεν τὰς πόλεις ἐκ χειρὸς υἱοῦ Αδερ υἱοῦ Αζαηλ ἃς ἔλαβεν ἐκ χειρὸς Ιωαχας τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ ἐν τῷ πολέμῳ

‫ ויׁשב את־ערי יׂשראל‬καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν τὰς πόλεις Ισραηλ

‫ ויׁשב יהואׁש בן־‬25 ‫יהואחז ויקח את־‬ ‫הערים מיד בן־הדד‬ ‫בן־חזאל אׁשר לקח‬ ‫מיד יהואחז אביו‬ ‫במלחמה‬

καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν Ιωας υἱὸς Ιωαχας καὶ ἔλαβε τὰς πόλεις ἐκ χειρὸς υἱοῦ Αδερ υἱοῦ Αζαηλ ἃς ἔλαβεν ἐκ χειρὸς Ιωαχας τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ ἐν τῷ πολέμῳ

καὶ ὅσα ἔλαβεν

‫ ויׁשב את־ערי יׂשראל‬καὶ ἐπέστρεψε τὰς πόλεις Ισραηλ

‫ ׁשלׁש פעמים הכהו‬τρὶς ἐπάταξεν ‫ יואׁש‬αὐτὸν Ιωας κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμα Κυρίου

‫ ויׁשב יהואׁש בן־‬25 ‫יהואחז ויקח את־‬ ‫הערים מיד בן־הדד‬ ‫בן־חזאל אׁשר לקח‬ ‫מיד יהואחז אביו‬ ‫במלחמה‬

[‫[ ]ויהי כמות חזאל‬καὶ ἐγένετο μετὰ τὸ ἀποθανεῖν τὸν Αζαηλ,]

Stage 3b (LXXB)

καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν Ιωας υἱὸς Ιωαχας καὶ ἔλαβεν τὰς πόλεις ἐκ χειρὸς υἱοῦ Αδερ υἱοῦ Αζαηλ ἃς ἔλαβεν ἐκ χειρὸς Ιωαχας τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ ἐν τῷ πολέμῳ

‫ויׁשב את־ערי יׂשראל‬

καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν τὰς πόλεις Ισραηλ

‫ ׁשלׁש פעמים הכהו‬τρὶς ἐπάταξεν αὐτὸν ‫ יואׁש‬Ιωας

‫ ויׁשב יהואׁש בן־‬25 ‫יהואחז ויקח את־‬ ‫הערים מיד בן־הדד‬ ‫בן־חזאל אׁשר לקח‬ ‫מיד יהואחז אביו‬ ‫במלחמה‬

‫ וימת חזאל מלך־‬24 καὶ ἀπέθανεν Αζαηλ ‫ ארם וימלך בן־הדד‬βασιλεὺς Συρίας καὶ ‫ בנו תחתיו׃‬ἐβασίλευσεν υἱὸς Αδερ υἱὸς αὐτοῦ ἀντ᾽ αὐτοῦ

Stage 3b Stage 3a (LXXAnt; gray shad- (MT, LXXA) ing indicates later additions)

[‫[ ]ויהי כמות חזאל‬καὶ ἐγένετο μετὰ τὸ ἀποθανεῖν τὸν Αζαηλ,]*

Stage 2 (a proposed Hebrew text based on the OG) ‫ וימת חזאל מלך־‬24 καὶ ἀπέθανεν ‫ ארם וימלך בן־הדד‬Αζαηλ βασιλεὺς ‫ בנו תחתיו׃‬Συρίας καὶ ἐβασίλευσεν υἱὸς Αδερ υἱὸς αὐτοῦ ἀντ᾽ αὐτοῦ

Stage 2 (Reconstructed Old Greek, pre-LXXAnt, B)

‫ וימת חזאל מלך־‬24 καὶ ἀπέθανεν ‫ ארם וימלך בן־הדד‬Αζαηλ βασιλεὺς ‫ בנו תחתיו׃‬Συρίας καὶ ἐβασίλευσεν υἱὸς Αδερ υἱὸς αὐτοῦ ἀντ᾽ αὐτοῦ

Stage 1 (pre-Dtr text)

* It is difficult to establish whether this section, which appears only in LXXAnt, belonged to the OG. Thus the text is enclosed in brackets.

3. Present state of affairs

d. Divine element (fulfillment of a prophecy)

c. Liberation

b. Death of Hazael

Elements of the account

Stages of the account

106 Peter Dubovský

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

107

a common linguistic pool of the ninth–eighth century. For example, the equivalent of ‫ עני‬occurs in lines 4–5 of the Moabite text (.‫ את‬.‫ ויענו‬.‫ ישראל‬.‫ מלך‬.‫עמרי‬ ‫ רבן‬.‫ ימן‬.‫)מאב‬. Similarly, the root ‫ יׁשע‬occurs in lines 3–4. Finally, lines 8–9 read ‫)ויש‬9(‫בה‬. Most scholars understand this word as a hiphil form of the verb ‫ׁשוב‬ with a feminine suffix, i. e., “Kemosh caused it (the land of Medeba) to return.”143 Even though the hiphil of the root ‫ ׁשוב‬is common in the MT, it is used to describe the restoration of land only in 2 Kgs 13:25; 14:22, 25, 28; and in the anachronic statement in 2 Kgs 16:6.144 It does not occur in later texts. In all these cases the hiphil describes the restoration of a lost territory to the original owner. Both the Mesha Inscription and 2 Kgs 13–14 share a similar context: territory was taken by an oppressor and recovered by a new king, and both use a hiphil form of ‫ׁשוב‬ to describe the recovery of the territory. The linguistic features of 2 Kgs 14:25–27 suggest that the account drew upon an old tradition but was heavily reworked.145 Jeroboam II not only continued recovering the territories lost to Aram, but expanded his territory up to Lebo-hamath in the north and as far as the Sea of the Arabah in the south (2 Kgs 14:25, 28).146 The lack of evidence for Israelite expansion into northern Syria suggests that the toponyms are symbolic. A similar Judahite-Israelite occupation of territory up to Lebo-hamath, identified with Lbwh, is mentioned twice: first in the period of the judges (Judg 3:3), and then during Solomon’s reign (1 Kgs 8:65).147 Since neither Judg 3 nor 1 Kgs 8 refers to a real expansion of Israel, it seems that the later editors of 2 Kgs 14 wanted to compare the new Israel, restored during Jeroboam II’s reign, with the ideal Israel under Solomon and the territory to be conquered in Judges.148 In other words, the Nimshide dynasty, 143 COS 2.137; George A. Cooke, A Text-Book of North-Semitic Inscriptions: Moabite, Hebrew, Phoenician, Aramaic Nabataean, Palmyrene, Jewish (Oxford: Clarendon, 1903), 9; Ahituv, Echoes, 403. Kent P. Jackson proposed to amend the text to ‫“ וישב בה‬he lives there,” citing lines 13 and 19; see “The Language of the Meshaʿ Inscription,” in Dearman, Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab, 110. The reading ‫ וישבה‬is to be preferred, however. The Mesha Inscription distinguishes between the addition of newly conquered cities to Mesha’s domain (lines 21, 29) and the recovery of lost cities. Only in the latter case is the verb ‫ שוב‬used. Furthermore, 2 Kgs 14:22 has the same form (‫ )וַ יְ ִׁש ֶב ָה‬as in the restored lines of the Mesha stele, and in both texts it is associated with the verb ‫בנה‬, “to build.” 144 Cf. also 2 Chr 26:2 and DCH 8:294. 145 Gray, I & II Kings, 614–17. Hentschel proposed that the basic story (2 Kgs 14:23–25a, 28–29) comes from the earlier Deuteronomistic redactor (DtrH). This frame was enlarged by a prophetic layer in 14:25b (DtrP). The last Deuteronomistic redactor was responsible for editing the oppression sections in 14:26. 2 Könige, 66. 146 The Sea of the Arabah is mentioned in Deut 3:17; 4:49; Josh 3:16; 12:3 and thus points to a later editor. Hentschel, 2 Könige, 66. 147 A similar vision is described also in Ezek 47:13–48:35, in particular 47:20 and 48:1. 148 Jacques Briend, “Jéroboam II, sauveur d’Israël,” in Mélanges bibliques et orientaux en l’honneur de M. Henri Cazelles, ed. André Caquot and Mathias Delcor, AOAT 212 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981), 41–49; Hasegawa, Aram and Israel, 128–30. For a different opinion see Menahem Haran, “The Rise and Decline of the Empire of Jeroboam Ben Joash,” VT 17 (1967): 282.

108

Peter Dubovský

despite its inauspicious beginnings, was able to restore the might of the legendary Israel. This expansion was part of the divine plan announced by the prophets Elisha (2 Kgs 13:14–19) and Jonah (2 Kgs 14:25), in the same way as David’s and Solomon’s glory was approved by the prophet Nathan. Another sign of the Deuteronomistic redaction is the expression ‫ואפס עצור ואפס עזוב ואין עזר ליׂשראל‬ describing the oppression of Israel in 14:26. A similar phrase occurs in other Deuteronomistic passages (Deut 32:36; 1 Kgs 14:10; 21:21; 2 Kgs 9:8). In 14:26, the phrase elaborates the oppression described in 13:3–5, 22 in different language.149 Finally, the expression ‫ולא־דבר יהוה למחות את־ׁשם יׂשראל מתחת הׁשמים‬ in 1 Kgs 14:27 links Jeroboam II with Manasseh (2 Kgs 21:13), and it reflects an explicitly Deuteronomistic concept (cf. Deut 9:14; 25:6, 19; 29:19). By clothing Jeroboam II’s prosperity in Deuteronomistic language, the final redactors of the book of Kings conveyed a warning message to later readers. The glory of the Nimshide dynasty was similar to that of Solomon. It was endorsed by a prophet, nevertheless Samaria collapsed. The Nimshide kings prospered under the auspices of Assyria, but ironically it was Assyria that conquered Samaria. According to Deuteronomistic theology, just as God brought down Samaria, so could he also let Jerusalem collapse. This didactic intention may be one reason why the final editors of the book of Kings dedicated only seven verses to the most successful Nimshide king.150 V. Dating the Story about the Conquest of Jerusalem (2 Kgs 14:8–14) Scholars have presented several convincing arguments that the story of Joash’s conquest of Jerusalem is of northern origin and that it was composed before the fall of Samaria.151 First, the note in 2 Kgs 14:8 describing Beth-shemesh as belonging to Judah fits better with an Israelite source than with a Judahite one, and can hardly have been invented in the Persian period.152 The second argument depends on the contrast between the customary Deuteronomistic depiction of northern and southern kings in 1–2 Kings and the inversion of that pattern in 2 Kgs 14:8–14. In typical Deuteronomistic fashion, 14:1–7 presents the Judahite Amaziah as a good king who observed the torah of Moses and expanded the territory of Judah, contrary to the Israelite Joash, who was a bad king (2 Kgs 13:11).153 A sudden shift takes place in 14:8. The Judahite king Amaziah becomes an arrogant, bellicose king, whereas the Israelite king Joash becomes a wise

149 Probably

to be assigned to the last stratum of 2 Kgs 14:25–27. Hentschel, 2 Könige, 67. 1 & 2 Kings, 443–45. 151 The use of the weqatal form in 14:8 led some scholars to the conclusion that while the whole section is of Israelite origin, v. 8 comes from Judahite archives. Hentschel, 2 Könige, 63. 152 Benzinger, Könige, 164; Šanda, Könige, 165. 153 Brueggemann, 1 & 2 Kings, 440. 150 Brueggemann,

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

109

king. This scribal assessment of the two kings contradicts the Deuteronomistic viewpoint. The most important argument that 2 Kgs 14:8–14 represents preexilic Israelite historiography rests on its presentation of the destruction of Jerusalem.154 While Joash’s conquest of Aramean oppressors is in accord with biblical ethical standards, the conquest of Judah is in complete dissonance with the Judahite viewpoint. The results of this war were impressive. Judah was defeated, Amaziah was taken captive, the walls of Jerusalem were torn down, and the city and its temple were looted (2 Kgs 14:12–14).155 The authors of the story, however, viewed the humiliation of Judah as justified and regarded the dynasty of the destroyers of Jerusalem and the looters of the temple as saviors. This positive portrayal of Joash could hardly have been written by a postexilic scribe whose sympathies lay with Jerusalem. The text’s attitude toward Israel’s defeat of Judah, its justification of the destruction of the city walls and of the looting of the temple, and the complete absence of Deuteronomistic vocabulary are the main reasons to assign this story a northern provenience and a date near the end of the eighth century. But how is it possible that Judahite scribes editing the synchronistic history of both kingdoms included this story in the book of Kings? The later editors inserted 2 Kgs 14:8–14 into a Deuteronomistic context, creating new links. Amaziah was a stubborn king and sent his messengers to challenge the Israelite king Joash. Similar topoi are used to describe the arrogance of Ben Hadad (1 Kgs 20) and Sennacherib (2 Kgs 18–19), who also sent their messengers to humiliate Israel and Judah respectively and were both punished by God. Thus, Amaziah assumes features of Ben Hadad and Sennacherib. Moreover, 2 Kgs 14:9 employs a fable to describe Amaziah’s absurd aspirations. The fable creates an important link with the book of Judges. In the Bible, there are only two fables: Jotham’s warning to the Shechemite leaders (Judg 9:7–15) and Joash’s reply to Amaziah (2 Kgs 14:19). Both use talking trees and shrubs to demonstrate the absurdity of someone’s political aspirations. Since neither the Shechemite leaders nor Amaziah were willing to heed the fable, they were defeated and their cities were destroyed. In this way later scribes justified the conquest of Jerusalem and pointed out the theological links between the destruction of Jerusalem by Joash and Nebuchadnezzar. VI. Implications This analysis demonstrated that 2 Kgs 13–14 went through a long process of redaction. The final composition bears undeniable signs of Deuteronomistic 154 Gray,

I & II Kings, 602–3. deterioration of Judah continued after Amaziah returned from Samarian exile; confronted by a revolt in Jerusalem the king escaped to Lachish, where he was murdered (2 Kgs 14:19–21). 155 The

110

Peter Dubovský

vocabulary and theology.156 The Deuteronomists used ancient sources that did not correspond to their worldview, and by inserting them into a new frame they changed the meaning of the original texts. Thus, the unique synchronistic formulas in 13:12–13, 14–15, 16 as preserved in the LXXAnt and in the MT point to a synchronization of the chronologies of Judah and Israel that conflicts with later Judahite synchronisms. Moreover, the oppression-liberation accounts (13:3–5, 22–25) reflect a pre-Deuteronomistic source. Verses 14:25–27, 28b drew upon a similar source, but they were substantially reworked. Finally, the historical story in 14:8–14 is the longest historical narrative that can be assigned to the pre-Deuteronomistic period. As demonstrated above, these passages could hardly have been invented in a later period; on the contrary, later redactors had to correct them in light of subsequent events, namely, the fall of Samaria and Jerusalem.

E. Conclusion Selected geographic areas of the ancient Near East, such as Assyria, Urartu, Suḫu, Hamath, Sam’al, Damascus, and Moab, provided a diverse set of samples to establish the cultural and historical milieu in which arose the most important historiographies of the ninth–eighth century. In each of these regions, the first wave of Neo-Assyrian expansion created a new political and cultural atmosphere in which significant historiographic compositions were produced. Was Israel an exception? I have argued that after Jehu usurped the throne in Samaria he allowed Israel to become an Assyrian vassal, contrary to the international politics of the Omride dynasty, which joined an anti-Assyrian coalition led by Damascus. According to the Bible, Israel rose from the ashes and started to prosper in this period. The Nimshide kings took advantage of the Assyrian expansion and not only recovered territories lost to Aram but also conquered Judah, captured King Amaziah, and looted Jerusalem and its temple. Some of these achievements, such as the battle at Beth-shemesh and Nimshide expansion and building activities, can be corroborated by archaeological evidence. Comparable royal achievements normally were a sufficient reason for composing historiographic texts during the ninth–eighth century. So the achievements of the Nimshide kings, such as the conquest of Aram and Judah as well as new construction, would have been a sufficient motive for composing a historiographic text in Israel during the ninth–eighth century. In the next phase of my investigation, I examined the literary styles of the biblical passages describing Nimshide achievements. This study demonstrated that the scribes employed three literary forms: the report (2 Kgs 13:3b, 7, 22, 24–25; 156 Matthieu Richelle, Le testament d’Élisée: Texte massorétique et Septante en 2 Rois 13.10– 14.16, CahRB 76 (Pendé: Gabalda, 2010).

The Birth of Israelite Historiography

111

14:25, 28b), the account (2 Kgs 13:3–5, 22–25; 14:25–27), and the historical story (2 Kgs 14:8–14). These literary forms, along with motifs and themes such as divine anger and the oppression-liberation pattern, were generally employed by ancient Near Eastern scribes in historiographic texts of the ninth–eighth century. Finally, I investigated the Hebrew and Greek versions of these texts in order to determine whether the redactional history of these passages supported the hypothesis that the ninth–eighth century literary forms and themes present in the texts were indeed indications of their early composition, and were not introduced by later writers. Beneath a thick layer of Deuteronomistic redaction, these passages contain substantial evidence of a pre-Deuteronomistic composition, such as a new synchronization of the royal chronologies of Judah and Israel, oppression-liberation stories, and salvation vocabulary current in ninth–eighth-century ancient Near Eastern historiography, namely the Mesha Inscription. None of these elements could have been invented by a Judahite scribe in the postexilic period. I have furthermore argued that later redactors needed to correct the positive assessment of the Nimshide dynasty embedded in the earliest stratum of these texts in light of the fall of Samaria. Putting together all these data, I believe we can safely conclude that Israelite historiography started during the Nimshide dynasty in the ninth–eighth century. It followed the historiographic conventions used in that period throughout the ancient Near East, focusing mainly on royal military achievements. The passages studied above bear witness to the most ancient historiography of Israel.

Northern Royal Traditions in the Bibleand the Ideology of a “United Monarchy” Ruled from Samaria Israel Finkelstein The question of when the first biblical texts were compiled and the venue of this endeavor is one of the most tantalizing in biblical scholarship. When discussing this theme, one should note two recent significant developments. First, biblical exegesis and archaeology have shown that the description of a great “united monarchy” is an ideological construct rather than a historical description.1 Second, an archaeologically grounded analysis of alphabetic writing in the Levant during the Iron Age2 shows no infrastructure for the composition of literary texts before ca. 800 BCE. In the absence of a prosperous and literate united monarchy that could provide a venue for textual production, the search for the earliest biblical texts must be redirected to the kingdoms of Israel and Judah. Archaeology and extrabiblical texts demonstrate that throughout the period when the two Hebrew kingdoms coexisted, Israel was far more developed in every measure: territorial extension, size of population, military strength, trade, international relations, and material culture.3 More significantly, in terms of scribal activity, Israel (or the territory of Israel) provides evidence of both bureaucratic writings (Samaria ostraca) and literary texts (Deir Alla and Kuntillet ʿAjrud) as early as the first half of the eighth century BCE, over a century before they appear in Judah.

1 For biblical exegesis see, for instance, Ernst Axel Knauf, “King Solomon’s Copper Supply,” in Phoenicia and the Bible, ed. Edward Lipiński (Leuven: Peeters: 1991), 167–86; J. Maxwell Miller, “Separating the Solomon of History from the Solomon of Legend,” in The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium, ed. Lowell K. Handy (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 1–24; Michael H. Niemann, “The Socio-Political Shadow Cast by the Biblical Solomon,” in ibid., 252–99; John Van Seters, “Solomon’s Temple: Fact and Ideology in Biblical and Near Eastern Historiography,” CBQ 59 (1997): 45–57. For a summary of the archaeology arguments see Israel Finkelstein, “A Great United Monarchy? Archaeological and Historical Perspectives,” in One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives, ed. Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 3–28. 2 Israel Finkelstein and Benjamin Sass, “The West Semitic Alphabetic Inscriptions, Late Bronze II to Iron IIA: Archeological Context, Distribution and Chronology,” HeBAI 2 (2013): 149–220. 3 Israel Finkelstein, The Forgotten Kingdom: The Archaeology and History of Northern Israel, ANEM 5 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013).

114

Israel Finkelstein

It is broadly agreed that the Enneateuch contains a substantial number of northern traditions.4 These materials were first incorporated into the Judahite corpus no earlier than the late seventh century BCE, a century after Israel had been conquered by Assyria. Under these circumstances, it is evident that Israelite traditions reached the desk of late monarchic Judahite authors in written form. When, where, and why were these northern traditions committed to writing, and when and how did they arrive in Jerusalem? There are several ways to answer the question of when they were written down. Israelite traditions could have been committed to writing at Bethel after 720 BCE5 in order to preserve the heritage of the collapsed Northern Kingdom. They could have been composed in Jerusalem by northerners after the fall of Israel. Or, they could have been authored in the north during the period of Israel’s peak prosperity, in the first half of the eighth century. The third alternative seems the most viable for several reasons: 1) Israelite texts were incorporated into the Deuteronomistic literature, which by definition makes them pre-Deuteronomistic. 2) There is a lack of evidence for elaborate textual activity in the former territory of Israel after 720, while in Judah evidence of such activity does not appear before the seventh century. 3) By the first half of the eighth century, the Northern Kingdom possessed a writing infrastructure to support the composition of literary texts. 4) Such an endeavor would most likely have occurred in a time of prosperity and/or concerns about identity and cultural boundaries. The period of dramatic territorial expansion during the days of Joash and Jeroboam II, right after the terrible catastrophe that was inflicted on Israel by Hazael, fits this description. North Israelite texts in the Bible belong to several genres; they are mainly foundation myths (the early Jacob cycle and the exodus tradition),6 heroic tales (the savior accounts in Judges),7 and royal traditions (reviewed in this article; I 4 For a recent overview, see Daniel E. Fleming, The Legacy of Israel in Judah’s Bible (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 5 Ernst Axel Knauf, “Bethel: The Israelite Impact on Judean Language and Literature,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 291–349. 6 For the former, see Albert de Pury, “Situer le cycle de Jacob. Quelques réflexions, vingtcinq ans plus tard,” in Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction and History, ed. André Wénin, BETL 155 (Leuven: Peeters, 2001), 213–41; Erhard Blum, “The Jacob Tradition,” in The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation, ed. Craig A. Evans, Joel N. Lohr, and David L. Petersen, VTSup 152 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 181–211; Israel Finkelstein and Thomas Römer, “Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis,” ZAW 126 (2014): 317–38. For the latter, see, e. g., Yair Hoffman, “A North Israelite Typological Myth and a Judaean Historical Tradition: The Exodus in Hosea and Amos,” VT 39 (1989): 169–82. 7 Wolfgang Richter, Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zum Richterbuch, BBB 18 (Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1966); Philippe Guillaume, Waiting for Josiah, JSOTSup 385 (London: T&T Clark, 2004).

Northern Royal Traditions in the Bible

115

avoid dealing here with prophetic works and other types of biblical writings). The textual evidence at hand is insufficient to address in detail the question of whether they represent a single scribal project – the creation of a North Israelite corpus. But the overall logic, as will be presented below, seems to support this possibility. Here I wish to advance the theory that early Israelite “historical”8 traditions were committed to writing as a royal project in the days of Jeroboam II, in the first half of the eighth century – the period of peak prosperity for the Northern Kingdom in both territorial and economic terms. I will focus mainly on the North Israelite royal traditions, and leave aside the foundation myths and heroic tales.9 A cautionary note is necessary: because there is no way to definitively prove what I am suggesting, I urge the reader to take the ideas presented here as an intellectual experiment – an attempt to establish a probability rather than a certainty.

A. North Israelite Royal Traditions As far as I can judge, remnants of at least three North Israelite royal traditions can be identified in the books of Samuel and Kings: they deal with Saul, with Jeroboam I, and with Jehu, whose career represents the rise of the Nimshides, the dynasty of Jeroboam II. Traces of a Jeroboam II royal tradition may also exist. There is no royal tradition for the Omrides, however – and this is probably not a coincidence. I. Saul I have discussed elsewhere how the Saul material attests the rise of an early North Israelite territorial polity,10 so let me be brief here and concentrate on the components of the old Saul layer. I regard the following episodes (but not all the verses in each) as belonging to an early North Israelite royal tradition, now embedded in several later layers:11  8 By “historical” I mean materials in the Enneateuch that were conceived in the north as dealing with the protohistory and early history of the people who formed the core of Israel and the Israelites (more on this below).  9 For the latter, see Israel Finkelstein, “A Corpus of North Israelite Texts in the Days of Jeroboam II?,” HeBAI 6 (2017): 262–89. 10 Israel Finkelstein, “The Last Labayu: King Saul and the Expansion of the First North Israelite Territorial Entity,” in Essays on Ancient Israel in Its Near Eastern Context: A Tribute to Nadav Na’aman, ed. Yaira Amit et al. (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 171–77; idem, “A Saul Update: The Role of Jerusalem,” forthcoming. 11 For pre-Deuteronomistic materials in the Saul chapters in 1 Samuel, see, e. g., John Van Seters, In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical

116

Israel Finkelstein

– Saul’s search for his father’s mules – His coronation in an unnamed place by an unnamed man of God – The rescue of Jabesh – The battle of Geba and Michmash – Seemingly, the opening of the narrative of the battle in the valley of Elah – Additional clues in the early layer of the David story12 – The northern account of Saul’s death in the battle of Gilboa. The territorial core of this tradition is located in the highlands north of Jerusalem and in the Gilead around the Jabbok River, and may have been extended to include further areas in the highlands that were conceived to be part of the earliest Israelite entity. This territory seems to be echoed in the summary of the regions ruled by Ishbaal in 2 Sam 2:9 (possibly a northern-derived text used by a Deuteronomistic author, who may have added the phrase “all Israel”). This source mentions the central highlands from the area of Jerusalem up to the border with the Jezreel Valley, and the Gilead.13 Jerusalem itself and the territory in the highlands to its south could also have belonged to this early Israelite territorial entity.14 II. Jeroboam I The second northern royal tradition seems to be hidden behind the narrative in 1 Kgs 11–12,15 and is perhaps hinted at by additional items in the Septuagint’s “Alternative History” of the “division” of the united monarchy and the rise of the first monarch in the north (3 Rgns 12a–z).16 The Masoretic Text is of course Deuteronomistic in nature, and the reference to Jeroboam in 1 Kgs 12:2–3, 12 may come from the hand of a late redactor,17 but an older layer seems to be History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), ACLS Humanities E-Book, 254–58; Nadav Na’aman, “The Pre-Deuteronomistic Story of King Saul and Its Historical Significance,” CBQ 54 (1992): 638–58; Gregory Mobley, “Glimpses of the Heroic Saul,” in Saul in Story and Tradition, ed. Carl S. Ehrlich, FAT 47 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 80–87; Walter Dietrich, The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B. C. E., SBLBibEnc 3 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007). 12 For my views regarding this issue, see Israel Finkelstein, “The Geographical and Historical Realities behind the Earliest Layer in the David Story,” SJOT 27 (2013): 131–50. 13 On this source, see Diana V. Edelman, “The ‘Ashurites’ of Eshbaal’s State (2 Sam. 2.9),” PEQ 117 (1985): 85–91; Nadav Na’aman, “The Kingdom of Ishbaal,” BN 54 (1990): 33–37. 14 See the detailed discussion in Finkelstein, “Saul Update.” On Jerusalem, see Nadav Na’aman, “Jebusites and Jabeshites in the Saul and David Story-Cycles,” Bib 95 (2014): 481–97. 15 For instance, Ernst Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige: Das erste Buch der Könige, Kapitel 1–16 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977), 150–66. 16 Zipora Talshir, The Alternative Story of the Division of the Kingdom, JBS 6 (Jerusalem: Simor, 1993). 17 Steven L. McKenzie, “The Source for Jeroboam’s Role at Shechem (1 Kgs 11:43–12:3, 12, 20),” JBL 106 (1987): 297–300; Wesley I. Toews, Monarchy and Religious Institution in Israel under Jeroboam I, SBLMS 47 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993), 23–39; Alexander Rofé, “Elders or Youngsters? Critical Remarks on 1 Kings 12,” in Kratz and Spieckermann, One God – One

Northern Royal Traditions in the Bible

117

concealed behind it. The nature of the Alternative History – whether it is based on a pre-Deuteronomistic source,18 or was composed as a late midrash19 – has been debated. This text is mainly an elaboration of the Deuteronomistic material in Kings, but it contains several pieces of information that do not appear in Kings and may indeed come from an old source. Surveying both 1 Kgs 11–12 and the Alternative History while disregarding evidently later layers (information on the activities of Solomon, Rehoboam, etc.), one can discern a story that included the following details: – A hero named Jeroboam, his hometown, and his father and mother. The Alternative History’s claim that his mother was a prostitute, if old, may hint at a memory that he was a leader of an Apiru band. – His escape from some trouble in Canaan that defies reconstruction20 to the court of Pharaoh Shishak (Sheshonq I) in Egypt and his return. If the Alternative History is to be trusted, he married an Egyptian woman. – His coronation at Shechem; in the Masoretic Text a Deuteronomistic author replaced Jeroboam with Rehoboam (1 Kgs 12:1). – The construction of Shechem and perhaps also Penuel (1 Kgs 12:25).21 The Egypt connection in the story may have stemmed from Sheshonq I’s involvement in Canaan. This pharaoh could have been instrumental in the rise of Jeroboam, that is, he may have installed him as a vassal after his campaign.22 Cult – One Nation, 79–89. In contrast to these scholars, I view 1 Kgs 12:2–3 as a remnant of an old North Israelite tradition; see below. 18 Adrian Schenker, “Jeroboam and the Division of the Kingdom in the Ancient Septuagint: LXX 3 Kingdoms 12.24 a–z, MT 1 Kings 11–12; 14 and the Deuteronomistic History,” in Israel Constructs Its History: Deuteronomistic Historiography in Recent Research, ed. Albert de Pury, Thomas Römer, and Jean-Daniel Macchi (Sheffield: Academic Press, 2000), 214–57; idem, “Jeroboam’s Rise and Fall in the Hebrew and Greek Bible,” JSJ 39 (2008): 367–73. 19 Talshir, Alternative Story; Marvin A. Sweeney, “A Reassessment of the Masoretic and Septuagint Versions of the Jeroboam Narratives in 1 Kings / 3 Kingdoms 11–14,” JSJ 38 (2007): 165–95. 20 Perhaps his trouble involved the House of Saul; note that Jeroboam originated from the core territory of Saul, which included the highlands of Benjamin and southern Ephraim (I am using these terms in their geographical sense; for more on the territorial aspect, see Finkelstein, “Saul Update”). For the chronology see below. 21 Perhaps Penuel, because what we see today at Tell edh-Dhahab esh-Sharqi, the site of Penuel, are seemingly the remains of a prominent rectangular podium, probably designed to support a large building (temple?). Construction like this is difficult to imagine in the early Iron IIA – the time of Jeroboam I. Still, it is possible that an earlier layer lies under this podium. The site has never been properly investigated. 22 Chronology is not a real obstacle: Sheshonq I’s reign is dated anywhere between 962–941 BCE (Thomas Schneider, “Contributions to the Chronology of the New Kingdom and the Third Intermediate Period,” Egypt and the Levant 20 [2010]: 373–403) and 945–924 BCE (Kenneth A. Kitchen, The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100–650 B. C.) [Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1986]). Assuming that the information in Kings on the length of reign of the northern monarchs is based on a North Israelite text that was composed in the early eighth century (see, e. g., Jonathan M. Robker, The Jehu Revolution: A Royal Tradition of the Northern Kingdom

118

Israel Finkelstein

Northern adoration of Jeroboam I is hinted at by similarities between his story and that of Moses,23 the hero of a northern origin tradition that was seemingly promoted by Jeroboam II. Esteem for Jeroboam I among Israelites who lived in Judah after 720 BCE and the giant shadow cast by Jeroboam II are probably the reasons for the Deuteronomistic animosity toward Jeroboam I and diminishment of the stature of Jeroboam II.24 The geography of the Jeroboam I tradition is of importance for the discussion below. Accepting the reference to the construction of Shechem (and Penuel?) in 1 Kgs 12:25, which derives from an old chronistic source (although the present account was written in the eighth century), and setting aside the story of the altars at Bethel and Dan, which is a Deuteronomistic addition, the old northern tale of Jeroboam I concentrated on the highlands of southern Samaria and the Gilead. Jeroboam came from Zeredah in the Ephraimite highlands25 – a small (Apiru?) stronghold in the rugged, isolated area northwest of present-day Ramallah.26 The focus of the story of his rise to power is apparently Shechem, and the only other site mentioned is Penuel. III. Jehu The third North Israelite royal narrative (contained in the old layer in 2 Kgs 9:1–10:28) describes Jehu’s rise to power and his elimination of the Omride dynasty. This tradition must have had special importance in the days of Jeroboam II, as it deals with the emergence of his own dynasty, the Nimshides, which ruled Israel for a century – half the length of the kingdom’s existence. Though the exact scope of the old northern material is debated,27 what we possess is of and Its Ramifications [Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012]), calculating back from the secure date of the death of Joram in 841 puts the accession of Jeroboam I around 940 BCE. The (mostly parallel) years of Saul and David can also be placed in this framework; I will deal with this elsewhere. 23 This remains true even if some of the literary links between Exodus and 1 Kgs 11–12 come from late parts of the exodus story. Concerning these links, see Rudolf Smend, YHWH War and Tribal Confederation: Reflections upon Israel’s Earliest History (Nashville: Abingdon, 1970), 120–27; Michael D. Oblath, “Of Pharaohs and Kings – Whence the Exodus?,” JSOT 25 (2000): 23–42; Rainer Albertz, A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period, OTL (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1994), 12; idem, “Exodus: Liberation History against Charter Myths,” in Religious Identity and the Invention of Tradition: Papers Read at a NOSTER Conference in Soesterberg, January 4–6, 1999, ed. Jan Willem van Henten and Anton Hautepen (Assen: Van Gorcum, 2001), 128–43; Garrett Galvin, Egypt as a Place of Refuge, FAT II 51 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 80; Konrad Schmid, The Old Testament: A Literary History (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 83. 24 I differ here from scholars who doubt the historicity of Jeroboam I. See, e. g., Thomas Römer, The Invention of God (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015), 108. 25 Contra Mark Leuchter, “Jeroboam the Ephratite,” JBL 125 (2006): 51–72. 26 Moshe Kochavi, “The Identification of Zeredah, Home of Jeroboam Son of Nebat, King of Israel,” ErIsr 20 (1989): 198–201 (in Hebrew). 27 See, e. g., Steven L. McKenzie, The Trouble with Kings: The Composition of the Book of Kings in the Deuteronomistic History, VTSup 42 (Leiden: Brill, 1991), 70–79; Susanne Otto,

Northern Royal Traditions in the Bible

119

greater length and coherency than the remains of the other two royal traditions of the Northern Kingdom. The story deals with the coup of Jehu against Joram, the last of the Omrides; it includes Jehu’s secret coronation while stationed with the army at Ramoth-gilead, his confrontation with Joram of Israel and Ahaziah of Judah at Jezreel, the slaughter of the two kings and Jezebel, and the elimination of the remaining Omrides. For the benefit of the present discussion, it is important to note that the Nimshides’ homeland was probably in the eastern Jezreel–Beth-shean valley. This is hinted at by the geographic background of the Jehu coup and the location of Abel-meholah, the hometown of Elisha, as well as by three epigraphic Iron IIA finds from Tel Rehov and Tel Amal (both near Beth-shean) that mention the name ‫ = נמש‬Nimshi.28 Groups in the Nimshide homeland in the valley may have united in opposition to the Omrides, who probably originated from the area of Samaria, where they established their seat of power.29 This hostility is suggested by the distribution of Omride fortresses, which were generally erected in strategic places on the borders of the Northern Kingdom.30 The exceptions are Samaria – the capital – and Jezreel in the valley. The latter may have been established in order to dominate the territory of the strong, competing Nimshide clan. Jehu’s coup ended in a bloodbath, hence the royal tradition associated with this king was probably aimed at legitimizing the accession of the Nimshides against possible accusations31 – especially in the area of Samaria – related to the violent manner in which they came to power.32 In this respect, the Jehu royal tradition can be viewed as a northern apologia, perhaps the prototype for the later, southern, Davidic one. Regardless of their final date of composition,33 geographical and historical considerations indicate that the Elijah and Elisha prophetic stories include old material, which could have initially been committed to writing during the first half of the eighth century, perhaps as part of or in support of this apologia.

Jehu, Elia und Elisa: Die Erzählung von der Jehu Revolution und die Komposition der EliaElisa Erzählungen (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2001), 104–11; Robker, Jehu Revolution, 17–62. 28 Shmuel Ahituv and Amihai Mazar, “The Inscriptions from Tel Rehov and Their Contribution to the Study of Script and Writing during Iron Age IIA,” in “See, I will bring a scroll recounting what befell me” (Ps 40:8): Epigraphy and Daily Life from the Bible to the Talmud Dedicated to the Memory of Professor Hanan Eshel, ed. Esther Eshel and Yigal Levin, JAJSup 12 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014), 43–44, 50, 64. 29 Possibly starting as a sort of a royal estate. See Norma Franklin, “Samaria: From the Bedrock to the Omride Palace,” Levant 36 (2004): 189–202. 30 Finkelstein, Forgotten Kingdom, 85–109. 31 Robker, Jehu Revolution, 69. 32 Omer Sergi and Yuval Gadot, “Omride Palatial Architecture as Symbol in Action: Between State Formation, Obliteration, and Heritage,” JNES 76 (2017): 103–111. 33 Otto, Jehu, Elia und Elisa.

120

Israel Finkelstein

B. Spotlight on the Nimshides In addition to absolving themselves of the slaughter of their predecessors, the Nimshides – who originated from the valley rather than the highlands – may have had to defend their legitimacy in the face of accusations that they were not sufficiently Israelite. The Jeroboam II “corpus” seems to have aimed at answering this concern. I refer to the three royal traditions, as well as the Jacob cycle in Genesis and the heroic tales in Judges. The geography described in these texts covers the central hill country of Benjamin / southern Ephraim and of Manasseh; the Jezreel Valley and the hills to its northeast; and the Gilead around the Jabbok River and south of it. When archaeological and historical considerations are taken into account, it becomes clear that this map represents the territorial extent of Israel in its early days, that is, after the conquest of the late Canaanite city-states in the Jezreel Valley and its vicinity during the tenth century BCE, but before the expansion of the Omrides to the Galilee, Moab, and the coast.34 The goal of assembling this “corpus” must have been to delineate the heartland of the kingdom – the core territory of Israel and the Israelites – and more specifically, to show that the land of the Nimshides was genuinely Israelite land. In this respect the geography of the heroic tales in Judges – especially the relationship between the stories of the major judges and the notes on the minor judges – is particularly telling.35 The old layer in the tales of the major judges covers part of the territory in question, but not all of it; the stories take place in Benjamin, the area of Shechem, the southern Gilead, the western Jezreel Valley, and the hills to the north of the eastern Jezreel Valley. It seems that the author of the tales of the major judges noted this, and hence closed gaps in the territory of Israel by adding the brief notices on the minor judges. In their received form these two telegraphic accounts (Judg 10:1–5, 12:8–15) are Deuteronomistic in language, but there are reasons to suspect that they conceal old North Israelite traditions – namely, references to dismal, desolated towns that are not important to the Deuteronomistic agenda, and the fairy-tale ambience of the story of Jair the Gileadite. Note that three of the five accounts of the minor judges – Tola, Jair, and Elon – relate to the land of the Nimshides and neighboring areas to its east and west. Assuming that the royal traditions were committed to writing in the days of Jeroboam II, what can we infer from these traditions about the empathies and animosities of the Nimshides? They may have identified with Saul, who was probably considered the first monarch of the North. In circumstances concealed under a thick Deuteronomistic layer, Saul is said to have died in battle on Mount 34 Finkelstein,

Forgotten Kingdom, 78–80.

35 Israel Finkelstein, “Major Saviors, Minor Judges: The Historical Background of the North-

ern Accounts in the Book of Judges,” JSOT 41 (2017): 431–49.

Northern Royal Traditions in the Bible

121

Gilboa, that is, in Nimshide territory. Also, in his time, the highlanders took over the remaining late Iron I city-states in the Jezreel Valley and its vicinity – the first step in making this region “Israelite” (meaning, ruled by highlanders).36 And the Nimshides may have found it easy to identify with Jeroboam I, the first monarch of the north who ruled from the area of Shechem, because as a vassal of Sheshonq I he incorporated the Jezreel–Beth-shean valley – their homeland – into Israel. For clan-based geographical reasons  – the age-old confrontation between lowlanders and highlanders – the Nimshides were hostile to the Omrides. This hostility may have stemmed not only from the simple fact that one clan replaced the other in a bloody coup, but also from the question “Who is a true Israelite?” and from debates over which clan presided over the peak period in the history of the kingdom. These are probably the reasons why no Omride royal tradition was included among the North Israelite texts and, accordingly, why no Omride royal tradition is preserved in the Bible. Memories positive to the Omrides could have been excluded from (or suppressed in) the Nimshide-initiated text. Assuming that the Deuteronomistic History was based on an old Israelite text (below), this would explain why the book of Kings does not refer to events that demonstrate the power of the Omrides, such as the battle of Qarqar and the conquest of the mishor of Moab. Notably, the latter event is commemorated by a shred of northern memory in the book of Numbers.37 In any event, it does not seem coincidental that none of the three royal northern traditions are connected with the area of the capital, Samaria – the heartland of the Omrides. One may ask why there is no detailed narrative regarding Jeroboam II, who, according to my theory, is the monarch behind the composition of the Israelite corpus. The answer is that such an account may have originally existed but was later suppressed by the Deuteronomistic author, who aimed to reduce the stature of the greatest of all Israelite kings. Indeed, traces of such a tradition may be found in the references to the territorial expansion of Israel in 2 Kgs 14:25a, 28 and Amos 6:13 (in the latter, the reference to the conquest of Lidebir (Lo-debar) in the Irbid plateau and Karnaim in the southern Bashan) and to the building of Bethel and Dan in 1 Kgs 11:29. Note that neither site was inhabited in the early Iron IIA – the time of Jeroboam I.38 Other shreds of such a royal tradition may have included the account of the construction of Hazor, Megiddo, and Gezer and the reference to cities of horses and chariots (and the trade in horses) in 36 Israel Finkelstein and Eliezer Piasetzky, “Radiocarbon-Dated Destruction Layers: A Skeleton for Iron Age Chronology in the Levant,” OJA 28 (2009): 255–74. 37 Israel Finkelstein and Thomas Römer, “Early North Israelite ‘Memories’ of Moab,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America, ed. Jan C. Gertz et al., FAT 111 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 711–27. 38 For Dan, see Eran Arie, “Reconstructing the Iron Age II Strata at Tel Dan: Archaeological and Historical Implications,” TA 35 (2008): 6–64; for Bethel, see Israel Finkelstein and Lily Singer-Avitz, “Reevaluating Bethel,” ZDPV 125 (2009): 33–48.

122

Israel Finkelstein

Kings. These accounts, which fit the realities of the time of Jeroboam II, were retrojected by a seventh-century Judahite author back to the days of Solomon.39 The note on Jeroboam’s restoration of the border of Israel (2 Kgs 14:25a) is intriguing because it speaks about the king’s achievements directly. Due to the presence of a large number of Israelites in Judah,40 the Deuteronomistic author could not entirely dismiss the memory of this great king; he therefore referred to his conquests,41 but imposed on them his theological stance (2 Kgs 14:25b–27).

C. The Broader Ideology behind the Northern Jeroboam II “Corpus” Northern royal traditions – at least those of Jeroboam I and Jehu (as well as the hypothesized Jeroboam II account) – could have comprised the more elaborate parts of what Robker42 identifies as the “Israel Text” – a history of Israel from the days of Jeroboam I to the time of Jeroboam II.43 A tantalizing question in the study of ancient Israel is the source of information for the lists of Judahite and Israelite monarchs, the length of their reigns, and the cross-references between them. An Israel Text would resolve these difficulties.44 Had it been written approximately a century and half after the rise of the two Hebrew kingdoms, it could have recorded oral knowledge about their

39 Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman, David and Solomon: In Search of the Bible’s Sacred Kings and the Roots of the Western Tradition (New York: Free Press, 2006), 151–77; Deborah O. Cantrell and Israel Finkelstein, “A Kingdom for a Horse: The Megiddo Stables and Eighth Century Israel,” in Megiddo IV: The 1998–2002 Seasons, ed. Israel Finkelstein, David Ussishkin, and Baruch Halpern, SMNIA 24 (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 2006), 643–65; for the three towns see also Ernst Axel Knauf, “Jeroboam ben Nimshi: The Biblical Evidence,” HeBAI 6 (2017): 290–307. 40 Israel Finkelstein, “Migration of Israelites into Judah after 720 BCE: An Answer and an Update,” ZAW 127 (2015): 188–206; for a different view, see Nadav Na’aman, “Dismissing the Myth of a Flood of Israelite Refugees in the Late Eighth Century BCE,” ZAW 126 (2014): 1–14, both with references to previous studies. 41 The same may hold true for the memory of the subjugation of Judah by Joash, father of Jeroboam II (an old layer behind 2 Kgs 14:8–14); otherwise, why should a Judahite author have preserved this exceptionally and uniquely offending memory a century and a half after the events took place? 42 Robker, Jehu Revolution. 43 Did the longest-ruling monarch of Israel ascend to the throne under another name and then take the name Jeroboam II in conjunction with this literary project? Although this hypothesis is impossible to verify, it would explain the one and only instance of the reuse of a royal name in the same Hebrew kingdom. Note that I accept Robker’s idea only partially, first and foremost because it is not yet free of a united monarchy under Solomon. I would also consider the possibility that the theorized Israel Text was extended after 720 BCE to include basic information on the last decades in the history of the Northern Kingdom. 44 For a summary of the problem, see Christoph Levin, Re-Reading the Scriptures, FAT 87 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 183–93.

Northern Royal Traditions in the Bible

123

early history, and perhaps it even cited slightly earlier written materials.45 Most information in this hypothesized text could have been telegraphic, and even the elaborations may have included no more than elementary information. The skeleton of such a text could have given basic information on the kings of Israel (name, father, length of rule), with references to events (but probably not the exact years in which they occurred) reflecting Israel’s domination over the kings of Judah.46 I refer to the confrontation of Baasha and Asa, Jehoshaphat’s status as a vassal of Ahab and Ahazyahu’s status as a vassal of Joram, the defeat of Amaziah by Joash, and so on. The basic motive behind the creation of this text may have been to articulate a claim to a united monarchy ruled by an Israelite monarch – Israel and Judah under Jeroboam II – “from Dan to Beer-sheba.” This may have reflected the reality following the victory of Joash over Amaziah at Beth-shemesh (recorded in the chronistic verses in 2 Kgs 14), when the Southern Kingdom was practically ruled by Israel.47 The idea of a united monarchy ruled from Samaria seems to be expressed in two other northern-derived biblical texts: the conquest tradition in Josh 6–11 and the description of Solomon’s empire in 1 Kgs 4. In its present form, the conquest narrative is Deuteronomistic,48 describing a “conquest to come” in support of the territorial ideology of Josiah in the late seventh century BCE.49 Yet, given that Joshua is identified as an Ephraimite, the question is whether an older, northern tradition may be hidden behind the late-monarchic Judahite composition.50 Noteworthy in this connection is the fact that no conquest tradition exists for the heartland of Israel as delineated by the North Israelite author of the heroic tales in Judges: Josh 6–11 is silent about the central highlands between Bethel and the Jezreel Valley, the Jezreel Valley itself and its vicinity (except for Shimron at its northwestern tip), and the Gilead. In fact, the conquest stories in Joshua extend the borders of Israel beyond what was conceived – so I believe – in the days of Jeroboam II to be the core territory of 45 Perhaps from the second half of the ninth century, when the first royal inscriptions (Mesha, Tel Dan) appear in the southern Levant. 46  For the idea of an old text synchronizing the Hebrew monarchs, see already Alfred Jepsen, Die Quellen des Königsbuches (Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1953). Jepsen, however, placed its compilation in Judah during the reign of Hezekiah. 47 I intentionally avoid the question of whether the proposed history of the Israelite monarchs can be identified with the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel; I will deal with this issue elsewhere. 48 See, e. g., Richard D. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” JBL 100 (1981): 531–40; John Van Seters, “Joshua’s Campaign of Canaan and Near Eastern Historiography,” SJOT 4 (1990): 1–12. 49 Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman, The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts (New York: Free Press, 2001), 72–96. 50 Note that the Yahwistic name Joshua may be an insertion/distortion either by an eighthcentury Israelite author or by a later Deuteronomistic writer, and that the northern stories could have presented more than one hero. The reality behind the actual toponyms (towns) in the stories – old or Deuteronomistic – is difficult to establish.

124

Israel Finkelstein

Israel and the Israelites, to include the actual (in the north), and aspirational or de facto (in the south) borders of Israel at that time:51 – Josh 11 covers the mountainous Galilee, the Upper Jordan Valley, and the coastal plain of Acco. The routing of the enemy may represent the conquests of Jeroboam II up to the boundary of Sidon and the “valley of Mizpeh.” – Josh 10 deals with the highlands and the Shephelah territories of Judah, that is, with the densely settled part of the Southern Kingdom. It may represent the (northern) claim on Judah, which was de facto ruled by Israel starting in the days of Joash.52 In this respect, the original conquest tradition may be seen as a completion of the map created by the savior stories in Judges. There was no need to construct conquest narratives relating to the core Israelite territory; rather, the narrative treats the areas beyond the heartland of Israel.53 The list of “Solomonic” districts in 1 Kgs 4 probably depicts the administrative organization of Israel in the days of Jeroboam II.54 Geographically, the list covers the area from the northern Shephelah to the border with Phoenicia and the Upper Galilee west of the Jordan River, and from the border with Moab (near Heshbon?) to the area north of the Yarmuk River in Transjordan. It is especially noteworthy that it includes the areas of Lidebir and Karnaim, which were probably conquered by Jeroboam II (Amos 6:13), and Beth-shemesh, taken over by Joash (2 Kgs 13:11), but excludes the mishor of Moab, a territory taken by the Omrides and lost to Mesha. The language looks genuine, especially where the text refers to places that are not of central importance in Deuteronomistic 51 Regarding a northern “Book of the Conquest” from the days of the Omride dynasty, see the

interesting observations by A. C. Tunyogi, “The Book of the Conquest,” JBL 84 (1965): 374–80. 52 The Jericho and Ai traditions deal with the land of Benjamin, which was disputed between Israel and Judah. See Israel Finkelstein, “Saul, Benjamin, and the Emergence of Biblical Israel: An Alternative View,” ZAW 123 (2011): 348–67, and, for a different opinion, Nadav Na’aman, “Saul, Benjamin and the Emergence of ‘Biblical Israel,’” ZAW 121 (2009): 211–24, 335–49. The Jericho and Ai traditions may therefore be Deuteronomistic additions. The tale of the Gibeonites, too, seems to have served late monarchic ideology. See Finkelstein and Silberman, Bible Unearthed, 93. 53 This ideology may find expression also in the northern tales in the book of Judges. The fifth “minor judge” is Ibzan of Bethlehem. Most scholars have opted to identify his hometown with the northern Bethlehem, but Bethlehem of Judah is a no less attractive possibility. A reference to the southern Bethlehem in this context need not be explained as a Deuteronomistic addition; rather, it could have given voice to expansionist, pan-Israelite ideas in the north. This scenario seems to be supported by the fact that the Deuteronomistic author himself added to the heroic tales in Judges a reference to Othniel, that is, to the southern part of Judah, rather than to the heartland of the Southern Kingdom. In other words, for him the main territory of Judah was included in the reference to Ibzan of Bethlehem. 54 Finkelstein and Silberman, David and Solomon, 161–62; for the view that the list depicts Assyrian-period realities, see Nadav Na’aman, “Solomon’s District List (1 Kings 4:7–19) and the Assyrian Province System in Palestine,” UF 33 (2001): 419–36.

Northern Royal Traditions in the Bible

125

writings, but elsewhere, of course, the list betrays a Deuteronomistic and even post-Deuteronomistic touch (for example in 1 Kgs 4:15, 19b). The problem is how to understand 1 Kgs 4:19–20. Accepting the reading, “And there was one officer in the land of Judah,”55 the question is whether this is part of the original North Israelite text or a Deuteronomistic addition. Both could have aimed at depicting a great united monarchy – one ruled from Samaria, and the other – in reverse – administered from Jerusalem. I would opt for the former.

D. From North to South The theory that Deuteronomism originated in the north and was brought to Judah by Israelite refugees after 720 is an old one.56 Elsewhere I have proposed that early pan-Israelite ideas developed in Judah after 720 against the background of the special demographic situation there following the fall of the North.57 I now dare to take this idea a step forward and suggest that the Judahite-sponsored panIsraelite doctrine was a reaction to – and reversal of – Israelite thought in the time of Jeroboam II. Moreover, it is likely that the very idea of expressing ideology through writing “history” was influenced by eighth-century Israelite texts that reached Jerusalem after the demise of the Northern Kingdom.58 An old Israelite text could have been the basis for the work of the later Judahite author of Kings in general and the source for Deuteronomistic knowledge about the early days of the Hebrew kingdoms in particular. A good example of the latter is the information on the campaign of Pharaoh Shishak (1 Kgs 14:25): it could have originated in an oral royal Jeroboam I tradition, with reference to Egypt in general and Sheshonq I in particular, which was committed to writing only a century and half after the event. The Jacob and exodus origin traditions, as well as the heroic tales, were probably conceived by Deuteronomistic writers as relatively benign to Judah. But the Saul, Jeroboam, and Jehu stories were more challenging; they were the actual historical royal traditions of the North. This is probably the reason (or in the case 55 See Na’aman, “Solomon’s District List,” 422–23, with discussion and reference to previous works. 56 See the recent discussion by Cynthia Edenburg and Reinhard Müller, “A Northern Provenance for Deuteronomy? A Critical Review,” HeBAI 4 (2015): 148–61. On northern texts that arrived in Judah after 720 and were incorporated into the Bible, see also, e. g., Karel van der Toorn, Family Religion in Babylonia, Syria and Israel: Continuity and Change in the Forms of Religious Life, SHCANE 7 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 339–72; William M. Schniedewind, How the Bible Became a Book: The Textualization of Ancient Israel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); Wolfgang Schuette, Israels Exil in Juda, OBO 279 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016). 57 Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman, “Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the Rise of the Pan-Israelite Ideology,” JSOT 30 (2006): 259–85. 58 Also Robker, Jehu Revolution, 300.

126

Israel Finkelstein

of Saul, one of the reasons) for the animosity of the Deuteronomist to both Saul and Jeroboam I. Jeroboam is depicted as the ultimate sinner not because of his secession from an ahistorical united monarchy, or his erection of calves at Bethel and Dan. Quite the contrary: he is construed as a sinner precisely because he was venerated in the north, and because he was coupled with the well-remembered threat posed by the dominating figure of Jeroboam II. What I am suggesting here goes beyond the existence of a corpus of texts in Israel in the first half of the eighth century BCE. My proposal implies that the entire Judahite “historical” corpus – as well as the Judahite historiographic mindset – was dominated, if not shaped by the older Israelite traditions, more specifically, by the endeavors of Jeroboam II.

E. Summary Three northern royal traditions can be identified in the books of Samuel and Kings, concealed beneath layers of Deuteronomistic writing. These accounts, which deal with Saul, Jeroboam I, and Jehu, were committed to writing in the first half of the eighth century BCE, in the days of Jeroboam II – in territorial and economic terms, the greatest monarch of Israel. Shreds of the latter king’s own royal tradition also exist, referring to conquests and building endeavors. The Jeroboam II account was mostly suppressed by later Deuteronomistic authors, although they did make use of it when it suited their theological program. The animosity of the Nimshides toward the Omrides probably explains why no royal tradition of the latter dynasty survived, and why their military prowess and territorial achievements were not celebrated. The Israelite royal traditions may have been part of a record that described the history of the Northern Kingdom from Jeroboam I to Jeroboam II, with special reference to events that demonstrated Israel’s dominion over Judah. This is a clue that the idea of a great united monarchy – a single king ruling over the territories and people of Israel and Judah combined – may have originated in Israel (and its capital Samaria) in the days of Jeroboam II. It was “transferred” to Jerusalem after the fall of the Northern Kingdom and applied to Judah by Deuteronomistic authors. The list of “Solomonic” districts in 1 Kgs 4 and the conquest traditions in Josh 6–11 may also have originated in Israel and depicted the same northern ideology.

Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories* Thomas Römer Dedicated to the memory of Philip Davies

A. The Case of Jeroboam “II” As is well known, the presentation of the reigns of Israelite and Judahite rulers in the book of Kings does not accurately reflect their historical political influence and achievements. The Judean “Deuteronomistic” redactors considered all northern kings as “sinners” perpetuating the “sin” of the first northern king, namely the construction of competing Yahwistic sanctuaries outside Jerusalem and the representation of the deity YHWH as a bull. Therefore, all northern kings are depicted in a negative way – even Jehu, son of Nimshi, who should have been praised because of his anti-Baʿal and antiOmride revolt.1 For some northern but also southern kings, the Deuteronomists also adopted a strategy of silencing. Kings who reigned for a long time or were politically successful were silenced, and their careers were summed up in just a few lines. In the south this silencing affects especially king Manasseh. Manasseh, son of Hezekiah, enjoyed a very long reign of fifty-five years, but we have remarkably few details about it. For the editors of the book of Kings, he is the very model of a bad king who did everything that displeased YHWH. Historically speaking, his acceptance of Assyrian dominance guaranteed a period of calm and stability for the kingdom of Judah. He probably rebuilt Lachish and established a series of fortresses dependent on Jerusalem, and it is possible that Ashurbanipal restored * I would like, with this article, to honor the memory of my colleague and close friend Philip Davies, who passed away unexpectedly in May 2018. Before his death he was working on an article about Jeroboam II and he asked me to send him a paper I had recently published in HeBAI. We had an exchange about his ideas on Jeroboam II, which are in some aspects close to mine, and which will be published soon in a Festschrift in his honor. Philip Davies was one of the most creative and groundbreaking biblical scholars, and he will be missed very much. 1 For details, see Thomas Römer, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction (London: T&T Clark; New York: Continuum, 2005), 155–57.

128

Thomas Römer

to him some annexed Judean territory, notably the Shephelah, as a reward for his loyalty.2 It is even possible that some of the most remarkable achievements that the Bible attributes to Hezekiah are actually his doing. Ernst A. Knauf argues that the construction of the famous tunnel that, according to the biblical account, was built by Hezekiah would have taken a very long time, so long in fact that it could not have been initiated and completed during the reign of Hezekiah. The tunnel was probably constructed during the rule of Manasseh, who wanted to use it in order to irrigate a royal garden built on an Assyrian model.3 Since the editors of the book of Kings utterly detested Manasseh, it makes perfect sense that they would have attributed these achievements to his predecessor. This thesis gains even more plausibility if Hezekiah did in fact begin his reign only around 715 BCE.4 A similar phenomenon can be observed in Israel in regard to Omri and Jeroboam II. Like Manasseh, Omri, who was considered by the Assyrians to be the founder of the Northern Kingdom,5 and who built Samaria as the capital of Israel, receives little attention in the book of Kings. Although Omri ruled for twelve years, 1 Kgs 16:15–28 reports only his putsch against Zimri and his fortification of Samaria. For the redactors of the book of Kings, “Omri did what was evil in the sight of YHWH; he did more evil than all who were before him” (v. 25), perhaps because he built a temple in Samaria.6 Let us turn now to the description of the reign of Jeroboam II (2 Kgs 14:23– 29), which again is astonishingly short, despite the fact that he ruled for about forty years. In the fifteenth year of King Amaziah son of Joash of Judah, king Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel began to reign in Samaria; he reigned forty-one years. 24 He did what was evil in the sight of YHWH; he did not depart from all the sins of Jeroboam son of Nebat, by which he had caused Israel to sin. 25 He restored the borders of Israel from Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah, according to the word of YHWH, the God of Israel, which he had spoken through his servant Jonah son of Amittai, the prophet, who was from Gathhepher. 26 For he had seen that the distress of Israel was very bitter; there was no one left, 23

2  Israel Finkelstein and Nadav Na’aman, “The Judahite Shephelah in the Late 8th and Early 7th centuries B. C. E.,” TA 31 (2004): 60–79; Alexander Fantalkin, “The Final Destruction of Beth Shemesh and the Pax Assyriaca in the Judahite Shephelah: An Alternative View,” TA 31 (2004): 245–61. 3 Ernst Axel Knauf, “The Glorious Days of Manasseh,” in Good Kings and Bad Kings: The Kingdom of Judah in the Seventh Century B. C. E., ed. Lester L. Grabbe (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 164–88. 4 For discussions of the dates of the reign of Hezekiah, see Ernst Würthwein, Die Bücher der Könige: 1. Kön. 17–2. Kön. 25, ATD 11.2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984), 412–13; Gösta W. Ahlström, The History of Ancient Palestine from the Palaeolithic Period to Alexander’s Conquest, JSOTSup 146 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), 689–91. 5 As shown by the expression “house of Omri,” which the Assyrians used to refer to the Northern Kingdom, even after the Omrides. 6 Translations of biblical texts follow the NRSV, sometimes with minor modifications.

Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories

129

bond or free, and no one to help Israel. 27 But YHWH had not said that he would wipe out the name7 of Israel from under heaven, so he saved them by Jeroboam son of Joash. 28 Now the rest of the acts of Jeroboam, and all that he did, and his might, how he fought, and how he recovered for Israel Damascus and Hamath, which had belonged to Judah,8 are they not written in the Book of the Annals of the Kings of Israel? 29 Jeroboam slept with his ancestors, the kings of Israel; his son Zechariah succeeded him.

Outside of this very short note, Jeroboam II is mentioned in the book of Kings only in 2 Kgs 13:13 and 14:16 (two parallel accession notices that mention the death of his father Joash), 15:1 (the accession of Azariah of Judah in the twentyseventh year of Jeroboam), and 15:8 (the accession of Jeroboam’s son Zechariah in the thirty-eighth year of Azariah). The forty-one years of Jeroboam’s reign are summarized in a couple of verses.9 The notice starts with a traditional Deuteronomistic topic, accusing the northern kings of continuing the sins of the “first” Jeroboam. In the following verses, however, nothing negative is said about this king. On the contrary, 2 Kgs 14:25 states that “he restored the borders of Israel from Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah.” This territorial extension recalls the borders of the “united monarchy” under Solomon. If there is some truth behind this verse, one might suppose that the geographical reality that gave rise to the (Judahite) idea of a united monarchy corresponded to the geopolitical situation under Jeroboam II.10 However, the idea that Lebo-hamath is the northern boundary of Israel appears mostly in late texts from the Persian period (e. g., Num 13:21; 34:8; Josh 13:5; Ezek 47:20, 48:1; 1 Chr 13:5; 2 Chr 7:8). For this reason, Volkmar Fritz has identified v. 25 as a later addition,11 since it anticipates the note in v. 28, which seems to reflect an older tradition according to which Jeroboam successfully extended the northern border of Israel and controlled Aramean territories. But even so, one could imagine that this note reflects a historical memory from the days of Jeroboam that was linked by the redactor to a divine oracle attributed to a prophet Jonah from Gath-hepher, a place also mentioned in the list of Galilean towns in  7  LXX: “the seed.” It is difficult to decide which variant is original. MT has the same wording here as in Deut 9:14 and 29:19 (see below).  8 The claim that Judah controlled Damascus and Hamath is strange. It has often been argued that this note refers to Iaudi/Sam’al (Zinjirli), e. g., Würthwein, Könige, 375. But the Akkadian references to Iaudi denote the kingdom of Judah. Therefore, one may speculate whether the text originally read “Israel,” which was later altered to “Judah” by a Judean glossator e. g., ­Mordechai Cogan and Hayim Tadmor, II Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 11 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1988), 162.  9 For the following, see Thomas Römer, “How Jeroboam II became Jeroboam I,” HeBAI 6 (2017): 372–82, on which the present contribution draws. 10 Israel Finkelstein, “A Corpus of North Israelite Texts in the Days of Jeroboam II,” HeBAI 6 (2017): 281, 288–89. 11 Volkmar Fritz, 1 & 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 324; on the other hand, Würthwein (with many others) considers v. 25a to be a “geschichtliche Notiz.” Könige, 374–75.

130

Thomas Römer

Josh 19:10–39. This list may reflect a situation from the time of Jeroboam II.12 It is therefore possible that the redactor preserved a memory of this prophet from the eighth century BCE. In any case, vv. 26–27, which are often considered to be the work of a later (post-Deuteronomistic) redactor,13 seem to presuppose v. 25.14 In vv. 26–27 the long reign of Jeroboam is justified by the idea that he was a tool used by YHWH to save Israel from its enemies. This is indeed an astonishing idea in the context of the Deuteronomistic edition of the book of Kings. Verse 27 contradicts prophetic announcements that YHWH would destroy the Northern Kingdom.15 The expression mḥh šm used in this verse occurs elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible only in Deut 9:14, in the Deuteronomistic account of the golden calf (which is related to the Jeroboam of 1 Kgs 12), and in Deut 29:19. The latter passage appears in the context of curses,16 so that 2 Kgs 14:17 may also be alluding to these texts and claiming that these curses were not (yet) executed during the time of Jeroboam.17 Another possibility would be to take v. 27 in an absolute sense, and to understand it as the note of a post-Deuteronomistic redactor who wanted to acknowledge the fact that even after the destruction of Samaria in 722, the “name” or “seed” of Israel had not been blotted out but continued through the inhabitants of the former kingdom of Israel. Verse 28 seems to be an older tradition according to which Jeroboam did gain territories in the north.18 Amos 6:13 presupposes that Karnaim became Israelite in the first half of the eighth century, and Israel’s domination of the upper Jordan Valley is shown by 2 Kgs 15:29, which describes the campaign of Tiglath-pileser III in this region (732 BCE). Archaeology has shown that in the first half of the eighth century BCE, Israel, probably under Jeroboam II, took over Dan and retook Hazor from Aram,19 so that under this king Israel reached its maximal territorial extension. 12 Volkmar

189.

Fritz, Das Buch Josua, HAT 1.7 (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1994),

13 Würthwein,

Könige, 375–76; Fritz, Kings, 325. may be an earlier text, or a text written by the same redactor. See Ernst Axel Knauf, “Jeroboam ben Nimshi: The Biblical Evidence,” HeBAI 6 (2017): 294. 15 It could also be a critical allusion to the prophecies of Amos, who announced the end of Jeroboam and his dynasty. See Frank Crüsemann, “Kritik an Amos im deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk. Erwägungen zu 2. Könige 14,27,” Probleme biblischer Theologie: Gerhard von Rad zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. Hans W. Wolff (Munich: Kaiser, 1971), 57–63. But v. 27 does not contain straightforward quotations from Amos. See also Shuichi Hasegawa, “Relations between Amos 6:13–14 and 2 Kgs 14:25–28,” AJBI 33 (2007): 92–102. 16 Deut 29:20: “All the curses written in this book will descend on them, and YHWH will wipe out their names from under heaven.” 17 Würthwein, Könige, 376. 18 Israel Finkelstein, “Stages in the Territorial Expansion of the Northern Kingdom,” VT 61 (2011): 227–42. 19 Finkelstein, “Stages,” 241. 14 Which

Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories

131

Summing up, we see that Jeroboam II was treated by the redactors of king: similarly to Manasseh, whose deeds were attributed to Hezekiah. Apparently, several achievements of Jeroboam II were attributed to other kings, especially to Solomon and Jeroboam I. According to 1 Kgs 9:15, Solomon built Hazor, Megiddo, and Gezer, but archaeological evidence indicates that this construction activity occurred later, during the period of Jeroboam II.20 A similar case can been made for the “first” Jeroboam, who is credited with the construction of the shrines of Dan and Bethel and the introduction of bovine statues representing YHWH: So the king took counsel, and made two calves of gold. He said to the people, “You have gone up to Jerusalem long enough. Here are your gods,21 O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt.” He set one in Bethel, and the other he put in Dan. (1 Kgs 12:28–29).

This passage cannot reflect the situation in the tenth century BCE, since, as shown by Eran Arie and Israel Finkelstein, Dan did not become Israelite before the eighth century.22 Following their reconstruction, Dan was destroyed at the end of the late Iron I period. Apparently unoccupied during most of Iron IIA, it was rebuilt by Hazael and later conquered by Israel for the first time around 800 BCE or somewhat later. Hence, 1 Kgs 12, in its present form, cannot be a record of the reign of Jeroboam I. It is a polemical fiction that transfers an event from the time of Jeroboam II to the early days of the Northern Kingdom. As Angelika Berlejung puts it, 1 Kgs 12 does not contain “reliable historical information about the time of Jeroboam I, but reflects historical facts … of the time of Jeroboam II.”23 For these reasons, the story of 1 Kgs 12 should be considered as a reassignment of events that happened during the time of Jeroboam II to the first years of the Northern Kingdom. If this transfer from Jeroboam II to Jeroboam I (whether he was a historical figure or not24) reflects in fact a back-dating of eighth-century BCE historical realities, one could argue that it was Jeroboam II who transformed the shrines of Dan and Bethel into Yahwistic sanctuaries, 20 Israel Finkelstein, “Gezer Revisited and Revised,” TA 29 (2002): 262–96; Knauf, “Jeroboam,” 301. 21 For an explanation of the plural form here, see Römer, “Jeroboam,” 375–76. 22 Eran Arie, “Reconsidering the Iron Age II Strata at Tel Dan: Archaeological and Historical Implications,” TA 35 (2008): 6–64; Finkelstein, “Stages,” 230. 23 Angelika Berlejung, “Twisting Traditions: Programmatic Absence-Theology for the Northern Kingdom in 1 Kgs 12:26–33* (the ‘Sin of Jeroboam’),” JNSL 35 (2009): 24. For a similar argument, grounded more on literary considerations, see Christoph Levin, “Amos und Jerobeam I.,” VT 45 (1995): 307–17, repr. in idem, Fortschreibungen: Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament, BZAW 316 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003), 256–64; Juha Pakkala, “Jeroboam without Bulls,” ZAW 120 (2008): 501–25. 24 I argued for the latter possibility in Thomas Römer, The Invention of God, trans. Raymond Geuss (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015), 108 (see also Christian Frevel, Geschichte Israels, Studienbücher Theologie 2 [Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016], 151–57, 192–93]), but I admit that this makes it necessary to identify another historical context in order to explain some strange positive traditions about Jeroboam I.

132

Thomas Römer

and who promoted the exodus tradition (perhaps without Moses25) as a national tradition. 1 Kgs 12 clearly indicates that the exodus tradition originated in the north. It is indeed difficult to imagine that the Deuteronomists would have invented the fact that Jeroboam, in 1 Kgs 12, characterizes YHWH as the god who brought the Israelites out of Egypt. If 1 Kgs 12 reflects the time of Jeroboam II, one may conclude that this king tried to officialize the exodus tradition and perhaps to link it in one way or another to the tradition of Jacob, whom he wanted to transform into the ancestor of “Israel.” Apparently the sanctuary of Bethel played a major role in this religious reorganization.

B. Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories: Bethel (and Penuel) and the Jacob Tradition In the book of Amos, whose activity is dated by the redactors of the book to the days of King Jeroboam (1:1), Bethel is mentioned in the story about the conflict between Amos and Amaziah, the priest of Bethel (7:10–17). This passage interrupts the cycle of prophetic visions and it has been suggested that it is in the wrong place or a late addition to the book.26 There are indeed some indications that this passage in its present form presupposes the Deuteronomistic “exilic” edition of the book of Kings, since the oracle ‫אַד ָמתֹו‬ ְ ‫“( יִ ְשׂ ָר ֵאל גָּ ֹלה יִ גְ ֶלה ֵמ ַעל‬Israel shall surely go into exile away from its land,” Amos 7:11, 17) sounds like a quotation from 2 Kgs 17:23 and 25:21 (//Jer 52:27). The mention of the “house of Isaac” in Amos 7:16, which is taken up in v. 9 (the “high places of Isaac”) is intriguing. Does “Isaac” here refer to the Southern Kingdom in parallel with Israel (which would indicate a late date), or does the name designate a southern territory that was under the influence of Jeroboam II?27 Amos 7:10–17 conserves some memories from the time of Jeroboam II, as shown by the following observations. 25 According to 2 Kgs 18:3 Hezekiah destroyed in Jerusalem a bronze serpent said to have been made by Moses. This notice, which can hardly be an invention, places Moses in a Jerusalemite setting. Hezekiah’s elimination of this (Egyptian-inspired) cult object is best explained by the fact that he had become an Assyrian vassal; cf. Kristin A. Swanson, “A Reassessment of Hezekiah’s Reform in Light of Jar Handles and Iconographic Evidence,” CBQ 64 (2002): 460–69. 26 Jürgen Werlitz, “Amos und sein Biograph. Zur Entstehung und Intention der Prophetenerzählung Am 7,10–17,” BZ 44 (2000): 233–50; Jakob Wöhrle, Die frühen Sammlungen des Zwölfprophetenbuches: Entstehung und Komposition, BZAW 360 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006), 110–13; Knauf, “Jeroboam,” 297–300. Melanie Köhlmoos imagines a redactor who was working between 720 and 587 BCE. Bet-El – Erinnerungen an eine Stadt: Perspektiven der alttestamentlichen Bet-El-Überlieferung, FAT 49 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 109–10. According to Köhlmoos, this narrative explains why the royal cult in Bethel came to an end after 720 BCE. 27 Northern influence on the south is also attested by the findings in Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, which date to the time of Jeroboam II; see below.

Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories

133

First, a prophetic oracle in v. 11 announces Jeroboam’s death by the sword, but this does not correspond to the historical reality of his death; therefore this unfulfilled announcement may reflect a saying of the “historical Amos.” Second, the priest Amaziah designates the sanctuary of Bethel in v. 13 as a ‫שׁ־מ ֶלְך‬ ֶ ‫( ִמ ְק ַדּ‬royal sanctuary) and a ‫( ֵּבית ַמ ְמ ָל ָכה‬royal house/temple),28 which seems to indicate that Bethel has recently gained importance and become a key royal sanctuary. This comports with the archaeological evidence for Bethel in the time of Jeroboam II. Israel Finkelstein and Lily Singer-Avitz have argued that in the first millennium BCE, Bethel was the site of a substantial settlement only during the eighth and early seventh centuries and that it declined during the Babylonian and Persian periods.29 Amos 7:13 indicates that Bethel had been promoted under Jeroboam II as an important royal sanctuary to which the king or his theologians wanted to link the Jacob traditions.30 Therefore, the patriarch had to change his name to “Israel” in order to become the official ancestor of the north. According to the Jacob cycle itself, the patriarch was the founder of the sanctuary of Bethel. Genesis 28:10–22 relates Jacob’s foundation and naming of the sanctuary of Bethel. The original story can be found either in 28:11–13a1, 16–1931 or in 28  Note that both expressions are undetermined, which indicates the existence of other royal sanctuaries. 29  Israel Finkelstein and Lily Singer-Avitz, “Reevaluating Bethel,” ZDPV 125 (2009): 33–48. This view has recently been challenged by Nadav Na’aman and by Oded Lipschits, who argue that the biblical account cannot be explained by such a hypothesis. Na’aman, “Does Archaeology Really Deserve the Status of a ‘High Court’ in Biblical Historical Research?,” in Between Evidence and Ideology: Essays on the History of Ancient Israel Read at the Joint Meeting of the Society for Old Testament Study and the Oud Testamentisch Werkgezelschap, Lincoln, July 2009, ed. Bob Becking and Lester L. Grabbe, OTS 59 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 178; Lipschits, “Bethel Revisited,” in Rethinking Israel: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Ancient Israel in Honor of Israel Finkelstein, ed. Oded Lipschits, Yuval Gadot, and Matthew J. Adams (Winona Lake, IN; Eisenbrauns, 2017), 233–46. In any case it is clear that according to 2 Kgs 17:25–41, cultic activity continued in Bethel after 722 BCE, and this statement is hardly an invention of the author of 2 Kgs 17. Although the story is quite preposterous, it indicates that Bethel continued to be a Yahwistic sanctuary after the fall of Samaria. According to 2 Kgs 23:15 Josiah destroyed the sanctuary of Bethel. This may be a theological claim, or a bit of wishful thinking triggered by the idea that Josiah brought the sin of Jeroboam to an end (interestingly, nothing is said about the shrine of Dan, where cultic activities continued apparently until the Roman period). Whether Bethel still played an important role in the Persian period must remain an open question. It is mentioned in only a few biblical texts: Ezra 2:28 //Neh 7:32 and Neh 11:31. 30 For the following, see Israel Finkelstein and Thomas Römer, “Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis,” ZAW 126 (2014): 317–38. 31 So, among others, Erhard Blum, Die Komposition der Vätergeschichte, WMANT 57 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1984), 8–34. Adepts of the Documentary Hypothesis distinguished between the Yahwistic speech in vv. 13–16 and an Elohistic narrative in vv. 10–12* and 19a; see Christoph Levin, Der Jahwist, FRLANT 157 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), 216–17; Klaus Koenen, Bethel: Geschichte, Kult und Theologie, OBO 192 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003), 152–59.

134

Thomas Römer

28:11–13aα, 15*, 16–19.32 If the narrative is taken to describe YHWH as standing next to Jacob, there must be another deity in heaven, namely El. This concept is also reflected in the original version of Deut 32:8, according to which YHWH is understood as a son of El.33 It is therefore possible that Gen 28:10–22* was written down in the time of Jeroboam II in order to establish Jacob as the founder of an El sanctuary that the king had transformed into a royal sanctuary, and to set a precedent for the worship of YHWH in this sanctuary. Although YHWH was probably already worshiped as the dynastic deity of the Omrides,34 it is likely that Jeroboam II wanted to strengthen this cult throughout his kingdom.35 The story of how Jacob became Israel in Gen 32:23–32,36 which reflects an attempt to transform the figure of Jacob into the ancestor of “Israel,” is set at the sanctuary of Penuel, which, like Bethel in Gen 28, is also named by Jacob. The site of Penuel is probably older than Bethel, but the monumental podium of Tell edh-Dhahab esh-Sharqi in the valley of the Jabbok does not seem to belong to the early Iron IIA period but to a later moment, perhaps during the reign of Jeroboam II.37 The Gileadite hero Jacob was probably first commemorated in Penuel,38 before Jeroboam (or his clergy) made him the founder of Bethel. 32  Erhard Blum, “Noch einmal: Jakobs Traum in Bethel – Genesis 28,10–22,” in Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible. Essays in Honour of John Van Seters, ed. Steven L. McKenzie and Thomas Römer, BZAW 294 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2000), 47–49. Blum’s argument is based on the observation that Hos 12:4b alludes to the fact that God spoke to Jacob at Bethel. The fact that Hos 12:4 uses the root dbr and not ʾmr has been interpreted by Jacob Wöhrle as an indication that Hos 12 presupposes the Priestly text of Gen 35:14–15. Wöhrle, “Jacob, Moses, Levi. Pentateuchal Figures in the Book of the Twelve,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel and North America, ed. Jan C. Gertz et al., FAT 111 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 997–1014, at 1003–1004; see already Henrik Pfeiffer, Das Heiligtum von Bethel im Spiegel des Hoseabuches, FRLANT 183 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999), 178. But can this theory stand on such a common root as dbr? In any case, the association of a divine vision with a promise of divine assistance is very common in Neo-Assyrian oracles, in which Ishtar (or another deity) presents herself to the king and promises him assistance. It is therefore not necessary to rely on Hos 12:4b for the above reconstruction. 33  Nicolas Wyatt, “The Seventy Sons of Athirat, the Nations of the World, Deuteronomy 32.6b, 8–9 and the Myth of the Divine Election,” in Reflection and Refraction: Studies in Biblical Historiography in Honour of A. Graeme Auld, ed. Robert Rezetko, Timothy H. Lim, and W. Brian Aucker, VTSup 113 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 547–56. 34 As indicated by the Mesha Stela. See also Matthias Köckert, “YHWH in the Northern and Southern Kingdom,” in One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives, ed. Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann, BZAW 405 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 364–66. 35 Finkelstein, “Corpus,” 271. 36 The original story can be reconstructed roughly in vv. 23, 25b, 26a, and 27–32a. Römer, “Jeroboam,” 379–80. 37 Finkelstein, “Corpus,” 271n39. 38 Gen 32:23–32 focuses indeed on this new name, and the etiology of Penuel is not as important as Jacob’s new name. It is possible that the etiology was added because of a memory of an old link between the běnê Yaʿǎqōb and Penuel.

Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories

135

Genesis 28:10–22* and 32:23–32* share stylistic and theological similarities that suggest they were both created by the scribes of Jeroboam II.39 Although the account of the separation between Jacob and Laban in Gen 29–31* contains older material,40 it was also revised under Jeroboam II. In the context of the eighth century BCE, when Israel was at war with Aram and under Jeroboam II managed to annex some Aramean territories,41 a tale of conflict between the Aramaean Laban and the Israelite Jacob makes good sense. Even the conflict between Jacob (Israel) and Esau (Edom) and their reconciliation can be understood in terms of the time of Jeroboam II. The graffiti from Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, which date to the first half of the eighth century,42 provide evidence that at this site YHWH was addressed as the “YHWH of Samaria” and the “YHWH of Teman” (with and without the definite article). On the one hand, these epithets recall the “YHWH of Dan” and the “YHWH of Bethel” in 1 Kgs 12. On the other hand, they indicate that a relationship between Jacob (Israel) and Esau/ Edom (Teman, which is often located in the territory of Edom) is plausible in the context of the eighth century. Jeroboam II’s attempt to officialize the Jacob tradition and relate it to the sanctuary of Bethel was heavily criticized by the prophet Hosea or his editors. Hosea, like Amos, is also dated to the reign of Jeroboam II (Hos 1:1). As often noted, Hos 12 depicts the Jacob tradition, which was well known to the author of this text, in a very pejorative way and juxtaposes this negative view of the patriarch with the exodus tradition (YHWH is a god related to Egypt and the exodus).43 It is difficult to imagine that the Jacob narrative in Genesis would have been constructed on the basis of Hos 12.44 Rather, this text presupposes the audience’s knowledge of a Jacob story, and the numerous literary parallels between Hos 12

39 Both encounters take place at night; in both stories sanctuaries with the theophoric element El are mentioned. Both narratives are short and sober. 40  The earliest Jacob traditions were local to the Israelite territory in Gilead, possibly to the early core area of the territory named Gilead. For the Israelite territories in Gilead, see Israel Finkelstein, Ido Koch, and Oded Lipschits, “The Biblical Gilead: Observations on Identifications, Geographic Divisions, and Territorial History,” UF 43 (2012): 131–59. 41 Israel Finkelstein, “Stages,” 227–42. 42 Israel Finkelstein and Eli Piasetzky, “The Date of Kuntillet ‘Ajrud: The 14C Perspective,” TA 35 (2008): 135–85. 43 Albert de Pury, “Osée 12 et ses implications pour le débat actuel sur le Pentateuque,” in Le Pentateuque: Débats et recherches, ed. Pierre Haudebert, LD 151 (Paris: Cerf, 1992), 175–207; Erhard Blum, “Hosea 12 und die Pentateuchüberlieferungen,” Die Erzväter in der biblischen Tradition: Festschrift für Matthias Köckert, ed. Anselm C. Hagedorn and Henrik Pfeiffer, BZAW 400 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009), 291–321; Martin Schott, “Die Jakobspassagen in Hos 12,” ZTK 112 (2015): 1–26. 44 As argued by William D. Whitt, “The Jacob Traditions in Hosea and Their Relation to Genesis,” ZAW (1991): 18–43.

136

Thomas Römer

and Gen 25–33*45 may indicate that this story was close to the pre-Priestly Jacob narrative.46 The negative view of Jacob in Hos 12 reflects (prophetic) opposition to Jeroboam II’s politics. Amos and Hosea or their early editors were hostile to the sanctuary of Bethel, maybe because Jeroboam II wanted to transform it from an El shrine into a YHWH shrine. Hosea 10:15 announces the death of the king of Israel (Jeroboam II?) because of the “wickedness” of Bethel (10:15), which is called Bet-aven in 10:5 (and in 4:15, 5:8).47 Given the very positive presentation of the exodus tradition in Hos 12 and the harsh critique of Bethel (see also Amos 3:14 and 4:14), it seems unlikely that the exodus tradition was kept and transmitted in Bethel.

C. Samaria and the Exodus Tradition As already indicated by the title “YHWH of Samaria” in the inscriptions of Kuntillet ‘Ajrud, there was almost certainly a temple of YHWH in the capital of Israel, which is quite logical. Curiously, the book of Kings is silent about such a temple. There is, however, one verse that hints at a YHWH sanctuary in Samaria. According to 1 Kgs 16:32, King Ahab built an altar to Baʿal in the temple of Baʿal. The double mention of Baʿal here is awkward. LXX avoids the repetition and reads “in the house of his abominations.” As Pakkala has argued, both readings are attempts to avoid the original version, which spoke of a temple of YHWH, and this is indeed historically plausible. The original offense of 1 Kgs 16:23 would then have been the building of an altar for Baʿal in the temple of YHWH.48 The alteration of the original text in 1 Kgs 16:23 can be explained in the context of the Persian period: the Judean redactors of the book of Kings wanted to avoid any allusion to a temple of YHWH in Samaria. The worship of a bull in Samaria is also attested in the book of Hosea, which contains a critique of this bovine statue and announces its destruction (8:5–6).49 The existence of a temple in Samaria is also confirmed by the Nimrud prism, in

45 For

these parallels, see Blum, “Hosea 12”; Finkelstein and Römer, “Comments,” 321–22. an attempt to consider Hos 12 as a post-Priestly composition, see above. 47 For Beth-aven, which in other texts designates another place, see Nadav Na’aman, “Bethaven, Bethel and Early Israelite Sanctuaries,” ZDPV 103 (1987): 13–21. 48 Juha Pakkala, God’s Word Omitted: Omissions in the Transmission of the Hebrew Bible, FRLANT 251 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013), 231–33. See also Köckert, “YHWH,” 365. 49 Philological and diachronic analysis of this oracle shows that it is composite. In its present form the passage dates from the Persian period because its ideology is very similar to that of Second Isaiah. The oldest form of the oracle, however, may reflect the situation just before or after 722 BCE. 46 For

Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories

137

which the Assyrian king praises himself for the destruction of Samaria and the deportation of “the gods in whom they trusted.”50 Archaeologists have not discovered any clear evidence of the existence of a sanctuary in Samaria, but excavations have not been undertaken throughout the entire territory of the city. It is possible that current excavations of an area about 650 meters to the east of the acropolis, which was occupied during the Iron Age, will find evidence that indicates the existence of a sanctuary there.51 Whatever the results of these excavations, though, the capital of the kingdom must have had an important sanctuary. YHWH was probably worshipped as the god of the exodus in Samaria.52 The fact that the exodus tradition is related in 1 Kgs 12 to Bethel and Dan does not speak against this hypothesis, especially if 1 Kgs 12 is a retrojection from the time of Jeroboam II. Under “Jeroboam I,” Samaria was not yet the capital of Israel, and the Deuteronomists locate its founding in the reign of Omri. For this reason they had no other choice than to link the exodus with Bethel and Dan.

D. Dan The biblical text does not give much information about the sanctuary of Dan. As already mentioned, the site was unoccupied during most of Iron IIA, then rebuilt by Hazael, and later conquered by Israel for the first time around 800 BCE or somewhat later.53 According to 1 Kgs 12, Dan was a border sanctuary for the north, as Bethel was for the south. The golden calves of Bethel and Dan are mentioned again by the Deuteronomists in 2 Kgs 10:29, but there is no Israelite foundation tradition related to the sanctuary of Dan. The Masoretic text of Amos 8:14 states: “They swear by the sin of Samaria and they say: ‘Long live your god, Dan! Long live the path (derek) of Beer-sheba!’”54 The link between Dan and Beer-sheba recalls the mention of Isaac in Amos 7:9 and 16 and may indicate that Jeroboam II exercised some control over this area. One might speculate that the Isaac tradition was known through Beer-sheba in the Northern Kingdom, which could explain how Isaac became the father 50 See, for instance, Bob Becking, The Fall of Samaria: An Historical and Archaeological Study, SHCANE 2 (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 29–30. 51 Detlef Jericke, Regionaler Kult und lokaler Kult: Studien zur Kult‑ und Religionsgeschichte Israels und Judas im 9. und 8. Jahrhundert v. Chr., ADPV 39 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2010), 90–91. 52 Finkelstein, “Corpus,” 269–71. 53 Arie, “Reconsidering.” 54 The word derek (path, trail) makes no sense in this context. LXX reads “god” (theós) instead of “path,” and so we can deduce that the original text had ddk (dôděkā), meaning “your Dôd” or “Your well-beloved” (as in the Mesha Stela), in place of drk: “Long live your god, Dan! Long live your Well-Beloved (dwd), Beer-Sheba!”

138

Thomas Römer

of Jacob. The “god of Samaria” is probably YHWH, as shown by the parallelism with the “sin of Samaria.” The worship of the “god of Dan” (ʾĕlōhê Dān) is still attested in the second century BCE in a bilingual inscription in Greek and Aramaic which reads in Greek, ΘΕΩΙ ΤΩΙ ΕΝ ΔΑΝΟΙΣ (“to the god who is in Dan”).55 It remains difficult to ascertain whether this reflects an ongoing YHWH cult in Dan and to which tradition(s) this cult was related.

E. Kiriath-jearim and the Ark of YHWH The site of Kiriath-jearim (Deir el-ʿAzar), named several times in the Bible,56 is never mentioned in direct connection with the reign of Jeroboam II. There are, however, some indications that the original ark narrative, which ended in 1 Sam 7:157 and told how the ark found a “new home” in Kiriath-jearim, was composed during the reign of Jeroboam II. Interestingly, the narrative does not relate that the ark was returned by the Philistines to the sanctuary of Shiloh, its original emplacement. The transfer of the ark from Shiloh to Kiriath-jearim may reflect the abandonment of the shrine of Shiloh. According to Israel Finkelstein’s excavations, the site was abandoned or destroyed in the middle of the eleventh century BCE and then sparsely repopulated during the eighth and seventh centuries BCE.58 Preliminary results from the current excavation of the site seem to emphasize activity during the eighth century BCE, but there are no publications so far.59 55 Avraham Biran, “‘To the God Who is in Dan,’” in Temples and High Places in Biblical Times: Proceedings of the Colloquium in Honor of the Centennial of Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, ed. Avraham Biran (Jerusalem: Nelson Glueck School of Biblical Archaeology of Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, 1981), 142–53. 56 See the enumeration in Israel Finkelstein, Thomas Römer, et al., “Excavations at Kiriathjearim Near Jerusalem, 2017: Preliminary Report,” Sem 60 (2018): 33–38. 57 The transfer of the ark to Jerusalem in 2 Sam 6 is a later addition. Cf. Patrick D. Miller and J. J. M. Roberts, The Hand of the Lord: A Reassessment of the “Ark Narrative” of 1 Samuel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977); Franz Schicklberger, Die Ladeerzählungen des ersten Samuel-Buches: Eine literaturwissenschaftliche und theologiegeschichtliche Untersuchung, FZ 7 (Würzburg: Echter, 1973); Christa Schäfer-Lichtenberger, “Beobachtungen zur Ladegeschichte und zur Komposition der Samuelbücher,” in Freiheit und Recht (FS F. Crüsemann), ed. Christoph Hardmeier, Rainer Kessler, and Andreas Ruwe (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1995), 323–38; Peter Porzig, Die Lade Jahwes im Alten Testament und in den Texten vom Toten Meer, BZAW 397 (Berlin: Gruyter, 2009), 134–56. 58 Israel Finkelstein, “Seilun, Khirbet,” ABD 5:1069–1072; Israel Finkelstein and Baruch Brandl, Shiloh: The Archaeology of a Biblical Site, SMNIA 10 (Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology of Tel Aviv University, 1993). 59 Don McNeeley, “A Brief Overview of Discoveries from the Shiloh Excavations, 2017,” Associates for Biblical Research, August 1, 2017, http://www.biblearchaeology.org/p​o​s​t​/​2​0​ 17/08/01/A-Brief-Overview-of-Discoveries-from-the-Shiloh-Excavations-2017.a​s​p​x​#​A​r​t​i​c​l​e​ (accessed July 22, 2018).

Jeroboam II and the Invention of Northern Sanctuaries and Foundation Stories

139

In any case, at the end of the story about the lost ark that finally returned, Shiloh vanishes from the scene, and there is no explanation why the ark was not brought back to its original place. Therefore, it is plausible that the original ark narrative ended with the installation of the ark in Kiriath-jearim. According to the biblical record the ark remained about twenty years in this place (1 Sam 7:2). This may indicate that Kiriath-jearim contained a sanctuary housing the palladium of the warrior god YHWH. The assumption that there was a sanctuary in Kiriath-jearim is supported by 1 Sam 7:1, according to which Abinadab’s son, who hosted the ark, was consecrated as a priest: “And the people of Kiriath-jearim came and took up the ark of YHWH, and brought it to the house of Abinadab on the hill. They consecrated his son, Eleazar, to have charge of the ark of YHWH.” In this case, one of the aims of the ark narrative would have been to explain how the shrine of Kiriathjearim replaced the sanctuary of Shiloh. The 2017 and 2019 excavations at Kiriath-jearim has revealed the existence of an important wall around a man-made podium that may have supported a shrine (of the ark); a Byzantine church was built near this site in the first centuries of the Christian era, and at the beginning of the twentieth century the basilica of Notre Dame de l’Arche de l’Alliance was erected there. The wall can be dated to the first half of the eighth century BCE, and thus Jeroboam II was most likely responsible for the wall and the sanctuary.60 In this case the first edition of the so-called ark narrative could have been written by the scribes of Jeroboam II in order to legitimate the shrine of Kiriath-jearim.

F. Conclusion This investigation has shown that the reign of Jeroboam II was the setting for the formation of northern foundation traditions that made their way into the kingdom of Judah after 722 BCE. The exodus tradition was originally transmitted in the north when Jeroboam II ruled, perhaps in the temple of Samaria. Jeroboam II also tried to officialize the Jacob traditions at the El shrine of Bethel, which he transformed into a Yahwistic sanctuary. He probably also built a shrine in Kiriath-jearim that hosted the ark traditions. Indeed, the Hebrew Bible contains many other northern traditions,61 especially in the book of Judges, which certainly has a northern origin, and in the traditions about the rise of Saul. Interestingly, the book of Numbers contains in its second part conquest traditions that are related to Transjordan and the North. Some of them seem to reflect conquests by the Omrides, but the stories could well have 60 For

61 See

more details, see Finkelstein and Römer, et al., “Excavations,” 52–60. Finkelstein, “Corpus.”

140

Thomas Römer

been written down during the reign of Jeroboam II in order to legitimate his ideas of territorial expansion.62 Despite the efforts of Judean redactors to eliminate or transform northern traditions during the compilation of biblical texts, and despite the Deuteronomistic attempt to downplay the reign of Jeroboam II, these traditions persisted and can be uncovered in the Hebrew Bible.

62 Israel Finkelstein and Thomas Römer, “Early North Israelite ‘Memories’ of Moab,” in Gertz et al., Formation of the Pentateuch, 718–19.

Part 3

Royal Carrot-and-Stick Policy (Late Neo-Assyrian Period)

Materiality and Ideology: Negotiating Identity across the Neo-Assyrian Imperial Landscape Alice M. W. Hunt Much has been said and even more has been written about the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Depending upon the disciplinary lens through which they are viewed, the Neo-Assyrians were savage warriors, cunning politicians, consummate administrators, skilled craftsmen, economists, traders, tyrants, mathematicians, historians, linguists, and conquerors. In fact, almost everything ever written about them is probably true. It is the nature of academic disciplines, particularly those focused on understanding systems of human thought, behavior, and belief, to craft models or representations of systems that consolidate complexity into general rules and concepts. As Susan Jones and Elisa Abes explain, “As images, models are designed to carefully represent complicated ideas, theories or elements in a way that is recognizable to the viewer.”1 Models of interregional interaction are foundational for anthropological and archaeological investigation of complex societies, cultural transmission, and development of social identity. Despite the value of models for elucidating patterns and normalizing variability, unless we consciously remember that human behavior, relationships, and beliefs are complex, dynamic, and recursive, we run the risk of distorting our understanding of the past through homogenization and glossing over differences. One of the models most frequently applied to the Neo-Assyrian Empire is World Systems Theory (WST), a hierarchical economic model developed by American sociologist Immanuel Wallerstein to explain the development of a world economy in sixteenth-century CE Europe.2 According to WST, the world can be divided into three socioeconomic tiers – core, semi-periphery, and periphery – unified by division of labor and access to resources and goods. Cheap labor and raw materials flow into the core from the periphery, sometimes through 1 Susan R. Jones and Elisa S. Abes, Identity Development of College Students: Advancing Frameworks for Multiple Dimensions of Identity (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2013), 78. 2 Immanuel Wallerstein, Capitalist Agriculture and the Origins of the European World-Economy in the Sixteenth Century, vol. 1 of The Modern World-System (New York: Academic Press, 1974); idem, Mercantilism and the Consolidation of the European World Economy, 1600–1750, vol. 2 of The Modern World System (New York: Academic Press, 1980); idem, The Second Era of Great Expansion of the Capitalist World-Economy, 1730–1840s, vol. 3 of The Modern World System (New York: Academic Press, 1989).

144

Alice M. W. Hunt

a semi-periphery, and in return prestige and/or high-profit consumption goods flow from the core to the periphery. Although WST is primarily an economic model, Wallerstein extended it to explain the development of different types of governments and political identities.3 Figure 1 illustrates the economic and political relationships of the core, semi-periphery, and periphery.

Periphery underdeveloped countries local economies local infrastructure

s

oo Re

so

ur

ce

G

developping countries national economies political infrastructure

ds

Semi-Periphery

Core developed countries large-scale manufacture international economies international political infrastructure

Figure 1. Immanuel Wallerstein’s core-periphery model of socioeconomic tiers (adapted from WST).

WST has shaped our understanding of complex social processes and socioeconomic development to such an extent that it is difficult to conceive of an imperial or colonial system without relying, consciously or unconsciously, on a variant of Wallerstein’s core-periphery dichotomy. Many critiques of WST have been published elsewhere, for example by Gil Stein;4 they cite its monolithic nature,5 overemphasis on the importance of the core in interregional interaction,6 top3 See

Wallerstein, Capitalist Agriculture. J. Stein, “From Passive Periphery to Active Agents: Emerging Perspectives in the Archaeology of Interregional Interaction,” American Anthropologist 104 (2002): 903–916. 5 Nicholas Thomas, Colonialism’s Culture: Anthropology, Travel, and Government (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994). 6 Michael Dietler, “Consumption, Agency, and Cultural Entanglement: Theoretical Implications of a Mediterranean Colonial Encounter,” in Studies in Cultural Contact, Interaction, 4 Gil

Materiality and Ideology

145

down view of cultural interactions,7 and reduction of the complexity of human behavior to dualist or binary interactions.8 Despite almost two decades of challenge and critique, WST survives, in various permutations and derivations, as the predominant interpretive model for complex interactions in imperial contexts. One of the most problematic extensions of interregional interaction models based on WST, and the one this paper seeks to challenge, is the equation of imperial material culture with imperial identity and the unshakable belief that people in the periphery sought to emulate and/or imitate the material expressions of identity emitted from the core. When we conflate geographic political boundaries, materiality, and identity, the prominence of the core, in terms of influence, is exaggerated. A rather striking example of this tendency is the use of “palace ware” – eighth–seventh century BCE ceramic drabware – as evidence of Neo-Assyrian imperial occupation and administration of cities and territories, for example at Tel Jemmeh in the southern Levant, despite the absence of collaborating evidence.9 Over the last ten years there has been an increasing movement away from global interpretive models and toward context-driven narratives focused on the “recursive relationship between social structure and the strategic actions of individuals and groups” within a particular imperial system.10 Part of this movement is an increased awareness of the complex and evolving social and symbolic value and meaning of material culture that goes beyond functionality, utility, and provenance and understands artifacts “not merely as products, but also [as] instruments used by actors in [a] social system”11 and even as actors themselves. Through this interpretive lens, material culture ceases to be static and is revealed to be a medium through which relationships and identities are negotiated, established, and maintained. In addition, sociological and semiotic research has demonstrated that cultures and people only adopt or adapt new social practices, ideas, and material culture when they are meaningful or relevant to them. By Culture Change, and Archaeology, ed. James G. Cusick (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University, 1998), 288–315.  7  Katharina Schreiber, “Imperial Agendas and Local Agency: Wari Colonial Strategies,” in The Archaeology of Colonial Encounters, ed. Gil J. Stein (Santa Fe: School of American Research Press, 2005), 237–262.  8 Lynn Meskell, “An Archaeology of Social Relations in an Egyptian Village,” Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 5 (1998): 209–243; Peter van Dommelen, On Colonial Grounds: A Comparative Study of Colonialism and Rural Settlement in First Millennium BC West Central Sardinia (Leiden: University of Leiden, 1998).  9 See, e. g., G. W. van Beek, “Assyrian Vaulted Buildings at Tel Jemmeh,” Qadmoniot 6 (1973): 23–26 (in Hebrew). 10 Gil J. Stein, “Introduction: The Comparative Colonial Encounters,” in The Archaeology of Colonial Encounters, ed. Gil J. Stein (Santa Fe: School of American Research Press, 2005), 3–31. 11 Mary C. Beaudry, Lauren J. Cook, and Stephen A. Mrozowski, “Artifacts and Active Voices: Material Culture as Social Discourse,” in The Archaeology of Inequality, ed. Randall H. McGuire and Robert Paynter (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1991), 150–91.

146

Alice M. W. Hunt

focusing on “patterns of artifact use and the attribution of meaning” we begin to reveal and understand the complex and active role of communities in constructing their own identity.12 This, I argue, is the true value of palace ware across the Neo-Assyrian imperial landscape: as the materiality of past behavior from which we can reconstruct social practice, identity, ideology, and meaning. Therefore, this paper does not explore imperial material culture present outside the imperial core as an end in and of itself, but rather focuses on its reception by communities on the periphery, examining the particular aspects of imperial material culture that were adopted or adapted, how this new materiality was incorporated into existing social practices and identities, and how the semiotic meaning of the materials/symbols changed in this new context.

A. The Sociopolitical Landscape of the Ninth Century BCE The sociopolitical landscape of the Near and Middle East during the tenth–ninth centuries BCE was vibrant, multilayered, and dynamic, full of independent, interdependent, and codependent political identities and polities. Most of these sociocultural political entities had international economies, identities, and relationships and would be classified as cores in a WST-based model. Babylon, Elam, Assyria, Media, Urartu, Aram, Hatti, Phoenicia, and Egypt are examples of core political identities during the ninth century BCE. Other political identities were less developed at this time and would be considered either semi-core or semi-periphery in a WST-based model, such as the southern Levantine states of Israel, Judah, Edom, and Moab. Over the course of the ninth–eighth centuries BCE, Assyria expanded its geographic and economic footprint by incorporating many other polities, such as Aram, into an imperial system. In a WST-based model this expansion would result from economic motives, such as the need for raw material resources and/ or the exploitation of cheap, unskilled labor. Some of these motivations, particularly access to raw materials, undoubtedly fueled Assyrian expansion; however, an often overlooked and perhaps stronger motivation for Assyrian expansion was ideological. Within the construct of Assyrian royal ideology, the king was not a god but rather the god Assur’s representative on earth. Palace iconography often depicts the god Assur – typically enclosed in his winged sun disk – above the king, visually reinforcing the supremacy of Assur and the king’s role as his functionary. Therefore, when the king met with foreign dignitaries and received tribute or homage (Fig. 2), he did so as the surrogate of Assur. Increasing Assur’s power, prestige, and domain on earth, through trade, treaties, and annual military campaigns, was the king’s most important religiopolitical duty. 12 Michael

Given, The Archaeology of the Colonized (London: Routledge, 2004), 15.

Materiality and Ideology

147

Figure 2. The Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser. Shalmaneser III, as Assur’s representative, receives homage from Jehu, king of Israel. Photo: Steven G. Johnson, licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0; https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11326786.

However, increasing the geographical territory occupied by Assur or the “people of Assur” (Assyrians) was not enough to fulfil this ideological imperative, leading us to the fundamental ideological tension in the Assyrian worldview. Unlike other contemporaneous Near Eastern ideologies, where the power of the god(s) is demonstrated by destroying or homogenizing the culture, language, and religion of captured peoples and territories, in Assyrian ideology Assur was powerful because he was supreme over diversity: diversity of languages, religions, cultural practices, even the diversity of flora and fauna. Conquered peoples were not required to give up their social and cultural identities, god(s), or languages. In fact, they were encouraged to keep them. Conquered peoples simply needed to recognize Assur as the supreme god, and they could continue living as they did before annexation into the Neo-Assyrian Empire. The phrase “And I called/considered them Assyrians,” declared by the king when a new territory was added to Assyria proper, is an ideological rather than a political expression. This interest in preserving diversity stems from the Assyrian ideological belief that all people, animals, plants, and the territory they occupied belonged to Assur. By recognizing Assur as supreme, foreign peoples and polities were simply acknowledging the universal truth that they were “people of Assur.” Therefore,

148

Alice M. W. Hunt

when the Assyrians annexed political identities and polities into the empire, they were simply returning to Assur what was already his. Annexation of territories and cultures was in fact a homecoming, as prodigal peoples and cultures were welcomed back into the fold of Assur. Granted, it was sometimes a violent homecoming. No one can deny that the destruction layers in the archaeological record speak to the power and proficiency of the Neo-Assyrian army. However, not all peoples experienced the military might of Assur. The annexation of much of Aram, for example, was accomplished through treaty rather than bloodshed. The ideological tension implicit in the need for diversity and the need for expansion, coupled with the Assyrian solution of compulsory recognition of Assur’s supremacy, might also explain the emphasis in the southern Levant on “having no gods before YHWH,” or “no gods but YHWH,” and the aggressive religious reforms in Judah during the seventh century BCE. Archaeologically, Assyrian ideology manifests materially as the conspicuous consumption of diversity – the imperial collecting of foreign animals, plants, and courtiers, similar to British practice in Victorian England.13 These collections were publicly displayed in gardens and menageries as a testament to the diversity and breadth of Assur’s power. Multilingual inscriptions on stelae were used as boundary markers, and scribes of all the known languages were housed in the royal court. Through these public displays, conspicuous consumption was used to reinforce the public’s social, but not necessarily cultural, identity as Assyrian, while at the same time reinforcing the power of Assur and the Neo-Assyrian Empire as the source of this diversity, privilege, and social identity. At the height of its power, the Neo-Assyrian provincial system extended across most of the Near and Middle East. Although there is much we do not know about how these provinces functioned, we do know that each was administrated by a governor, appointed by the Assyrian king and selected for loyalty. Under the governor were a deputy and three high officials: the major-domo, the city overseer, and the village inspector.14 In annexed provinces, the deputy was someone from the local community, often the ruler of the city state before its annexation into the imperial administration. If the annexation of the province was peaceable, the town and village mayors and, possibly, even the village inspector and city overseer were also local. In provinces where annexation was not peaceable or the local population was hostile to imperial administration, all of these offices were held by Assyrian appointees from the home provinces.

13 Alfred W. Crosby, Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe, 900– 1900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004); Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (New York: Routledge, 2008). 14 Nicholas Postgate, “The Invisible Hierarchy: Assyrian Military and Civilian Administration in the 8th and 7th Centuries BC,” in The Land of Assur and the Yoke of Assur: Studies on Assyria, 1971–2005, by Nicholas Postgate (Oxford: Oxbow Books, 2007), 331–60.

Materiality and Ideology

149

The top tier of provincial officials (governor, deputy, major-domo, city overseer, and village inspector) was obligated to travel, at least once a year, to the Assyrian imperial capital for an audience with the king. During this audience, officials paid their tribute and renewed their oath of loyalty to the god Assur, the king, and the land (Assyria). Vassal rulers, local governors, and kings in unincorporated territories would also have been obligated to travel to the Assyrian imperial capital to present their tribute and renew their fealty to Assyria and its king. The renewal of loyalty oaths was probably part of the adê ritual, which included the conspicuous consumption of a beverage from a bowl designated for this particular purpose. In the highly stratified world of the Assyrian court, the material from which the bowl was made reflected the status of the drinker or official. Adê drinking bowls manufactured from precious metals, copper alloys, and ceramic have been recovered archaeologically; a few even have the name and/or rank of the drinker engraved on the rim.15

B. Conspicuous Consumption and Social Practice The social practice and materiality of the allocation and consumption of grape wine among the political elite and powerful exemplifies the Assyrian ideology of conspicuous consumption. Grape wine is a delicate material and is incredibly difficult to preserve and transport because minor fluctuations in temperature and humidity, and even the slightest of motions, can cause the wine to spoil or sour into vinegar. There is little archaeological or textual evidence for the preservation of wine dating to the Neo-Assyrian period. In Egypt, however, from at least the sixteenth century BCE, a reed or straw was placed as a stopper on the top of the wine jar both to prevent the flavor of the wine from being tainted by the mud used to seal the jars and to allow carbon dioxide, a by-product of fermentation, to escape.16 Although the production and consumption of grape wine was widespread along the temperate Levantine coast, the upper Tigris region is inhospitable to viticulture and the hazards of transport probably deterred the importation of grape wine into Assyria. The earliest evidence of grape wine consumption in Assyria is dated to the late ninth century BCE.17 The rarity and novelty of this fragile commodity in Assyria manifests itself in the meticulous division, alloca15 Karen Radner, “Eine Bronzeschale mit neuassyrischer Inschrift,” SAAB 13 (1999–2000): 17–25. 16 Mary Anne Murray, “Viticulture and Wine Production,” in Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology, ed. Paul T. Nicholson and Ian Shaw (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 577–608. 17 Patrick E. McGovern, Stuart Fleming, and Solomon H. Katz, eds., The Origins and Ancient History of Wine (Amsterdam: Gordon and Breach, 1996).

150

Alice M. W. Hunt

tion, and measurement of grape wine. Most of our information about grape wine distribution and consumption comes from the Nimrud Wine Lists discovered at Kalhu and published by J. V. Kinnier Wilson in 1972. According to these texts, grape wine allocations to individuals within the imperial and provincial administration or the king’s household reflected their rank within those institutions.18 Around the same time grape wine becomes popular in Assyria, a rather unique ceramic fabric also appears in the archaeological record. This fabric is extremely fine-grained (< 2 % total inclusions, inclusions < 0.05 mm), thin-walled (0.2 cm mode), and highly fired (1050–1100 °C).19 From a technical standpoint, this new fabric is a very difficult ceramic body to manufacture, requiring not only expert pyrotechnical control but remarkable skill and precision in vessel formation. Despite the subtle beauty of this fabric, it was used to manufacture a limited range of forms and was only consumed for about one hundred fifty years, between the eighth and sixth centuries BCE. Although forms B and C (Fig. 3) are not uniquely Neo-Assyrian, for they occur in the archaeological record during the Middle Assyrian period, the combination of form and fabric is a decidedly Neo-Assyrian phenomenon. These vessels are most commonly referred to as “palace ware.” What makes palace ware forms particularly remarkable is their discrete and restricted range of capacities – capacities that align well with the Neo-Assyrian wine measures qû (800 mL) and kāsu (80 mL). Palace ware forms A and B are relatively small, holding 500 or 700 mL or approximately 6 or 9 kāsu. The larger form C vessels hold 2 or 3 qû, 1.5 or 3 L respectively. The correlation of archaeological ceramics with vessel types or metrological units known from Assyrian texts is complicated by issues of standardization, as well as geographical and temporal diversity.20 Most of the vessel classes and liquid volumes described in the cuneiform texts are bulk measurements recorded in sūtu (10 qû) and emāru (100 qû), restricting their usefulness for determining the social function of palace ware. Smaller measures of 1, 2, 3, and 5 qû are frequently mentioned in the Nimrud Wine Lists (NWL) as libation offerings and as monthly rations for members of the royal household.21 A ceramic wine container, known as a šazamû, associated with libations of lā’u and mēzu wine, is estimated to hold 3 qû.22 The measure 2 qû occurs frequently in the Nimrud Wine Lists as the measure of wine allotted monthly to members of the royal household and government 18 J. V. Kinnier Wilson, The Nimrud Wine Lists: A Study of Men and Administration at the Assyrian Capital in the Eighth Century, B. C., Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud 1 (London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq, 1972). 19 Alice M. W. Hunt, Palace Ware across the Neo-Assyrian Imperial Landscape: Social Value and Semiotic Meaning (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 95–96. 20 Grégory Chambon, “Numeracy and Metrology,” in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture, ed. Karen Radner and Eleanor Robson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 51–67. 21 Kinnier Wilson, Nimrud Wine Lists. 22 NWL 18, line 7; Salvatore Gaspa, “Vessels in Neo-Assyrian Documents: Capacity Measures and Listing Conventions,” SAAB 16 (2007): 145–84.

151

Materiality and Ideology

FORM A

FORM B2

FORM B1

FORM A FORM B3

FORM C1

FORM C4

10 cm

FORM C3

FORM C2 Figure 3. Palace ware typology: summary of forms. Reprinted with permission from Alice Hunt, Palace Ware Across the Neo-Assyrian Imperial Landscape: Social Value and Semiotic Meaning (Brill: Leiden, 2015).

officials. For example, NWL 8 (lines 33–37) states: “2 qû the chief cupbearer, ½ qû the son of the cupbearer, 2 qû the physicians, 2 qû the diviners, 2 qû the exorcists, 2 qû the confectioners, 2 qû […].”23 Perhaps palace ware form C vessels were used by the imperial administration for the storage/serving of monthly wine rations. Note also the mention of ½ qû (5 kāsu), which is the capacity of palace ware form B1 cups. 23 Frederick Mario Fales, “A Fresh Look at the Nimrud Wine Lists,” in Drinking in Ancient Societies: History and Culture of Drinks in the Ancient Near East. Papers of a Symposium Held in Rome, May 17–19 1990, ed. Lucio Milano (Padua: S. A. R. G. O. N., 1994), 361–80.

152

Alice M. W. Hunt

Perhaps the most interesting references in the Nimrud Wine Lists are those describing a volume of wine “for cups” GÚ[.ZI.]MEŠ: “5 qû, for cups in the morning; 3 qû, for cups in the evening” (NWL 8, lines 11–12).24 The unit kāsu is often described as a cup measure and the volume of a kāsu, 80 mL, would indeed fill a very small cup.25 Perhaps the cups mentioned in these texts are palace ware form B vessels. In support of these possible metrological indicators of social function, the biconical shape of palace ware forms B and C also suggests that these vessels were associated with the consumption of grape wine. Unlike barley and date wine, which often contained floating vegetal matter that required filtration, grape wine in antiquity contained a dense sediment that precipitated at the bottom of its storage or serving container.26 This dense precipitate was likely trapped in the pointed bases of form B and C vessels and would explain why strainers and filters were not part of the palace ware repertoire. However, there is nothing flashy or extravagant about palace ware, aside from the technical difficulty of its manufacture. The Assyrian world was full of brightly colored vessels, painted and glazed in brilliant blues, vibrant yellows, and vivid reds. Compared to these vessels, palace ware is quite drab. What makes these vessels valued and valuable to their cultural audience is the social practice and identity associated with them and with the consumption of grape wine. These vessels are a semiotic expression of power and privilege, understood and communicated only to a select segment of the population: imperial or provincial administrators and members of the royal household. We know from petrographic and geochemical analysis that palace ware vessels were not traded or transported across the empire.27 These vessels were local phenomena, manufactured using local raw materials. If the value of palace ware is its semiotic meaning, known and understood by a limited cultural audience, why do these vessels appear across the Neo-Assyrian imperial landscape? Who was their cultural audience? And, what about these vessels was meaningful to that audience? The answer to these questions lies in the tale of two cities, Guzana and Dur-Katlimmu. Guzana and Dur-Katlimmu were both provincial capital cities in the Neo-Assyrian imperial system (see Fig. 6 below). Although the two provinces in which they were located, Guzana and Laqe, were similar in size and in location relative to the Assyrian imperial capital cities of Kalhu and Nineveh, these two regions had very different culture histories and relationships with Assyria. 24 Fales,

“Nimrud Wine Lists.” Wilson, Nimrud Wine Lists. 26 P. R. S. Moorey, “Metal Wine Sets in the Ancient Near East,” Iranica Antiqua 15 (1980): 181–97; Françoise Formenti and J. M. Duthel, “The Analysis of Wine and Other Organics Inside Amphoras of the Roman Period,” in McGovern, Fleming, and Katz, Origins and Ancient History of Wine, 79–88. 27 Hunt, Palace Ware, 143, 180–181. 25 Kinnier

Materiality and Ideology

153

C. The Tale of Dur-Katlimmu The residents of the province of Laqe, at least those in positions of administrative power, always considered themselves Assyrian. In fact, there is some evidence that Laqe housed a royal cavalry regiment, and that the city of Dur-Katlimmu was an important administrative center during the Middle Assyrian period.28 In those days, Laqe was part of the larger province of Rasapa, and was adjacent to the heart of the Assyrian empire. However, during the eighth century, the NeoAssyrian king Tiglath-Pileser III became concerned about both the size and power of Rasapa, particularly given its proximity to the imperial capital, and divided it into two smaller provinces. Dur-Katlimmu became part of the new and significantly smaller province of Laqe. At the same time as the provincial boundaries were redrawn, the provincial leaders in both Laqe and Rasapa were also replaced by imperial command. While the change in leadership was not unexpected  – kings often replaced provincial governors when they ascended the throne – the combination of a new governor and the redrawing of provincial boundaries would have been disconcerting to the established administration living in Dur-Katlimmu. Palace ware from Dur-Katlimmu is almost identical to palace ware fabrics found in the Neo-Assyrian imperial capitals, despite being locally manufactured.29 Petrographically, the fabrics from Dur-Katlimmu are slightly coarser (< 3–4 % total inclusions), but the local raw material potters started with was also coarser. Grain-size analysis of the inclusions in Dur-Katlimmu fabrics exhibits the same truncation indicative of intentional refining by sedimentation as is found in the imperial capital cities. However, the vessels at Dur-Katlimmu are elaborately, almost excessively decorated using traditional Assyrian techniques and motifs, but not techniques associated with palace ware in the home provinces (Fig. 4). In addition to the hyper-Assyrian decoration, palace ware from Dur-Katlimmu is subtly larger than vessels in the imperial capital cities. Morphometric analysis indicates that Dur-Katlimmu palace ware has longer neck and body measurements, making the vessels more conspicuous, despite the fact that they have smaller capacities than their counterparts. Thus, despite being subtly “larger” (i. e., taller) and more elaborate (i. e., more conspicuous), palace ware from Dur-Katlimmu was in fact smaller in terms of capacity than vessels from Kalhu, Nineveh, or Assur. These differences are explained by the cultural narrative of Dur-Katlimmu and Laqe. The consumers of palace ware at Dur-Katlimmu were most likely 28 Hartmut Kühne and Andreas Luther, “Tall Seh Hamad  / Dur-Katlimmu  / Magdalu?,” NABU 1998: 106–109. 29 Hunt, Palace Ware, 143.

154

Alice M. W. Hunt

SHM 93/6147/ 0223

SHI 92/6151/ 0511

10 cm

SHL 97/6543/ 0043

SHE 92/6151/ 0497

Figure 4. Palace ware form C1 jars from Dur-Katlimmu. Reprinted with permission from Florian Janoscha Kreppner, Die Keramik des “Roten Hauses” von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Dur-Katlimmu: Eine Betrachtung der Keramik Nordmesopotamiens aus der zweiten Hälfte des 7. und aus dem 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2006).

Neo-Assyrian provincial administrators who were a mixture of transplants from the imperial heartland and local ruling elite. The long-standing relationship between Dur-Katlimmu and Assyria, and the drastic change in the political landscape of that relationship, suggests that the cultural audience of palace ware at Dur-Katlimmu extended beyond the local provincial administrators to include the Neo-Assyrian imperial administration. While the social function of palace ware, the conspicuous consumption of grape wine, remained unchanged, an additional function and semiotic meaning was ascribed to these vessels at DurKatlimmu: a declaration of loyalty to the Assyrian king and hence a declaration of the “Assyrian-ness” of the consumer. Drinking from these vessels and participating in the conspicuous consumption of grape wine was an affirmation of and

Materiality and Ideology

155

participation in Assyrian power, and thus the vessels were used at Dur-Katlimmu to build unity and a sense of cultural identity among its administrators.

D. The Tale of Guzana Guzana was an Aramean city state, and continued to identify culturally as Aramean even after it was annexed to the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Like all Assyrian provinces, Guzana had a provincial government that was a branch of the imperial administration. It is probable that since Guzana retained much of its Aramean cultural identity, due to the ideological tension inherent in the NeoAssyrian worldview Guzana always had the potential to be hostile to Assyrian governance, even if only passively. Therefore, the provincial administration, particularly the top three tiers of provincial government, was composed of officials relocated to Guzana from the imperial capital provinces. Palace ware from Guzana was not available for invasive scientific analysis. However, the fabric appears to be high-fired and fine-grained, just like the palace ware fabrics from Dur-Katlimmu, Kalhu, Nineveh, and Assur.30 The most striking feature of Guzana’s palace ware is its stark appearance. Palace ware from Guzana is very, very plain – even plainer than the vessels from Kalhu and Nineveh. It is almost as though the consumers of palace ware at Guzana were trying to make it less conspicuous, less obvious, less Assyrian. Morphometrically, however, palace ware from Guzana is almost identical to palace ware from the Neo-Assyrian imperial capital cities (Fig. 5). Vessel walls are eggshell thin, and body and neck lengths are within the expected range of variation. Even the capacities of these vessels are exactly the same as those from Kalhu and Nineveh. Thus, despite being plainer, palace ware from Guzana is completely compliant with the social norms and expectations associated with these vessels in the imperial center. Given the potential restlessness of Guzana under the “yoke of Assur,” how does its cultural narrative explain this compliance with Neo-Assyrian sociocultural practice? It is precisely because Guzana was Aramean and identified culturally as Aramean that the palace ware at Guzana was so exceptionally unexceptional. The consumers of these vessels were the provincial administrators, who were probably relocated to Guzana from imperial capital provinces and chosen for their loyalty. Although a fraction of the cultural audience of palace ware may have been local to Guzana, it is likely that the social function and practice of grape wine consumption, using palace ware, was restricted to the provincial administrators themselves. Therefore, the semiotic value and meaning of this practice, and by extension of the local palace ware, would have been a reaffirmation 30 Hunt,

Palace Ware, 136–139.

156

Alice M. W. Hunt

HI VA 12561 HD VA 12567

HJ VA 12563

HA VA 12562 10 cm

HK VA 12564 Figure 5. Palace ware from Guzana. Reprinted with permission from Hunt, Palace Ware.

of the power and unity of the Neo-Assyrian Empire that served as a symbol of solidarity among the provincial administrators working in a “foreign” culture. A context-driven narrative approach to palace ware consumption illuminates a level of complexity and nuance lost using more traditional interpretive models, at least within the Neo-Assyrian imperial administration. But, if the production and consumption of palace ware outside of the imperial capital cities was governed by the cultural narrative and relationship of those consumers with the Assyrian Empire, then why is palace ware found outside the provincial system? What about Tel Jemmeh in the southern Levant and its famous repository of palace ware?

E. The Tale of Tel Jemmeh It is important to remember that Tel Jemmeh, despite being a territory that was not incorporated into the Assyrian provincial system, was not a backwater location or an insignificant economic and political player during the Neo-Assyrian period. Tel Jemmeh was located in an unincorporated region of the Negev, approximately 10 kilometers southeast of Gaza, along the Gaza–Petra trade route. The Gaza–Petra trade route was part of the Incense Route, an international trade route transporting spices and exotic resins, such as frankincense and myrrh, from Somalia, Southern Arabia, and India to Babylonia and the Fertile

Materiality and Ideology

157

Crescent. Inhabitants of Jemmeh were sophisticated, and the city’s savvy politicians were able to manipulate both Egypt and Assyria to their own advantage for decades. As a cultural and economic crossroads between Egypt and Assyria, Arabia and the Mediterranean, it is not surprising that the five-hectare site yielded Egyptian, Aegean, Cypriot, and Philistine artifacts in the same strata. Nor, perhaps, is it surprising that these same strata contained pottery that reminded Sir W. M. Flinders Petrie of metal Assyrian vessels he had seen in the British Museum (palace ware).31 The presence of these Assyrian-style vessels led Petrie to conclude that Tel Jemmeh was occupied by the Assyrians during the Neo-Assyrian period, possibly as a staging area for Egyptian military campaigns. When excavation of the site began again fifty years later, under the direction of G. W. van Beek, it was with the understanding that Tel Jemmeh had been an Assyrian province or administrative center. This conclusion was reinforced when van Beek uncovered monumental architecture he dated to the Neo-Assyrian period (eighth–seventh century BCE).32 Van Beek reconstructed the monumental building as a two-story structure supported by arches, containing a cache of Assyrian-style vessels and palace ware, and associated it with a series of residences he dated to the same period.33 The architecture of both the monumental building and the residences is certainly inconsistent with local architecture in the Negev dated to the Neo-Assyrian period. However, neither is it consistent with Assyrian architecture. Even in annexed provinces, Neo-Assyrian buildings were organized and oriented very specifically, and the floor plans did not vary. In addition, there is no textual record at all of Tel Jemmeh in the Assyrian annals and administrative documents. If Tel Jemmeh was not an Assyrian province or occupied by the Assyrians, how do we explain the presence of palace ware? Perhaps the most important observation about the consumption of palace ware and its social function at Tel Jemmeh is that it differs from palace ware consumption anywhere within the Assyrian imperial system (Fig. 6). Forms B and C, those associated with grape wine consumption, are predominantly consumed in Assyria and its annexed provinces. But these forms are hardly represented in the palace ware assemblage from Tel Jemmeh. Instead, it is the form A bowls that were most prolifically consumed here. What makes this consumption pattern all the more evocative is that form A bowls are the only truly Neo-Assyrian form among the greater palace ware assemblage. This form has no Middle Assyrian precursor but appears in the Neo-Assyrian archaeological record simultaneously with the unique palace ware fabric. 31 W. M. Flinders

Petrie, Gerar (London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt, 1928). van Beek, “Assyrian Vaulted Buildings at Tel Jemmeh,” Qadmoniot 6 (1973): 23–26 (in Hebrew). 33 van Beek, “Assyrian Vaulted Buildings.” 32 G. W.

158

Alice M. W. Hunt

Figure 6. Relative distribution of palace ware types at six sites within and on the periphery of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Based on a map designed by Karen Radner and drawn by Cornelie Wolff, available at the Assyrian Empire Builders website (http:// oracc museum.upenn.edu/saao/knpp/downloads/assyrian-provinces-nolabels.gif).

In Neo-Assyrian iconography, these bowls are used for official political and religious functions, such as pouring libations to the gods and as part of the annual adê ritual to reaffirm loyalty to Assyria and its king. All provincial governors and cabinet members, as well as the rulers of vassal states, of buffer zones, and of unincorporated territories like Tel Jemmeh, were obligated to travel to the Assyrian imperial capital for an annual audience with the king. During this audience, officials and foreign dignitaries paid tribute, reported on provincial business, and participated in a banquet at which the adê oath was sworn. The bowls from which the ritual adê drink was consumed were form A palace ware bowls. Not all of them were ceramic, however. The material of the bowl – ceramic, copper, or precious metals – reflected the rank or status of the individual. These vessels were given as gifts and transported by their owners back to their respective provinces and territories. Another interesting feature is that in Assyria, these bowls, including those made of ceramic, are often found in burial contexts, suggesting that the semiotic

Materiality and Ideology

159

significance and social value of these vessels was well established and that it extended beyond their use-life. The association of this form with the adê ritual indicates that these bowls symbolized loyalty to Assyria. The semiotic significance of these bowl forms as a manifestation of loyalty to Assyria was probably known throughout the Near and Middle East, traveling across the landscape with the bowls themselves. Perhaps Amos is referring to this social practice and semiotic meaning when he bemoans those in the Northern Kingdom of Israel, much of which had been annexed into the Neo-Assyrian provincial system by the eighth century BCE, who “drink wine in bowls and anoint themselves with the chief ointments; but they are not grieved for the hurt of Joseph” (Amos 6:6; my translation). Next to the unique pattern of palace ware consumption, the second most important observation about palace ware from Tel Jemmeh is that the unique fabric that defines palace ware is missing from the assemblage. Like all palace ware, the vessels at Tel Jemmeh were locally made from available raw materials; however, unlike palace ware from the Assyrian capital or annexed provinces, these raw materials were not refined using sedimentation; they retain the complete grain-size distribution profile diagnostic of alluvial sediments.34 It is worth noting that the palace ware fabrics at Tel Jemmeh are significantly finer and higher-fired than other local fabrics; nevertheless, the fabrics at Tel Jemmeh are also significantly coarser (< 8 % total inclusions, inclusions ≤ 1 mm) and lower fired (800–900 °C) than palace ware from Kalhu, Nineveh, Assur, Guzana, or Dur-Katlimmu.35 Similarly, although the walls of palace ware vessels from Tel Jemmeh (0.3 cm mode) are much thinner than those of other contemporary local vessels, they are consistently thicker than the walls of palace ware from Assyria proper. Additionally, the palace ware bowl forms from Tel Jemmeh are significantly bigger morphometrically and metrologically. Palace ware bowls at Tel Jemmeh have continuous capacity measurements that range from two to eight times as large as those found in Assyrian provinces (1–4 L). The third critical observation about palace ware vessels from Tel Jemmeh concerns their decorative motif and style. The majority (80 %) of the palace ware bowls from Tel Jemmeh are red-slipped and burnished. Neither of these techniques is typical of Assyrian potting traditions during any period. However, redslip and burnish were very common decorative elements in the southern Levant during the Iron Age. The combination of thin walls, fine-grained fabrics, and red-slip and burnish is reminiscent of a local “elite” ware called Samaria ware. Given these three critical observations concerning the materiality of palace ware consumption at Tel Jemmeh – unique consumption pattern, relatively coarse fabric, and local decorative style  – and the complicated political 34 Hunt, 35 Hunt,

Palace Ware, 159–63. Palace Ware, 170–72.

160

Alice M. W. Hunt

relationship of this population with the Neo-Assyrian Empire, what were palace ware bowls doing at Jemmeh? What was their value to the local consumers? And why did they choose a form associated so clearly with loyalty to the Assyrians? The consumers of palace ware at Tel Jemmeh were the middle‑ and upperclass people who lived there: merchants, administrators, moneylenders, shopkeepers, and innkeepers. These were worldly people, used to conducting business on an international economic and political landscape. Thus, the cultural audience for their consumption of palace ware was the greater Levant and Mediterranean. The consumers at Tel Jemmeh were players on a larger landscape, and their focus was greater than a single kingdom or empire. Why, then, did they choose a ceramic form that was exclusively associated with Assyria? As noted above, palace ware form A bowls are the only uniquely Neo-Assyrian vessels in the palace ware assemblage. All of the other forms have precursors in other fabrics during the Middle Assyrian period or earlier. Form A bowls, however, were new. Many of the form A bowls at Tel Jemmeh were red-slipped and burnished. This is not a typical finishing technique or decorative style for Neo-Assyrian pottery in general, and in fact it is never seen on palace ware in the Assyrian heartland or in the annexed provinces. Red-slipping and burnishing are, however, very common finishing techniques and decorative elements in the southern Levant. As mentioned above, the combination of red-slip, burnish, and thin walls during the late Iron Age is indicative of a particular Levantine ceramic ware called Samaria ware. Samaria ware was a prestige good, easily identifiable and recognizable by its unique characteristic: shiny, thin red walls. The combination of these finishing techniques on Assyrian-style bowls suggests that whatever the social value and function of these vessels was at Tel Jemmeh, it was probably related to status. I believe that what we are seeing at Tel Jemmeh is a community that valued a cosmopolitan social identity and projected that identity both to itself and to other cultural audiences. The bowl forms are the most conspicuous and unique forms in the palace ware assemblage. Modifying the plain Assyrian palace ware bowls through the application of red-slip and burnish facilitated the identification of these vessels as status symbols before a broader cultural audience, thereby communicating their consumers’ perception of their own status. It is possible, even probable, that status was the only social value and semiotic meaning of Palace Ware for its consumers at Tel Jemmeh. The novelty of this form, and its association with the elite and powerful, must have intrigued consumers at Tel Jemmeh. By adding stylistic elements known to be “elite” – red-slip and burnish – the consumers at Jemmeh adapted the social function of palace ware bowls to reflect their status as cosmopolitan, culturally astute, and internationally adept. Semiotically, then, these vessels served to reaffirm the power and wealth of the international trade center of Tel Jemmeh and of its cultured and cosmopolitan inhabitants. This new social function and

Materiality and Ideology

161

semiotic meaning may explain why palace ware is not widespread across the southern Levant but is instead concentrated at this important economic location.

F. Concluding Remarks Detailed observations about the production and consumption of artifacts can facilitate a nuanced understanding of the critical role of materiality in the negotiation, establishment, and maintenance of social, cultural, and political identity. In addition, narrative-driven contextual models of interregional interaction provide a new level of insight into cultural and technological transmission and the complexity of interregional relationships. As with all disciplines that study past behavior and its material expression in artifacts or texts, our understanding is only as accurate as our interpretive framework and the material remains available to us. In the case of Assyria, we have administrative documents, letters from provincial governors, royal annals, and ideological statements. This textual evidence provides a rich context for reconstructing how Assyria understood itself and its relationship to the rest of the Near East. Not all politico-cultural entities and identities offer such a wealth of information, however. That does not mean the interpretive framework presented here will not work in other time periods, places, and cultures, only that it will be more challenging to construct the contextual narrative. My hope is that as we continue to unravel the materiality of identity in the Near and Middle East, we will come to truly appreciate the vibrant complexity of these cultures and the Neo-Assyrian period.

Texts, Stories, History: The Neo-Assyrian Period and the Bible Eckart Frahm For quite some time, Hebrew Bible scholars have felt that they stand on shifting sands rather than on firm ground when exploring the world behind the text they study through the lenses of historical criticism. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, the future Pope Benedict XVI, said it already in 1988: “To speak of the crisis of the historical-critical method today is practically a truism.”1 The problems with historical criticism have affected in particular scholars working on the preexilic period, regardless of whether they seek to reconstruct earlier stages of biblical books or the history of Israel up to and including the kingdoms of Israel and Judah. Many now believe that subjecting the Bible to this method has failed to yield results that meet basic epistemological requirements. Some have taken this as a license to return to a literal reading of the Bible. Others, most prominently the adherents of the “minimalist” school in biblical studies, have taken the opposite stance. Considering the Bible largely a fairy tale, they argue that it is practically impossible to make any reliable statements regarding the earlier history of Israel, and contend that a united monarchy may never have existed and that the kingdoms of Israel and Judah were far less significant than the Bible suggests. The dilemma is obviously real, and yet the situation perhaps not quite as hopeless as is occasionally claimed. Where archaeological finds and nonbiblical textual sources, available in increasing numbers,2 complement the evidence, they do at times agree with biblical accounts. In other words, one does find passages in the Bible that seem to provide accurate descriptions of the historical, political, and cultural realities of the times they describe, including the preexilic period. 1 The remark is from his 1988 Erasmus Lecture, available at https://www firstthings.com/ web-exclusives/2008/04/biblical-interpretation-in-crisis (accessed February 15, 2019). 2  The Tel Dan inscription, for example, with its reference to the “House of David,” confirmed the existence of a Davidic dynasty, while the cuneiform texts found at Tell Tayinat (see below) demonstrated, inter alia, that Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaties were also administered in the Levant. When artifacts providing seemingly independent testimony to events mentioned in the Bible originate from the antiquities market, however, there are almost always problems with regard to establishing their authenticity. A prominent case is the so-called Jehoash Inscription, which shows close parallels to 2 Kgs 12, but is most likely a modern forgery; for discussion, see Christopher A. Rollston, “Forging History: From Antiquity to the Modern Period,” in Archaeologies of Text: Archaeology, Technology, and Ethics, ed. Matthew T. Rutz and Morag M. Kersel (Oxford: Oxbow, 2014), 176–97.

164

Eckart Frahm

The problem is to establish which passages to trust if there is no corroborating evidence from outside the Bible. Whatever one thinks about this complicated state of affairs, there is one fundamental fact that even the greatest skeptics have to acknowledge: that the events described in the Hebrew Bible are to a considerable extent set in preexilic times. The Hebrew Bible is, first and foremost, a book about the period that preceded the fall of Jerusalem in 597/586 BCE. And while much of what it has to say about the earlier portions of this era, from the creation of the world to the establishment of the united monarchy, is today regarded by scholars as largely unhistorical, the biblical accounts of the subsequent centuries, the time of the kingdoms of Israel and Judah, are clearly based on some actual historical knowledge.3 This makes it likely that the origins of the Hebrew Bible – the first period of its formation, to draw on the title of this volume – indeed coincide with the time of the NeoAssyrian state, whose expansion into a massive empire eventually led to the fall of the kingdom of Israel and the transformation of the kingdom of Judah into an Assyrian vassal. Considering the magnitude of these last two events, one can, moreover, hypothesize with some confidence that the encounter with Assyria must have had a major impact on Israelite politics, religion, and literature in other, more indirect ways as well. This paper will assess this impact in more detail. The volume’s title, with its reference to “tablets,” might suggest that the focus of such an assessment should lie primarily on the Assyrian textual record and the immediate influence it may have had on the biblical texts. This, however, would be a problematic approach. While there may be exceptions, to which I will return, it seems unlikely that clay tablets inscribed in cuneiform were a medium on which the Israelite and Judean authors of early versions of biblical texts drew to a significant extent. During the Late Bronze Age, clay tablets written in Akkadian served as the foremost medium of communication between royal courts throughout the region, and local rulers in Canaan sponsored scribal schools where texts such as the Epic of Gilgamesh were studied. According to Wayne Horowitz and Takayoshi Oshima, some forty-two cuneiform texts from the Late Bronze Age have been found in Canaan, to which the tablets written by Canaanite rulers found at Tell el-Amarna in Egypt can be added.4 But after the violent destruction of the urban 3 It is noteworthy that no kings who are known to have ruled in Western Asia during the third or second millennium BCE are mentioned by name in the Bible, with the possible exception of the rulers in Gen 14:1, whose names may have been inspired by stories about early kings that circulated in exilic or postexilic Babylonia. In contrast, the Bible names a significant number of kings, both foreign and native, from the first centuries of the first millennium BCE (see below). 4 Wayne Horowitz and Takayoshi Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan: Cuneiform Sources from the Land of Israel in Ancient Times (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society / The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2006). The statistics provided in the following paragraph are based on the evidence collected in this book. Important additions to the corpus of Late Bronze Age texts include, inter alia, two fragments, perhaps of letters of the same type as the Abdi-Heba letters from

Texts, Stories, History

165

centers of the Late Bronze Age, cuneiform ceased to serve as a local writing system in Canaan. When in the second half of the eighth century BCE the Assyrians created their first provinces in the region, cuneiform writing experienced a kind of comeback there, but one that was in many ways limited. Apart from three cylinder seal inscriptions and a Lamaštu amulet, the only cuneiform texts known from Neo-Assyrian Canaan, altogether eighteen in number, are fragments of stone stelae bearing royal inscriptions, and administrative and archival texts. Examples of the former, written in the names of Sargon II and Esarhaddon, were found in Ashdod, Ben Shemen, Qaqun, and Samaria; examples of the latter, dated from 698 to 649 BCE, were recovered in Gezer, Tel Hadid, Tel Keisan, Khirbet Kusiya, Samaria, and the Shephelah. Cuneiform, it seems, was almost exclusively used “by those segments of the population most closely associated with foreign rule.”5 Otherwise, new alphabetic writing systems, introduced in the Late Bronze Age and massively popularized in the Iron Age, seem to have dominated written communication, unfortunately for us in tandem with perishable writing materials, which means that we have little archaeological evidence for their use. If cuneiform was no longer widely read by the local elites of the Levant during the Iron Age, and scribal schools exposing students to literary and scholarly texts in Akkadian and Sumerian now operated there, if at all, on a very limited scale,6 how, then, and in which specific ways, might Assyrian culture have left its trace on the Bible? For some possible answers to this question, we will, in the following, first take a quick look at the data Assyrian texts provide with regard to the history of Israel and Judah as well as the information the historical books of the Bible, especially 2 Kings, include regarding Assyrian kings, Assyrian interventions in the Levant, and other aspects of Assyrian history. After that, we will discuss biblical passages that seem to draw on famous characters of Assyrian (and in some cases earlier Mesopotamian) history in more indirect ways. The possibility that certain legal traditions – in the broadest sense – found Amarna, from Late Bronze Age Jerusalem, the oldest written documents ever found there. See Eilat Mazar et al., “A Cuneiform Tablet from the Ophel in Jerusalem,” IEJ 60 (2010): 4–21; Eilat Mazar et al., “Jerusalem 2: A Fragment of a Cuneiform Tablet from the Ophel Excavations,” IEJ 64 (2014): 129–39. Also noteworthy is the discovery of two fragments of a tablet from Middle Bronze Age Hazor inscribed with laws reminiscent of Hammurapi’s famous “Code.” Wayne Horowitz, Takayoshi Oshima, and Filip Vukosavović, “Hazor 18: Fragments of a Cuneiform Law Collection from Hazor,” IEJ 62 (2012): 158–76. 5 Horowitz and Oshima, Cuneiform in Canaan, 19. 6 Admittedly, some evidence for such scribal activity exists. Most notably, several AssyroBabylonian scholarly texts, including copies of the menological series Iqqur īpuš, were found at Tell Tayinat, ancient Kullania, on the Orontes River. See Jacob Lauinger, “Iqqur īpuš at Tell Tayinat,” JCS 68 (2016): 229–48. Kullania was the center of an Assyrian province, a status it shared from ca. 720 BCE onward with Samaria – but not with Jerusalem, which remained the capital of a formally independent state throughout the Late Assyrian period. The likelihood that there ever were substantial numbers of learned cuneiform texts from the Neo-Assyrian period in Jerusalem is therefore fairly small, even though a few Assyrian officials may have resided in the city.

166

Eckart Frahm

their way into biblical texts through Assyrian mediation will be explored next, before we conclude our presentation with a brief survey of the scholarly debate about the likelihood of a more immediate impact of Assyrian religious ideas on Israelite religion.7

A. Israel and Judah in Assyrian Texts, and Assyria in the Historical Books of the Bible Between the ninth and the seventh century BCE, Assyrian kings conducted at least sixty-seven campaigns to the Levant. During the key period from 734 to 645 BCE, eleven Assyrian campaigns were aimed directly at sections of Canaan, with an additional four campaigns to Egypt passing through the area.8 During this time, the Assyrians consolidated their rule over the region through the creation of new administrative centers and the building of fortresses and trading centers. Neo-Assyrian texts, both royal inscriptions and archival documents, refer to Israel9 and Judah10 several dozen times.11 Assyrian royal inscriptions mention, moreover, a total of nine kings of Israel and Judah by name: the ninthcentury Israelite rulers Ahab and Jehu (the latter is the only king of Israel or Judah who is depicted on an Assyrian monument, Shalmaneser III’s Black Obelisk12); Joash, an Israelite monarch who ruled during the reign of Adad-nirari III (810–783 BCE); the late eighth-century Israelite kings Menahem, Pekah, and Hoshea; and the eighth‑ and seventh-century Judean rulers Ahaz, Hezekiah, and Manasseh.13 Omri (Ḫumrî) is indirectly alluded to in the phrases “House of  7 The

following remarks draw to some extent on my recent article “Assyria in the Hebrew Bible,” in A Companion to Assyria, ed. Eckart Frahm (Malden: Wiley Blackwell, 2017), 556–69.  8  For more detailed information, see Ariel M. Bagg, Die Assyrer und das Westland, OLA 216 (Leuven: Peeters, 2011); see also Angelika Berlejung, “The Assyrians in the West: Assyrianization, Colonialism, Indifference, or Development Policy?,” in Congress Volume, Helsinki 2010, ed. Martti Nissinen, VTSup 148 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 21–60.  9  Called Sir’ala or, more commonly, Bit-Ḫumri, later subdivided into the provinces of Megiddo (Magidû) and Samaria (Samerina). Israelite cities mentioned in Assyrian sources include Aphek (Apqû?), Hannaton (Ḫinatuna), Jotbah (Yaṭbite), Megiddo (Magidû), Rumah (Arumâ), and Samaria (Samerina), plus a few cities whose names are only partially preserved. 10 Called Yaudu; Judean cities mentioned in Assyrian sources include Azekah (Azaqâ), Gezer (Gazru), Lachish (Lakisu), Timnah (Tamnâ), and Jerusalem (Ursalimmu). 11 For exact references, see Ariel M. Bagg, Die Orts‑ und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, Teil 1: Die Levante, RGTC 7.1 (Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert, 2007), under the respective lemmata. 12 Unless the person in question is merely an ambassador of the Israelite king. 13 For references to most of these rulers, see the respective entries in Karen Radner and Heather Baker, eds., The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, 6 vols. (Helsinki: NeoAssyrian Text Corpus Project, 1998–2011) under the Assyrian forms of their names: Iau(a), Iu’asu, Menaḫeme, Paqaḫa, Awsea’, Iau-ḫazi, Hazaqi-Iau, and Menas(s)ê. An entry on Aḫabbu (Ahab) is missing.

Texts, Stories, History

167

Omri” and “Descendant of Omri,” which designate in Assyrian texts the kingdom of Israel and some of its rulers. While their interactions with Israel and Judah were probably only rarely on the very top of their agendas, the Assyrian kings did apparently attach a certain importance to them. It is noteworthy, for example, that the defeat (literally, the “breaking”) of Samaria is the only event the Babylonian Chronicle records for the five-year reign of Shalmaneser V,14 and that there are as many as eighty-seven extant manuscripts of Sennacherib’s first report about his 701 BCE campaign against the West, which ends with a detailed account of the Assyrian siege of Jerusalem and the tribute King Hezekiah brought to Nineveh.15 What is more, a whole room of Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace in Nineveh was decorated with scenes from the siege of the Judean city of Lachish, which occurred on the same occasion.16 All this strongly suggests that their victories over Israel and Judah were not meaningless sideshows for the Assyrian rulers. That the biblical authors were even more preoccupied with Assyria than the Assyrians were with Israel and Judah comes as no surprise when we consider the power relations during the eighth and seventh centuries BCE. The Bible mentions Assur (which almost always refers to the Assyrian state) no fewer than 150 times17 and identifies at least five, and perhaps as many as seven Assyrian kings by name. Rulers who definitely make an appearance in the Bible (in 2 Kings, Isaiah, Ezra, and 1 and 2 Chronicles) include Tiglath-pileser III, also named Pulu (744–727 BCE), Shalmaneser V (726–722 BCE), Sargon II (721–705 BCE), Sennacherib (704–681 BCE), and Esarhaddon (680–669 BCE).18 Hosea 10:14 mentions a certain Shalman and claims that he ravaged Beth-arbel (Irbid in northern 14 See A. Kirk Grayson, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles, TCS 5 (Locust Valley, NY: J. J. Augustin, 1975), 73: 29–31. 15 RINAP 3.1, Sennacherib 4. 16 See David Ussishkin, The Conquest of Lachish by Sennacherib (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, Institute of Archaeology, 1982). 17 See David S. Vanderhooft, “Biblical Perspectives on Nineveh and Babylon: Views from the Endangered Periphery,” Canadian Society for Mesopotamian Studies Journal 3 (2008): 85. The name “Assur” normally designates the land (and occasionally the people) of Assyria; but in Gen 10:11 (if one translates: “Out of that land [Shinar, i. e., Babylonia] came forth Assur”), Gen 10:22, and Mic 5:5–6, “Assur” seems to refer to a legendary eponymous founder of Assyria. See Eckart Frahm, “Mensch, Land und Volk: Aššur im Alten Testament,” in Assur – Gott, Stadt und Land, ed. Johannes Renger, CDOG 5 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2011), 269–74. With some seventeen attestations, the Assyrian city most prominently featured in the Bible is Nineveh. See Walter Dietrich, “Ninive in der Bibel,” in Ex Mesopotamia et Syria Lux: Festschrift für Manfried Dietrich, AOAT 281, ed. Oswald Loretz, Kai A. Metzler, and H. Schaudig (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2002), 115–31. The city of Kalhu (biblical Calah) is mentioned twice, in Gen 10:11–12. Rehoboth-ir and Resen, named in the same verses, are probably Assyrian “phantom cities,” whose names derive from misunderstandings on the part of later biblical editors. Assur, the religious capital of Assyria, is not mentioned at all in the Bible. 18 See Alan R. Millard, “Assyrian Royal Names in Biblical Hebrew,” JSS 21 (1976): 1–14, and Peter Machinist, “Assyria and Its Image in the First Isaiah,” JAOS 103 (1983): 720–22, with references.

168

Eckart Frahm

Transjordan or Arbela in Lower Galilee). This ruler has been identified as either Shalmaneser III (858–824 BCE), Shalmaneser V, or the Moabite king Salamanu, a tributary of Tiglath-pileser III.19 “Osnappar,” the name given in Ezra 4:10 to a potentate who had allegedly once sent Elamite and Babylonian deportees to Samaria, is usually thought to be a distorted form of the name of the Assyrian king Ashurbanipal (Aššur-bāni-apli) (668–631 BCE). Some scholars have, moreover, argued that the unnamed “savior” who according to 2 Kgs 13:5 helped Jehoahaz of Israel against the Arameans might have been Adad-nirari III.20 Attempts to identify the famous Nimrod from the Primeval History with the Middle Assyrian ruler Tukulti-Ninurta I (ca. 1233–1197 BCE)21 seem altogether doubtful.22 The Bible also mentions by name two Assyrian princes: Adrammelech, that is, Urdu-Mullissi,23 and Sharezer, an otherwise unidentified individual whose – apparently abbreviated – Akkadian name was Šarru-uṣur; both are charged in 2 Kgs 19:37 with the murder of their father Sennacherib. The report about the nefarious deed of the aforementioned two princes is exceptional in that it concerns an internal Assyrian affair (albeit one with indirect consequences for the states neighboring Assyria). Otherwise, the actions the Bible ascribes to the Assyrians are for the most part directly linked to the history of Israel and Judah. Second Kings, as well as Second Chronicles and Isaiah, includes elaborate accounts of the Assyrian conquests in the West under Tiglath-pileser III, with a focus on the so-called Syro-Ephraimite war;24 the downfall of the kingdom of Israel and the conquest of Samaria in the late 720s, ascribed in 2 Kings to Shalmaneser V;25 and Sennacherib’s attack on Jerusalem in 701 BCE.26 The book of Nahum presents a colorful ex eventu prophecy of the 19 For the most recent discussion and references to earlier literature, see Keiko Yamada and Shigeo Yamada, “Shalmaneser V and His Era, Revisited,” in “Now It Happened in Those Days”: Studies in Biblical, Assyrian, and Other Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Mordechai Cogan on His 75th Birthday, ed. Amitai Baruchi-Unnai et al., 2 vols. (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017), 2:408n73. 20 See Susan Ackerman, “Assyria in the Bible,” in Assyrian Reliefs from the Palace of Ashurnasirpal II: A Cultural Biography, ed. Ada Cohen and Steven E. Kangas (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2010), 129. 21 See especially Ephraim A. Speiser, “In Search of Nimrod,” ErIsr 5 (1958): 32–36. 22 As pointed out by, among others, Karel van der Toorn and Pieter W. van der Horst, “Nimrod before and after the Bible,” HTR 83 (1990): 1–29, esp. 10. 23 See Simo Parpola, “The Murderer of Sennacherib,” in Death in Mesopotamia, ed. Bendt Alster, Mesopotamia 8 (Copenhagen: Akademisk, 1980), 171–82. 24 See, inter alia, Stuart A. Irvine, Isaiah, Ahaz, and the Syro-Ephraimite Crisis, SBLDS 123 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1990); Nadav Na’aman, “Tiglath-pileser III’s Campaigns against Tyre and Israel (734–732 B. C. E.),” TA 22 (1995): 268–78. 25 For a thorough reevaluation of this event, with explorations of the cuneiform sources, the biblical texts, and the archaeological evidence, see Shuichi Hasegawa, Christoph Levin, and Karen Radner, eds., The Last Days of the Kingdom of Israel, BZAW 511 (Boston: de Gruyter, 2018). 26 For this much-discussed historical moment, also mentioned by Herodotus and hence, according to Seth Richardson, the first “world event,” see most recently Isaac Kalimi and Seth

Texts, Stories, History

169

downfall of Nineveh, which put the final nail in the coffin of Assyria’s imperial power over the West.27 There is, altogether, a marked interest in conflicts and dramatic events: tellingly, the largely peaceful fifty-five-year-long reign of the Judean king Manasseh, a faithful Assyrian vassal, receives comparatively little attention, even though the biblical authors leave no doubt that they considered Manasseh a bad king. Despite certain inconsistencies, the biblical reports about encounters with Assyria provide, on the whole, a fairly reliable chronological picture28 and contain a number of remarkably accurate historical details. Prominent examples include the account in 2 Kgs 17:6 about the locations to which the Assyrians deported the Israelites after the conquest of Samaria, and the claim in 2 Kgs 18:14 that Hezekiah paid thirty talents of gold as tribute to the Assyrian king Sennacherib – a statement that is confirmed by Sennacherib’s annals, written immediately after the event, which mention exactly the same number.29 Accurate historical recollections like these, however, hardly go back to Israelites or Judeans reading Assyrian royal inscriptions.30 It is more likely that local scribes received information about the events in question from some of Richardson, eds., Sennacherib at the Gates of Jerusalem: Story, History and Historiography, CHANE 71 (Leiden: Brill, 2014). 27  See Peter Machinist, “The Fall of Assyria in Comparative Ancient Perspective,” in Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, ed. Simo Parpola and Robert M. Whiting (Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1997), 179–95; Angelika Berlejung, “Erinnerungen an Assyrien in Nahum 2,4–3,19,” in Die unwiderstehliche Wahrheit: Studien zur alttestamentlichen Prophetie, ed. Rüdiger Lux and ErnstJoachim Waschke, ABIG 23 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2006), 323–56. 28 However, as has been realized since the pioneering study by Edwin R. Thiele, The Mysterious Numbers of the Hebrew Kings (New York: Macmillan, 1951), and even before, internal contradictions suggest that the regnal years the Bible ascribes to the kings of Israel and Judah, and the synchronisms it provides for them, cannot be entirely correct. 29 The two sources differ, however, with regard to the amount of silver Hezekiah had to pay to Sennacherib. While the Assyrian inscriptions specify eight hundred talents of silver, 2 Kgs 18:14 mentions a sum of only three hundred talents. 30  For a different opinion, see, inter alia, David P. Wright, “The Covenant Code Appendix (Exodus 23:20–33), Neo-Assyrian Sources, and Implications for Pentateuchal Study,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America, ed. Jan C. Gertz et al., FAT 111 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 47–86, esp. 65–66. As an aside, it may be worth noting that royal inscriptions written in the names of the kings of Israel and Judah are virtually absent so far, despite the enormous amount of archaeological work that has been done in Israel (the Jehoash Inscription, briefly discussed in n2 above, is in all likelihood a modern forgery). The famous Siloam Inscription, found in a tunnel connecting the Gihon spring with a pool inside the city wall of Jerusalem, is, tellingly, focused on the workmen who built the tunnel, and not on the Judean king who commissioned their work. See Gary A. Rendsburg, “No Stelae, No Queens: Two Issues Concerning the Kings of Israel and Judah,” in The Archaeology of Difference: Gender, Ethnicity, Class and the “Other” in Antiquity: Studies in Honor of Eric M. Meyers, ed. Douglas R. Edwards and C. Thomas McCollough (Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2007), 95–99. It seems that their encounters with monumental royal inscriptions, whether written in the names of Assyrian or other rulers, did not impress the Israelite and Judean kings sufficiently to create such inscriptions

170

Eckart Frahm

their countrymen (or from Assyrian officials residing in their lands, such as the qēpus),31 or that they witnessed them directly. An example of such eyewitness reporting is the famous episode in 2 Kings 18–19, carefully analyzed by one of the editors of this volume, Peter Dubovský, about prominent Judean officials communicating with the Assyrian chief cupbearer, the Rabshakeh, during the siege of Jerusalem in 701 BCE.32 According to the biblical text, these negotiations occurred, tellingly, in “the language of Judah,” that is, in Hebrew, and not, as the Judean notables desired, in Aramaic (or in Assyrian, for that matter). While clearly modified and expanded by later editors,33 the episode cannot have been entirely invented. Information about events such as Sennacherib’s murder might have come from the Israelites whom Sargon II had deported, some of whom were settled in central Assyria, in the province of Ḫalaḫḫu (biblical Halah),34 while others served as charioteers in the Assyrian army.35 It should be noted, however, that unlike many of the Judeans after the Babylonian exile, the “ten lost tribes” of Israel were never to return to their homeland, and therefore probably should not be considered a major source of the Assyriaca found in the Bible.36 Might the Israelites and Judeans also have learned something about Assyrian culture through relations between the respective royal families? We know that Judean princesses were among Sennacherib’s harem women: in his report about the attack on Jerusalem in 701 BCE, the Assyrian monarch claims that Hezekiah sent to him in Nineveh not only precious metals and stones, textiles, furniture, and various implements of war, but also “(some of) his daughters, his palace women … , and his female singers.”37 It cannot be excluded that at least the Judean princesses mentioned in this passage stayed in contact with their father or themselves, as other rulers of newly formed first-millennium states in the ancient Near East did, for example in Urartu. 31 See Berlejung, “Assyrians in the West,” 28–32. 32  Peter Dubovský, Hezekiah and the Assyrian Spies: Reconstruction of the Neo-Assyrian Intelligence Services and Its Significance for 2 Kings 18–19, BibOr 49 (Rome: Pontifical Institute, 2006). 33 See Nadav Na’aman, “Updating the Messages: Hezekiah’s Second Prophetic Story (2 Kings 19.9b–35) and the Community of Babylonian Deportees,” in ‘Like a Bird in a Cage’: The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 BCE, JSOTSup 363, ed. Lester L. Grabbe (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2003), 201–20. 34 Thus according to 2 Kgs 17:6. Ḫalaḫḫu included Sargon’s new capital city Dur-Sharrukin, and it seems clear that the Samarians were among the foreign people who had to help with its construction. 35 See Ran Zadok, “Israelites and Judaeans in the Neo-Assyrian Documentation (732–602 BCE): An Overview of the Sources and a Socio-Historical Assessment,” BASOR 374 (2015): 159–89. For the Samarians who were serving as charioteers, as we know from Sargon’s inscriptions and a number of archival texts, see Stephanie Dalley, “Foreign Chariotry and Cavalry in the Armies of Tiglath-Pileser III and Sargon II,” Iraq 47 (1985): 31–48. 36 Note, however, that according to Zadok, some of the Israelites living in Assyria and Upper Mesopotamia may have moved to Babylonia after the downfall of the Assyrian empire. Zadok, “Israelites and Judaeans.” 37 Grayson and Novotny, Inscriptions of Sennacherib, 66: 58.

Texts, Stories, History

171

other family members in Judah and shared with them information they received in their new living quarters; but it is likely that their communications with their homeland, if permitted at all, were closely monitored by Assyrian officials. The situation might have been different if Judean princesses had been the main wives, and not just harem women, of some Assyrian kings. Such a scenario has been advocated by Stephanie Dalley, who has argued, mostly based on their names, that Yabâ, the main wife of Tiglath-pileser III, and Atalia, who was at some point the main wife of Sargon II, originated from the Judean royal family.38 The bodies of these two women were found in a rich subterranean tomb in the Northwest Palace in Kalhu. Whether they really were Judean (or Israelite) princesses remains, however, doubtful.39 Whatever the sources on which they drew, it seems that, initially, Israelite and Judean scribes recorded the information they had about Assyria, and other important historical data, in a variety of chronicles and annalistic texts, which were eventually combined to form more extensive historical works. Such compilations, called “Chronicles/Annals” (sēfer divrê hay-yammîm) of the kings of Israel and of the kings of Judah, are quoted several times in the books of Kings and probably served as key sources for them, whenever exactly 1 and 2 Kings were composed.40 But 2 Kings, and other biblical texts dealing with the Assyrians, are of course not “history books” in the modern sense. They present a picture of the past that is thoroughly reshaped by the theological agendas of their authors, the most important of which was to demonstrate how pious monarchs were rewarded by God, while irreverent ones – a category that included virtually all the rulers of the kingdom of Israel – were punished for their alleged transgressions with political and military disaster. The image the Bible presents of Assyria is shaped by this very narrative. On one hand, the Assyrian kings and their armies are featured as imperial aggressors, ruthless and cruel, and hence eventually punished with complete annihilation. On the other hand, they are tools of YHWH and therefore charged with a mission: “Ah Assyria, the rod of my anger,” is how God famously refers to the empire in Isa 10:5.41 38 Stephanie Dalley, “Yabâ, Atalyā and the Foreign Policy of Late Assyrian Kings,” SAAB 12.1 (1998): 83–98. 39 For some discussion, and references to skeptical voices, see Eckart Frahm, “Family Matters: Psychohistorical Reflections on Sennacherib and His Times,” in Sennacherib at the Gates of Jerusalem: Story, History and Historiography, ed. Isaac Kalimi and Seth Richardson, CHANE 71 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 182–89. 40 See, for example, 2 Kgs 21:17. David M. Carr has suggested that the “parallel history” the books of Kings provide of Israel and Judah might have been inspired by Assyrian models such as the “Synchronistic History” and the “Synchronistic King List,” which outline the parallel history of Assyria and Babylonia, but this is difficult to prove. The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 312. 41 Translations of biblical texts follow the NRSV, with occasional adjustments. On the complex image of Assyria in Isaiah, see, inter alia, Machinist, “Assyria and Its Image,” 719–37; Shawn Zelig Aster, “Transmission of Neo-Assyrian Claims of Empire to Judah in the Late

172

Eckart Frahm

B. Metamorphoses: Sargon II, Esarhaddon, and Semiramis as Models for Biblical Stories As pointed out above, the historical books of the Bible have a certain penchant for the dramatic moments of Assyrian history. Accounts of some such moments may also have served as blueprints for a number of passages in nonhistorical biblical texts, where they appear thoroughly transformed, however, so that they are usually no longer clearly recognizable. That encounters with Assyria provided biblical authors with material to draw on is particularly true for a number of prophetic books, including Isaiah.42 A case in point is the episode of the disastrous death of the Assyrian king Sargon II in 705 BCE, during a military campaign to Tabal in Anatolia. For the Assyrians, this was a thoroughly traumatizing event, especially since the monarch’s body had fallen into enemy hands and could not be properly buried. The nations oppressed by the Assyrian empire, including the Judeans, must have reacted quite differently, however: with glee and disdain. Many scholars43 believe that the famous “mocking dirge” in Isa 14, which ridicules a once powerful “king of Babylon,” was originally aimed at Sargon II, since there is no other ruler whose end seems to match equally well the description in Isa 14:19–20: “All the kings of the nations lie in glory, each in his own tomb; but you are cast out, away from your grave, like loathsome carrion, clothed with the dead, those pierced by the sword… . You will not be joined with them in burial.”44 Eighth Century B. C. E.,” HUCA 78 (2007): 1–44; and now Aster, Reflections of Empire in Isaiah 1–39: Responses to Assyrian Ideology, ANEM 19 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017). Aster offers a critique of the widely held position that the materials in First Isaiah are largely to be dated to the period of the Babylonian exile and the time thereafter, placing them instead in the eighth century BCE. 42 Aster uses the term “theological catalyst” to refer to such material and its impact on biblical authors. Reflections of Empire, 81–134. 43 See Harold L. Ginsberg, “Reflexes of Sargon in Isaiah after 715 B. C. E.,” JAOS 88 (1968): 49–53; Christoph Uehlinger, Weltreich und “eine Rede”: Eine neue Deutung der sogenannten Turmbauerzählung (Gen 11,1–9), OBO 101 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990), 537–46; Frahm, “Psychohistorical Reflections,” 278. 44 For a discussion of the exact meaning of Isa 14:19–20 and a more skeptical view of the passage’s link to Sargon, see Saul M. Olyan, “Was the ‘King of Babylon’ Buried before His Corpse Was Exposed? Some Thoughts on Isa 14,19,” ZAW 118 (2006): 423–26. In parenthesis, it may be noted that in a somewhat ironic twist of reception history, Isaiah’s earlier, metaphorical statement (in 14:12) about the arrogant foreign monarch – “How are you fallen from heaven, O Day Star, Son of Dawn!” (Hebrew: hēlêl ben šāḥar) – was later interpreted by Christian theologians, starting with Origen, as a reference to the devil (one of whose bynames, Lucifer, was used in Latin versions of the Bible to translate hēlêl ben šāḥar). Thus, the unfortunate Sargon not only died a miserable death, but later, after a series of transformations, became none other than the Prince of Darkness. For more discussion, see Eckart Frahm, “Rising Suns and Falling Stars: Assyrian Kings and the Cosmos,” in Experiencing Power, Generating Authority: Cosmos, Politics, and the Ideology of Kingship in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, ed. Jane A. Hill,

Texts, Stories, History

173

An equally intriguing, albeit more problematic case in which an episode from Sargon II’s reign may have found an echo in the Bible has been advanced by Christoph Uehlinger.45 Uehlinger argues that the famous story of the Tower of Babel in Gen 11:1–9 had its origins in accounts of the construction of the new Assyrian city of Dur-Sharrukin under Sargon. The biblical notion of “the whole earth” having once had “one language and the same words,” before the “confusion of tongues” brought an end to this state, is linked by Uehlinger to claims in Sargon’s royal inscriptions that the king had made the workmen assembled at Dur-Sharrukin from all over Western Asia “of one mouth” (pâ ištēn šuškunu). Some scholars have, moreover, argued that the Sargon Birth Legend, a short first-millennium Babylonian tale about the illicit birth of the Mesopotamian king Sargon of Akkad (ca. 2343–2314 BCE) and his subsequent rise to power, was either composed or resuscitated during the time of Sargon II, in response to the latter’s ascension to the throne, and was shortly thereafter, in the first half of the seventh century BCE, used by the authors of the story of Moses to flesh out the episode of Moses’s birth and upbringing in Exod 2.46 A genetic relationship between the two tales does indeed seem possible, if not likely: the similarities, especially the motif of the two mothers placing their respective newborns into reed baskets sealed with bitumen and putting them into a river, are striking. As for the dating of the Sargon Birth Legend to the reign of Sargon II, however, much uncertainty remains. It seems equally possible that the biblical authors came across the story of the birth of Sargon of Akkad later, perhaps during the Babylonian exile or thereafter.47 Whenever the borrowing occurred, it is important to note that the biblical version of the story (as is the case with other biblical adaptations of episodes from Mesopotamian literature and history) is not a simple “renarration,” but a “counter-story.” Apparently, one of the main goals of the Sargon Birth Legend was to camouflage that the historical Sargon of Akkad from modest circumstances. The Birth Legend achieves this by linking the king to a mother who served as a high Philip Jones, and Antonio J. Morales (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 2013), 111–12. 45 Uehlinger, Weltreich und “eine Rede”; see also Arie van der Kooij, “‘Nimrod, A Mighty Hunter before the Lord!’ Assyrian Royal Ideology as Perceived in the Hebrew Bible,” Journal for Semitics 21 (2012): 19–24. 46 See, most recently, David P. Wright, Inventing God’s Law: How the Covenant Code of the Bible Used and Revised the Laws of Hammurabi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 342–45. For a comprehensive new assessment of the relationship between the Sargon Birth Legend and the story of Moses’s birth, see now also Alison Acker Gruseke, “Moses the Mesopotamian: Sargon of Akkad, Moses, and the Production of Geographical Identities in Ancient Israel” (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 2017). 47 The recent discovery by Enrique Jiménez of quotations from the tale in two school texts from Late Babylonian Nippur may add to the likelihood of this scenario. Jiménez discussed the quotations in his talk “Ancient Texts for Homework: Elementary Education at Nippur during the First Millennium BCE” at the 63rd Rencontre Assyriologique in Marburg on July 25, 2017.

174

Eckart Frahm

priestess – a connection that was almost certainly fictitious. Moses, in contrast, whose name is considered by many scholars as Egyptian, may, in fact, have held a fairly elevated position in Egyptian society – should he actually have been a historical personality.48 His birth story in Exod 2 can, thus, be seen as an attempt to “de-Egyptianize” him and ascribe to him a more modest background, but one that would provide him with a Hebrew, or, to be more precise, a Levite genealogy. The key problem with the aforementioned cases of possible biblical adaptations of motifs from Mesopotamian history and literature is that they are difficult to prove – and even more difficult to date. Scholars may never reach a full consensus on the plausibility of some of the Mesopotamian links that have been proposed to explain the origins of certain biblical topics. These caveats also apply to a suggestion made a few years ago by the present writer.49 As pointed out earlier, the Bible mentions in 2 Kgs 19:37 the murder of the Assyrian king Sennacherib by his sons Adrammelech and Sharezer, describes the flight of the latter two to the land of Ararat, that is, Urartu, and reports the accession of a new Assyrian king, Esarhaddon. The same events are also featured in an inscription in which Esarhaddon reports them himself – not without omissions, but still, considering the highly charged nature of what had happened, rather frankly. Given that it was such a widely known incident, it is possible, in my view, that an account of Esarhaddon’s dramatic accession to the throne influenced one of the most famous and influential biblical tales: the story of Joseph and his brothers in Gen 37–50. In both cases, the protagonists are younger sons of junior wives, who are nonetheless selected by their respective fathers, Sennacherib and Jacob, to play future roles of significant consequence. Both receive a number of divine signs – omens and prophetic encouragement in the case of Esarhaddon, dreams in that of Joseph – to pursue their quest for greatness. Unsurprisingly, the elder brothers of the two upstarts become soon extremely envious – a sentiment expressed in both the Akkadian and the Hebrew tradition by the Semitic root qnʾ – and force their fathers to acknowledge that their predilection is somewhat flawed; but the fathers remain, in very similar ways, secretly attached to their youngsters. Murderous assaults, on Sennacherib and on Joseph, respectively, follow, before the two protagonists eventually triumph; and what suggests more than anything that the aforementioned parallels are not just fortuitous is that both Esarhaddon and Joseph become in the end, each in his own way, rulers of Egypt.50 48 For a recent collection of essays that stands out among the innumerable studies of Moses, see Konrad Schmid, ed., Moses, special issue, HeBAI 1.1 (2012). 49 Eckart Frahm, “Warum die Brüder Böses planten: Anmerkungen zu einer alten Crux in Asarhaddons Ninive A-Inschrift,” in Philologisches und Historisches zwischen Anatolien und Sokotra: Analecta Semitica in Memoriam Alexander Sima, ed. W. Arnold et al. (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009), 39–41. See also Eckart Frahm, “‘And His Brothers Were Jealous of Him’: Surprising Parallels between Joseph and King Esarhaddon,” BAR 42.3 (2016): 43–50, 63–64. 50 Recently, Nadav Na’aman suggested that stories about Esarhaddon’s rise to power are reflected in Solomon’s “Succession Narrative” in 2 Sam 13–19 and 1 Kgs 1–2. See “Game of

Texts, Stories, History

175

The composition date of the Joseph story remains a matter of great contention, and whether its author adapted the episode of Esarhaddon’s rise to power soon after the Assyrian king’s reign or much later – provided there is indeed a connection – is difficult to say. Since other elements of the Joseph story, for example the motif of the seven years of plenty and the seven years of famine in the episode of Joseph taking over the administration of Egypt, seem to draw on Late Egyptian models,51 a later date might be more likely. We know that popular stories in Aramaic about the reign of Esarhaddon circulated in Egypt for several centuries,52 and while the extant ones do not cover the king’s accession, it is possible that this event was featured in a narrative that is not preserved. The validity of the idea that there might be a genetic link between traditions about King Esarhaddon on the one hand and the Joseph story on the other does not, therefore, depend on the latter’s exact date of composition. In another case, though, in which a biblical story might draw on a famous figure from Assyrian history, a legendary tradition about that figure definitely did exist. During the second half of the first millennium BCE, no member of the Assyrian royal family was evoked by historians and “historical novelists” more enthusiastically than a woman, Sammu-ramat, who had been the wife of ŠamšiAdad V (823–811 BCE) and the mother of Adad-narari III. It is clear that this Sammu-ramat had wielded considerable power after the death of her husband, whose son and successor might have been a minor when ascending the throne. Legends about the queen, who eventually became known as Semiramis, must have circulated widely in Western Asia for quite some time before they were collected by Greek historians such as Ctesias of Cnidus, who lived in the late fifth and early fourth centuries BCE, and many others. Drawing on ideas tentatively sketched out some twenty-five years ago by Moshe Weinfeld,53 I have recently argued that the Semiramis legend may have inspired one of the latest and best known biblical books, that of Jonah.54 Thrones: Solomon’s ‘Succession Narrative’ and Esarhaddon’s Accession to the Throne,” TA 45 (2018): 89–113. 51 See Joachim Quack, “Danaergeschenk des Nil?,” in Disaster and Relief Management / Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung, ed. Angelika Berlejung, FAT 81 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 333–81. 52 See Kim Ryholt, “The Assyrian Invasion of Egypt in Egyptian Literary Tradition,” in Assyria and Beyond: Studies Presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen, ed. Jan Gerrit Dercksen (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2004), 483–510. 53 Moshe Weinfeld, “Semiramis: Her Name and Her Origin,” in Ah, Assyria … : Studies in Assyrian History and Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Hayim Tadmor, ed. Mordechai Cogan and Israel Eph‘al (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1991), 99–103. For an early attempt to link the book of Jonah with the Semiramis legend, see also William Simpson, The Jonah Legend: A Suggestion of Interpretation (London: Grant Richards, 1899). 54 Eckart Frahm, “Of Doves, Fish, and Goddesses: Reflections on the Literary, Religious, and Historical Background of the Book of Jonah,” in Sibyls, Scriptures, and Scrolls: John Collins at Seventy, ed. Joel Baden, Hindy Najman, and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 432–50.

176

Eckart Frahm

The Semiramis legend presents its protagonist as the daughter of the goddess Derceto of Ashkelon, a divine mermaid with the body of a fish and the head of a woman. Exposed by her mother at birth, Semiramis is nourished by doves, grows up to become a great beauty, marries the Assyrian officer Onnes – a name apparently derived from that of the antediluvian Mesopotamian fish-man Uanna-Adapa – and then moves to Nineveh, as the wife of the great Assyrian king Ninus. After the latter’s death, she rules all of Assyria alone, and when she eventually dies herself, she is turned into a dove. The main parallels between this strange narrative and the story of Jonah are as follows: 1) the dove motif: the name Jonah means “dove,” a bird prominently featured in the Semiramis legend; 2) the fish motif: Jonah spends three days and three nights in the belly of a fish, which brings to mind Semiramis’s birth from the “piscine” deity Derceto; 3) the significance of Eastern Mediterranean port cities in the two tales, Jaffa and Ashkelon; 4) the fact that the life journeys of both Jonah and Semiramis end in the city of Nineveh. Whether the intentions of the author of the book of Jonah, when he drew on the Semiramis legend, were satirical, esoteric, or something else remains, unfortunately, difficult to establish; and despite the multiplicity of parallels, some may remain unconvinced that there really is a conscious act of borrowing and adaptation at play here. Since, in fact, all of the examples discussed so far are somewhat hypothetical,55 readers may be relieved to learn that there is at least one case in which a late story about events set at the Assyrian royal court is definitely echoed in the Bible, albeit only in the deuterocanonical biblical book of Tobit, which may have been composed in the third or second century BCE. In 1:21–22 and 14:10, the book of Tobit talks about the legendary sage Ahiqar, claims that he served under the Assyrian kings Sennacherib and Esarhaddon as cupbearer, “keeper of the signet,” and chief administrator, and mentions how his faithless nephew Nadin plotted against him. All this clearly draws on the Ahiqar legend, a narrative about a wise counselor of the two aforementioned Assyrian monarchs first attested in an Aramaic version from the Egyptian site of Elephantine and later translated into many other languages. As recently pointed out by Oshima, it is interesting that, in deviation from the Ahiqar legend, the book of Tobit describes Ahiqar as a relative of Tobiah, a descendant of Asael from the Israelite tribe of Naphthali, thus imbuing him with impeccable Jewish credentials.56 55 This applies to an even greater degree to Stephanie Dalley’s attempt to interpret the book of Esther as a reflection of specific religious and political conflicts of the Late Assyrian period. See Esther’s Revenge at Susa: From Sennacherib to Ahasuerus (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 56 Takayoshi M. Oshima, “How ‘Mesopotamian’ was Ahiqar the Wise? A Search for Ahiqar in Cuneiform Texts,” in Wandering Arameans: Arameans Outside Syria: Textual and

Texts, Stories, History

177

C. Assyrian and Biblical Legal Traditions The biblical stories discussed in the preceding paragraphs all have in common that they seem to draw either on oral traditions or on texts recorded in West Semitic scripts. There is no evidence for any of them deriving directly from cuneiform tablets. But are there not, despite my earlier remarks on the limited dissemination of cuneiform in the Levant during Neo-Assyrian times, at least a few examples of biblical books that were directly influenced by cuneiform texts from this very period? One major problem when answering this question is that the literary and scholarly cuneiform works studied by Neo-Assyrian scribes were almost without exception imports from Babylonia, where they continued to be studied until long after the demise of the Assyrian empire. There are, for example, good reasons to believe that the first creation account in Gen 1–2:3 takes up motifs from the Babylonian Epic of Creation,57 and the assumption of a close relationship between the biblical flood story and the flood stories in the Babylonian Gilgamesh and Atraḫasis epics is almost universally accepted.58 But it is very hard to establish when exactly the biblical authors might have encountered these Mesopotamian texts. Altogether, it seems more plausible that this happened during the Babylonian exile and its aftermath, and not during the Neo-Assyrian period.59 When we turn our attention to the legal tradition, however, scholars have advanced serious arguments for links between biblical writings and cuneiform texts studied during Neo-Assyrian times. A case in point comprises some detailed parallels that David Wright has identified between passages in the Laws of Hammurapi and the casuistic and apodictic laws in the so-called Covenant Code in Exod 20–23, including the well-known clauses about the “goring ox.” Wright has argued that the author of the Covenant Code was most likely active

Archaeological Perspectives, ed. Angelika Berlejung, Andreas Schüle, and Aren M. Maeir, LAS 5 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017), 141–67, esp. 148. 57 See, inter alia, Eckart Frahm, “Creation and the Divine Spirit in Babel and Bible: Reflections on mummu in Enūma eliš I 4 and rûaḥ in Genesis 1:2,” in Literature as Politics, Politics as Literature: Essays on the Ancient Near East in Honor of Peter Machinist, ed. David S. Vanderhooft and Abraham Winitzer (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013), 97–116. 58 For discussion, see Andrew R. George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition, and Cuneiform Texts, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 1:508– 28. 59 Note, in this context, that my representation of Shawn W. Flynn’s work YHWH Is King: The Development of Divine Kingship in Ancient Israel (Leiden: Brill, 2013) in Frahm, “Assyria in the Hebrew Bible,” 565, is not quite accurate. Rather than claiming that Judahite scribes of the Late Assyrian period developed new ideas about YHWH’s divine kingship that were based on the Babylonian Epic of Creation, Flynn’s argument is that the changes to Marduk’s divinity are a “helpful historical analogue” (1, 72, 89, 118, 119, 176, 177, 178, etc.) to the types of changes YHWH went through.

178

Eckart Frahm

in the decades after 700 BCE and drew on a Neo-Assyrian copy of the famous cuneiform law text, thoroughly revising it, of course.60 As discussed earlier in this article, one of the problems with Wright’s suggestion is that it is difficult to establish plausible chains of transmission that could explain the alleged borrowing.61 There is so far no evidence for Assyrian scholars studying Hammurapi’s laws outside the Assyrian heartland. It also does not seem very likely to me that the so-called Covenant Code Appendix (Exod 23:20–33) draws on motifs from Assyrian royal inscriptions, as argued by Wright in a more recent publication.62 But there is one important argument in favor of Wright’s idea: the widely held assumption that the Covenant Code preceded the first iteration of the so-called Deuteronomic Code (Deut 12–26), which many (even though not all) scholars date to the mid-seventh century BCE.63 This dating of the Deuteronomic Code is based again on possible links with the Assyrian tradition, in this case the famous Succession Treaty (formerly known as the “Vassal Treaty”) of Esarhaddon from the late 670s BCE. Copies of this treaty, which required members of the Assyrian royal family, Assyrian citizens, military and civilian officers, provincial governors, and vassal kings to swear an extensive list of oaths of allegiance to King Esarhaddon and his crown prince Ashurbanipal, have long been known from Kalhu and Assur, and ever since the publication of the Kalhu manuscripts, scholars have realized that their overall structure, as well as a number of individual stipulations, bears remarkable similarities to portions of the book of Deuteronomy, especially in chapters 13 and 28.64 60 Wright,

Inventing God’s Law. also William S. Morrow, “Cuneiform Literacy and Deuteronomic Composition,” BO 62 (2005): 204–13. 62 Wright, “Covenant Code Appendix.” The parallels that Wright identifies between the “Appendix” and the Assyrian inscriptions seem rather vague. 63 The present writer is no expert in the extremely sophisticated field of Pentateuch studies and therefore cannot claim to speak with authority about the literary units forming this part of the Bible, their dates of composition, and their history. Regarding all these matters he relies largely on the judgment of others. 64 See (inter multa alia) Hans-Ulrich Steymans, Deuteronomium 28 und die adê zur Thronfolgeregelung Asarhaddons, OBO 145 (Fribourg: Academic Press Fribourg; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995); Karen Radner, “Assyrische ṭuppi adê als Vorbild für Deuteronomium 28,20–44?,” in Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions‑ und religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur “Deuteronomismus”-Diskussion in Tora und Vorderen Propheten, ed. Jan Christian Gertz et al., BZAW 365 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006), 351–78. For a skeptical view, see Carly L. Crouch, Israel and the Assyrians: Deuteronomy, the Succession Treaty of Esarhaddon, and the Nature of Subversion, ANEM 8 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014). Note that Eckart Otto, a prominent proponent of the idea of a genetic relationship between Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty and Deuteronomy, has argued that some of the family and marriage laws of the Deuteronomic Code are based on laws outlined in the so-called “Tablet A” of the Middle Assyrian Laws, which continued to be studied, both in Nineveh and in Assur, during the later Neo-Assyrian period. See Das Deuteronomium: Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien, BZAW 284 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999), 203–17. 61 See

Texts, Stories, History

179

Second Kings 22–23 claims that in the 620s BCE, during the reign of the Judean king Josiah, the high priest Hilkiah found in the temple of Jerusalem a “book of law” that required everyone to worship YHWH alone and abandon all the sanctuaries outside of Jerusalem. Beginning with De Wette in the early nineteenth century, many Hebrew Bible scholars have argued that the book in question was nothing but an early version of Deuteronomy, and that it was, in fact, not at all old but composed around the time of its alleged discovery by Hilkiah. The manuscripts of Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty from Kalhu, with their many parallels with Deuteronomy, lent additional credibility to this idea, given that the treaty could be dated without any doubt to the same century. The hypothesis was further boosted when in 2009 archaeologists of the University of Toronto uncovered a well-preserved additional manuscript of Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty in the cella of the main temple of the city of Kullania, modern Tell Tayinat on the Orontes River. The discovery proved that polities in the West that were under Assyrian domination were in possession of copies of the treaty and were required to display them prominently in local sanctuaries.65 That such a copy was sent to Jerusalem and was studied there – probably translated into Aramaic or Hebrew – by the political and priestly elites is hence a possibility that is not to be easily dismissed, and neither is the idea that the text served as a blueprint for an early version of Deuteronomy. Yet while the Assyrian treaty stipulates that loyalty is owed to the Assyrian king, Esarhaddon, the book of Deuteronomy, in a polemical inversion inspired by new theological ideas, states that it is YHWH whom one needs to obey, and not some earthly ruler, and that there is only one legitimate place to worship that god, namely Jerusalem. Of all the Assyrian texts that have been put forward by scholars as possible models for biblical texts, Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty is, hence, clearly the most plausible candidate, and if it really inspired the authors of Deuteronomy, then there can be no question that the encounters between the Israelites and Judeans, on the one hand, and the Assyrians on the other were not only of great political importance, but also had deeply meaningful consequences in theological terms. The Hebrew scribes and scholars who initiated the composition of the texts that would eventually be collected in the Bible were thoroughly impressed by their encounter with the autocratic imperial rule of the Assyrian kings, while at the same time resenting its oppressive nature. They dealt with their ambivalent sentiments toward their new overlords by eventually projecting the power claimed by them onto their own god, YHWH, in a key move on the long path toward a more consistent monotheism.

65 See Jacob Lauinger, “Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty at Tell Tayinat: Text and Commentary,” JCS 64 (2012): 87–123; Frederick Mario Fales, “After Ta‛yinat: The New Status of Esarhaddon’s Adê for Assyrian Political History,” RA 106 (2012): 133–58.

180

Eckart Frahm

D. Assyrian Religious Imperialism? Scholars such as Hermann Spieckermann and Simo Parpola have argued that Assyria also influenced Israelite religion in more immediate ways, through an aggressive religious imperialism and the active dissemination of scholarly-religious texts and traditions.66 As shown by Mordechai Cogan and others, such a scenario is, however, not very likely.67 Between the 730s and the 640s BCE, the Assyrians conquered large portions of the Levant, turned Israel into a province and Judah into a vassal state, and deported parts of the local populations, replacing them with people from other areas of the empire (but only in very exceptional cases from the Assyrian heartland). They implemented imperial structures that ranged from the deployment of administrative officials in the provinces and of political operatives such as the qēpus in vassal states to the creation of military fortresses, trading centers (bēt kāri), and palatial complexes for administrators. They also forced the political elites of the provinces and vassal states to swear loyalty oaths to their new overlords. There is little evidence, however, that Assyrian kings tried to impose specifically Assyrian religious and cultural ideas on the conquered people. The Assyrian god Assur is, tellingly, never mentioned in the Bible,68 and Parpola’s assumption that central concepts of Judaism and Christianity, including the impending arrival of a messiah, the Holy Spirit, the Holy Trinity, and the Sefirotic Tree, go back to esoteric ideas rooted in Assyrian religion69 is unlikely considering that Assyrian scholars, who did put their secret lore into writing, nowhere mention such ideas explicitly or implicitly.70 For the Assyrians, it was sufficient if the conquered people paid taxes, engaged in long-distance trade, provided troops for military campaigns, and abstained 66 Hermann Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur in der Sargonidenzeit, FRLANT 129 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982); Simo Parpola, “The Assyrian Tree of Life: Tracing the Origins of Jewish Monotheism and Greek Philosophy,” JNES 52 (1993): 161–208; idem, Assyrian Prophecies, SAA 9 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1997), xiii–cviii. 67 Mordechai Cogan, Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Israel, and Judah in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B. C. E., SBLMS 19 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1974); idem, “Judah under Assyrian Hegemony: A Re-examination of Imperialism and Religion,” JBL 112 (1993): 403–14. See also Steven W. Holloway’s extensive study Aššur is King! Aššur is King! Religion in the Exercise of Power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, CHANE 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), and Berlejung, “Assyrians in the West,” 32–38. 68 See Frahm, “Mensch, Land und Volk,” 272–76. For a somewhat different assessment of the god’s impact outside Assyria, see Baruch A. Levine, “‘Wehe, Assur, Rute meines Zorns!’ (Jesaja 10:5): Der biblische Monotheismus als Antwort auf die neue politische Realität des assyrischen Weltreiches,” in Der eine Gott und die Götter: Polytheismus und Monotheismus im antiken Israel, ed. Manfred Oeming and Konrad Schmid, AThANT 82 (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 2003), 77–98. 69 See especially Assyrian Prophecies, xiii–cviii. 70 This is pointed out by Jerrold Cooper, “Assyrian Prophecies, the Assyrian Tree, and the Mesopotamian Origins of Jewish Monotheism, Greek Philosophy, Christian Theology, Gnosticism, and Much More,” JAOS 120 (2000): 430–44.

Texts, Stories, History

181

from rebellion. There was no expectation that they would assume anything akin to an “Assyrian” identity in a cultural or religious sense. In fact, had anyone in Israel or Judah suddenly started to worship the god Assur, the Assyrian rulers would probably have strongly objected to such a practice.71 And yet, it is clear that the fascination the biblical authors showed with regard to ancient Assyria is of more than merely antiquarian interest. The transformations brought about by the Assyrians once they had begun to conquer and reorganize the areas along the Eastern Mediterranean in the eighth century BCE did not only affect Israel’s and Judah’s political structures. The measures taken by Assyrian kings and officials, and the way the Assyrian empire worked in general, also had a major impact on how the scribal elites in Samaria and Jerusalem conceived of their own god, his relationship with history, and divine law in all its various aspects. Moreover, even after the downfall of the Assyrian empire, stories about Assyrian kings and queens continued to intrigue the Judean literati and occasionally found their way, sometimes turned into “counter-stories,” into some biblical book.

71 The installation by the Assyrians of emblems known as the “Weapon of Assur” (kakki Aššur) is a very different matter. These symbols of Assyrian power, which seem never to have been installed in local temples but rather in public areas, served as a reminder of the loyalty the Assyrians were owed, and were therefore primarily political in nature. See Steven W. Holloway, “The giškakki Aššur and Neo-Assyrian Loyalty Oaths,” in Historiography in the Cuneiform World: Proceedings of the XLV e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Part 1, ed. Tzvi Abusch et al. (Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2001), 239–66.

Manasseh of Judah A Case Study in Biblical Historiography Peter Machinist A. Introduction Manasseh is one of the bad boys of biblical history: bad in two senses. In the first place, the intensity with which he is vilified in the biblical corpus, preeminently in 2 Kings of the Deuteronomistic History, fairly leaps out at the reader. And the white heat of that vilification is by no means eliminated in the other major biblical narrative on him, 2 Chronicles, even though, as we will see, the Chronicler does allow Manasseh something of a way out of the furnace. But Manasseh is also a bad boy in terms of the sources on him, both biblical and extrabiblical. For though they are not exiguous, yet they present a portrait of the king and his reign that is full of gaps and contradictions. Indeed, the contradictions are rather glaring not only between the biblical and the nonbiblical sources, but within the biblical sources themselves. Not surprisingly, therefore, the efforts to straighten out the Manasseh portrait – to close the gaps and explain, if not resolve the contradictions – have yielded a veritable cottage industry in modern biblical studies that shows no end because it has reached no consensus. The present paper does not aim at a comprehensive analysis of all the evidence on Manasseh toward a reconstruction of the history of his reign. Rather, it will focus on the biblical historiography: on each of the biblical sources, in their content, structure, language, conceptual assumptions, and goals, and on how these sources can be related to one another. But to understand this historiography we will have to grapple, at least to some degree, with historical context: with where Manasseh’s reign belongs in history and with the historical settings of the sources that deal with him.

B. The Historical Context of Manasseh’s Reign Manasseh may be placed within the seventh century BCE, and the certainty of this dating is reflected in the fact that there appears to be no scholarly objection to it. Several features secure this chronological placement and even refine it to

184

Peter Machinist

some degree. Biblically, Manasseh is recorded as the son of Hezekiah, his predecessor; his successors are his son, Amon, and his grandson, Josiah.1 Hezekiah, though the exact dating of his reign is still debated,2 was king when the Assyrian emperor Sennacherib conducted his third campaign, against the southern Levant including Judah, in 701 BCE. The account in 2 Kgs 18:13 puts this in Hezekiah’s eighteenth year, but there is a well-known problem because in 18:9, it places the attack of Shalmaneser V against Samaria as beginning in Hezekiah’s fourth year, which on the basis of Assyrian chronology should be 724 BCE.3 The date of Amon’s reign is not fixed by external correlation, but that of Josiah, following him, is connected to his death at the hands of Pharaoh Necho II toward the end of the seventh century, and, if taken in conjunction with the biblical chronology, specifically in 609 BCE.4 Hezekiah is said to have reigned twenty-nine years (2 Kgs 18:2), so if his fourteenth year was 701, then his death and the end of his reign would have occurred in 686 BCE. Manasseh himself is credited with fifty-five years of rule, starting in his twelfth year (2 Kgs 21:1), and if he succeeded at the death of his father, Hezekiah, his reign would cover approximately 1 See

2 Kgs 20:21; 21:18, 26, with the parallel in 2 Chr 32:33; 33:20, 25. overall review of scholarship on the chronology of the divided monarchy of Israel and Judah is Antti Laato, Guide to Biblical Chronology (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2015), especially ch. 1; Hayim Tadmor helpfully surveys the chronological issues of the united and especially the divided monarchies in “The Chronology of the First Temple Period: A Presentation and Evaluation of the Sources” (1979), reprinted in his “With My Many Chariots I Have Gone Up the Heights of the Mountains”: Historical and Literary Studies on Ancient Mesopotamia and Israel, ed. Mordechai Cogan (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2011), 571–93, with Hezekiah on 586, 590–91, and in Mordechai Cogan and Hayim Tadmor, II Kings, AB 11 (New York: Doubleday, 1988), 216, 228. For the same chronological period, see also the survey of Jack Finegan, Handbook of Biblical Chronology, 2nd ed. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1998), 245–69. Arguably, the major study, around which modern scholarship has revolved, has been Edwin R. Thiele, The Mysterious Numbers of the Hebrew Kings, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1983; 1st ed., 1951) with Hezekiah on 174–77 and passim. Another important analysis is Gershon Galil, The Chronology of the Kings of Israel and Judah, SHCANE 9 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 98–106. 3 Among the discussions, see Tadmor, “Chronology,” 590–91; Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 228; and more fully Hayim Tadmor and Mordechai Cogan, “Hezekiah’s Fourteenth Year: The King’s Illness and the Babylonian Embassy,” ErIsr 16 (1982): 198–201 (in Hebrew). Also, e. g., Galil, Chronology, 98–106. 4 The sources are 2 Kgs 23:29–30 and 2 Chr 35:20–24. Also the Babylonian Chronicle, for which see Jean-Jacques Glassner, Mesopotamian Chronicles, WAW 19 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004), 222–25: 58–75; Mordechai Cogan, The Raging Torrent: Historical Inscriptions from Assyria and Babylonia Related to Ancient Israel, 2nd ed., Carta Handbook (Jerusalem: Carta, 2015), 229, 232, 234; Manfred Weippert et al., Historisches Textbuch zum Alten Testament, GAT 10 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 404–5, 413–14. The relevant entries in the Babylonian Chronicle are for years 16–17 (of the Babylonian king Nabopolassar), corresponding to parts of 610–608 BCE. These entries record an alliance between the last Assyrian king, Aššur-uballiṭ II, and Egyptian forces – the name of the pharaoh involved is not given, but from Egyptian chronology, it has to be Necho II. This alliance, the Chronicle reports, takes control of Harran, overwhelming the Babylonian garrison there, and the first effort by the Babylonians under Nabopolassar to retake Harran is not successful. 2 A recent

Manasseh of Judah

185

686–631 BCE, which would overlap too excessively with the years of Amon and Josiah, who followed him. Thus, some scholars suggest that the reign of Manasseh overlapped with that of his father Hezekiah.5 This is not the place for a discussion of the chronological debates; suffice it to say that even with the confusion, the biblical evidence looks as if it would place Manasseh’s reign somewhere in the first half of the seventh century BCE. This conclusion, moreover, is confirmed by the evidence – slim as it may be – from external documents, principally, several royal inscriptions of the Assyrian successors of Sennacherib: his son, Esarhaddon, and his grandson, Ashurbanipal. Two sets of documents are primary here. The first is from the annals of Esarhaddon; the second is from the annals of Ashurbanipal.6 In these texts, Manasseh is depicted as one of a larger group of kings of Syria-Palestine and of Cyprus, twenty-two in total and all of them understood to be vassals of the Assyrian emperor, who are explicitly described as such in the Rassam Cylinder version of Ashurbanipal, using the phrase “the servants who observe my face” (ardāni dāgil pānīya).7 The Esarhaddon annalistic entry is to be dated 676–673 BCE, after Esarhaddon’s conquest of Sidon and just short of the middle of his reign (681–669 BCE); it describes the vassals as responding to the emperor’s command to deliver cedar and cypress logs, various statues, and stones, all for the rebulding of the royal armory in Nineveh. The Ashurbanipal annalistic entry records the same vassal kings about a decade later (667/666 BCE), who with their military forces are commanded to join the Assyrian army in what turned out to be Ashurbanipal’s first campaign against Middle and Lower Egypt.8 The seventh century BCE in which Manasseh is to be located was a century largely defined by Assyria and its imperial power. For the southern Levant, including Judah, the Assyrian impact was framed by two episodes. Opening up the century was Sennacherib’s 701 campaign along the coast of the southern Levant, including the inland of Judah.9 Judging mainly from the Assyrian and 5 The principal advocate, and of coregencies more widely among the kings of Israel and Judah, has been Thiele, Mysterious, 64, 174, 176, and, generally, 61–65; see also the second edition of Thiele’s book, The Mysterious Numbers of the Hebrew Kings (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1965), 156–61. For reaction to Thiele, see Laato, Guide, 19–22; Tadmor, “Chronology,” 583–84. For the reign of Manasseh altogether, see also Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 265–66. 6 See RINAP 4: 1 v 40–vi 1; 5 vi 6bʹ–15ʹ; RINAP 5.1: Ashurbanipal 6 ii 4ʹ–55ʹ. For translations and comments, see Cogan, Raging Torrent, 156–62, 175–77, 180; Weippert, Historisches Textbuch, 338–42, 345–46. See also Roy Gane, “The Role of Assyria in the Ancient Near East during the Reign of Manasseh,” AUSS 35 (1997): 21–32, who adds, on pp. 27–31, which are, however, not explicit and/or too fragmentary. 7 So in RINAP 5.1: Ashurbanipal 6 ii 50ʹ. 8 For the Neo-Assyrian campaigns of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal against Middle and Lower Egypt, see especially Hans-Ulrich Onasch, Die assyrischen Eroberungen Ägyptens, ÄAT 27 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1994). 9 Of the abundant scholarly literature on this campaign, particularly as it affected Judah, see recently William R. Gallagher, Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah: New Studies, SHCANE 18 (Leiden: Brill, 1999); Lester L. Grabbe, ed., ‘Like a Bird in a Cage’: The Invasion of Sennacherib

186

Peter Machinist

archaeological evidence, this campaign was very effective, particularly against Judah, and helped to settle the unrest, even rebellion, that appears to have ensued on the violent and unexpected death of Sennacherib’s father and predecessor, Sargon II, on the battlefield.10 In the case of Judah, which was a center of antiAssyrian resistance, its administration was brought back under control with the imposition of a huge tribute, and significant portions of its territory, especially in the southwest involving the Shephelah, were devastated and reassigned to other vassals that had remained Assyrian loyalists.11 Yet its capital Jerusalem was not physically conquered, and its king, Hezekiah, was not removed from office – as other examples of Assyrian practice would have suggested. Apparently, the succession of his son, Manasseh, was a smooth one. The closing of the seventh Assyrian century for the southern Levant witnessed the collapse of the Assyrian Empire altogether toward the century’s end.12 The process was a gradual one, and although there may have been early signs of weakness after the middle decade of the century, in the reign of the Assyrian emperor Ashurbanipal, the real trouble started with the death of Ashurbanipal ca. 631/630 BCE.13 Thereafter, the in 701 B. C. E., JSOTSup 363 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003); Isaac Kalimi and Seth Richardson, eds., Sennacherib at the Gates of Jerusalem: Story, History and Historiography, CHANE 71 (Leiden: Brill, 2014). The essential written and art-historical sources are: 2 Kgs 18– 20 // Isa 36–39, 2 Chr 32, and some smaller passages, especially in Isaiah, like 10:5–15; the Sennacherib annals (RINAP 3.1, p. 257, s. v. Hezekiah; RINAP 3.2, p. 379, s. v. Hezekiah); and the Assyrian reliefs with a brief inscriptional caption concerning the siege and capture of Lachish, from the Palace without Rival of Sennacherib in Nineveh, for which see David Ussishkin, The Conquest of Lachish by Sennacherib (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, Institute of Archaeology, 1982). The archaeological and art-historical material from Israel, including especially from the site of Lachish, is surveyed in the volumes of Gallagher, Grabbe, and Kalimi and Richardson above; note in particular Christoph Uehlinger, “Clio in a World of Pictures – Another Look at the Lachish Reliefs from Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace at Nineveh,” in Grabbe, ‘Like a Bird in a Cage,’ 221–305. More recently, the archaeology has been reviewed in detail by William G. Dever, Beyond the Texts: An Archaeological Portrait of Ancient Israel and Judah (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017), 556–67, 619–20. 10 On the unexpected and ominous battlefield death of Sargon II, wherefrom his body was not recovered, see Hayim Tadmor, Benno Landsberger, and Simo Parpola, “The Sin of Sargon and Sennacherib’s Last Will,” SAAB 3 (1989): 3–51; Sarah C. Melville, The Campaigns of Sargon II, King of Assyria, 721–705 B. C. (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2016), 187–92; and with a varying interpretation of the “Sin of Sargon” text, Josette Elayi, Sargon II, King of Assyria, SBLABSt 22 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2017), 210–18, 240–41. For reflections of this death in Isa 14 and the Epic of Gilgamesh, especially tablet XII, see Eckart Frahm, “Nabû-zuqup-kenu, das Gilgamesch-Epos und der Tod Sargons II,” JCS 51 (1999): 73–90. 11 On the tribute, see 2 Kgs 18:14–16 and the Sennacherib annals (RINAP 3.1–2, e. g., 4 52–58), which also record the reassignment of Judahite territory to the Philistine vassal kingdoms of Ashdod, Ekron, and Gaza. For the devastation of Judahite territory, especially in the Shephelah, see n79 below. 12 A concise but comprehensive recent study of the end of the Neo-Assyrian Empire and its aftermath is Eckart Frahm, “The Neo-Assyrian Period (ca. 1000–609 BCE),” in A Companion to Assyria, ed. Eckart Frahm (Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell, 2017), 191–96. There one will find further bibliography. 13 Among the factors involved were the debilitating civil war between Ashurbanipal and his

Manasseh of Judah

187

empire was confronted by two mounting pressures. One was internal: an almost continuous fight within the ruling elites over the imperial succession and control that went on for two decades until the final collapse in 609 BCE. The other was external: the emergence of independence movements among Assyria’s major subjects, especially Babylonia, which established its own Neo-Babylonian dynasty in 626 BCE, and the Medes and other eastern groups. As for Egypt, the conquest of which – at least its lower half – was the aim and achievement of the Assyrians Esarhaddon and then Ashurbanipal, here the vassal king, Psammeticus I, gained his independence already in 656 BCE. The result of all of this for Judah and the southern Levant in the seventh century was a gradual loss of tight Assyrian control, even involvement; its place as overlord was taken by Psammeticus I of Egypt and his son Necho II, until Necho was himself defeated by the Neo-Babylonian state in 605 BCE, thus completing the Babylonian takeover of most of the Assyrian Empire.14 And so by the end of the century, Judah had a new master, which was to be just as severe as Assyria, climaxing in the undoing of Judah in the Babylonian conquest/exile of the first half of the sixth century. The bulk of the seventh century BCE was thus for Judah, indeed, for the Near East as a whole, the century of Assyria – what a number of scholars have labeled, on the model of Roman imperial history, the period of the Pax Assyriaca.15 But if there was pax – a sense of quiet emanating from Assyrian control of its empire – there were also significant moments of seditio, and bellum, and the historical movement was not in one direction only. Indeed, the course of the seventh century could be characterized as an arc: its first half, roughly, witnessed Assyrian territorial expansion, military power, and administrative organization – all to an unprecedented and unsurpassed level and epitomized by the establishment of the major capital in Nineveh as the largest and most imposing city that the Near East had known. Yet in the second half of the century, the direction began to reverse, with a gradual contraction and then in the last decade, 616–609 BCE, a rapid brother, Šamaš-šumu-ukin (652–648 BCE), and the war with Elam just thereafter (647–646 BCE), as well as the breaking away of Egypt from the Assyrian Empire under the leadership of Psammeticus I (656 BCE). The question remains how to evaluate these and similar problems of governance in terms of the strength of the empire. Israel Eph’al is one who favors the view of weakness and decline from roughly the middle of the century. “Assyrian Dominion in Palestine,” in The Age of the Monarchies: Political History, vol. 4.1 of The World History of the Jewish People, ed. A. Malamat (Jerusalem: Massada, 1979), 276–89, 281–82. The opposite view, which does not see evidence of real weakness and decline until the 620s with the rebellion of Babylonia and the establishment of the Neo-Babylonian dynasty, is favored, among others, by Nadav Na’aman, “Chronology and History in the Late Assyrian Empire (631–619 B. C.),” ZA 81 (1991): 243–67, esp. 266–67. 14 On Egypt as overlord of Judah in the later seventh century BCE, see Bernd U. Schipper, “Egypt and the Kingdom of Judah under Josiah and Jehoiakim,” TA 37 (2010): 200–226. 15 On the notion of a Pax Assyriaca, see especially Frederick Mario Fales, “On Pax Assyriaca in the Eighth–Seventh Centuries BCE and Its Implications,” in Isaiah’s Vision of Peace in Biblical and Modern International Relations: Swords into Plowshares, ed. Raymond Cohen and Raymond Westbrook (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 17–35.

188

Peter Machinist

conquest of the major Assyrian urban centers that left the empire not simply in tatters, but as a physical and political entity essentially nonexistent.

C. Seventh-Century Judah in the Biblical Sources – General Remarks Onto this historical framework biblical and nonbiblical sources allow us to map something of the history of seventh-century Judah. As we have seen, there are several secure chronological markers, conveyed in the biblical sources on three of the Judahite kings of the period: Hezekiah in 701 BCE in the third Sennacherib campaign, thus virtually at the beginning of the seventh century; then Manasseh, mentioned in Assyrian sources in the third and fourth decades of the century, thus in its first half; and, skipping over the apparently hapless Amon, whose brief reign ended in his assassination, we have, finally, Josiah, whose Egyptian-correlated death in 609 BCE concludes three decades of his reign as calculated by the Hebrew Bible. Josiah’s successors, Jehoahaz, Eliakim/Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin/ (Je)coniah, and Zedekiah, follow in relatively short order over the next two and a half decades under Babylonian rule, leading to the disaster of the Babylonian conquest/exile, for which at least two more externally established dates exist: the first Babylonian exile in 598 BCE, and the second in 586.16 Of the three major Judahite kings mentioned, what stands out in the biblical sources is the complementary pairing of the first and the third, Hezekiah and Josiah. Their reigns coincide with the two major episodes marking Assyrian power in the seventh century: Hezekiah is explicitly linked with Sennacherib and the beginning of the latter’s push toward a more powerful empire, while Josiah ruled in the period of Assyrian weakening and then collapse, though this connection is not made explicit in the sources – all biblical – on him. Moreover, what those sources, specifically the historical narratives of 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, do tell us is that in very important ways Hezekiah and Josiah were similar. They both are depicted 16 Besides the biblical references in 2 Kgs 24:10–17; 24:20–25:21 // Jer 52:1–30; 2 Chr 36:5–7, 9–10, 11–20; Ezek 1:2, see the Babylonian Chronicle in Glassner, Mesopotamian Chronicles, 230–31: 11ʹ–13ʹ, 261n43 (= 598 BCE), with translations and comments in Cogan, Raging Torrent, 239, 243–44, and Weippert, Historisches Textbuch, 406–8, 417. A third exile is apparently recorded for 582 BCE in Jer 52:30. Note further references to Judahite exiles in Babylonia in 2 Kgs 25:27–30 // Jer 52:31–34; also elsewhere as in prophets like Jeremiah (chs. 28–29) and throughout the book of Ezekiel and in Psalm 137. These references may be placed alongside external, Neo-Babylonian evidence concerning the provisioning of the exiled Judahite king, Jehoiachin, in Babylon and the presence of Judahites in various exiled communities in Babylonia, of which al-Yahudu is representative. See, e. g., Mordechai Cogan, Bound for Exile: Israelites and Judeans under Imperial Yoke: Documents from Assyria and Babylonia, Carta Handbook (Jerusalem: Carta, 2013), 141–57; Weippert, Historisches Textbuch, 403–30; Laurie E. Pearce and Cornelia Wunsch, Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer, CUSAS 28 (Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2014).

Manasseh of Judah

189

as initiating major religious reforms in Judah, which had wide social, political, and economic ramifications, and key to these reforms, as biblically recounted, at points in virtually the same language, was a centralization of worship in Jerusalem (2 Kgs 18:4; 23:1–24; significantly elaborated in 2 Chr 29–31; 34:1–35:19). The reforms, in turn, are the basis for extravagant praise of both kings as models of divine piety, again with some of the same language (cf. 2 Kgs 18:3, 5–6; 22:2; 23:25; 2 Chr 29:2; 30:26; 31:20–21, 27–30; 34:2; 35:18, 26). Clearly, the books of Kings and Chronicles intend that Hezekiah and Josiah echo each other, and yet they are described with different outcomes. For Hezekiah, the reforms connect with his resistance to Sennacherib’s invasion – a resistance that, if not totally successful since Hezekiah was forced to pay a huge indemnity, nonetheless for the biblical authors yielded the victory of Jerusalem’s preservation and the withdrawal of the Assyrian forces that had confronted it. To be sure, the biblical depictions carry some darker shading, as we shall discuss, but the overall impression offered is largely positive. For Josiah, on the other hand, the depiction is not so rosy. His religious reform, while achieving a temporary success that is duly praised, is yet depicted as ending in his problematic death, and his successors on the Judahite throne, as the biblical sources make clear, progressively unraveled the reforms until their own demise and that of the Judahite kingdom at the hands of their Babylonian overlords. How, then, to explain this difference between Hezekiah and Josiah? This is the conundrum that the authors of Kings and Chronicles were forced, it appears, to confront. The conundrum was no mere literary, historiographical matter, but, as reflected in the intense focus of these authors, something grounded in a historical crisis. The answer to this crisis for 2 Kings, but also for 2 Chronicles, is Manasseh: the middle element in their royal chain of Judahite chronological markers, and the king who for both biblical texts looks backward to Hezekiah and forward to Josiah and the Neo-Babylonian conquest/exile of Judah that follows. Let us consider more closely, therefore, the treatment of Manasseh in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, the two principal biblical sources on him.

D. Manasseh in 2 Kings Second Kings, part of what may still be considered the Deuteronomistic History, treats Manasseh in chapter 21:1–18; the balance of the chapter, vv. 19–26, is devoted to his son and successor, Amon. That the two were, in postbiblical times, put into the single chapter that we now have17 highlights their similarity: 17 On the chapter divisions in the Bible, which are a postbiblical development and the high point of which seems to have been the work of the medieval scholar Stephen Langton (ca. 1150–1228 CE), see Otto Schmid, Über verschiedene Eintheilungen der Heiligen Schrift insbesondere über die Capitel-Eintheilung Stephen Langtons im XIII. Jarhunderte (Graz:

190

Peter Machinist

both are castigated for extreme religious acts of disobedience to Yahweh – Amon being said to “walk in the way in which his father walked: he served the idols (hag-gillulîm) that his father had served and bowed down to them” (21:21; cf. 21:3, 11 for Manasseh); and both are buried in “the garden of Uzzah” (21:18, 26). The Deuteronomistic presentation of Manasseh is divided into two main parts framed by an introductory statement and conclusion. Similar to what is given for other kings in the Deuteronomistic narratives, the introduction lays out basic facts of his reign – how old when he began, how long he ruled, and who was his mother – (21:1) and the conclusion, in two parts, mentions a “scroll (sēper) of the chronicles (dibrȇ hay-yāmîm) of the kings of Judah” that may be consulted for additional information about the reign and then a death notice and the naming of Amon as his successor (21:17–18). The two main parts are first a description of what the author regards as the (essential) deeds of Manasseh’s reign and an evaluation of them (21:2–9; but also in v. 16), and then a statement about the consequent punishment of those deeds (21:10–15). For the Deuteronomistic Kings text, Manasseh is quite simply the worst of the kings of Judah, whose deeds are on a par with those of the earlier Israelite ruler, Ahab (21:3), and echo the behavior of the foreign nations that Yahweh dispossessed in Israel’s conquest of the land (21:2). Indeed, Manasseh is said in his evil to surpass even those foreign nations as epitomized by one of them, the Amorites (21:9, 11). For our text, the deeds in question are all religious, more specifically cultic or involving cultic personnel (21:3–7): erecting “high places” (bāmȏt), an idol (pesel) of Asherah, and altars (mizbǝḥōt) to Baʿal and “the host of heaven” (the idol and altars, it appears, were set up in the Jerusalem temple and perhaps elsewhere); allowing all kinds of divination; and “passing his son through/over fire.”18 These deeds seem all to be in reaction to the reforms of Manasseh’s father, Hezekiah, and in two instances – Manasseh’s rebuilding of the high places and the Asherah image – the reaction is explicit (cf. for Hezekiah 2 Kgs 18:4). The deeds are made worse by Manasseh’s heavy slaughter of “innocent” (nāqî) people in the land: those who are guiltless of the kinds of deeds Manasseh perpetrates and thus pious, obedient followers of Yahweh and his commandments, who, it may be supposed, resisted Manasseh’s actions (21:16; 24:4). Leuschner & Lubensky, 1892). For Langton’s biblical work as a whole, there is Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 2nd ed. (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1964), ch. 5. 18 The exact meaning of this phrase has been debated: Is it human sacrifice, equivalent to “burning” a child as a sacrifice, or a ritual of passing the child through/over fire but not killing it? See, e. g., Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 266–67; and Francesca Stavrakopoulou, King Manasseh and Child Sacrifice, BZAW 338 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 143–48, 297, and passim. The phrase recurs for Manasseh in 23:10, and is mentioned earlier for Ahaz (2 Kgs 16:3) and, more generally, for the people of northern Israel (2 Kgs 17:17); something perhaps comparable, but not identical, is to be found in Jer 32:35 and Ezek 16:21. All are regarded as acts of disobedience to Yahweh deserving of condemnation.

Manasseh of Judah

191

The second main part of the 2 Kings narrative on Manasseh, the punishment for Manasseh’s deeds, is contained in a first-person quotation from Yahweh, the punisher (21:11–15). He is introduced in the third person as transmitting his words through the prophets (21:10). In his quotation, Yahweh proclaims punishment because of Manasseh’s deeds: a punishment that will fall on Jerusalem, wiping it out and sending the remaining Judahites as spoil to their enemies, just as earlier Yahweh had drawn his line over Samaria and its dynasty of Ahab. This proclamation of punishment is anticipated in the first main part of the 2 Kings narrative that describes Manasseh’s evil deeds. There, in a statement addressed to Kings David and Solomon, Yahweh likewise is quoted in the first person, threatening punishment on the people of Israel if they disobey him (21:7–8), which, we are then told, they have done: the disobedience (eventually) encouraged by Manasseh (21:9).19 Though it may appear otherwise, this whole narrative on Manasseh in 2 Kings is not so tightly organized nor so easy to read and understand. In the first main part on the evil deeds of Manasseh, the language is at points awkward, incomplete, even repetitive, and thus unclear (cf. 21:4 over against vv. 3, 5, 7). The otherwise neat division between the two main parts of the narrative is disturbed by the quotation of Yahweh in the first part (21:7–8) threatening a punishment, which otherwise is to be found in the second part, and by the mention of another evil deed of Manasseh, the slaughter of the pure, not in the first part, but in the second (21:16). In turn, there is a certain lack of clarity about the target of the punishment and when the evil deeds began. On the one hand, the target is Manasseh in the first part (21:9) and the second (21:11), but on the other, it is Jerusalem in the second part (21:13), and the people of Israel/Judah as a whole in both parts (21:7–9, 15–16). To be sure, there are efforts in the narrative to link up Manasseh, Jerusalem, and the people: thus, the explanations in vv. 9, 11b–12, and 16, which aver that it was Manasseh who had incited the people to sin and who is responsible for the disaster that will befall Jerusalem. But these explanations do not account for the statements, at the end of vv. 9 and 15, that the people’s sin had begun well before Manasseh, whether by the time of the exodus (v. 15) or perhaps the time of David and Solomon (vv. 7–9).20 Indeed, the attempt to connect Manasseh to this earlier sin in v. 9 looks like a later editorial bit of tacking on. Similarly, the connection seems rather loose between the introduction in v. 11, specifying Manasseh as the cause, and the punishment on Jerusalem in vv. 12–15, 19 In 2 Kgs 21:7–9, it appears that Manasseh’s role in the people’s disobedience to Yahweh comes after they had already begun to disobey: note the syntactic break between šāmēʿȗ and the following waw-consecutive form, wayyatʿēm. This break is marked by the Masoretic pausal sign, ʾatnāḥtaʾ, on šāmēʿȗ. But when exactly the people’s disobedience began is not made absolutely clear, though the mention of it follows directly on the words of Yahweh to David and Solomon. 20 See n19 above.

192

Peter Machinist

as the result. Here parts of vv. 11 and 15, and the end of v. 16, virtually repeat each other. More particularly, 11 and 15 look like a Wiederaufnahme – a resumptive repetition that would bracket the material of vv. 11–15, together with the narrator’s preface in v. 10, as an addition to the narrative. Exactly how this is to be understood in terms of the compositional development of the whole Manasseh narrative is not clear, though many modern scholars mark the addition of vv. 10– 15 as Deuteronomistic.21 At the least, this Wiederaufnahme or bracketing underscores the problem of associating Yahweh’s proclamation over Jerusalem with Manasseh. That problem is aggravated by the fact that when Jerusalem will fall is left open and vague in Yahweh’s proclamation, and that nowhere else in the Deuteronomistic History, the entire Hebrew Bible, or outside sources is there an indication that Jerusalem fell – was conquered and the people deported – during Manasseh’s reign. The first we hear about the fall is the Babylonian conquest, destruction, and exile of almost a century later, in the early sixth century BCE (586, with an earlier stage of exile in 598 BCE). The latter, surely, is the reference here in vv. 10–15, specifically vv. 12–14, as interpreters have generally assumed,22 and that reference, in turn, is clinched by the comparison offered in v. 13 between Jerusalem’s disaster and that of Samaria and the “house” (dynasty) of Ahab, thus of the earlier conquest/exile of Samaria (the Northern Kingdom of Israel) by the Assyrians.23 The point of the above analysis is to suggest that in the present form of the 2 Kings account of Manasseh’s reign, definite editorial work can be discerned. Even if we cannot be sure how to reconstruct the whole process, it looks as if the authors/editors were challenged to make sense of Manasseh’s reign. They judged him as an abominable king, but they had trouble fixing an appropriate punishment on him – one that would directly and immediately connect with his deeds. What they had to settle for was a punishment in a distant Babylonian conquest/exile. Indeed, the stylistic and structural shifts we have detected in the Manasseh narrative suggest that our ancient authors/editors were not entirely at ease with this resolution. Our unease is aggravated by the disjunction we can observe in that narrative between the intense vilification of Manasseh for his deeds and the reported facts of his long reign of fifty-five years – the longest of any king in the Deuteronomistic History – and of his peaceful death and burial. To be sure, 21 E. g., Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 271. Others mark the unit slightly differently; so, e. g., vv. 9–15 in Marvin A. Sweeney, I & II Kings, OTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007), 431. 22 See n21 above. 23 Indeed, the reference to Ahab in 21:13 and also v. 3 may have been added in the revision of the Manasseh account in 2 Kgs 21 following the Babylonian conquest and exile. Among the many interpreters who have so advocated, see especially William M. Schniedewind, “History and Interpretation: The Religion of Ahab and Manasseh in the Book of Kings,” CBQ 55 (1993): 649–61.

Manasseh of Judah

193

the disjunction is simply exposed in the Manasseh narrative without explicit or evaluative comment. That comment, however, comes later. It is not to be found in the 2 Kings narrative remarks on Manasseh’s son and successor, Amon, whose death by assassination is recorded immediately after his condemnation for following in his father’s evil ways (21:21–24) – a juxtaposition that must convey, although implicitly, a sense of just punishment.24 Rather, it is in the 2 Kings narrative about Manasseh’s grandson, Josiah, that things come to a head. The key here is the positive accounting of Josiah’s religious reform, a reform that is accelerated by the discovery of a scroll that represents some form of the book of Deuteronomy and that involves Josiah’s reversing of cultic practices and personnel instituted by his predecessors. Of those predecessors, the 2 Kings narrative names only Manasseh (23:12, within 22:13, 17; 23:11–13, 14, 19, 21–22), and the reversal by Josiah is formulated at points as a mirror, structurally and even in particular language, of the description applied to Manasseh.25 It is, thus, because of Josiah’s reform and his underlying Deuteronomic piety that the narrative showers praise on him, echoing, as we have observed, the praise on his great-grandfather, Hezekiah (22:2, 19–20; 23:25; cf. 18:3, 5–6), and so setting up their reigns as bookends to a story of which the middle element is Manasseh. What could this praise mean for the punishment of Manasseh’s deeds? The possibility that Josiah’s good deeds could expiate the bad of Manasseh is strikingly denied in the Josiah narrative. The denial comes first in the response of the prophetess Huldah, who is appealed to by Josiah’s close associates to make sense of the newly discovered (Deuteronomic) scroll, and who prophesies that the curses in that scroll will come to pass on the people of Judah because of their disobedient cultic behavior, involving inter alia other gods (22:14–17; cf. v. 13).26 In the light of the rest of the Kings narrative, this prophecy has been taken, with good reason, to refer to the Babylonian conquest/exile, but Baruch Halpern has made a persuasive case that, considered in its present context alone, the prophecy on Judah is open-ended and nonspecific: unlike Yahweh’s proclamation of punishment given for Manasseh (21:12–15), there is no mention here of Jerusalem falling.27 In short, the prophecy need not be an editorial addition to the Huldah 24 This is so even though the assassins of Amon are then killed by the body of landed gentry (ʿam ha-ʾāreṣ, 2 Kgs 21:24), who thus restore political stability, and are probably impelled by the need to appease the Assyrians, who still rule Judah. 25 Cf., e. g., Andrew Davis, Reconstructing the Temple: The Royal Rhetoric of Temple Renovation in the Ancient Near East and Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019), ch. 2, and n113, citing Peter Dubovský, The Building of the First Temple: A Study in Redactional, TextCritical and Historical Perspective, FAT 103 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 78. 26 Note that in 2 Kgs 22:13, attributed to Josiah, the curses are said to be due to the disobedience of “our fathers” to Yahweh, so a case of transgenerational punishment. In the prophecy attributed to Huldah, however, the disobedience appears to apply more generally to the “inhabitants” of Jerusalem, both present and past, with the exception of Josiah (22:17–19). 27 Baruch Halpern, “Why Manasseh Is Blamed for the Babylonian Exile: The Evolution of a Biblical Tradition,” VT 48 (1998): 473–514, especially 493–99.

194

Peter Machinist

narrative, but original to it, which, however, was reinterpreted at a later stage of the compiling of the Deuteronomistic History to refer to the Babylonian conquest/exile. This reinterpretation is confirmed by an elaboration of the prophecy later in the Josiah narrative (23:26–27), which specifies that the curses will appear as a disaster on Jerusalem and its temple, like what happened to Israel, namely, in the conquest/exile of the Northern Kingdom. The elaboration, thus, represents a more explicit reference to the Babylonian disaster than Huldah’s original prophecy, and given that it is formulated almost exactly like Yahweh’s punishment in the Manasseh episode (21:12–15), it confirms that both texts must be the work of a later Deuteronomistic writer after the Babylonian conquest/exile had occurred. In turn, the connection of Babylonia to Manasseh is made even more explicit later in 2 Kings (24:1–4) and in Jeremiah (15:3–4). That in all of these texts Manasseh’s punishment is put off to the distant Babylonian invasion should not be so troubling. After all, the earlier 2 Kings narrative about Sennacherib against Hezekiah states that when the Assyrian withdrew from Judah and returned to his capital of Nineveh, he was assassinated by two of his sons (2 Kgs 19:36–37). In fact, however, the assassination, based on Assyrian sources, did not come immediately, but only twenty years later (701– 681 BCE)28 – a delay that did not apparently disturb the biblical writer, if, indeed, he was aware of it, because for him the connection, made in heaven, remained valid regardless of the distance in time. So perhaps for Manasseh and the Babylonian conquest and destruction. But there is something deeper at work, for in the Deuteronomic casting of the Manasseh and Josiah narratives, indeed in the Deuteronomistic History as a whole, punishment did not have to be immediate; it could be transgenerational, as laid out in the Decalogue (Deut 5:9; Exod 20:5). There is a further problem when this transgenerational matter climaxes in the story of Josiah. Here, at a crucial point in the narrative just after the Deuteronomistic writer’s extravagant praise of Josiah (2 Kgs 23:25), he pauses with a sudden exclamation: ʾak (23:26). A standard English translation renders this word “still.”29 But it is much stronger than this: something like, “alas, how terrible” that “Yahweh did not draw back from the great wrath of his anger which he expended against Judah for all the provocations with which Manasseh had mocked him.” Somehow, the writer appears to be saying, the doctrine of transgenerational punishment does not satisfy here: it does not resolve the issue of Manasseh’s sins. And the matter becomes worse when we go back to Huldah’s appearance in the story and recall that she prophesied not only the curses on the people of Judah, but that Josiah would himself be exempted from them because of his piety toward Yahweh’s words in the discovered scroll: that he would die in 28 See, e. g., Josette Elayi, Sennacherib, King of Assyria, SBLABSt 24 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2018), xv–xvi, 145–52. 29 So, e. g., the RSV ad loc.

Manasseh of Judah

195

peace and not see the curses, which would come only after his death (22:18–20). Yet what happens at the end of the Josiah narrative? He does not die peacefully, but is killed violently by Pharaoh Necho II when he tries to confront Necho at Megiddo and apparently prevent him from aiding the Assyrian king further north (23:29). Not only, thus, can Josiah’s good deeds not compensate for Manasseh’s bad, but the good deeds cannot even prevent Josiah himself from an undeserved evil fate that apparently had been prophesied differently.30 In sum, then, the 2 Kings narrative about Manasseh and his legacy may be resolved in terms of the Babylonian conquest/exile, but it is not a satisfactory resolution even for the ancient writers, and this irresolution mirrors another one which, as we have noted, the writers report: the unraveling of Josiah’s reform after his shocking death in the reigns of his successors down to the Babylonian debacle.31

E. Manasseh in 2 Chronicles Second Chronicles 33 is more or less a simulacrum of 2 Kgs 21, and, being universally acknowledged as the later text, it builds on what 2 Kings has left. Like the latter, the Chronicles chapter follows its narrative about Manasseh with one about his son, Amon. And again like 2 Kings, 2 Chronicles on Manasseh is divided into two main parts surrounded by an introduction providing the years of the king’s reign (33:1) and a conclusion referring to royal annals for the rest of Manasseh’s story, his death and burial, and the naming of Amon as his successor (33:18–20). Of the two main parts, the first (33:2–9) is a close rendition of the description of Manasseh’s evil deeds – his cultic actions – in 2 Kgs 21:2–9, 16. There are some variants, however, of which four stand out. In the first place, the list of evil deeds includes all in 2 Kgs 21 except for the slaughter of the pure. Second, instead of Baʿal and Asherah whose altars and image, respectively, Manasseh constructs in 2 Kings, it is plural Baʿals (bǝʿālîm) and Asherim (ʾǎšērȏt/ʾǎšērîm) in 2 Chronicles (33:3, 19). Third, when in 2 Kgs 21:7, the focus sharpens to the “idol” (pesel) of “Asherah,” 2 Chr 33:7 drops the name “Asherah,” and substitutes the word semel in the phrase pesel has-semel “the idol of the image.” As a fourth point, a singular-plural difference is also at issue in the statement about Manasseh’s performing the “passing through fire”: in 2 Kgs 21:6, it is “his son” who is the object; in 2 Chr 33:6, it is “his sons.” How much significance should be attached to these variants is not certain. I have no 30 See Huldah’s prophecy (2 Kgs 22:15–20) and the discussion in Halpern, “Why Manasseh,” especially 498–501. 31 See 2 Kgs 23:32–37; 24. Josiah’s reform is not mentioned in these verses; rather we find a general comment that serves as a broad condemnation of the work of Josiah’s successors: the king “did evil in the eyes of Yahweh” (2 Kgs 23:32; 24:9, 19).

196

Peter Machinist

ready explanation for the absence of the slaughter of the pure, except that given its occurrence in the present text of 2 Kgs 21 (resumed also in 24:4) outside of the other evil deeds, perhaps it was not in the version of 2 Kgs 21 available to the Chronicler. As for the references to Baʿal, Asherah, and image, if we consider them together, we could suppose that the Chronicler is trying to divert recognition away from the deities Baʿal and Asherah to something more derogatory: by using generalizing plurals – the bǝʿālîm and the ʾǎšērȏt/ʾǎšerîm – that stand for a mass of trivial beings, and by eliminating the personal name of Asherah and creating in her place a hyperbolic phrase of derogation, pesel has-semel.32 At the same time, it is possible that pluralizing Baʿal and Asherah could be the Chronicler’s way of harmonizing these divine labels with the plural “host of heaven” (33:3) – all seen essentially as synonyms of one another, which have multiple “altars.” Finally, for the issue of “son” or “sons,” again we might guess that a plural here would make Manasseh’s act of “passing through fire” more heinous if more than one son were involved, and perhaps the plural that is found in the Greek version of 2 Kgs 21:6 (tous uious autou) is the result of an attempt to harmonize this with the plural in 2 Chr 33:6.33 The really important change, however, comes in the second main part of the Manasseh narrative, in 2 Chr 33:10–17. Here, unexpectedly and astonishingly in light of the 2 Kgs 21 account, Manasseh, together with the people of Judah, is punished for his sinful deeds directly – an episode entirely missing in Kings. The punishment moves through three phases. Yahweh is first said (vv. 10–11) to warn Manasseh and his people about their deeds, but they do not listen. So, second, he brings against them the Assyrian army, whose commanders arrest Manasseh, bind him, and take him by hooks to Babylon. There, in captivity (vv. 12–13), as a third phase, Manasseh pleads with Yahweh, abasing himself and praying to the deity, who accepts his plea and releases him back to Judah and Jerusalem. After he has been returned, he undertakes two major building projects: a high outer wall around Jerusalem, and a strengthening of the fortified settlements of Judah. He also systematically undoes the cultic actions he had perpetrated earlier, removing the foreign gods, idol (of Asherah?), and altars in and around the Jerusalem temple, and restoring the proper altar and sacrifices to Yahweh in that temple, with the order that the people focus their worship on Yahweh. Despite the extent of Manasseh’s repentance, the account ends with a note that the “high places,” which earlier had been listed among Manasseh’s evil deeds, remained for the people as sites of sacrifice, though now only to Yahweh (v. 17). 32 Cf. Yigal Levin, The Chronicles of the Kings of Judah: 2 Chronicles 10–36. A New Translation and Commentary (London: T&T Clark, 2017), 85n8, 366n22, 373. 33 For various explanations of the plurals in ch. 33 and elsewhere in Chronicles, see, e. g., Levin, Chronicles, 85n8, 365n15, 373; H. G. M. Williamson, 1 and 2 Chronicles, NCB (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982), 390, 391; Ralph W. Klein, 2 Chronicles, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012), 471nn6, 9; 479, 480.

Manasseh of Judah

197

What to make of this surprising addition in 2 Chronicles – an addition that is summarized as well in the conclusion to the Manasseh narrative (33:19)? In the light of the 2 Kings account of Manasseh, let us consider several of its features. The first is that the action is entirely directed by and focused on Yahweh. The Assyrians who come down on Manasseh and Judah and imprison Manasseh are simply Yahweh’s agents, and after their mention at the beginning of the episode, they disappear, and it is Yahweh to whom Manasseh appeals for mercy and Yahweh who answers and releases Manasseh from prison. The episode thus aims at demonstrating the absolute power of Yahweh – a demonstration culminating in the final clause: that “Manasseh knew that Yahweh – he is God” (33:13).34 A second feature of this episode is the alternation, not unlike that in 2 Kgs 21, of the evildoer as Manasseh and as the people of Judah, with an effort to connect them by making Manasseh the instigator of the people (33:9–10). And yet that effort is not entirely successful, just as in 2 Kgs 21, for when Yahweh is said to bring the Assyrian army on Manasseh and the people, it is only Manasseh who is taken in chains to Babylon and punished: the people drop out of the picture (33:11–13). Third, we should consider the concluding reference to Manasseh’s deeds and utterances not provided in the preceding narrative (33:18–19). Here we have something more elaborate and complex than in the corresponding conclusion in 2 Kgs 21:17. For Chronicles mentions not one, but two compilations to be consulted: the “words” (dibrȇ) of the kings of Israel (33:18) and the “words of my seers” (dibrȇ ḥȏzāy) (33:19).35 The first is said to contain the “deeds” (dibrȇ) of Manasseh, his prayer to his God (while captive in Babylon), and the “words of the seers” (dibrȇ ha-ḥōzîm) who would speak to him in the name of Yahweh, the God of Israel” (33:18). The second compilation overlaps the first, because it is said also to contain the prayer of Manasseh and it has an abbreviated summary of the preceding Manasseh narrative, namely, of God’s acceptance of the prayer and of the list of Manasseh’s sinful deeds before “he humbled himself” (hikkānǝʿȏ < niknaʿ) in the presence of Yahweh (33:19). In addition, the very name of the second compilation, dibrȇ ḥȏzāy, echoes one component of the first compilation, dibrȇ haḥōzîm, and so raises the possibility that the second compilation may, in fact, be included in the first. Not surprisingly, therefore, scholars do not agree on whether there are actually two different compilations that the Chronicler is signaling as 34 This clause finds an echo elsewhere in the Deuteronomic tradition, so in Deut 4:35; 1 Kgs 8:60; 18:39, as noted by a variety of scholars, e. g., Levin, Chronicles, 368n44, and Klein, 2 Chronicles, 482 and n71. 35 Ḥȏzāy here could, differently, be a personal name. For brief discussions, see Isaac Kalimi, The Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 197n12; Klein, 2 Chronicles, 472n29; Sara Japhet, 1 & 2 Chronicles, OTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1993), 1012; William M. Schniedewind, “The Source Citations of Manasseh in History and Homily,” VT 41 (1991): 459n28. If Ḥȏzāy is a personal name, this would help to differentiate it from the dibrȇ ha-ḥōzîm of the first collection.

198

Peter Machinist

sources, but the plain sense is that there are.36 In any case, it is significant that the first compilation treats the “kings of Israel,” not of Judah as in 2 Kgs 21:17. This is not a reference to the Northern Kingdom, which the Chronicler generally avoids. Rather, “Israel” refers to the entire cultural and political history of the community for which Judah is the synonym, since for the Chronicler Judah is the sole embodiment of that larger history and thus is the focus of his narrative. As for the “seers” mentioned, they should correspond to the “prophets” (nǝbîʿîm) in 2 Kgs 21:10, who communicate Yahweh’s announcement of punishment on Manasseh, but for the Chronicler, they appear to be a kind of guild that has its own records. One may note here as well the great emphasis on Manasseh’s prayer of repentance. Clearly, this is the basis for the later apocryphal Prayer of Manasseh, and although the latter has been supposed to date between roughly the second century BCE and the first CE,37 it appears that the Chronicler had an actual written source which may somehow be connected to the apocryphal text. The most important feature of this addition about Manasseh’s captivity and its aftermath is how the Chronicler explains it. The explanation, as generally agreed,38 involves a sense of quid pro quo or reward and punishment justice: the individual doer of bad or of good – in the Chronicler the emphasis is on the bad, as is the case for the Deuteronomistic historian, but in a different mode – is to be answered, respectively, with a direct reward or punishment within the lifetime of the doer. But there is a catch: if the evildoer repents sincerely, divine punishment can be averted. So for Manasseh and the Assyrian captivity. And so also for the kings who succeed him. Thus, while like 2 Kgs 21:19–25, the Chronicler has Amon (33:21–25) continue Manasseh’s evil acts, he differs in affirming that Amon did not repent of these acts as Manasseh did – he uses the familiar verb “humble himself” – and so the assassination of Amon follows as an (implicit) punishment. And when the Chronicler moves to Josiah, he acknowledges the king’s piety and reforms, indeed elaborates on them beyond the account in 2 Kings, but in the end, the king must die at the hands of Pharaoh Necho, because he refuses Necho’s words of peace toward him – words that, as the Chronicler highlights, come directly from God. Josiah’s refusal is thus a flouting of God’s will, and since he does not relent, and so does not repent, he is killed. Josiah for Chronicles is, despite his outstanding reform, someone who makes a serious error – commits a serious sin – at the end of his life, which costs him his life. 36 For discussions, see, e. g., Klaas A. D. Smelik, “The Portrayal of King Manasseh. A Literary Analysis of II Kings xxi and II Chronicles xxiii,” in idem, Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography, OtSt 28 (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 178, and slightly differently, Schniedewind, “Source Citations,” 455–61. 37 See, e. g., James H. Charlesworth, “Prayer of Manasseh,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth, 2 vols., ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 1985), 2:625–37 at 627. 38 See especially Sara Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and Its Place in Biblical Thought (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2009), 117–55.

Manasseh of Judah

199

He disobeys a command of Yahweh, transmitted to him by his apparent enemy, Pharaoh Necho II. And so Necho kills him. The pattern of direct connection between behavior and consequence, with repentance breaking the connection, is not restricted in Chronicles to the cases just discussed. Among other occurrences are the narratives about the Judahite king, Ahaz, whose Manasseh-like sinful cultic acts are punished twice over by Yahweh, because he would not repent (2 Chr 28:1–25), and about Zedekiah, the last king of Judah, who also refuses to repent – the expression again is “humble oneself” – for his evil behavior, including rebellion against the Babylonian king, which the Chronicler construes as against Yahweh, perhaps echoing Josiah against Necho. Zedekiah’s obdurate behavior is then asserted as the basis for the Babylonian conquest/exile (36:11–20). From all these examples, it is possible to generalize, as many interpreters have done,39 that the pattern wherein behavior leads to consequence and then, sometimes, to repentance is a basic principle of the theological historiography of the books of Chronicles. But we are not yet finished with Manasseh in Chronicles. The flash point is Babylon, the city to which Manasseh is taken and imprisoned by the Assyrians. Why Babylon? Some scholars have argued40 that this makes good historical sense: that Manasseh could actually have been taken there as the punishment for some kind of treason that he could have committed against Assyria. We will have a brief look at this proposal toward the end of the present paper. However the historical issue is decided, the mention of Babylon cannot fail to excite also a historiographic interest, and indeed it has for a number of interpreters.41 For, given the allusions to the Babylonian conquest/exile in connection with Manasseh in the 2 Kings version (chs. 21 and 22–23), and also elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible (2 Kgs 24:1–4; Jer 15:3–4), it is reasonable to suppose that our Chronicles author has this connection in mind as well. The point is strengthened by an observation (oral) of Robert R. Wilson, to wit, that Yahweh’s announcement of punishment on Manasseh in 2 Kgs 21:11–15 targets not only Jerusalem, but also the people of Judah, who will be given into the hands of the attacking enemy – exactly what occurs in the Babylonian conquest/exile, and the Chronicler seems to have picked this up. In other words, if I may interpret Wilson’s observation, the Chronicler picked up the 2 Kings reference to deportation, but reinterpreted it to apply to the Assyrian arrest, deportation, and imprisonment of Manasseh himself in Babylon, from which “exile” he is then returned. Yet in doing so, the Chronicler must have known that there was also a tradition, reflected in the Deuteronomistic History, which saw the connection to the Babylonian exile. His awareness, indeed, may be confirmed by the observation of Percy van 39 See

n38 above. nn84, 86 below. 41 E. g., Smelik, “Portrayal,” 129–89. 40 See

200

Peter Machinist

Keulen, that the Chronicler speaks about Manasseh being led away in chains to Babylon (2 Chr 33:11–14), almost exactly as he does of the later Judahite king, Jehoiakim, who begins the process of the Babylonian exile (2 Chr 36:6).42 From all this, therefore, we may conclude that the Chronicler’s focus on Babylon was not only to proclaim that the punishment was in Manasseh’s own lifetime, but also to prefigure the later invasion of Babylonia that resulted in destruction and exile for Jerusalem and Judah. But why, theologically, should the threat of Babylonian destruction and exile have been considered by the Chronicler, if for him Yahweh had forgiven Manasseh? Was Manasseh’s repentance in some way incomplete, and so was Yahweh’s forgiveness rather limited in scope and time? The issue is not faced fully and directly by the Chronicler, but there are at least two hints of the problem. The first, as already noted, is the statement, coming after repentance and forgiveness have been described, that the people of Judah continued to sacrifice at the high places, though only to Yahweh (33:17). The tone here seems to be rather neutral, and yet the statement is not in the Chronicler’s source in 2 Kings, which suggests that the matter was something that he felt he needed to address. To be sure, high places for the Chronicler are not the serious sin they are for the Deuteronomistic History, yet he is bothered by Manasseh’s promotion of them in the earlier part of his reign, as he is in the case of some other Judahite kings (e. g., Jehoram, in 2 Chr 21:11, 13).43 Secondly, there is the Chronicler’s statement, slightly but not essentially adapted from 2 Kings, about Manasseh’s son and successor, Amon, who is said to promote the worship of idols as Manasseh had done. But abolishing idol worship is one of the acts that for the Chronicler Manasseh carried out after his repentance and return to Judah. So what was Amon doing? Neither the Chronicler nor his 2 Kings source says explicitly that Amon reversed Manasseh’s abolition of idols; rather, they give the impression that Amon continued his father’s idolatrous practice, which had not ceased. In sum, then, the Chronicler, though less than 2 Kings, leaves us with a sense that the case of Manasseh’s sins is not fully and finally resolved: that while the matter of Babylon as an immediate and direct issue for Manasseh was settled, this settlement did not eliminate the long-distance threat of Babylonian conquest/exile.44 Put another way, the Chronicler’s view of Manasseh incorporates a kind of bifocal view of Babylon, both as an immediate and also as a long-distance 42 Percy S. F. Van Keulen, Manasseh through the Eyes of the Deuteronomists: The Manasseh Account (2 Kings 21:1–18) and the Final Chapters of the Deuteronomistic History, OtSt 38 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 221–22. This is also mentioned by Klein, 2 Chronicles, 482, who notes as well the deportation of the preceding Judahite king, Jehoiachin, to Babylon (2 Chr 36:10), although this deportation is not described as being in chains. 43 For all of this, see Japhet, Ideology, esp. 173–74. 44 Cf. Gary Knoppers, “Saint or Sinner? Manasseh in Chronicles,” in Rewriting Biblical History: Essays on Chronicles and Ben Sira in Honor of Pancratius C. Beentjes, ed. Jeremy Corley and Harm van Grol, DCLS 7 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011), 211–29.

Manasseh of Judah

201

threat. But this bifocal view emerges as well in his treatment of Hezekiah, who initiates the history of the seventh century for Judah. For background, however, we must also consider the depiction of Hezekiah in 2 Kings. Here as well as in 2 Chronicles, as we have noted, Hezekiah is highly praised for his piety and his reforms of some longstanding cultic transgressions of his predecessors (2 Kgs 18:3–7; cf. 14:4, 16:3–4). But in both texts, Hezekiah does not escape criticism.45 The criticism concerns Hezekiah’s reaction to a serious illness he contracts and his effort, in the same period, to collaborate with the Babylonian ruler, Merodach-baladan, apparently (it is not stated explicitly) against the dominion of the Assyrian king Sennacherib. In recounting the illness, 2 Kings suggests that Hezekiah is unreasonably testing Yahweh’s announcement that he will heal him (2 Kgs 20:8–11). As for the collaboration, when it is condemned by the prophet Isaiah as pointing to the eventual exile of Judah by Babylonia, Hezekiah is described as reacting that at least this disaster would not affect him while he was alive (2 Kgs 20:14–19). Thus in the cases both of the illness and of the collaboration, the criticism by the 2 Kings author of Hezekiah’s attitude – an attitude that verges on blasphemy – is evident, but muted. And while in this criticism Babylonia seems to be a punishment coming not long after Hezekiah’s demise – it is heralded as “the days are coming” (2 Kgs 20:16) and described as affecting some of Hezekiah’s own sons (2 Kgs 20:16, 18) – still the exact date of the punishment is left open. Only in hindsight, when we look over the whole Deuteronomistic Kings work, does it become clear that the Babylonian punishment must refer to the later conquest/exile of Judah at the hands of Nebuchadnezzar II. When we now move to 2 Chronicles, we discover a refinement of the ways in which 2 Kings has treated Hezekiah’s illness and the Babylonian collaboration. On the one hand, 2 Chronicles describes Hezekiah’s reform much more elaborately than does 2 Kings (2 Chr 30–31 versus 2 Kgs 21:1–21). On the other, it is more abbreviated, and partially forgiving, in discussing Hezekiah’s faults (2 Chr 32:24–26, 31 versus 2 Kgs 20:8–11, 14–19), evidently in a desire not to undermine its high appreciation of the king’s achievements. But the criticism of Hezekiah is in the Chronicler, nonetheless. It takes in the collaboration with Merodachbaladan, even though its comments are very brief and elliptical (2 Chr 32:31). More direct and fuller is the Chronicler’s attention to the illness, and here Hezekiah’s reaction to Yahweh’s involvement is made explicit (32:24–26). At first, the king does not acknowledge Yahweh’s healing, and so Yahweh, we are told, sends his wrath on Hezekiah and Judah and Jerusalem. Only then, when Hezekiah, in the characteristic phrase, “humbles himself,” does Yahweh delay the wrath until after the lifetime of the king. In all of this, clearly, the Chronicler is 45 For a lengthy and detailed appreciation of the issue, taking into account 2 Kgs, 2 Chr, and Isa 36–39, see especially Song-Mi Suzie Park, Hezekiah and the Dialogue of Memory (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2015).

202

Peter Machinist

struggling with the Hezekiah he knows from the Kings tradition. From that tradition, he learns that Jerusalem was not destroyed by Sennacherib and that yet Hezekiah misstepped in his collaboration with a Babylonian alliance in which Hezekiah’s contemporary illness was somehow implicated. The Chronicler also knows of the eventual conquest/exile by the Babylonians under Nebuchadnezzar II. In 2 Kings, these matters had been left open, as we have seen. The Chronicler seeks to close them with his principle of behavior – consequence – (sometimes) repentance. For him, Hezekiah did misstep, but Jerusalem was not destroyed, because Hezekiah repented and prayed for forgiveness. Nonetheless, the destruction was not permanently eliminated, but only delayed until after Hezekiah, and why this should be so, the Chronicler does not say. In the end, therefore, while the Chronicler’s principle begins to resolve the problem of Hezekiah and Jerusalem, it does this just in part.

F. The Seventh Century and Assyria in Kings and Chronicles: An Interim Reckoning It will have been noticed that in the two historiographic traditions on Manasseh we have been examining, Assyria, more specifically the Neo-Assyrian Empire, plays an elusive role. To be sure, at the beginning of their seventh-century narratives, 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles fully acknowledge the crucial challenge of Sennacherib’s invasion of Judah and the near disaster he wreaks upon it. For this, both texts refer directly to Sennacherib, citing Yahweh as the ultimate judge who condemns the Assyrian’s arrogant blasphemy, and proclaims that he will bring defeat and death on him, which is then described as occurring (2 Kgs 19:14–37; 2 Chr 32:20–23). But after this focus on Sennacherib, both 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles appear to marginalize, indeed almost to forget about the Assyrians. There is no mention, for example, that the assassination of Amon might be the work of those who opposed his supposed pro-Assyrian leanings, and even the mention of the king of Assyria in 2 Kgs 23:29 is only a brief and inadequate aside in the Kings narrative about the death of Josiah in his confrontation with Pharaoh Necho. The only real exception to this picture in Kings and Chronicles is the incident in 2 Chr 33:10–13 in which the Assyrian army arrests and imprisons Manasseh. Yet even here, as we have seen, the focus is not on the Assyrians, but on Yahweh as the one to initiate and control the situation, and the one who must be appealed to if the situation is to be solved. Now one could try to explain this absence of post-Sennacherib Assyria in Kings and Chronicles as the result of the putative historical situation which our two books reflect, namely, that after Sennacherib there was no crisis in Judah that required Assyrian intervention, and that it was only such crises that our books were wont to focus on. This supposed historical situation may, in fact,

Manasseh of Judah

203

have been true, but the episode of Manasseh’s arrest in 2 Chronicles gives pause, as does the mention of deportations to the land of Samaria and other parts of the Levant (the province of Beyond the River) by Osnappar (probably Ashurbanipal) in Ezra 4:10. Otherwise, there seems to be no information on any Judahite crisis. There are, however, some extant Assyrian texts of Sennacherib’s immediate successors of the seventh century, Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal, that do bear on Judah and the southern Levant more generally. These include various documentary texts – loans and other records, fragments of a royal inscription, and the like  – that indicate a functioning Assyrian imperial administration in Judah and the southern Levant more generally.46 Further, we should recall the evidence, especially from the royal inscriptions, for the military campaigns that Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal mounted to conquer Middle and Lower Egypt.47 These campaigns would have brought the Assyrian armies down through the southern Levant, and at least in one of them, led by Ashurbanipal, we saw that Manasseh himself was part of the Assyrian forces, in an alliance of twenty-two vassal kings of the western part of the Assyrian Empire. That same alliance, we have also noticed, is mentioned earlier, by Esarhaddon, as providing aid for major building project in the Assyrian capital of Nineveh. The point, in sum, is that this Assyrian evidence of seventh-century Assyrian imperial activity in the southern Levant and Manasseh’s part in it could have provided occasions after Sennacherib for the books of Kings and Chronicles to have mentioned Assyria in their narratives about the kings of Judah. Yet with the exception of the arrest of Manasseh, they did not. The focus of these narratives is, rather, resolutely internal: on the character of the Judahite kings, positive and negative, as reflecting on the character of Yahweh, the ultimate authority in everything. The Assyrians, evidently, were not judged by our biblical books as important enough witnesses for this issue of character in the post-Sennacherib seventh century. What historical phenomenon was judged as absolutely crucial was something only from the following century, namely, the Babylonian conquest/exile of Judah, and it was the attempts to make sense of this, as we have seen, that led the authors of the books of Kings and Chronicles to look back through seventh-century Judahite history to Hezekiah.

46 The texts from Judah are meager in number. For a recent and comprehensive survey that covers the whole of the southern Levant, see Peter Zilberg, “The Assyrian Provinces of the Southern Levant: Sources, Administration, and Control,” in The Southern Levant under Assyrian Domination, ed. Shawn Zelig Aster and Avraham Faust (University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns, 2018), 56–88. See also Avraham Faust, “The Assyrian Century in the Southern Levant: An Overview of the Reality on the Ground,” in ibid., 20–55, esp. 36–44; and S. Z. Aster and A. Faust, “Administrative Texts, Royal Inscriptions and Neo-Assyrian Administration in the Southern Levant: The View from the Aphek-Gezer Region,” Or 84 (2015): 292–308. 47 See n8 above.

204

Peter Machinist

G. The Seventh Century in the Biblical Prophetic Books There is one more historiographic tradition in the Hebrew Bible that covers the seventh century, the prophetic books, and its point of view only partially aligns with that in Kings and Chronicles. The key texts here are those of the First Isaiah (especially 1; 5:26–30; 7–8; 10:5–15; 14:1–23; 20; 29:1–12; 36–37), which describe the beginning of the century and the latter part of the preceding eighth, and Nahum, with a small portion from Zephaniah (2:13–15), which concern the end of the seventh century. Like 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, these prophetic texts are concerned with what they regard as Judah’s behavior, both disobedient and obedient, to its god, Yahweh, and Yahweh’s response; but unlike Kings and Chronicles, the prophets mentioned focus on Assyria, which they denominate as the agent of Yahweh’s retribution when Judahite behavior is deemed bad. Yet Assyria in this view is not a wooden character: it too is understood to be judged by Yahweh for its behavior as agent, and therein lies the complex challenge that the prophetic texts confront. Let us begin with the First Isaiah, more particularly his poem in chapter 10:5– 15, where the challenge is most acutely laid out.48 The poem is presented as a statement of Yahweh about Assyria, in which Assyria, both apostrophized and as the king of Assyria, speaks. Assyria in this poem plays two different, even contradictory roles. On the one hand, it is Yahweh’s agent of punishment “against an ungodly nation” (v. 6), which is first northern Israel and then Judah, typified by their respective capitals, Samaria and Jerusalem (vv. 9–11). Indeed, the Assyrian attack against Jerusalem, which should be that of Sennacherib’s 701 BCE campaign, is described in the present tense as imminent or underway – in any case not yet in the past (v. 11). But, on the other hand, Assyria becomes itself a target of Yahweh’s wrath because it exceeds Yahweh’s orders for its military campaigns, conquering not just the “ungodly nation,” but a whole string of other city-states in the Levant (vv. 7–9). What is more, Assyria boasts shamelessly about it all, going so far as to claim – here it is the Assyrian king explicitly speaking – that his military successes were due to him alone as strong and wise, not to any other (vv. 8–11, 12–14).49 The hubris of this campaigning and boasting, argues Isaiah, will be punished by Yahweh, and the poem closes with a forceful 48 Recent studies of this text include H. G. M. Williamson, Isaiah 6–12, vol. 2 of A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 1–27, ICC (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2018), 480– 531; Shawn Zelig Aster, Reflections of Empire in Isaiah 1–39: Responses to Assyrian Ideology (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017), 173–206; Peter Machinist, “‘Ah, Assyria …’ (Isaiah 10:5ff). Isaiah’s Assyrian Polemic Revisited,” in Not Only History: Proceedings of the Conference in Honor of Mario Liverani Held in Sapienza-Università di Roma, Dipartimento di Scienze dell’Antichità, 20–21 April 2009, ed. Gilda Bartoloni and Maria Giovanna Biga with Armando Bramanti (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016), 183–217. These studies also offer additional bibliography. 49 The compositional history of these verses, indeed, of the whole poem, continues to be debated: some interpreters arguing for a core to which later verses, especially 10–12, have been

Manasseh of Judah

205

denunciation of it (v. 15) that picks up language in the preceding verses 5–6.50 What follows (10:16–19) lays out more elaborately a future punishment of Assyria, but these verses go in a different direction from the poem itself and appear to belong to another, perhaps later, author or editor.51 Reading this poem suggests that the dual role of Assyria is something that the author is very uncomfortable with. He tries, to be sure, to connect Assyria as divine agent and Assyria as divine target by arguing that Assyria, having abused its position as agent, will be punished by the god who appointed it. But the implication is clear that this abuse is a testimony to Yahweh’s failure to control a human subordinate. In other words, just as Yahweh appointed Assyria in the first place to punish Israel and then Judah for disobedience, so the agent himself disobeys, and this all adds up to a recognition that Yahweh does not look as powerful as he should. Simply from the poem at hand, therefore, it stands to reason that our author is trying, theologically, to explain the historical reality as he sees it of Assyria and Assyrian power vis-à-vis Judah and the rest of the Levant in the seventh century BCE: how could Assyria, which, of course, does not recognize Yahweh as supreme, yet ravage Judah, Yahweh’s people, in Sennacherib’s invasion? Would Assyria remain powerful and dominant over Judah after that, and for how long? Could it escape retribution? In other words, we appear to have in this poem of Isa 10:5–15 a reward and punishment scheme at work, but one that is not fully resolved, because the eventual retribution on Assyria is not clear. This lack of retribution on Assyria and the reference to the Assyrian attack on Jerusalem (10:11–12) as in the future or presently underway both strongly suggest that the poem dates from the period of the Sennacherib attack.52 In any case, its challenge about Assyrian retribution recalls the challenge facing the authors of 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles for Manasseh, though in a different configuration – one difference being the lack of attention in our poem to the later Babylonian conquest/exile of Judah. But the openness of the scheme in Isa 10:5–15 does lead to a resolution. The resolution is heralded, as we have seen, in the apparently later addition in 10:16– 19. It is made more specific in Isa 37:36–38, with the announcement of the death, by assassination at the hands of his two sons, of the Assyrian invader of Judah, Sennacherib. But more broadly, on Assyria as a whole, the resolution comes in the two later prophets, Nahum and Zephaniah. Both focus on the collapse of the Neo-Assyrian Empire in the last two decades of the seventh century, as this is epitomized by the conquest and destruction of the central Assyrian capital city, Nineveh. Both prophets denounce Nineveh and thus Assyria, and seek added; others looking more at an integrated composition. See the discussion, e. g., in Williamson, Isaiah 6–12, 493–503, 517–20; and Machinist, “Ah, Assyria,” 190–94, 203–7. 50 Machinist, “Ah, Assyria,” 185–86. 51 See n50 above. 52 Machinist, “Ah, Assyria,” 202–7.

206

Peter Machinist

to formulate this collapse/conquest as Yahweh’s just punishment for the lawless, oppressive behavior of Assyria toward its subjects. Zephaniah’s remarks in 2:13–15 are brief, and are cast as a prophecy, though the final verse talks about Nineveh as already destroyed. Nahum’s remarks, however, are much more elaborate, filling the entire three chapters of the book, and are largely expressed both in the past tense and in the historical present.53 The remarks appear, thus, to be a report, albeit a highly stylized one, on the end of Nineveh: a report coming not long afterward, with its use of the historical present to enliven the account of Nineveh’s end. In fact, Nah 2:1 serves as the marker here, since it describes a messenger arriving in Judah with the announcement that “peace” (šālȏm) has come. The content of the message, we are then to understand, is the following detailed description of Nineveh’s conquest, which is contained in the rest of chapter 2 through the final chapter 3. Let us look at this Nahum description more closely. It depicts the conquest in emotional, even lurid terms, exulting over it, as the last line proclaims (3:19), because the demise of Nineveh, and the Assyria over which it presides, means the freedom of all peoples who had suffered under the Assyrian yoke. Indeed, the announcement of the messenger to Judah bringing peace triggers a festival celebration (2:1). What is particularly important about Nahum’s account, highly rhetorical as it is, is its relationship to the treatment of Assyria in the First Isaiah. This relationship is signaled by several instances in which Nahum appears consciously to borrow from and then to reconfigure the text of Isaiah.54 Here are two of them, both drawing on Isa 5:26–29, which describes the march of the Assyrian army and king as a powerful, irresistible force. In so doing, Isaiah says: “There will be no one tired, nor any one staggering in it, no one who slumbers or sleeps” (lōʾ yānûm wǝ-lōʾ yîšān, 5:27b). Nahum, however, upends this description, apostrophizing to the Assyrian king about the defeat and collapse of his army: “Your shepherds have gone to slumber, O king of Assyria, your nobles are sleeping” (nāmû rōʿekâ melek ʾAššûr yāšǝnû ʾaddîrȇkâ, 3:18).55 In other words, the once sleepless army has now become ruled by commanders overcome by sleep, i. e., death. Again, in the same passage of Isa 5, the Assyrian army/king is described as a lion: “His roar is like a lioness (lābîʾ), and he will roar like young lions (kĕpîrîm). He will growl and seize his prey (ṭerep). And as for him who runs far away (yaplîṭ),56 there (still) will be no one to save (him)” (5:29). Yet in 53 This brief description draws on my more elaborate presentation in Peter Machinist, “Nahum as Prophet and as Prophetic Book: Some Reconsiderations,” in The Book of the Twelve Prophets: Minor Prophets, Major Theologies, ed. Heinz-Josef Fabry, BETL 295 (Leuven: Peeters, 2018), 103–29. 54 Peter Machinist, “Assyria and Its Image in the First Isaiah,” JAOS 103 (1983): 735–36. 55 In this verse, MT yiškǝnû “they are dwelling” is emended to yāšǝnû “they are sleeping,” with most modern interpreters. See, e. g., Machinist, “Nahum as Prophet,” 115–16 and n40. 56 The hiphil form in 5:29 is rare in the Hebrew Bible – there is just one other occurrence, Mic 6:14, which does not appear to help with the present verse, as noted by H. G. M. Williamson.

Manasseh of Judah

207

the description of Nineveh’s fall, Nahum has Yahweh turn this metaphor also upside down: “And your young lions (kǝpîrayik) a sword devours. I cut off your prey (ṭarpēk) from the land, and the voice of your messenger is no more to be heard” (2:14). These two specific connections with the First Isaiah, coming as they do at critical moments in the Nahum book, point to the larger connection between these two prophetic corpora: that Nahum closes the circle which Isaiah had opened with his statement that Assyria, as the disobedient agent of Yahweh’s punishment of Israel and Judah, would itself be punished for his own disobedience. With Nahum, that punishment has finally arrived, and if we add the brief passage in Zeph 2:13–15, the arrival is confirmed. Since the point of origin of this prophetic tradition on Assyria appears to be Isaiah, the whole tradition may be labelled Isaianic.

H. Putting the Biblical Sources Together: A First Attempt Thus, in the Isaianic prophetic corpus, the problem of Assyria spans the entire seventh century BCE, with Sennacherib’s invasion of Judah at the beginning and Assyria’s collapse as an empire at the end. But this arc raises an obvious issue: What about the relationship of this prophetic tradition to that represented by the historical narratives of 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, which cover the same time span, and more? At first glance, it would appear that the Isaianic prophetic tradition and the historical narratives have really nothing to do with each other. Whereas the Isaiah 1–5, vol. 1 of A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 1–27, ICC (London: T&T Clark, 2006), 399. Williamson tentatively suggests, citing G. B. Gray, that the meaning in our verse is “remove”: “remove to a place where the lion (not the prey) will be safe to eat undisturbed (cf. Gray).” Thus, he translates this verb “carry off,” in parallel to the preceding verb, wǝyōʾḥēz “seize”; and with some emendation and rearrangement of all of v. 29, Williamson arrives at the following translation of the verse (Isaiah 1–5, 395, 398–99): They roar like a lion,   and growl like young lions; they seize prey and carry it off,   with none to rescue it. As my translation in the main text above shows, I prefer not to emend and rearrange the MT, and not to interpret the hiphil form yaplîṭ in the meaning “remove/carry off,” but as “run/escape far away,” with the subject of yaplîṭ not the lion (i. e., Assyria), but its prey. This meaning would conform to a function of the Hebrew hiphil discerned by E. A. Speiser on the basis of comparative Semitics, specifically Akkadian and Arabic, which function has been labeled as an elative. “The ‘Elative’ in West Semitic and Akkadian” (1952), reprinted in E. A. Speiser, Oriental and Biblical Studies, ed. Jacob J. Finkelstein and Moshe Greenberg (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1967), 465–93. As an elative, the hiphil functions not as a causative, as it otherwise does, but as an intransitive, noncausative, which can represent an intensification of the meaning of the qal. One biblical Hebrew example is rāḥaq (qal) “to be distant” versus hirḥîq (hiphil) “to be very distant/far away.” So, I would suggest, for plṭ: pālaṭ “to escape” versus hiplîṭ “to run/escape far away.”

208

Peter Machinist

Isaianic deals with Assyria in its collapse at the end of the seventh century, Kings and Chronicles are on this virtually silent. The two exceptions we have noted, in 2 Kgs 23:29, connected with Josiah and Pharaoh Necho, and in 2 Chr 33:11–13, connected with Manasseh’s imprisonment, function as brief details in narratives that are not focused on Assyria, but elsewhere: on the significance of Josiah’s death and on the punishment and repentance of Manasseh. Conversely, whereas Kings and Chronicles focus on Manasseh, Amon, and Josiah and the consequences of what is regarded as their good and bad behavior, these kings do not seem to be in evidence in the Isaianic group of prophets. Yet this first glance is not complete, for there are connections between the two textual groups. Josiah is mentioned in the introductory rubric of the prophet Zephaniah (1:1), although this is brief and isolated in the book. As for prophets in the Manasseh narratives in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, they are found as nǝbîʾîm in 2 Kgs 21:10 and ḥōzîm (“seers”) in 2 Chr 33:18–19, in both cases serving in their conventional function as mouthpieces of Yahweh to Manasseh: in 2 Kings, to pronounce punishment on the king; in 2 Chronicles, to pronounce punishment and also to identify a written source of their words. But in both Manasseh narratives, the prophets are described simply by the general label; particular members are not identified as they are in the case of Huldah in the Josiah narratives of 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, and especially in the Hezekiah narrative, where the prophet is Isaiah. Arguably the most important connection between the prophetic and the historical books is this Hezekiah narrative, for it is to be found in Isa 36–39 as well as in 2 Kgs 18–20 and 2 Chr 29–32, there detailing Hezekiah’s reforms, the attack of Sennacherib, and the king’s illness and his negotiation with the Babylonian ruler, Merodach-baladan. Of these, the accounts in 2 Kgs 18–20 and Isa 36–39 have attracted much scholarly attention because they are virtual duplicates of each other. To be sure, the two narratives are not identical – the major differences being the presence in 2 Kings of a short account of Hezekiah’s tribute payment to Sennacherib (18:14–16), and the presence in Isaiah of a long hymn of thanks to Yahweh by Hezekiah for curing his illness (38:9–20). Nonetheless, we have essentially the same narrative in Kings and Isaiah, and how to explain it from a text-critical viewpoint remains a disputed matter: whether the narrative is original to 2 Kings or to Isaiah, or whether each has borrowed from one another in a feedback exchange, or both have borrowed independently from a third source. For the present discussion, it is not necessary fully to resolve this question, but rather to emphasize that at some point in the compositional history of Kings and Isaiah this large narrative link was forged, the only such occurrence in the Hebrew Bible.57 57 An excellent study of the issue is by H. G. M. Williamson, The Book Called Isaiah: Deutero-Isaiah’s Role in Composition and Redaction (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 189–211. See ahead in the main text for an observation that may suggest 2 Kgs as the base.

Manasseh of Judah

209

What is the significance of this link among the texts of Isaiah, 2 Kings, and 2 Chronicles and, more specifically, between Isaiah and 2 Kings? In a larger sense, it functions as a major, if not the major connection between the prophetic and the historical books altogether, underscoring the fact that the two are largely parallel representations of the same historical periods. More particularly, the link highlights the fact that the reign of Hezekiah is understood by all of these books as the origin of the issues that will bedevil the history of Judah through the seventh century to the first part of the sixth, with the Babylonian conquest/ exile. It is, indeed, the pairing of Sennacherib’s withdrawal from Jerusalem with the Babylonian conquest/exile a century later, also focused on Jerusalem, that is the central tension of all the biblical sources on the seventh–early sixth century. And this tension can already be found in the narrative about Hezekiah in Isaiah, 2 Kings, and 2 Chronicles. The tension may be defined as this: how can the miracle of Yahweh’s saving Jerusalem from Sennacherib’s destruction have been reversed by this same Yahweh into the disastrous Babylonian conquest/exile? We have already discussed something of this tension in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles; we now must consider First Isaiah and how it connects with the Kings and Chronicles texts. Apart from chapters 36–39, the tension just described does not appear in any other text of the First Isaiah. Thus, 10:5–15, as we have seen, does mention an attack on Jerusalem, but this is the Assyrian attack implicitly of Sennacherib, not the Babylonian conquest/exile. And in Isa 14:1–23, a text with a very complicated compositional history,58 the Babylonian conquest is attested in its latest stage, which condemns Babylon to Yahweh’s punishment (vv. 4, 22–23). But that condemnation is not counterpoised to Sennacherib’s attack earlier. We must, therefore, focus on Isa 36–39 for the tension at issue. Here, the key passage is Hezekiah’s long hymn of thanks to Yahweh for curing his illness (38:9–20) – a passage, as noted, that is not in the largely identical narrative of Hezekiah in 2 Kgs 18–20. What this hymn provides is a more favorable picture of Hezekiah than in the 2 Kings narrative. In the latter, Hezekiah does not thank Yahweh for the cure; rather, he reacts somewhat testily to the sign that, according to Isaiah, Yahweh will give the king for the cure (2 Kgs 20:10). In the Isaianic version, however, this testy reaction is missing and replaced by Hezekiah’s long hymn of thanks. Apparently, we have in Isaiah a reaction to the 2 Kings version. And yet, the Isaiah book does not close the matter at that point. For in an exact duplicate of 2 Kgs 20:12–19, Isa 39 follows the episode of the illness with the episode of Hezekiah’s negotiation with the Babylonian Merodach-baladan. And just as in 2 Kings, the Isaiah text depicts the negotiation as leading to Yahweh’s wrath 58 An older, but still substantial and important study of this chapter is in the commentary of Hans Wildberger, Jesaja 13–17, BKAT 10.2 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1978), 531–64.

210

Peter Machinist

and his promise that the next encounter with Babylon will be the conquest/exile, to which, again, Hezekiah responds insolently: at least this won’t happen in my lifetime. In other words, the threat of the future Babylonian conquest/exile is not avoided or resolved by Hezekiah in Isaiah just as it is not in 2 Kings, even though the Isaianic version has tried to diminish Hezekiah’s share in this. More of that diminishment, as we have seen, occurs in 2 Chr 32, where the negotiation episode is drastically reduced – Merodach-baladan is not named – and Hezekiah is depicted more directly as “humbling himself” in apology for not having thanked Yahweh for curing him. Nonetheless, even the Chronicler, it must be repeated, cannot fully eliminate the shadow of the future Babylonian conquest/ exile and Hezekiah’s share in it. If, therefore, the Hezekiah narrative in 2 Kings, Isaiah, and 2 Chronicles sets up the historiographic tension between Sennacherib and Babylonia toward Jerusalem and Judah, is that tension carried through other texts in the Isaianic prophetic tradition on the seventh–early sixth century, as it is in the three books above? At first glance, this appears to be problematic. In Nahum, there is no hint of the Babylonian conquest/exile of Jerusalem and Judah to juxtapose with its concern for the conquest of Assyria and its capital at Nineveh – not even a mention of Babylonia altogether, though it played, historically, a major role in the fall of Nineveh. And Zephaniah’s focus also on Nineveh, in 2:13–15, does not mention Babylonia either. But this is not the whole picture. For Nahum is paired in the Minor Prophets with Habakkuk, which in all the extant texts of the Minor Prophets follows Nahum. Indeed, the two books, structurally, are mirror images of each other, and this arrangement is enhanced by a variety of echoes between them in language, imagery, and ideas.59 The most important of these shared ideas is implicit, namely, that the Yahweh who destroyed Nineveh and the Assyrian Empire, as detailed in Nahum, is the one who is now controlling the Neo-Babylonian empire and its murderous campaigns against all nations, including Judah. For Habakkuk, the Babylonians – or Chaldeans, as he calls them after the name of their ruling dynasty – are at the height of their power, indicating that the text must be dated before the fall of the Neo-Babylonian empire to the Achaemenid Persians under Cyrus II in 538 BCE. In other words, it is not yet clear to Habakkuk that the empire can be stopped, and yet, after desperate pleas to Yahweh, he declares his faith in him to stop it (2:6–19). This is where the juxtaposition with Nahum becomes critical. For just as Yahweh brought Assyria to its fall, so, we must understand, he will do the same to Assyria’s imperial successor, Neo-Babylonia. In other words, as Nahum records the fulfillment of Yahweh’s prophecy against Assyria proclaimed in Isaiah, so Habakkuk, we must understand, is convinced that this fulfillment will be extended to Neo-Babylonia. The transference from Isaiah to Nahum to Habakkuk is enhanced by a transference of a variety of 59 See

Machinist, “Assyria and Its Image,” 736–37; and idem, “Nahum as Prophet,” 128–29.

Manasseh of Judah

211

features of language and imagery. Two examples from Nahum and Isaiah have been noted above, dealing with the Assyrian army. Examples from Nahum and Habakkuk include the description in Nahum of Nineveh as “a city of blood” (ʿîr dāmîm, 3:1), which Habakkuk then applies, it appears, to Babylon (ʿîr bǝ-dāmîm, 2:12).60 And for Habakkuk and Isaiah, one may point to a number of features, like the description of the Chaldeans marching in fierce and irresistible battle display (1:7–9; cf. Isa 5:26–29 discussed above) and plundering many nations (2:8; cf. Isa 10:7, 13), or to the statement in Habakkuk about the hubris of the Chaldean: “guilty is this one, whose might (kōaḥ) is (or: belongs to) his god” (1:11), which seems to echo Isa 10:13, where the king of Assyria boasts, also hubristically, about his conquests: “By the might (kōaḥ) of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom, for I am discerning.” In the transference from Isaiah to Nahum to Habakkuk, it must be noted, the focus is on the intertwined fate of the imperial powers of Assyria and Babylonia. In Nahum and Habakkuk, in fact, there is no explicit discussion, as there is in Isaiah and the historical books of 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, of the guilty behavior of Israel and Judah that made Yahweh bring on them the oppressive might of Assyria and Babylonia. The contemporary prophet Zephaniah, to be sure, does allude at the end to a future return from Babylonian exile (3:20), but he does not link this to his earlier description of the conquest and destruction of Nineveh (2:13–15), nor frame it all in terms of the guilt of Israel and Judah. Nonetheless, that guilty behavior was doubtless not far from view. Other contemporary prophets, especially Jeremiah and Ezekiel, are full of it: Jeremiah explicitly singling out the sins of Manasseh as responsible for the Babylonian conquest/exile (15:3–4) and linking Assyria and Babylonia as agents of destruction on Israel and Judah: “A scattered sheep is Israel; lions have driven (it) away. The king of Assyria ate it first; at the end this one, Nebuchadrezzar, king of Babylonia, crushed its bones” (Jer 50:17–18).

I. The Problem of Jonah In our discussion of the Isaianic prophetic tradition, we have left out one other prophetic book, which must now be confronted, Jonah. But bringing this book into the tradition is beset with difficulties. As all interpreters have observed, Jonah is the only other book in the Hebrew Bible besides Nahum that fully concentrates not only on Assyria, but more specifically, on Nineveh. Like Nahum – and the relevant portion of Zephaniah, too – it begins with Nineveh as a city whose evil behavior is worthy of Yahweh’s punishment by destruction, and with Jonah as the one commanded by Yahweh to go to Nineveh to announce, in the 60 Machinist,

“Nahum as Prophet,” 128.

212

Peter Machinist

spirit of Nahum and Zephaniah, this punishment. The evil behavior, however, is mentioned in just a couple of phrases and not explained (Jon 1:2; 3:10), and what really is the focus is something diametrically opposed to the orientation of Nahum and of Zephaniah. For Jonah at first runs not to Nineveh, but away from it, and when forced by Yahweh to go to the city and announce its punishment, he witnesses, to his consternation, the mass repentance of the Ninevites and, for him worse, Yahweh’s acceptance of their repentance. The contrast here with what might have been expected from Nahum and Zephaniah is made explicit by the quotation in Jonah from the same confessional statement about the nature of Yahweh that is in Nahum. But whereas Nahum quotes, with modification, only the first part, which marks Yahweh as one who punishes his foes (1:2–3), Jonah quotes only the second part, which marks Yahweh as patient and merciful (4:3b); each quotation thus epitomizes the attitude toward Assyria of its respective book.61 That contrast in attitude is drawn out by their final verses, both ending in a question. But whereas Nahum’s question (3:19) is designed to express joy over the defeat and destruction of the hated Assyrian enemy, Jonah’s question (4:11) marks the second chance that Yahweh has given to the Assyrians because they have repented. We have, in sum, clearly two contrasting attitudes toward Nineveh and Assyria. But how do we understand the relationship between these two books?62 Does the book of Jonah precede that of Nahum, which is then a corrective of it, as classical biblical commentary on the two books and the canonical placement of Jonah before Nahum suggest? In this understanding, Assyria, at first forgiven by Yahweh because of its repentance (so Jonah), could not permanently change, and reverted to its evil ways, bringing Yahweh’s final punishment (so Nahum).63 Or is the sequence the reverse, namely, that Jonah is a later book than Nahum and corrects it as fundamentally mistaken about the evil of Assyria, its argument being that the evil was not permanent and so could be and was negated by repentance? Faced with these alternative views of Nahum and Jonah, the least we can say is that in the present Tiberian Masoretic forms of the two books, they cannot be independent compositions. Rather, the similarities between them in theme, 61 This comparison has been observed by many commentators; it is based on the relationship of the Jonah and Nahum confessions to the fuller form, which appears in Exod 34:6–7. 62 For a preliminary, and partial, effort to address this relationship, see Machinist, “Nahum as Prophet,” 123n65. 63 See, for example, the Targum to Jonah, as briefly rehearsed in Catherine L. Muldoon, In Defense of Divine Justice: An Intertextual Approach to the Book of Jonah, CBQMS 47 (Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2010), 26. The formulation in the targum and elsewhere in classical commentary is based on the proposition that the Jonah of the book was in historical fact the Jonah of the reign of Jeroboam II of the Northern Kingdom of Israel (2 Kgs 14:25), when Assyria was in a position of power, and thus long predated Nahum, who was understood to be a predictive prophet describing the Assyria that was imminently to collapse. On this dating of Nahum, which is not mine, see n64 below.

Manasseh of Judah

213

structure, language, and imagery, briefly reviewed above, all suggest that they are intended as specific reactions to each other. Moreover, these similarities in detail appear to mark both of them as post–Assyrian Empire compositions, but they do not allow a clear solution as to which came first.64 But there is a third option. For if our two books are reactions to each other and in their present form were composed after the fall of the Assyrian Empire and the arrival of the Neo-Babylonian as its imperial successor, could it be that the books were not successive compositions, but roughly contemporary, or at least based on traditions that were roughly contemporary: parallel meditations, somehow aware of each other, on the continued potency of Assyria as a historiographic symbol? The Nahum meditation would have viewed Assyria as a model for all future empires intent on oppressing their subjects and neighbors and the ultimate destruction of such empires, of which Neo-Babylonia would have been the first and most immediate example – an example thus reflected in the eventual pairing of Nahum with the book of Habakkuk. The Jonah meditation, on the other hand, while admitting the oppressiveness of Assyria, would have sought to focus on the character of Yahweh, whose ultimate power over Assyria, and the cosmos altogether, Jonah, like Nahum, accepted as the fundamental premise. In this second perspective, the Jonah book would have functioned as a kind of counterfactual historiography: what if this awful Assyria, epitomized by its capital of Nineveh, had responded to Yahweh’s announcement of punishment by repenting of its awfulness – what would Yahweh have done? He would, asserts the Jonah book (not the prophet Jonah!), have responded in kind with forgiveness, and this should not be seen as a lessening or muddying of Yahweh’s absolute power, justice, and majesty. In other words, the author of Jonah would have picked deliberately the most extreme, the most unlikely case of the doctrine of individual reward, punishment, and repentance, in order to demonstrate that the doctrine still operated in the case of Yahweh. And if this Jonah author is 64  The dates for the books of Nahum and Jonah do not enjoy complete agreement among modern scholars. There are some who still argue for a preexilic setting for Jonah, particularly, as noted in n63 above, in the eighth century BCE connected with the Jonah of Jeroboam II, and there are even more who understand Nahum as a genuine predictive prophecy of Assyria’s fall, put forward in the decades of the seventh century BCE before the fall. But while there may be elements in both books that have their origin in these earlier datings, strong arguments can be made for placing the books themselves in the post-Assyrian period, when the Neo-Babylonian empire took over the Assyrian legacy. See for Nahum, Machinist, “Nahum as Prophet,” especially 202–7; and for Jonah, George M. Landes, “Linguistic Criteria and the Dating of the Book of Jonah,” ErIsr 16 (1982): 147*–170*; Jack M. Sasson, Jonah, AB 24B (New York: Doubleday, 1990), 20–28; and most recently and especially, Muldoon, In Defense, 31–63. If these later dates are accepted, it may be possible to suggest that Jonah is to be placed later than Nahum: Nahum closer to the fall of Nineveh, whose fall it celebrates in the form of a stylized report, and Jonah in the later Neo-Babylonian period, during the Babylonian exile of the Judahites, or even afterward, in the postexilic Achaemenid Persian period. But this arrangement is most uncertain, and so cannot provide a real basis for saying that Jonah is a later reaction to Nahum.

214

Peter Machinist

understood to be alive in and/or shortly after the period of the Babylonian exile of the Judahites/Jews, then we can understand him, as we can equally understand Nahum as attached to Habakkuk in roughly the same period, as speaking to the challenge of that exile. For whereas Nahum/Habakkuk would be looking forward to the destruction of Babylonia, “the evil empire,” Jonah would be looking at the capacity of the Judahites to reform their disobedient ways, which, as our other texts indicate, got them into exile in the first place. Jonah, thus, would be a challenge not simply to the depiction and significance of Assyria in Nahum, but to the whole Isaianic prophetic tradition on Assyria of which Nahum is a part. The key point of the challenge, to repeat, is the repentance and divine forgiveness credited to Assyria, which the Isaianic tradition denies. And yet it is precisely this repentance that at the same time brings Jonah into conversation with the biblical historical books on Manasseh and his dynasty, specifically 2 Chr 33–35. Yet while 2 Chronicles applies repentance and forgiveness to a Judahite, Manasseh, Jonah, in what appears as a deliberate reversal of this orientation, applies it to one of the foremost of Judah’s outsiders and foes, Assyria. This issue, we need to remind ourselves, was not restricted to these biblical books, prophetic and historical. It appears in a number of other biblical texts that also deal with the end of the seventh and first part of the sixth centuries BCE. The most striking of these are also prophetic, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, particularly Jer 31 and Ezek 18, which, even more than in 2 Chronicles, lay out the case for repentance and the larger issue of the operation of divine justice in the context of Assyria’s imperial successor, Neo-Babylonia. More specifically, these chapters attack the kind of transgenerational scheme of divine punishment which so exercised the source of 2 Chronicles, namely, 2 Kings, especially chapters 21 and 23, for it asserts that Yahweh does not punish people for what their fathers or sons – their predecessors or successors – might do, but only for what individuals themselves do, and that Yahweh is always responsive positively to repentance, which can override past behavior. We have, thus, a major theological-historiographic conversation – or better, debate – in which, it can now be seen, Jonah forms an intimate part: a debate energized by and finally grounded in how to make sense of and endure the actions of Neo-Babylonia, when it carved up, conquered, and exiled significant portions of Judah in the decades of the first half of the sixth century BCE, following Assyria’s collapse.

J. The Division between Historiographic Traditions We return to the division between the biblical historical books and those of the Isaianic prophetic tradition, as these concern the seventh–early sixth century. How can we explain this division? This question has already been broached in our earlier discussions, with two reasons suggested. But we need to expand on what

Manasseh of Judah

215

was said. The first reason is that the two groups were put together and placed in canonical relationship as two parallel depictions/reflections on the period of the seventh–early sixth centuries BCE: the historical books giving chronological narratives of the period, focused on the native kings; the Isaianic – indeed, the whole collection of preexilic prophetic books – providing the theologico-political reactions of the prophets to the events, ideas, and institutions of the period, but only occasionally to its individual persons. On this view, then, the two groups of texts were meant to be read together, each filling in what the other for the most part lacked. A second reason for the division of our two groups, as we have seen, may involve Assyrian history: that by the latter seventh century BCE, Assyria was no longer much, if any, of an interference in the activities of Judah, and so the historical books found Assyria of no real concern for their narrative history of Judah. Nahum, however, was concerned with, indeed obsessed and overwhelmed with Assyria, because its fate at the end of the seventh century was seen as proof of Yahweh’s sovereignty and power as preached and prophesied by the First Isaiah at the century’s beginning. And while a denunciation of Assyria appears also in Nahum’s approximate contemporary, Zephaniah, there it takes its place as simply one among many polities that Yahweh denounces and will punish or is punishing for their behavior – Jerusalem and its ruling classes of officials, prophets, and priests, its neighbor polities, even apocalyptically, the whole world – all before Yahweh will reform the world and return and restore Israel to the center of it. In this range of punishable groups, of course, Zephaniah could have mentioned Manasseh, but he does not do so nor name any other specific ruler; apparently his intent is broader: to indict whole classes, polities, and peoples. There is more than a little reasonability in these two explanations for the division between our historical books and the Isaianic prophetic corpus. Yet the explanations need qualification. In the first place, we should recall several exceptions which crisscross the division. So for Assyria in the historical books: the imprisonment by the Assyrian army of Manasseh in 2 Chr 33:11–13, and the reference to Assyria in its final history in 2 Kgs 23:29, which mentions the king of Assyria in connection with the mortal confrontation of Josiah with Pharaoh Necho. And for the Judahite kings in the prophetic corpus: the mention of Josiah in the prophetic book of Zephaniah (1:1), and the mention of Manasseh in the prophetic book of Jeremiah (15:3–4), which proclaims his role as the central cause of the Babylonian conquest/exile. None of these exceptions, however, seriously undermines the division that we have observed. Assyria in the Manasseh episode in 2 Chronicles is not, as we have seen, the focus of that episode, which concentrates on Yahweh and Manasseh. Assyria with Necho and Josiah is just a brief aside with no assigned narrative significance, and, in fact, is missing in the 2 Chronicles version (35:20–24). And Josiah’s mention in Zephaniah comes in the introductory rubric, likely a later addition to the rest of the book, which otherwise makes no reference to him or any other Judahite king. As for

216

Peter Machinist

the observation about Manasseh in Jeremiah, however, this is important, and it joins other references, sometimes not brief, in Jeremiah to the last Judahite kings, during whose reigns this prophet lived: Josiah, Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin/(Je) coniah, and Zedekiah. But Jeremiah does not belong to the Isaianic prophetic tradition on Assyria that we have been discussing, because it is not really focused on Assyria,65 and because its references to Judahite kings, especially to Manasseh, combine with other features in the book to point toward a connection with 2 Kings and other books of the Deuteronomistic History along with Deuteronomy. The only significant exception to the division we have been examining is the book of Jonah. As a prophetic book that centers on and at first denounces Assyria, it belongs with the Isaianic group, but in its focus on repentance and divine forgiveness, as we have seen, it echoes, though in reverse, the historical books of Chronicles. But there is still an issue with Manasseh, who, after all, is our focus. Is his explicit absence from the Isaianic tradition to be explained only as a function of the canonical paralleling of the prophetic and historical books? Or is there something more at work? The Isaianic prophetic tradition clearly must have existed during Manasseh’s reign, since the extant books in this tradition appear to contain dated materials that echo each other on both sides of that reign: thus, for example, the poem of Isa 10:5–15 before Manasseh and the bulk of Nahum after him. As such, at least some of the First Isaiah must have been transmitted through the seventh century, including Manasseh’s reign, to be responded to, as we have seen, by Nahum and, by extension, Habakkuk. And that transmission of the First Isaiah is evidenced by the later additions to the original prophet, like 10:16–19, as noted above. Nonetheless, no prophet, anonymous or named, nor prophetic book, or part of a book, known to us can be dated to the Manasseh period. Have we just overlooked such a reference in the Hebrew Bible, or, if not, is it an accident that it is not there? Or, rather, is the absence of a reference to a prophet(s) or text from the Manasseh period in the biblical prophetic corpus quite deliberate? For the last possibility, more than a few scholars have pointed to the statement in 2 Kgs 21:16, repeated in 24:4, that “Manasseh shed a great deal of innocent blood until he had filled Jerusalem from one end to the other” (literally: “mouth to mouth”). And they have argued that this bloodbath was directed against Manasseh’s enemies, particularly various prophets, pointing to a group of later, post–Hebrew Bible texts that include Isaiah among the victims.66 If, as 65 Pace the reference in Jer 50:17–18 above in the main text, which links the oppression of Assyria to that of Babylonia, Jeremiah contains no extended treatment of the character and history of Assyria comparable to what is found in First Isaiah, Nahum, and even Zephaniah. 66 E. g., John Gray, I & II Kings, 2nd ed., OTL (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1970), 709. The post–Hebrew Bible texts include Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 10.38 (Ralph Marcus, Josephus: Jewish Antiquities, vol. 6, LCL [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1937], 178–79 and n. e); the pseudepigraphical Ascension/Martyrdom of Isaiah (M. A. Knibb, “Martyrdom and Ascension of Isaiah,” in Charlesworth, Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 2:143–76);

Manasseh of Judah

217

we have discussed, Manasseh largely remained a dutiful Assyrian vassal, could he not have been at odds with the anti-Assyrian trend in the Isaianic prophetic tradition? And if Manasseh reacted with a bloodbath that included prophets, then perhaps it was at least partly successful since no full prophetic text against Manasseh has survived.67 On the other hand, there are scholars who have rejected the statement in 2 Kings and its elaboration in Josephus and the Martyrdom of Isaiah as unhistorical.68 And one can well ask: if Manasseh had targeted the Isaianic protagonists in his bloody pogrom, would not this have emerged somewhere in the Isaianic books that have survived, so in the additions to First Isaiah, or Nahum, or Zephaniah? In the end, then, we cannot account for the absence of Manasseh in the Isaianic prophetic tradition.

K. Conclusion If we may summarize: the Hebrew Bible furnishes us two major historiographic traditions reflecting on the period of the seventh and first half of the sixth century BCE: one of historical narrative in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, and one of the Isaianic prophetic tradition, of First Isaiah, Nahum, and Zephaniah, with Jonah a counter and mediator. Mixed in also are several other prophetic books, especially Jeremiah and Ezekiel, which enter toward the end of the period, treating in particular the issue of repentance and divine justice. The focus of all these and various rabbinic sources briefly reviewed in Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2003), 2:1057–58n103, and in Richard Kalmin, Migrating Tales: The Talmud’s Narratives and Their Historical Context (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014), ch. 1, “‘Manasseh Sawed Isaiah with a Saw of Wood’: An Ancient Legend in Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Persian Sources.” Cf. also, with Marcus, loc. cit., and others, the New Testament Letter to the Hebrews 11:37, which mentions the persecutions of the prophets, though without specifying who these were nor attributing the persecutions to Manasseh or any other particular ruler. All of these sources are reviewed by Louis H. Feldman, Studies in Josephus’ Rewritten Bible, JSJSup 58 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 416–23, who shows that rabbinic literature portrayed not only the negative sides of Manasseh, but also what it regarded as his positive acts, including his repentance. 67 Gray, I & II Kings, 709; and Klein, 2 Chronicles, 473n1. A list of scholars interpreting the persecution as targeting prophets is given by E. Eynikel, “The Portrait of Manasseh and the Deuteronomic History,” in Deuteronomy and Deuteronomic Literature: Festschrift C. H. W.  Brekelmans, ed. M. Vervenne and J. Lust, BETL 133 (Leuven: Leuven University Press / Uitgeverij Peeters, 1997), 240n20. 68 Various commentators are not wholly dismissive of a historical background to this persecution, but interpret the phrase “shed innocent blood” not literally, but as referring to the oppression of the poor and socially at risk, on the basis of other biblical occurrences, as in Jer 7:6; 22:3, 17; Ezek 22:6–16, 25–31. See, e. g., Smelik, “Portrayal,” 151–53; Volkmar Fritz, 1 & 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 392; and Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 269, who seem to be noncommittal about historicity. Eynikel is open to a possible interpretation of the phrase as a reference to oppression, but remains uncertain because for him the description in 21:16 is “very vague” “Portrait of Manasseh,” 240–41.

218

Peter Machinist

texts is Judah and how to account for the vicissitudes of its seventh–early sixth century history – a history, they all agree, that is ultimately the work of the deity Yahweh. While Yahweh is the ultimate cause, the proximate historical one – the human force that Yahweh is understood to use in this history – is finally NeoBabylonia and its conquest/exile of Judah. The focus on Babylonia, as we have observed, is traced backward in these texts, or in their juxtaposition with other texts in the biblical canon, to their discussion of Hezekiah, who is located at the beginning of the seventh century, providing the strongest indication that the present forms of these texts and their canonical sequence is the work of a period no earlier than the sixth-century Babylonian conquest/exile, and, perhaps in some cases, even the post-exile. But if the Babylonian conquest/exile is the underlying thread of our texts, Assyria is a different matter. Except for the HezekiahSennacherib episode, which is in both of the historiographic traditions, Assyria is present throughout the Isaianic prophetic stream, but very marginal, indeed almost completely absent, in the historical books covering the same period. The latter, as we have seen, have rather a focus on the Judahite kings subsequent to Hezekiah, namely, Manasseh, Amon, and Josiah (and, then, for the end of Judah, on Jehoiakim, Jehoiachin/[Je]coniah, and Zedekiah). Most important here is the matter of historical causation: Manasseh functions as the central figure in the historical books of the Deuteronomistic 2 Kings and of 2 Chronicles for understanding the sweep of the seventh century until its denouement in the Babylonian conquest/exile of the early sixth. But in the Isaianic prophetic tradition, the place of Manasseh and his successors is taken by Assyria: for the Isaianic it is the dominant historical force of the seventh century BCE, and overcoming that force is the dominant development of that century. We may imagine, then, the relationship between our two historiographic traditions visually in the shape of a reflux condenser, a glass container used especially in scientific laboratories, the cylinder of which is narrow and open at the top and the bottom and bulges in the middle. In the open narrow section at the top, then, the two traditions are closely juxtaposed, focused on the topic of Hezekiah and the Sennacherib invasion of Judah. The middle of the condenser, however, bulges out with the prophetic tradition on one side, concerned with the external problem of Assyria as the imperial behemoth, while on the other side the historical narratives look internally at the behavior of the Judahite kings, principally, at Manasseh and Josiah, the latter in his ultimately unsuccessful effort to deal with Manasseh’s legacy. Yet the traditions on both sides are part of the same middle bulge, and linking them are various points of contact, especially the book of Jonah, which, in inverting the prophetic denunciation of Assyria, echoes, even as it also inverts, the repentance and forgiveness in the historical book of 2 Chronicles. That is, as 2 Chronicles has Manasseh repent on his arrest by Assyria, so Jonah has Assyria itself repent on being threatened by Yahweh through Jonah. Finally, in the open narrow section at the bottom of the glass condenser, our two

Manasseh of Judah

219

traditions, prophetic and historical narrative, come together again, in their focus on the Babylonian conquest/exile and how to explain it as the consequence of the actions depicted in the top narrow and middle bulge of the condenser, namely, of Hezekiah and Sennacherib, and of Assyria, Manasseh, and Josiah, respectively. In discussing these two historiographic traditions and the books they comprise, we have largely focused on the content they offer concerning the line of Judahite kings, Assyria, and Babylonia. In other words, we have placed the books in relationship to each other, with the reflux condenser as the image, on the basis of their content and how the biblical authors have organized that content chronologically, not so much on the basis of the putative dates of their composition. But in the course of our discussion, such dates have been invoked. Let us now take a more direct look at this. Three points are notable. The first, as we have discussed, is that the content of our historical and prophetic texts does reflect the history of the seventh and early sixth centuries BCE. In the nonbiblical sources, this is the period of the major empires of Assyria and then Babylonia, its successor, and the same is well illustrated in our biblical texts. More particularly, as we have seen, Hezekiah and Manasseh are kings who are attested in nonbiblical, Assyrian texts, in the same chronological space as the biblical genealogies would place them, namely, at the beginning and roughly the middle of the seventh century, respectively; and while Amon and Josiah are not yet so attested, Josiah can be correlated with the activities of Pharaoh Necho II toward the end of the seventh century, whom the biblical accounts make responsible for Josiah’s death. These contacts suggest that even when the biblical texts containing them may date in composition after them and the events they record, the texts can still be reckoned as based on or connected with a background in the actual history of the seventh century. The second point about dates is that the actual composition of some of the biblical texts at issue can, with more than a little probability, be fixed within the seventh–early sixth century scene. Two examples that we have considered are the poem of Isa 10:5–15 and the book of Nahum. The poem can reasonably be dated, we may recall, around the time of the Sennacherib invasion and attack on Jerusalem in 701 BCE, which attack it mentions as being in the future or currently underway. This dating fits with the poem’s use of images, language, and overall structure from the tradition of Assyrian royal inscriptions.69 As for the book of Nahum, it represents, as we have seen, a report on the fall of Nineveh, a report announced in the text itself with its reference to the arrival of the messenger who brings the report to Judah (2:1).70 Nahum, to be sure, can be highly, even hyperbolically stylized, but within it are details of language and description 69 See

Machinist, “Ah, Assyria,” 202–7. that the messenger is said to arrive and be seen “on the mountains,” which should be the mountainous heights of Jerusalem. 70 Note

220

Peter Machinist

that argue for a familiarity with the fall of Nineveh befitting a text that should not date too long after this fall in 612 BCE.71 Of course, our biblical texts, as a third point, also contain an appreciable amount of material that postdates the events and persons they depict. So, as we have noted, following Isa 10:5–15 are the verses 16–19, which appear to be a later variant on the divine punishment Assyria will face in the future, though exactly how much later is not clear. And the book of Jonah, particularly, but not only, from a linguistic point of view, ought to be dated at some point during the Babylonian exile or later, not during the period of Assyrian imperial rule to which it refers.72 Most important for the dating of our biblical texts is, indeed, this Babylonian conquest/exile of Judah, which, as the Hebrew Bible and the Babylonian sources indicate, proceeded through three stages: the exiles of 598, 586, and 582 BCE. Since this conquest/exile functions as a kind of end point for the historical progression put forward by our texts, both the historical books and the Isaianic prophetic line – even where, as in Nahum and Jonah, Babylonia and its conquest/exile are not explicit – it is plausible to conclude that our texts in the forms that mention or presume the conquest/exile must be dated to that period or perhaps later; recall, as one example, vv. 10–15 of 2 Kgs 21. This conclusion is obviously not in conflict with the possibility that earlier forms or parts of our biblical texts, as discussed above, could predate the conquest/exile. Indeed, it must be admitted that the earlier and latter material in a given text can sometimes be so skillfully interwoven that it is not always easy to differentiate them.73 This discussion of the dates of our biblical texts has been admittedly brief, selective, and so incomplete. But it is sufficient, I hope, to help underscore that biblical historiography on the seventh and early sixth centuries BCE was a long, complex, diverse, but also coherent process. This historiography left a legacy in the work of such figures as Josephus and his Antiquities of the Jews, and in classical rabbinic and Christian biblical commentary. One point in the legacy may be mentioned, and it involves the fate of Assyria. The Hellenistic Jewish book of Tobit picks up the issue of this fate, and ties it to a story about the family of Tobit, captive exiles from northern Israel in Assyria who end up in the capital of Nineveh.74 In the last chapter, as Tobit lies dying, he blesses his family and urges them to flee Nineveh to the land of Media, because the fall of Nineveh and Assyria, indeed, a grand, divinely appointed upheaval on earth, is imminent. This will come, says Tobit, to fulfill a prophecy of old, and before he dies and 71 There may, however, be a few later additions, even as the text may draw on an earlier historical tradition. See Machinist, “Nahum as Prophet,” 106–10, 124–26. 72 See n64 above. 73 For an example within the poem of Isa 10:5–15, see Machinist, “Ah, Assyria,” 190–94, 203–7. My argument there is for an edition of the poem prior to the present form; the latter I would date to the period of Sennacherib’s 701 BCE campaign. 74 See, e. g., the commentaries of Carey A. Moore, Tobit, AB 40A (New York: Doubleday, 1996), and Joseph A. Fitzmyer, Tobit, CEJL (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003).

Manasseh of Judah

221

in the final lines of the chapter, Tobit hears that the prophecy has come true: that Nineveh has been destroyed at the hands of the Babylonian Nebuchadnezzar and the Median Ahasuerus (14:15). Now there are two main versions in Greek of the book of Tobit, and the prophecy to which Tobit refers is, in one version (G II: principally Sinaiticus), given by the biblical Nahum (14:4), but in the other version (G I: principally Alexandrinus and Vaticanus) by Jonah (14:4, 8). We have here, thus, the continuation of the two major biblical sources on Nineveh and its fate. Curiously, however, the fate of Nineveh, namely, its destruction, is the same in both versions: the version ascribed to Jonah does not speak additionally about the Ninevites’ repentance and God’s forgiveness. As a number of scholars have pointed out, this appears to echo what is found in Josephus’s brief mention of the prophet Jonah (Antiquities 9.214).75 For Josephus at this point, there is only Jonah’s arrival in Nineveh and proclamation against it, forecasting the end of Assyrian power in Asia, i. e., the end of the Neo-Assyrian Empire; after this proclamation, Josephus comments, Jonah left the city. As in Tobit, in both versions, Josephus has no mention of repentance nor the rescinding of Assyria’s fate, but as against Tobit he offers no notice that the end of Assyrian power and the destruction of Nineveh actually occurred. So while the statement in Josephus seems to intersect with that in Tobit, the two are not identical. Yet the divergence is not serious, perhaps just a matter of literary emphasis, since elsewhere in the same book of the Antiquities, Josephus, talking about Nahum, does affirm that Nahum’s prophecy for Nineveh’s destruction did come true (9.242; cf. also 10.30, 74). What is serious, however, is a larger point: that the negative biblical tradition about Nineveh seems to have become dominant in the postbiblical period, swamping the biblical Jonah’s emphasis on Ninevite repentance and forgiveness. As Muldoon aptly puts it: “these ancient interpreters seem to have viewed Nineveh in Jonah primarily through the prism of the city’s eventual fate.”76 It bears repeating that the emphasis throughout our discussion has been historiographic – what the biblical texts have to tell us about Manasseh, Hezekiah, and Josiah vis-à-vis Assyria and Babylonia in the seventh and early sixth centuries BCE – and not historical – how to reconstruct the actual history of Manasseh and his context in these centuries. But something historical has crept into our discussion from time to time: thus, the references to the Assyrian royal inscriptions of Sennacherib, which mention and date Hezekiah, as well as complement 2 Kings, Isaiah, 2 Chronicles, and other biblical texts about Sennacherib’s invasion of Judah in Hezekiah’s reign; and the references to inscriptions of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal, which mention and date Manasseh, and depict him 75 E. g.,

Muldoon, In Defense, 26–30. In Defense, 29. Muldoon’s is an excellent and balanced review of these ancient interpreters, particularly of the scholarship on the variation between Nahum and Jonah in the Tobit manuscripts: whether there is a textual intrusion here, whereby Jonah is substituted for an original Nahum, or the reverse; or some other solution. 76 Muldoon,

222

Peter Machinist

within the Assyrian imperial fold, as does 2 Chr 33:11–13. These references point to larger issues in the biblical sources that the extrabiblical historical sources can illustrate and clarify. In the case of Manasseh, the issues have proved to be especially acute. Here the extrabiblical Assyrian references and the archaeology of Judah in the seventh century tell us at least three things. The first come from the Assyrian references. These make clear that Manasseh was a loyal Assyrian vassal in the middle decades of the seventh century, joining a group or coalition of other western vassals, and perhaps even standing near their forefront,77 to provide Esarhaddon with construction material for the capital Nineveh, ca. 676–673 BCE, and later, ca. 668/667 BCE, to assist Ashurbanipal in his first campaign against Middle and Lower Egypt.78 Second, the devastation of Judah resulting from Sennacherib’s invasion was severe, particularly so in the southwestern and western part of the country, the so-called Shephelah, parts of which the Assyrians assigned to other, coastal subject states. This Shephelah devastation, from the material evidence, appears to have continued through some significant part of the first half of the seventh century, though there may have been a revival in some parts of it. But third, there is evidence, following Sennacherib’s invasion, of a real revival or new establishment of settlement in central Judah (the Judahite highlands) including Jerusalem, northern Judah, and the Negev; and this would include the arrival of material goods from south and southeast of Judah – the Negev, Jordan, and ultimately Arabia. To be sure, it is not fully certain where in the seventh century this revival/new establishment can be placed, particularly because the exact dating of the relevant ceramic material is still under scrutiny. But the increase in the number of seventh-century sites under archaeological excavation, together with a consideration of the varieties of lmlk stamp seals found, gives promise of an eventual refinement of the ceramic chronology. In any case, it seems likely that the revival / new establishment could at least have begun during the long reign of Manasseh, when no new devastation of Judah comparable to Sennacherib’s seems to be attested.79 77 Cogan,

Raging Torrent, 161. nn6–8 above. 79 The second and third data groups mentioned – the Sennacherib devastation and the revival/new establishment of settlements with the (re‑)emergence of trade – have been widely discussed, particularly by archaeologists, who are responsible in the first instance for the data. This discussion, in its bearing on Manasseh, seems to have been introduced by Israel Finkelstein, “The Archaeology of the Last Days of Manasseh,” in Scripture and Other Artifacts: Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Honor of Philip J. King, ed. Michael D. Coogan, J. Cheryl Exum, and Lawrence E. Stager, with Joseph A. Greene (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1994), 169–87, and, in more popular form, Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman, The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts (New York: Free Press, 2001), 259–74, 345–46, 370. Subsequent scholarship is exemplified by the following: Stavrakopoulou, King Manasseh, ch. 3; Israel Finkelstein and Nadav Na’aman, “The Judahite Shephelah in the Late 8th and Early 7th Centuries B. C. E.,” TA 31 (2004): 60– 79; Yifat Thareani-Sussely, “The ‘Archaeology of the Days of Manasseh’ Reconsidered in the 78 See

Manasseh of Judah

223

Putting these three data groups together has meant for many contemporary scholars a substantially new and positive picture of Manasseh and his reign.80 Manasseh is now seen as a king who, beginning with his father, Hezekiah, had to face the political and economic challenges of the devastation and partial loss of territory in the Shephelah and the continuing burden of taxation and military pressure from his Assyrian overlords, whose power had not diminished after Sennacherib’s invasion of Judah and the southern Levant. Indeed, that power signaled, as we have noted, a kind of Pax Assyriaca in the Near East for almost the first three-quarters of the seventh century. In this situation, according to the positive picture being painted, Manasseh’s aim was to repair Judah’s relationship to Assyria, which he did successfully, remaining a dutiful vassal throughout his reign, ready and able to respond to demands from his overlords. He also began a program of rebuilding in Judah and reorganizing the flow of trade through it, looking to routes and goods from the south and southeast to compensate for the problem of the Shephelah. This picture of Manasseh, as a kind of savior of Judah after the losses from Sennacherib’s invasion, obviously stands at some remove from, and in more than a little opposition to, the picture of vilification, both of Manasseh and of Assyria, that we have observed in our two lines of biblical historiography, the historical books and the Isaianic prophetic texts. In this biblical picture, Manasseh is not a savior, but a destroyer of Judah’s relationship to its god, Yahweh: someone who turns back and eliminates the cultic reforms of his father, Hezekiah, reintroduces “pagan” polytheism, and persecutes those in opposition to him, all the while with Light of Evidence from the Beersheba Valley,” PEQ 139 (2007): 69–77; Avraham Faust, “Settlement and Demography in Seventh-Century Judah and the Extent and Intensity of Sennacherib’s Campaign,” PEQ 140 (2008): 168–94; Gunnar Lehmann, “Survival and Reconstruction of Judah in the Time of Manasseh,” in Disaster and Relief Management / Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung, ed. Angelika Berlejung, FAT 81 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 289–309; Yuval Gadot, “In the Valley of the King: Jerusalem’s Rural Hinterland in the 8th–4th Centuries BCE,” TA 42 (2015): 3–26; Avraham Faust, “The Southern Levant under the Neo-Assyrian Empire. A Comparative Perspective,” in Imperial Peripheries in the Neo-Assyrian Period, ed. Craig W. Tyson and Virginia R. Herrmann (Louisville: University Press of Colorado, 2018), 97–127, esp. 100–102; Faust, “Assyrian Century,” 20–55, especially 34–36. A recent, multiauthored study of the Iron II C ceramics of the southern Levant, which includes the seventh century BCE, has been edited by Seymour Gitin, The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Iron Age through the Hellenistic Period, 2 vols. (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, Israel Antiquities Authority, and American Schools of Oriental Research, 2015); see especially Gitin’s ch. 3.3, “Iron IIC: Judah,” 1:345–63. Also recent is a broad and detailed archaeological and historical review of seventh-century Judah by Dever, Beyond the Texts, 547–627. 80 E. g., Christian Frevel, Geschichte Israels, 2nd ed., Studienbücher Theologie 2 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2018), 301–4; Bernd U. Schipper, Geschichte Israels in der Antike, Wissen 2887 (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2018), 59–62. For an extensive and detailed appraisal of the biblical versus the historical (from nonbiblical evidence) Manasseh, and a sustained effort to locate the origin of the biblical portrayals within the historical arena, see Stavrakopoulou, King Manasseh, introduction and chs. 1–3.

224

Peter Machinist

Assyria as the vigilant and potentially menacing overlord. Manasseh’s policies and practices, in turn, are understood to pave the way for Yahweh’s eventual retribution in the Babylonian conquest/exile of the next, sixth, century. The question now is: Can these two portraits of Manasseh, extrabiblical and biblical, at all be reconciled? We could note, first, that they move on different planes: the extrabiblical looking at political, military, and economic issues from a human historical perspective; the biblical, especially at religious, in particular cultic, matters, sub specie aeternitatis. These two planes look as if they do not really intersect, but that does not have to mean they cancel each other out: they could simply represent two different and unconnected perspectives on Manasseh. Alternatively, we could say that they do intersect: that the biblical contains an implied negative judgment on the issues raised in the extrabiblical. More specifically, the judgment would argue that Manasseh’s aim to be a dutiful Assyrian vassal left him free to enforce a religious regime, probably with long-lived internal roots in Judah, that was more open about religious matters, not proscribing worship of Yahweh, but situating it within a pluralistic range of belief and practice – all opposed to a religion of stricter adherence to the exclusive sovereignty of Yahweh and to the forms of his worship that could pose, or at least accompany, challenges to Assyrian imperial control.81 Pursuing these policies and practices, Manasseh would have trampled on those who maintained the stricter religious adherence and so assailed his openness and allegiance to Assyria. And these opponents, in turn, would have included the groups from which the authors of our two biblical historiographic lines eventually emerged. Now if we were to accept this alternative view of the extrabiblical and biblical perspectives on Manasseh, we would have a reconciliation of sorts between them – a reconciliation that points, in other words, toward a reconstruction of the historical Manasseh and his reign. The central problem is, however, that we do not know anything about Manasseh’s religious policies and actions except for the biblical accounts of them in 2 Kings and 2 Chronicles, and there, as we have seen, they are meant to be juxtaposed with the countervailing reforms of Hezekiah, on the one side, and Josiah, on the other, which likewise have little to no support in extrabiblical evidence. What to do? Some scholars have virtually 81 What Neo-Assyrian policy was on religious practices in the empire, and whether there was such a policy that influenced or dictated at least some of Manasseh’s cultic actions – these have formed a controversial issue in scholarship for several decades. The principal contributions are John McKay, Religion in Judah under the Assyrians, 732–609 BC, SBT 26 (London: SCM, 1973); Mordechai Cogan, Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Judah, and Israel in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B. C. E., SBLMS 19 (Missoula, MT: Society of Biblical Literature, 1974); Cogan, “Judah under Assyrian Hegemony: A Re-examination of Imperialism and Religion,” JBL 112 (1993): 403–14; Hermann Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur in der Sargonidenzeit, FRLANT 129 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982); Steven W. Holloway, Aššur is King! Aššur is King! Religion in the Exercise of Power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, CHANE 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2002).

Manasseh of Judah

225

dismissed the accounts of all of these reforms and counter-reforms as an innerbiblical literary trope82 – they do, after all, closely resemble each other in content and language – designed by biblical authors writing (much) after the kings involved, who use the trope to explain and justify a known historical episode: the Babylonian conquest/exile of Judah. But that, it seems to me, goes much too far. While these accounts are certainly embroidered and heightened, literarily and theologically, to make the linkage to the Babylonian episode, there is too much in these accounts to dismiss them simply as biblical literary inventions. As literary inventions, they cannot really or fully explain why Manasseh in particular was singled out for such visceral vilification. Moreover, the accounts do have some specific ties to the extrabiblical evidence. For one thing, their very silence about the consequence of devastation wrought by the Sennacherib invasion on Judah suggests this is something that they are deliberately avoiding, perhaps because it might put Manasseh’s reign in a more nuanced perspective. Then there is the description in 2 Chr 33:14 of Manasseh’s building activities in Jerusalem and in the fortified cities outside, which has credible ties to the external archaeological evidence for the revival or new establishment of settlements mentioned above in central and northern Judah and the Negev.83 And in the same 2 Chronicles text, we cannot forget the account of Manasseh’s arrest by the Assyrian army and imprisonment in Babylon, then his repentance and release. The historiographic-theological elements of this account we have discussed, and the fact that these are strong has led more than a few scholars to dismiss the account as unhistorical. Others, however, have not been so negative, proposing, as we have briefly noted, that what is at play here fits Assyrian evidence: the arrest could well have come because Manasseh, despite his otherwise dutiful loyalty, could have been tempted to join one of the several anti-Assyrian revolts attested in the first half of the seventh century.84 Arguably the most likely is the four-year civil war that raged between Assyria 82 E. g., Francesca Stavrakopoulou, “The Blackballing of Manasseh,” in Good Kings and Bad Kings, ed. Lester L. Grabbe, LHBOTS 393 (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 248–63, esp. 256–59. Other advocates of dismissal are briefly noted by Levin, Chronicles, 376–77. 83 See n79 above and add Nadav Na’aman, “When and How Did Jerusalem Become a Great City? The Rise of Jerusalem as Judah’s Premier City in the Eighth–Seventh Centuries B. C. E.,” BASOR 347 (2007): 21–56; Innocent Himbaza, “Le mur de Manassé (2 Ch xxxiii 14) entre archéologues et théologiens,” VT 57 (2007): 283–94; Lynn Tatum, “Jerusalem in Conflict: The Evidence for the Seventh Century B. C. E. Religious Struggle over Jerusalem,” in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period, ed. Andrew G. Vaughn and Ann F. Killebrew, SBLSymS (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 291–306, especially 299–300, 304–5; Lynn Tatum, “King Manasseh and the Royal Fortress at Ḥorvat ‛Usa,” BA 54 (1991): 136–45. For the possible addition of the Siloam Tunnel to Manasseh’s construction projects, see Ernst Axel Knauf, “Hezekiah or Manasseh? A Reconsideration of the Siloam Tunnel and Inscription,” TA 28 (2001): 281–87. 84 A concise, but comprehensive review of those in favor and those opposed to the historicity of the arrest episode, noting several anti-Assyrian actions that could be possible settings for the arrest should it be judged historical, is presented by Klein, 2 Chronicles, 473–77 gone, “Role

226

Peter Machinist

under Ashurbanipal and its Babylonian protectorate, ruled by Ashurbanipal’s brother, Šamaš-šumu-ukin; the date of that civil war (652–648 BCE) would fall within Manasseh’s reign, however it may be computed from the biblical and other Assyrian sources. This war was, indeed, a very large and bloody business; and the statement in 2 Chr 33:11 that Manasseh was taken to the city of Babylon and imprisoned there – not to the Assyrian capital at Nineveh, as one might have expected from comparable events85 – could well be true, as several scholars have suggested, because the civil war was finally concluded at Babylon, the capital of Babylonia, where the victorious Assyrian army had, at least temporarily, its base.86 All of this is not an implausible scenario, but the point, to repeat, is that it does not exclude the historiographic perspective of 2 Chronicles that would understand Babylon bifocally: not only as the immediate place of punishment for Manasseh, but also as a prefiguration of the much later punishment of conquest/ exile brought by Babylonia upon Judah. At the least, we are entitled to say, the episode acknowledges the external Assyrian evidence about Manasseh as a vassal king in the Assyrian Empire. In sum, the biblical accounts of Manasseh’s reign do not appear to have arisen ex nihilo from their ancient authors, but exactly how they came to be formulated as they stand is a problem that we presently cannot resolve. That there is such a problem, however, and that it is essential for the understanding of both the Hebrew Bible and the history of ancient Israel cannot be denied, yet it is a problem that only comes into view when we look, first, as we have done here, at the biblical historiography in itself and then ask how it relates to the other evidence for ancient Israel and its history.

of Assyria,” 27–28 wants to see in the Natiz el-Kalb stele of Esarhaddon a possible reference to Manasseh’s participation in an anti-Assyrian plot, but the head is too fragmentary to rely on. 85 Thus, when the local Egyptian rulers Necho I and Šarru-lu-dari were captured by the Assyrians in Ashurbanipal’s campaign of 667/666 BCE, they were taken to Nineveh for judgment. There Šarru-lu-dari was consigned to permanent (?) prison, but Necho was “re-educated,” being made to swear a new loyalty oath to Assyria, and then returned to his rule in Egypt: see especially RINAP 5 1: Ashurbanipal 7 ii 19″–60″. This possible parallel to the episode of Manasseh’s arrest and release has been noted by many, e. g., Klein, 2 Chronicles, 476. 86 Most notably by Anson F. Rainey, “Manasseh, King of Judah, in the Whirlpool of the Seventh Century B. C. E.,” in Kinattūtu ša dārâti: Raphael Kutscher Memorial Volume, ed. Anson F. Rainey (Tel Aviv: Tel-Aviv University, Institute of Archaeology, 1993), 147–64, especially 160–61. Rainey proposes, in fact, that the correlation with Babylon in the civil war allows an exact date for the arrest and imprisonment of Manasseh: 648 BCE, which he takes as the precise year when Ashurbanipal was in Babylon at the conclusion of the war. This is possible, because Ashurbanipal’s inscriptions appear to suggest that he was in Babylon at the end of the civil war in 648, his sixth campaign (e. g., RINAP 5.1: Ashurbanipal 11 iv 53–76). But the account in 2 Chr 33:11–13 does not mention that the Assyrian king was present during or involved in Manasseh’s arrest and imprisonment in Babylon, which could, thus, have conceivably occurred later than the year of Babylon’s surrender.

Part 4

Singing the Lord’s Song in a Foreign Land (Neo-Babylonian Period)

The View from Mizpah: Tell en-Naṣbeh, Judah, the Sixth Century BCE, and the Formation of the Biblical Text* Jeffrey R. Zorn A. Introduction: How Empty was the “Empty Land”? The final Babylonian siege, capture, and destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BCE is well documented by various biblical passages (2 Kgs 24:18–25:21; Jer 39:1–10; 52:3–29; Ezek 33:21; 2 Chr 36:17–21). Archaeological evidence from Stratum 10 of Yigal Shiloh’s City of David excavations, and those by Nahman Avigad in the Jewish quarter and by Eilat and Benjamin Mazar north of the city of David, in the Ophel area, vividly illustrate the devastation inflicted.1 The same sort of devastation is found at many contemporaneous sites in Judah.2 In the aftermath of this destruction, Nebuchadnezzar installed Gedaliah the son of Ahikam, the son of Shaphan, at Mizpah of Benjamin as the Babylonian administrator of what was left of the kingdom of Judah (2 Kgs 25:22–26; Jer 40:5–41:18).3 After a short time (how long is uncertain, as little as a few months or perhaps a few years4), * I would like to thank the organizers of the conference at the Pontifical Biblical Institute, especially Peter Dubovský and Federico Giuntoli, for their invitation to participate in this conference and for all their kindness and assistance while I was in Rome and during the preparation of this manuscript. All illustrations, unless otherwise noted, are adapted from materials copyrighted by the Badè Museum of Biblical Archaeology of Pacific School of Religion and are used here by permission. 1 Examples include Yigal Shiloh, Excavations at the City of David I: 1978–1982, Qedem 19 (Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1984), 17–20; Nahman Avigad, Discovering Jerusalem (Jerusalem: Shikmona, 1980), 53–54; Eilat Mazar and Benjamin Mazar, Excavations in the South of the Temple Mount: The Ophel of Biblical Jerusalem, Qedem 29 (Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1989), 1–121. 2 Oded Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 210–37; Avraham Faust, Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period: The Archaeology of Desolation, SBLABSt 18 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012), 21– 32; Kirsi Valkama, “What Do Archaeological Remains Reveal of the Settlements in Judah during the Mid-Sixth Century BCE?,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and Its Historical Contexts, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, BZAW 404 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 39–59. 3 For a summary of the period, see J. Maxwell Miller and John H. Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah, 2nd ed. (Louisville: John Knox Westminster, 2006), 482–87. It is uncertain whether Gedaliah was appointed as a provincial governor or a non-Davidic vassal king, since the text does not give his title but only states that he was appointed. 4 Jack R. Lundbom, Jeremiah 37–52: A New Translation and Commentary, AB 21C (New York: Doubleday, 2004), 115; Rainer Albertz, Israel in Exile: The History and Literature of the

230

Jeffrey R. Zorn

Ishmael son of Nethaniah, a member of the Davidic family line, and a former royal official, assassinated Gedaliah and killed a large, but unspecified, number of members of his entourage (Jer 41:1–3). This was followed by the murder of seventy northern pilgrims (Jer 41:4–8). Ishmael then attempted to flee with the captives he had taken at Mizpah back to Baalis, the Ammonite king who had instigated the coup. After a skirmish, Ishmael and a few of his men abandoned their captives and fled back to the Ammonites (Jer 41:11–15). Subsequently, an unspecified number of Judeans – primarily, it seems, those from Mizpah who had been rescued from Ishmael (Jer 41:16–17) – fled to Egypt, taking the prophet Jeremiah with them (Jer 43:5–7). Note that in this latter passage, the number of those fleeing swells to become the entire population of Judah left by the Babylonians, as is also suggested by 2 Chr 36:20–21. They are portrayed, apparently, as fearing a Babylonian reprisal (Jer 41:18; 43:2–3), which indeed came in the form of a third deportation a few years later (Jer 52:30). After the departure for Egypt, the available sources fall silent on what took place in Judah before the conquest of the Babylonian empire by Cyrus in 539 BCE and the granting of permission to the Judean exiles to return home. The flight to Egypt by the group from Mizpah, and not the Babylonian deportations of 597 and 586 BCE, is really the true beginning of the biblical portrayal of an empty land, of a Judah denuded of almost all of its inhabitants.5 However, despite the efforts of historical narratives such as Jer 43:5–7 to depopulate Judah, this picture of a deserted land is clearly hyperbole.6 Even Jer 52:30 mentions a subsequent third deportation, albeit of a mere 745 individuals, so the land was clearly not completely empty following the self-imposed Egyptian exile after the assassination of Gedaliah. Possibly, the fiction of the empty land reflects an ideological struggle between the elites who returned from Babylonia, who had been dispossessed of their lands in Judah, and those elites who had remained in Judah and who had seized those same lands. The returning elites wanted their ancestral property back, while the elites who had remained were loath to give up those lands. The interests of the Babylonian returnees prevailed, and their portrayal of an empty land, as well as this portrayal’s silence about any activities in Judah during the exile, became the dominant narrative over time, while the interests and narratives of those who had remained in the land were suppressed. As a key location in the biblical narrative concerning events in Judah immediately following the Babylonian conquest, Mizpah is an ideal site for testing whether the land was truly “empty” during the period of Babylonian rule. Sixth Century B. C. E., trans. David Green, SBLStBL 3 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 94–95. 5 Hermann-Josef Stipp, “The Concept of the Empty Land in Jeremiah 37–43,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and Its Historical Contexts, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, BZAW 404 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 113, 121. 6 Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 120–21.

The View from Mizpah

231

Most scholars accept the identification of Tell en-Naṣbeh (hereafter TEN) with biblical Mizpah of Benjamin.7 TEN is a 3.2-hectare site, 12 kilometers north of Jerusalem, on the northern border of the tribe of Benjamin. It dominates the north–south road running along the spine of the central hill country. Because of its location it was developed into a major fortress town for the kingdom of Judah and equipped with a massive set of fortifications, including an inset-offset wall, towers, revetments, sections of a dry moat, and an inner-outer gate complex.8 TEN was excavated over five lengthy seasons between 1926 and 1935 by William F. Badè and a team from what is today Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, California. Approximately two-thirds of the site was excavated, much of it to bedrock, and so it provides a great deal of evidence for Iron Age Judean town and house planning. Badè died the year after the excavations concluded and the results were published in two volumes in 1947 by his seminary colleague, Chester C. McCown, and his chief recorder, Joseph C. Wampler.9 As all those who have wrestled with these publications know, this report is very problematic, in terms of both the presentation of the data and the conclusions advanced. Since about 1990 there has been a small renaissance of TEN studies as various scholars have worked to further elucidate the remains from this important site.10 Some scholars have argued that after Gedaliah’s murder Mizpah/TEN was virtually abandoned, Judah and Benjamin were almost completely devastated,  7 For

treatments of the identification of TEN with Mizpah up to the excavations at the site, see James Muilenburg, “The Literary Sources Bearing on the Question of Identification,” in Archaeological and Historical Results, vol. 1 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè, ed. Chester C. McCown (Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947), 23–44. See also James Muilenburg, “Mizpah of Benjamin,” ST 8 (1954–1955): 25–42. On the subsequent debate over whether TEN or Nebi Samwil is a more suitable candidate for Mizpah, see Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Mizpah, Mizpah Wherefore Art Thou Mizpah? Tell en-Naṣbeh, Nebi Samwil and the Identification of a Biblical Site,” BAR Web Extra (August 2008), https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/ daily/biblical-sites-places/biblical-archaeology-places/biblical-m​i​z​p​a​h​/.  8 Due to a lack of securely dated archaeological material, the massive fortification system at TEN has usually been dated to the early ninth century BCE based on the account in 1 Kgs 15:16–22, which credits King Asa of Judah with construction at the site. On the nature of the fortifications, see Jeffrey R. Zorn, “An Inner and Outer Gate Complex at Tell en-Naṣbeh,” BASOR 307 (1997): 53–66. For a proposal to redate the fortifications to the later ninth or early eighth century, see Israel Finkelstein, “The Great Wall of Tell en-Nasbeh (Mizpah), The First Fortifications in Judah, and 1 Kings 15:16–22,” VT 62 (2012): 14–28.  9 Chester C. McCown, Archaeological and Historical Results, vol. 1 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè (Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947); Joseph C. Wampler, The Pottery, vol. 2 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè (Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947). 10 See, for example, the contributions in Jeffrey R. Zorn and Aaron J. Brody, eds., “As for me, I will dwell at Mizpah …”: The Tell en-Nasbeh Excavations after 85 Years, Gorgias Studies in the Ancient Near East 9 (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2014).

232

Jeffrey R. Zorn

and the Babylonian experiment to at least partially rehabilitate or administer the area came to an end.11 But is this truly the case? After a brief survey of what can, and cannot, be known about the Babylonian period, this essay will demonstrate that not only does the biblical text suggest continued settlement at Mizpah, but also that there is both architectural and artifactual continuity in Stratum 2 at TEN spanning the period from the beginning of the sixth century until the end of the fifth century BCE. Finally, this essay will discuss the relationship between this continuity in settlement at TEN and the possible creation of significant parts of the biblical text at Mizpah during this same period.12

B. The Continued Occupation and Importance of Mizpah (Tell en-Naṣbeh) in the Babylonian and Persian Periods There are a few passages in 2 Kgs 25, and especially Jer 39–41, that provide various bits of information surrounding the Gedaliah administration, suggesting somewhat hopeful efforts to rebuild the shattered Judean society in an area under Babylonian control.13 After his appointment, Gedaliah established his capital at Mizpah (2 Kgs 25:23; Jer 40:5–6, 10) and surrounded himself with the personnel and trappings of a ruler. These included royal women,14 eunuchs, Babylonian 11 Faust, Judah, 223. See also his extensive footnote 18, beginning on page 223. Faust, in general, does not treat the entire assemblage of architectural and artifactual materials of Stratum 2, but only select aspects. He attempts to diminish the importance of the assemblage found in Building 110.01 near the two-chamber gate, which dates to the latter part of the fifth century (see further below) and thus provides key material for the terminal date for Stratum 2. He also ignores the ethnographic parallels that provide a convincing explanation for the presence of storage jars of the late Iron Age II in Building 125.01, also in Stratum 2. For the date of Building 125.01, see Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Tell en-Naṣbeh and the Problem of the Material Culture of the Sixth Century,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period, ed. Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 428. Faust also does not consider that a functional change in a settlement’s role should be reflected by a corresponding change in its form; in other words, that the small, cramped buildings of TEN Stratum 3 of the Iron Age II were totally unsuited for use as Gedaliah’s administrative center, and that rebuilding this small site to suit this purpose makes perfect sense. Conversely, he offers no explanation for the radical transformation from Stratum 3 to Stratum 2. Finally, he ignores all the other data that provide a good dating for Stratum 2 to the sixth and fifth centuries, some of which has been known for decades. Faust gives short shrift to Stratum 2 because to admit that TEN continued to function as an administrative center throughout this period would undermine key parts of his argument that the area of Benjamin was completely in ruins. Obviously, if there was a functioning administrative center at TEN, the area of Benjamin had not been utterly destroyed (see further below). 12 For the ceramic dating of Stratum 2, see Zorn, “Problem of the Material Culture,” 428. 13 Albertz, Israel in Exile, 91–92. It does not seem likely that the Babylonians left the area, even impoverished as it now was, without some ability to control and administer it. Anne Fitzpatrick-McKinley, Empire, Power, and Indigenous Elites: A Case Study of the Nehemiah Memoir, JSJSup 169 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 46. 14 “The king’s daughters” (Jer 41:10) were possibly Zedekiah’s daughters. While his sons were killed in his presence (2 Kgs 25:7), nothing is said about the fate of his daughters.

The View from Mizpah

233

and Judean soldiers (Jer 41:3, 10, 16; 43:6), and the prophet Jeremiah himself (Jer 39:14; 40:5; presumably also the scribe Baruch, Jer 40:6). He reached out to local military commanders who had not surrendered to the Babylonians and attempted to bring them into his regime, allowing them to retain control of the towns they had seized (Jer 40:7–10). He also encouraged those who had fled to neighboring lands to return home to Judah and bring in the late harvest (Jer 40:11–12). In fact, the meal at which Ishmael murdered Gedaliah (Jer 41:1–2) may have been the feast of Sukkot (which takes place in the seventh month; Lev 23:34, 39; Num 29:12; Deut 16:13), suggesting some effort to follow the agricultural/ religious feast calendar.15 If the pilgrims on their way to the “house of Yahweh” (Jer 41:4–8) were on their way to Jerusalem with their offerings of grain and incense, it seems that some ritual activity continued there in an ad hoc manner.16 The archaeological remains from TEN Stratum 2 (Fig. 1) represent the transformation of a rural agricultural town and border fortress into a minor administrative center.17 The old ring-road town of Stratum 3 was demolished, filled in, and built over with new buildings both larger and better constructed than those they replaced. Even part of the inner-outer gate complex, including the inner four-chamber gate itself, was torn down to make room for substantial new houses. The ceramic evidence for the date of these buildings is discussed further below. Remains linked to the Babylonian administration include ceramic bathtub-shaped coffins,18 a fragment of a bronze circlet with a Babylonian inscription,19 an ostracon with a Babylonian name written in Hebrew characters, a bronze beaker,20 and a few trilobate “Skythian” arrowheads. The M(W) 15 The timing of Ishmael’s visit suggests an association with the fall festival of Sukkot. Compare Lev 23:33–43 and Num 29:12–40 with Jer 40:12 and 41:1. Jill Middlemas, The Troubles of Templeless Judah, OTM (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 125–26. 16 Some argue that the pilgrims were on their way to a temple at Mizpah or Bethel. However, these pilgrims have shaved their beards, torn their clothes, and gashed their flesh. Apparently, they are mourning the destruction of the Jerusalem temple. It seems more plausible that they would carry out their mourning rituals at the site of the ruined temple itself, rather than at an otherwise unattested temple at Mizpah or at Bethel (see further below on the state of Bethel at this time). Martin Noth, “The Jerusalem Catastrophe of 587 B. C. and Its Significance for Israel,” in Laws in the Pentateuch and Other Studies, trans. D. R. Ap-Thomas (1966; repr., London: SCM, 1984), 264–65. 17 In general, the relevant data is presented in Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Mizpah: Newly Discovered Stratum Reveals Judah’s other Capital,” BAR 23 (1997): 28–38, 66, and idem, “Problem of the Material Culture,” 413–47. 18 Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Mesopotamian-style Ceramic ‘Bathtub’ Coffins from Tell en-Nasbeh,” TA 20 (1993): 216–24. 19 The reading and interpretation of the inscription is debated. For the most recent discussions see David Vanderhooft and Wayne Horowitz, “The Cuneiform Inscription from Tell enNaṣbeh: The Demise of an Unknown King,” TA 29 (2002): 318–27; Stephanie Dalley, “Gods from North-eastern and North-western Arabia in Cuneiform Texts from the First Sealand Dynasty, and a Cuneiform Inscription from Tell en-Naṣbeh, c. 1500 BC,” Arabian Archaeology and Epigraphy 24 (2013): 177–85. 20 Jeffrey R. Zorn, “The Date of a Bronze Vase from Tell en-Naṣbeh,” TA 23 (1996): 209–12.

234

Jeffrey R. Zorn

Figure 1. Plan of Tell en-Naṣbeh showing remains of Stratum 2 of the Babylonian– Persian period. The structures in black belong to Stratum 2. The dark gray lines near the gate indicate fortifications of Stratum 3 that were demolished to make way for buildings of Stratum 2; light gray lines indicate other Stratum 3 remains. The major buildings are numbered according to the scheme in Zorn, “Re-evaluation.” Each grid square measures 10 meters on a side, scale = 1:2,000. Adapted from the 1:400 site plan in McCown, Tell en-Naṣbeh.

The View from Mizpah

235

ṢH stamp impressions, the great majority of which were recovered at TEN, are found across the approximate area of the tribe of Benjamin and are made of clay local to the Jerusalem area; they also seem likely to be connected to Gedaliah’s administration, perhaps suggesting the maximal resource area on which he could draw.21 Clearly, the Babylonians, at least initially, invested resources into transforming Mizpah into an administrative center. What remains uncertain is what transpired in Judah and at TEN following Gedaliah’s murder and the third deportation, when the historical narratives fall silent.22 Was Mizpah abandoned as a settlement and administrative center, and was what remained of the old kingdom of Judah left without local leadership? Or, did Mizpah continue in its role as the local capital, even though the available texts are silent about its status? One might hope that archaeological evidence, free of the vagaries of the interests of the biblical authors, might shed some light on the fate of Judah and TEN in the period of Babylonian rule, post-Gedaliah. As will be suggested below, material remains do provide a faint glimmer on the nature of the era after the assassination. However, before coming to grips with what the material culture record can say, it is important to understand its limitations and the problems involved in using it.23 I. Challenges in Reconstructing the Sixth Century BCE in Ancient Judah The first problem is that the period in question is very short. From the time of the third deportation in 582 (or even from 586 or 597 or 605) to 539 BCE, when the deportees were allowed to return from Babylonia, is a span of less than seventy years. While some changes in the ceramics, and other aspects of material culture, probably occurred during this period, it is also likely that they were not major, eye-catching alterations. Thus, it is to be expected that much of the material culture of this interval will look much like that of the preceding Iron Age IIC period. The second problem relates to the nature of the contexts from which remains said to be of this period originate. For example, excavators in the past have identified remains that they believed were from this period at Tell el-Ful, el-Jib, and Beitin. However, these remains come from fills, often mixed, and often inadequately excavated and reported and even chronologically misattributed. Nothing came from sealed, in situ floor deposits, the gold standard for defining discrete 21 Jeffrey R. Zorn, Joseph Yellin, and John Hayes, “The m(w)ṣh Stamp Impressions and the Neo-Babylonian Period,” IEJ 44 (1994): 161–83. 22 Over the last twenty-five years there has been a welcome surge of studies focused on the history, material cultural remains, and literature of the Babylonian period. See the very helpful review in Megan Bishop Moore and Brad E. Kelle, Biblical History and Israel’s Past: The Changing Study of the Bible and History (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 334–95, for the development of the scholarship on this era, as well as the issues that remain salient. 23 Zorn, “Problem of the Material Culture,” 414–17; Faust, Judah, 11–17.

236

Jeffrey R. Zorn

cultural and chronological assemblages.24 More promising is the material excavated by Eilat Mazar on the east flank of the City of David. Below the so-called North Tower, Layer 9/10, a mass of debris dumped down the slope, was dated to the Babylonian period. Unfortunately, the ceramics from these fills remain unpublished, although a number of Babylonian bullae were.25 Other remains claimed to be of this period come from tomb deposits, such as Tomb 14 at Beth Shemesh,26 or Gabriel Barkay’s Tomb 24 in Ketef Hinnom in Jerusalem, which produced the famous silver scrolls,27 or Ronny Reich’s Tomb 5 from the Mamilla area outside of Jerusalem’s Jaffa Gate.28 Again, the deposits are not ideal for dating, since tombs can often remain in use for long periods. Similar mixed deposits exist from other fills and tombs from other sites as well. Because the transition to Persian hegemony was peaceful in Judah, there is little expectation of finding a site with a mid-to-late sixth-century destruction deposit. Similarly, the chance of finding a tomb in use for only a brief span in the mid sixth century is small. For these reasons the identification of remains of the mid-to-late sixth century is problematic. Because of the various difficulties outlined above in identifying the material culture of the mid-sixth century, Ephraim Stern did not include a discussion of the Babylonian period in his chapter on the Persian period in Sy Gitin’s recently published volumes on the pottery of the southern Levant, though he did attempt to identify such remains in his earlier work on the Persian period.29 It is useful to examine briefly two recently published excavations in order to illustrate the issues that arise from the lack of a clear understanding of the material culture of the sixth century. First are the results of the salvage project at Khirbet Mizzah, or Tel Moza, 6 kilometers west of Jerusalem, often identified as biblical Mozah. The excavators assigned their Stratum IV an ending date at the beginning of the sixth century, on the basis of parallels to Babylonian destruction deposits in Jerusalem’s City of David 10, Lachish II, and the like. However, 24 Faust,

Judah, 213–24. Mazar, The Summit of the City of David Excavations, 2005–2008: Final Reports, Volume I―Area G, (Jerusalem: Shoham Academic Research and Publication, 2015), 17, 25 (plan 1.6), 41–45, 375–80. 26 Elihu Grant and George E. Wright, Ain Shems Excavations: Part IV (Pottery), Biblical and Kindred Studies 7 (Haverford, PA: Haverford College, 1938), pls. 48, 68; eidem, Ain Shems Excavations: Part V (Text), Biblical and Kindred Studies 8 (Haverford, PA: Haverford College, 1939), 78, 144–45. 27 Gabriel Barkay, “Excavations at Ketef Hinnom in Jerusalem,” in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, ed. Hillel Geva (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1994), 93–106. 28 Ronny Reich, “The Ancient Burial Ground in the Mamilla Neighborhood, Jerusalem,” in Geva, Ancient Jerusalem Revealed, 116. 29 Ephraim Stern, “Persian Period,” in The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Iron Age through the Hellenistic Period, vol. 2, ed. Sy Gitin (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2015), 565–617. See also Ephraim Stern, Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period, 538–332 B. C. (Warminster: Aris & Phillips; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1982), e. g., the pottery discussion on 93–142. 25 Eilat

The View from Mizpah

237

no destruction deposit has been reported from Mozah. In fact, the report speaks instead of abandonment.30 It is therefore possible that the site continued in use for some time after the fall of Jerusalem. However, because of the similarities to Babylonian destruction deposits at other sites, such a possibility was not even entertained by the excavators. On the other hand, the M(W)ṢH impressions, which most agree should postdate the destruction of Jerusalem, derive most likely from royal agricultural sites in the vicinity of Tel Moza and are probably tied to the Gedaliah administration, suggesting that some sort of settlement existed at Mozah at this time. The same reasoning would apply to the other possible candidate for Mozah, Khirbet Beit Mizzah, if it should ever be excavated. The second example comes from the renewed excavations at Ramat Raḥel. The excavators there were able to determine that the beginning of Stratum VA should be dated to the second half of the seventh century. However, as is the case at Mozah, they could not identify any destruction debris that they could link to the Babylonian attacks of the early sixth century. On the other hand, they recovered a tremendous amount of Persian-period material, including many stamp impressions, suggesting that the site was an important administrative center. They could not, however, identify a suitable architectural context for these remains that postdated Stratum VA. Their conclusion was that Stratum VA was not destroyed by the Babylonians and instead continued to function through the Babylonian period and into the Persian period, until the end of the fourth century BCE.31 The lack of material remains from clear mid-sixth-century contexts has pushed scholars to examine this period using other tools. The immediate effects of the Babylonian invasion – “the sword, famine, and pestilence,” so often mentioned by Jeremiah (Jer 14:12; 21:7, 9; 24:10; 27:8, 13; 29:17–18; 32:24, 36; 34:17; 38:2; 42:17, 22; 44:13) – would have taken an immediate and heavy toll on all segments of society.32 Certainly, the societal dislocations that followed the destruction of the monarchic bureaucracy led to a collapse in the economy and consequently even more hardship and death for those left behind. For example, both Oded Lipschits and Avraham Faust have used survey data to study the demographic 30 Zvi Greenhut and Alon De-Groot, Salvage Excavations at Tel Moza: The Bronze and Iron Age Settlements and Later Occupations, IAA Reports 39 (Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2009), 10 (table 2.1), 22–24, 34–35, 50–54, 79–106, 226. 31 Oded Lipschits and Yuval Gadot, “Summary and Conclusions,” in Ramat Raḥel III: Final Publication of Yohanan Aharoni’s Excavations (1954, 1959–1962), vol. 2, ed. Oded Lipschits, Yuval Gadot, and Liora Freud, SMNIA 35 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016), 720–21; Oded Lipschits, “Shedding New Light on the Dark Years of the ‘Exilic Period’: New Studies, Further Elucidation, and Some Questions Regarding the Archaeology of Judah as an ‘Empty Land,’” in Interpreting Exile: Displacement and Deportation in Biblical and Modern Contexts, ed. Brad E. Kelle, Frank R. Ames, and Jacob L. Wright, AIL 10 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 60–61. The exact administrative relationship between the new capital at TEN and the complex at Ramat Raḥel is still unclear. 32 Stipp, “Concept of the Empty Land,” 148–49.

238

Jeffrey R. Zorn

situation in Judah following the fall of Jerusalem. Both rightly realize that the destruction date for any given settlement is impossible to determine. Instead they look at the drop in the number of settlements, and in the estimated settled area, between ca. 586 BCE and the Persian period or the beginning of the Hellenistic period. Both agree that there was a catastrophic drop in settlements between the end of the seventh century and the fifth century. The major difference in their results is that Lipschits sees pockets of settlement continuity in areas of the central Judean hill country, while Faust does not. For example, Lipschits sees occupation in the area between Bethlehem and Beth Zur south of Jerusalem, Ramat Raḥel being one such site, and also in the area of Benjamin to the north.33 There may also have been continued pockets of settlement to the west, for example at Rogem Ganim.34 In other words, the vagaries of war may have spared some regions that were perhaps of use to the Babylonians, while devastating others. Faust disagrees with this assessment, and believes specifically that the area of Benjamin suffered virtually the same level of devastation as the rest of Judah.35 However, no matter which assessment is followed, it is clear that as a result of the Babylonian invasion, and the demographic pressures that followed, Judah reached a demographic nadir of ca. 10,000–30,000 inhabitants, down from around 110,000 at the beginning of the period.36 Another point of contention is how immediate this plunge in population was. Unfortunately, due to the uncertainties surrounding the transition of the ceramic culture from that of the late Iron Age to the Persian period, as noted earlier, it is impossible to say whether the drop occurred sharply at the beginning of the period or was somewhat more gradual. That is, did the population drop to its low point in the first year or so after the fall of Jerusalem and the Babylonian deportations and Egyptian immigration, or was it a process of decades, or a mix 33 Lipschits suggests a drop in population from 108,000 before the fall of Jerusalem to 30,000 sometime after the Babylonian invasion. Fall and Rise, 258–71. See also Oded Lipschits, “Demographic Changes in Judah between the Seventh and the Fifth Centuries BCE,” in Lipschits and Blenkinsopp, Judah and the Judeans, 360–64; idem, “The Rural Settlement in Judah in the Sixth Century BCE: A Rejoinder,” PEQ 136 (2004): 99–107; idem, “Shedding New Light,” 58–63. 34 Raphael Greenberg and Gilad Cinamon, “Stamped and Incised Jar Handles from Rogem Ganim and Their Implications for the Political Economy of Jerusalem, Late 8th–Early 4th Centuries B. C. E.,” TA 33 (2006): 235; Lipschits, “Shedding New Light,” 68–71. 35 For Faust’s views see Avraham Faust, “Judah in the Sixth Century B. C. E.: A Rural Perspective,” PEQ 135 (2003): 37–53; idem, “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations in Judah from the Late Iron Age to the Hellenistic Period and the Archaeology of Persian-Period Yehud,” in A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbours during the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods, ed. Yigal Levin, LSTS 65 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 23–51; idem, Judah, 119–47, 209–31. Faust suggests that Judah’s population plunged to 10–20 percent of what it was before the Babylonian attack. Judah, 140. 36 Charles E. Carter suggests a population of around 13,000. The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study, JSOTSup 294 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 201.

The View from Mizpah

239

of both – that is, a sharp drop-off in some areas followed by a more gradual decline in others?37 Besides looking at individual sites for signs of continuity or discontinuity from the Iron Age into the Persian period, Lipschits has argued that a certain number of Iron Age ceramic forms gradually morphed into some of the forms in use in the Persian period. He argues that this continuity of ceramic forms indicates the continued presence of potters and their customers, both producing and consuming these vessels over the course of the sixth century and into the fifth.38 It is here that certain of the remains from TEN itself, Gedaliah’s capital, are helpful in suggesting that following Gedaliah’s murder, the Babylonian administration of Judah centered at Mizpah likely continued much as it had before, but under officials not mentioned in any biblical texts. The architecture and some of the small finds from TEN that point to its rebuilding as an administrative center under Gedaliah’s Babylonian-installed administration have been discussed above. What will be stressed in what follows is the evidence that supports the notion that TEN/Mizpah continued as an administrative center through the Babylonian period and into the Persian period. After all, it is possible in theory, though unlikely, that Mizpah could have been abandoned after Gedaliah’s assassination, as suggested by Faust, and then later rehabilitated and reoccupied as an administrative center in the Persian period.39 What then, is the evidence for continuity in occupation at Mizpah in the sixth and fifth centuries? II. Biblical Evidence First, there is the biblical evidence. As already discussed above, 2 Kgs 25:23–25 and Jer 40–41 attest to Mizpah’s importance as the administrative center for the Babylonian-installed regime of Gedaliah. Next is the account in Neh 3, perhaps drawn from archival records of the Persian period, which recounts the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem around the middle of the fifth century.40 Nehemiah 3:7 mentions men from Mizpah, under the jurisdiction of the governor of the Beyond the River province, assisting in the work.41 Nehemiah 3:15 and 19 refer 37 Lipschits, Fall and

Rise, 69, 135, 140–41, 224–37, 247–48, 258, 263; Faust, Judah, 132–140. Fall and Rise, 197–203; Lipschits, “Shedding New Light,” 64–66. 39 Faust, Judah, 223. 40 Lester L. Grabbe, Ezra–Nehemiah, OTR (London: Routledge, 1998), 43; Joseph Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah: A Commentary, OTL (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), 231. 41 Diana V. Edelman reads Neh 3:7 thus: “Next to them repaired Melatiah the Gibeonite and Yadon the Meronothite, (and) the men of Gibeon and of Mizpah, (which had/possessed) the seat of the governor of Across-the-River.” She interprets the passage as an effort to honor Mizpah for its role as the administrative center of the area until the rebuilding of Jerusalem in Nehemiah’s time. In other words, the fortified town of Mizpah was preferred as the administrative center over Jerusalem, despite the presence of the rebuilt temple in the latter. The Origins of the ‘Second’ Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem, BibleWorld (London: Equinox, 2005), 212. 38 Lipschits,

240

Jeffrey R. Zorn

to Shallum, an official in charge of the Mizpah district, and Ezer, the officer in charge of Mizpah itself, as participants in the reconstruction of the wall. The Neh 3 passages indicate that Mizpah had a special role up to the mid-fifth century. Perhaps also suggestive of Mizpah’s continuity into the Persian period is its absence from the list of those who returned from the Babylonian exile, purportedly in the late sixth century, reported with slight variants in Ezra 2 and Neh 7. The second section of this list presents returnees by their settlements, most of which are in the tribal area of Benjamin, or just south of Jerusalem, most likely representing the old core of the territory of the former Babylonian province after the destruction of Jerusalem and devastation of Judah.42 Mizpah is conspicuous by its absence from this list, while many other sites in its immediate vicinity are mentioned. Examples include towns to the west of Mizpah, such as Gibeon (Ezra 2:20, reading “Gibbar” for “Gibeon”; Neh 7:25) and Kiriath-jearim (Ezra 2:25; Neh 7:29); others to the east, such as Geba (Ezra 2:26; Neh 7:30) and Michmas (Neh 7:31); others to the north, such as Bethel and Ai (Ezra 2:28; Neh 7:32); and still others to the south, such as Ramah (Ezra 2:26; Neh 7:30) and Anathoth (Ezra 2:23; Neh 7:27).43 The number of those sent into exile, as reported in 2 Kgs 24:14, 16 and Jer 52:28–30, totaled no more than 10,000. However, those who returned are said to have numbered about 50,000, according to Ezra 2:64–65 and Neh 7:66–67. This figure does not include those who remained in Babylonia (Ezra 2:1; Neh 7:6). Because it does not seem possible that the number of the exiles could have increased by 500 percent in approximately fifty years, it is often suggested that the Ezra–Nehemiah numbers, if they have some basis in history, actually represent the entire population of the province of Yehud at some point during the Persian period, possibly around the time of Nehemiah, not just those who returned from exile in the latter part of the sixth century. If the Ezra 2//Neh 7 list originated sometime around the middle of the fifth century, why is Mizpah, which is listed among the settlements that contributed labor to the rebuilding of Jerusalem’s walls in Neh 3, not mentioned in the tallies in those chapters?44 Possibly the answer is simple and straightforward: if Nebuchadnezzar did not exile the inhabitants of Mizpah, and this was well known to the people of that era, the 42 Edelman,

Origins of the ‘Second’ Temple, 223; Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Nehemiah, 86–87. a discussion of these lists from an archaeological perspective that dates them to the Hellenistic period, see Israel Finkelstein, “Archaeology and the List of Returnees in the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah,” PEQ 140 (2008): 7–16. A rebuttal to Finkelstein’s suggestion is found in Ziony Zevit, “Is There an Archaeological Case for Phantom Settlements in the Persian Period?,” PEQ 141 (2009): 127–37. 44 The problem is noted by various scholars. Ziony Zevit, for example, suggests understanding Magbish in Ezra 2:30 as a temporary name for Mizpah, chosen in honor of the Persian official Megabyzus, in use at the time of the composition of the list. “Archaeological Case,” 130. However, the lack of a parallel to Magbish in the Neh 7 version of the list is problematic, and, as already noted, Neh 3 knows the name Mizpah. 43 For

The View from Mizpah

241

compilers of the list may have excluded them because no one from Mizpah had ever returned from the exile. The biblical texts thus indicate that Mizpah was an important administrative center both at the beginning of the sixth century, and in the middle of the fifth century. On the basis of the texts, it does not seem credible that Mizpah served in this capacity at the beginning of the Babylonian period and was then abandoned, but was later resettled and used once again as an administrative center sometime in the early fifth century. Since there are no texts that suggest Mizpah’s abandonment or destruction, it seems more likely that it would have served in this administrative capacity throughout this century long period. III. Archaeological Evidence The biblical evidence thus suggests that not only was Mizpah settled continuously from the sixth century into the fifth, but that it continued to serve as a local administrative center. The archaeological evidence is perhaps even more decisive in demonstrating Mizpah’s settlement continuity from the sixth into the fifth century. First is the pottery. TEN has yielded a wide variety of local Judean ceramic forms of the Iron Age IIC, showing that it was occupied in the latter part of the Iron Age.45 In addition, ceramics, especially from certain cisterns, and from fills in general attest to a wide variety of local forms known from the Persian period, including bowls, kraters, storage jars, cooking pots, juglets, and lamps.46 The most important cisterns are 304 and 361 (Fig. 2), but 183 and 191 also contained important material. In fact, storage jars dating to the latter part of the fifth century were found on the floors of two rooms of Building 110.01 (Fig. 3), a typical Iron Age–style four-room house, adjacent to the two-chamber gate.47 On the basis of the local pottery, then, it seems that there was continuity between the end of the Iron Age and well into the Persian period. Not only does the local pottery suggest continuity between the Iron Age and the Persian period, but so do the Greek imports. The most significant of these is part of a Clazomenian amphora (Fig. 4). Clazomenian vessels have been found mostly in Ionia, Clazomenae being a primary site, and also in Egypt, primarily at Naucratis and Tell Defenneh. They date to the third quarter of the sixth century. The specimen from TEN was dated ca. 540 BCE and is, so far, the only 45 A few examples from Wampler, Pottery, will suffice: pithos, pl. 6.89; storage jar, pl. 22.357 (LMLK jar); cylindrical jar, pl. 26.429; pitcher, pl. 33.587; jug, pl. 34.607; jug, pl. 37.673; jug, pl. 38.675; decanter, pl. 39.737; juglet, pl. 41.783; cooking pot, pl. 50.1067; bowl, pl. 57.1311; plate, pl. 68.1559; lamp, pl. 71.1636. 46 Joseph C. Wampler, “Some Cisterns and Silos,” in McCown, Archaeological and Historical Results, 129–47, pls. 51:1–9. More detailed discussions of cisterns 304 and 361 may be found in Joseph C. Wampler, “Three Cistern Groups from Tell en-Naṣbeh,” BASOR 82 (1941): 31–43. 47 Zorn, “Problem of the Material Culture,” 420, 428, figs. 5, 11.

242

Jeffrey R. Zorn

Figure 2. Ceramic assemblage from Cistern 361 with forms spanning from the end of the Iron Age into the Persian period. Adapted from McCown, Archaeological and Historical Results (Tell en-Naṣbeh, vol. 1), fig. 28.B–C, scale 1:12.5.

The View from Mizpah

243

known Clazomenian vessel found in Israel.48 That such a rare example of East Greek pottery, dating to the end of the Babylonian period, was found at TEN is not only further evidence for continuity at the site, but also indicates the site’s importance at that time. Moreover, two Attic Black Figure sherds, one Attic Red Figure piece, and fragments of an Attic Black offset-lip cup were all dated to ca. 500 BCE. Twenty-four other fragments of Attic vessels were found, all dated to probably the fifth century.49 In sum, the presence of twenty-nine sherds of various Greek imports at a relatively small settlement, in the heart of the hill country, far removed from major trade routes, suggests continuity of settlement at TEN from the sixth century well into the fifth century. TEN has also produced sixty-two examples of wedge‑ and circle-impressed pottery (Fig. 5), the largest number of any site in Israel, and almost half the total number of examples found in Judah.50 A few sherds of this type are also known from Jordan and Tayma in Northwest Arabia. This form of decoration is most commonly found on deep kraters and hole-mouth jars and was certainly in use by the early part of the Persian period, if not even earlier. The preponderance of such decorated vessels at TEN suggests it had a central role in the use and possibly the production of such vessels. Besides the abovementioned pottery, TEN has also produced other artifacts suggesting continuity between the Iron Age and the Persian period. Stamp impressions are a prominent example of this phenomenon. The full range of late Iron Age Judean stamp impressions is attested, including LMLK, Rosette, M(W) ṢH (Fig. 6), Lion, Yehud (Fig. 7), and even a single Jerusalem example.51 Most important for this discussion are the eighteen Yehud impressions of Types 13 and 14, according to Lipschits and Vanderhooft’s typology, which they date to ca. the fourth century.52 These impressions attest to Mizpah’s role in the local storage and redistributive system of the Persian sub-province. That there is no break in

48 For the Knipovitch Class IV to which the TEN example belongs, see Robert M. Cook, “A List of Clazomenian Pottery,” ABSA 47 (1952): 136–38. Class IV vessels seem to date to 540–530 BCE. This is also the range suggested in the 1947 TEN report; see Dietrich von Bothmer, “The Greek Pottery,” in McCown, Archaeological and Historical Results, 175–76, pl. 59.1. 49 von Bothmer, “The Greek Pottery,” 176–78, pls. 59.2–60.22. 50 Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Wedge‑ and Circle-Impressed Pottery: An Arabian Connection,” in Studies in the Archaeology of Israel and Neighboring Lands in Memory of Douglas L. Esse, ed. Samuel R. Wolff, SAOC 59 (Chicago: Oriental Institute, 2001), 689–98; Wampler, Pottery, pl. 89.1. 51 Chester C. McCown, “Inscribed Material Including Coins,” in McCown, Archaeological and Historical Results, 156–72, pls. 56–57; Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Two Rosette Stamp Impressions from Tell en-Nasbeh,” BASOR 293 (1994): 81–82; Zorn, Yellin, and Hayes, “Stamp Impressions.” Note that Faust equivocates on the date of the M(W)ṢH impressions, but does not offer any explanation for their role. Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period, 204. 52 Oded Lipschitz and David S. Vanderhooft, The Yehud Stamp Impressions: A Corpus of Inscribed Impressions from the Persian and Hellenistic Periods in Judah (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 253–59, 374–81.

244

Jeffrey R. Zorn

Figure 3. In situ storage jars of the mid to late fifth century in four-room house Building 110.01 (see Fig. 1 for location), just inside the outer two-chamber gate. Badè Museum Photograph 947.

Figure 4. Clazomenian amphora of ca. 540–530 BCE from Tell en-Naṣbeh Cistern 304. Rockefeller Museum no. 32.2545; used with permission of the Rockefeller Museum and Israel Antiquities Authority. Photograph by Peter Lanyi of the Israel Museum. Badè Museum Photograph 1110. McCown,  Archaeological and Historical Results (Tell enNaṣbeh, vol. 1), pl. 59.1.

The View from Mizpah

245

Figure 5. Examples of wedge‑ and circle-impressed kraters from Tell en-Naṣbeh. Adapted from Wampler, Pottery (Tell en-Naṣbeh, vol. 2), pl. 67, scale 1:5.

the range of official Judean stamp impressions suggests continuity from the Iron Age into the Persian Period. TEN produced relatively few coins. One is particularly interesting because of its date in the Persian period. This is a bronze imitation Athenian tetradrachm.53 On the obverse is the helmeted head of Athena, while the reverse shows the Athenian owl. The coin has been dated generally to the fifth or fourth century. Finally, as noted earlier, Building 110.01, a typical Iron Age four-room house adjacent to the outer two-chamber gate, contained in situ pottery of the mid to late fifth century. This shows clear continuity in Iron Age architectural traditions and habitation at TEN spanning from the sixth into the fifth century. In addition, the presence of this house adjacent to, and at the same level as, the two-chamber gate shows that TEN was still strongly fortified during Stratum 2.54 These old Iron II defenses were in places 15 meters thick; even the town wall on its own averaged 4.4 meters in width.55 Throughout the Babylonian and early Persian period, Jerusalem, even after its temple was rebuilt in the sixth year of Darius (515 BCE) and had become the focus of local religious life, was, in contrast, 53 McCown,

“Inscribed Material,” 174, 275, pl. 102.1. Mario Liverani, Israel’s History and the History of Israel, trans. Chiara Peri and Philip R. Davies, BibleWorld (London: Routledge, 2014), 193. 55 Jeffrey R. Zorn, “Tell en-Nasbeh: A Re-evaluation of the Architecture and Stratigraphy of the Early Bronze Age, Iron Age and Later Periods” (Ph.D. diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1993), 319–30. 54 Contra

246

Jeffrey R. Zorn

Figure 6. M(W)ṢH stamp impression from Tell en-Naṣbeh. Rockefeller Museum no. 35.3093; used with permission of the Rockefeller Museum/Israel Antiquities Authority. Badè Museum Registration no. 2455.

completely defenseless.56 It is no wonder, then, that Mizpah remained the local political center for ca. 140 years after the destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BCE.57 56  Perhaps this dual functionality, where Jerusalem served as a focus of cult of some sort, despite the destruction of the temple, and Mizpah served as the administrative center, existed also in the Neo-Babylonian period. For example, Zech 7:5 suggests that mourning rites were held at the temple before it was rebuilt. Such a scenario might be behind the journey of the northern pilgrims to the house of Yahweh (in Jerusalem) in Jer 41:4–8; this would remove the problem of locating such a temple at Mizpah, where no remains of such a structure have been found despite the wide archaeological exposure at TEN, and without resorting to locating such a cult site outside of TEN, which would be extremely difficult to validate from the archaeological record. Moreover, there would be no need to assume that the old northern temple at Bethel served as the Judean cult center at this time. This would remove the oddity of northerners visiting Mizpah on their way to the house of Yahweh, when this cult center was actually to the north of Mizpah at Bethel. See Joseph Blenkinsopp, “Bethel in the Neo-Babylonian Period,” in Lipschits and Blenkinsopp, Judah and the Judeans, 97–99. It is also unclear if the Babylonians would even have permitted any semblance of the old royally sponsored nationalistic Yahweh cult to be practiced in any part of Judah, be it Jerusalem, Mizpah, or Bethel. It may have better suited their purpose to prevent any official cultic activities as part of the punishment they inflicted on Judah and to tamp down any expectations of a return to the old monarchy and priesthood. Perhaps only mourning rituals were allowed in Jerusalem, since they reminded the populace of their punishment; see Oded Lipschits, “Judah, Jerusalem and the Temple (586–539 B. C.),” Transeu 22 (2001): 135–42. Finally, Gedaliah was, after all, not a Yahweh-appointed king. He had been appointed by his Babylonian overlord. For this reason, his rule had no need for support from the national Yahwistic priesthood. Indeed, support from the old priesthood would likely have run counter to Babylonian interests, which saw the Jerusalem priesthood as its enemies in the same way as the Davidic dynasty had been (as suggested by the similar fates meted out to Zedekiah’s sons and the chief priests in 2 Kgs 24:7, 18–21). See also Albertz, Israel in Exile, 91. Thus, Mizpah functioned as the administrative center, and whatever cultic activities were allowed to take place occurred at the ruined Jerusalem temple. The situation may be somewhat analogous to the fate of Judea after the First Jewish Revolt, when the area was ruled from Caesarea and the temple was in ruins. 57 Oded Lipschits, “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the

The View from Mizpah

247

Figure 7. Yehud stamp impression from Tell en-Naṣbeh. Badè Museum Re­gistration no. 2847; Badè Museum Photograph 5037. McCown, Archaeo­lo­gi­cal and Historical Results (Tell en-Naṣbeh, vol. 1), pl. 57.2. Lipschits and Vander­hooft, Yehud Stamp Impressions, 262–63, 275, Type 13c.

To sum up thus far: the available archaeological evidence supports the theory that TEN was occupied continuously from the sixth century until at least the beginning of the fourth century; the site yielded remains from the end of the Iron Age, the sixth century, the fifth century, and the beginning of the fourth century. There is no evidence for any gap in occupation. The various artifacts, such as stamp impressions and imported pottery, suggest it was a site of at least some local importance throughout the Babylonian and middle Persian periods. This continuity is also supported by the biblical texts, which portray Mizpah as an administrative center both in the sixth century and well into the fifth century. Moreover, since the Babylonians invested effort into redeveloping the site as their local administrative center, one must ask why they would have abandoned it after Ishmael’s failed coup. If Mizpah was abandoned soon after the assassination of Gedaliah, then questions concerning when it was refounded to serve a similar purpose, and by whom, need to be answered. When, in the long stretch of time between Gedaliah and Nehemiah did some ruler see fit to reestablish Mizpah? It would seem that any theory that posits that TEN was abandoned after the time of Gedaliah faces serious challenges. Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B. C. E.,” in Lipschits and Oeming, Judah and the Judeans, 34–35; André Lemaire, “Nabonidus in Arabia and Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period,” in Lipschits and Blenkinsopp, Judah and the Judeans, 291–92; Philip R. Davies, The Origins of Biblical Israel, LHBOTS 485 (New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 155. The claim that Mizpah served as the local political center is contra the opinion that Judea was ruled from Samaria during most of the sixth and the first part of the fifth century. See the discussion in Morton Smith, Palestinian Parties and Politics That Shaped the Old Testament, 2nd ed. (London: SCM, 1987), 147–53.

248

Jeffrey R. Zorn

The area administered from Mizpah/TEN need not have been large – probably it was primarily the area of Benjamin around Mizpah itself – or especially wealthy, but the fact that the Babylonians, and their Persian successors, allowed Mizpah to function in this way suggests that there was something in the area worth administering.58 Settlement of some sort may have even continued in Jerusalem itself. In other words, while the devastation had been great, there were likely pockets of settlement experiencing varying degrees of prosperity and poverty that survived, although not all of them necessarily survived all the way through this period. In some areas, rebuilding settlements and occupying empty land was no doubt begun as soon as possible. News of these efforts even reached the deportees in Babylonia, stirring Ezekiel to condemn those who would seize such lands (Ezek 11:14–21; 33:23–29).

C. Mizpah as a Center of Literary Production in the Exilic Period Is there anything else that may be teased out about the role of Mizpah in the era from the Babylonian invasion into the Persion period? Because TEN was the local administrative center for what was left of Judah, it became, by default, the locus for scribal activity in the area. Perhaps even surviving scribal archival material from the temple and palace in Jerusalem was transferred to Mizpah, since such records could have been of use to Gedaliah’s administration. This possibility becomes the basis for understanding TEN’s potential contribution to understanding the formation of the Bible. Various biblical commentators have pointed to a number of passages that they believe originated in Judah in the Babylonian period, indeed at Mizpah itself. These include, for example, parts of Lamentations and certain of the psalms, especially the laments over the destruction of Jerusalem.59 Of course, there is no consensus on which texts may date to this troubled period, but the fact that any texts at all are assigned a Judahite provenance in these years argues for the presence of scribes with enough time, security, and resources available to create and edit literature. Suggestions for scribal activity at Mizpah during the Babylonian period extend beyond the production of relatively short pieces of poetry to much longer, more substantial texts that likely drew on previously existing literary works. For example, Martin Noth argued that the fact that the Deuteronomistic Historian 58 For contrasting views on the area of Benjamin in the Babylonian period, see Oded Lipschits, “The History of the Benjaminite Region under Babylonian Rule,” TA 26 (1999): 155–90; Faust, Judah, 209–31. 59 For example, Albertz, Israel in Exile, 140–60; Enno Janssen, Juda in der Exilszeit: Ein Beitrag zur Frage der Entstehung des Judentums, FRLANT 51 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1956); Middlemas, Troubles, 144–84.

The View from Mizpah

249

(DH) clearly had access to a variety of literary sources suggested that he resided in Judah after the Babylonian destruction, where such sources would have been preserved. Moreover, Noth also argued that since DH had a deep knowledge of Benjaminite traditions he likely was situated in the area of Mizpah and Bethel.60 Unfortunately, however, he only mentioned this theory in a footnote on the final page of his monograph on the Deuteronomistic History and did not develop it further there.61 Of course, others have disagreed with Noth’s suggestion, seeing no problem with a Babylonian setting for the work of the DH; scrolls could have been carried off into exile, and a deep knowledge of Benjaminite traditions did not imply the actual presence of the editor in that area.62 Davies took a novel approach to dealing with the extensive, often favorable attitude toward Benjamin in what is a Judahite Bible. While Davies disagreed with the notion that the Deuteronomistic History itself was composed at Mizpah (or in Benjamin more generally) he did argue that a history was written there. Citing the prominent roles played by Benjaminites in the biblical account of the 60 The situation of Bethel in the Babylonian period is unclear. Blenkinsop has argued, on the basis of the prominence of Bethel in texts edited during the exile, or that hint at cultic activity at the site in this period, that Bethel served as the cult site for Judah and Mizpah. See Blenkinsopp, “Bethel,” 97–99; Ernst Axel Knauf, “Bethel: The Israelite Impact on Judean Language and Literature,” in Lipschits and Oeming, Judah and the Judeans, 291–349; Nadav Na’aman, “Does Archaeology Really Deserve the Status of a ‘High Court’ in Biblical Historical Research?,” in Between Evidence and Ideology: Essays on the History of Ancient Israel Read at the Joint Meeting of the Society for Old Testament Study and the Oud Testamentisch Werkgezelschap, Lincoln, July 2009, ed. Bob Becking and Lester L. Grabbe, OtSt 59 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 176–82; Middlemas, Troubles, 133–44. However, these text-based interpretations are not without their own problems. The textual references used to support the presence of a sixth-century temple at Bethel are rather oblique and rely on non-Levantine parallels. For example, since the archaeological data from Beitin (discussed below) is meager, it has to be assumed that the temple was either outside the settlement or located in an unexcavated area. Also, it makes little sense to imagine that the northern pilgrims in Jer 41:5 would go to Mizpah first, if the temple they intended to visit was actually at Bethel to the north. Moreover, the pilgrims are clearly in mourning, and that best fits a journey to the ruins of Jerusalem. In addition, in Jeremiah, all other references to a “house of Yahweh” only refer to the Jerusalem temple; see Middlemas, Troubles, 133–36. Finally, it is odd that no Second Temple authors condemned a Bethel temple of their own time in clear terms, as Jeroboam’s Bethel temple is repeatedly condemned in 1–2 Kings. Likewise, the archaeological evidence for occupation in the Babylonian and Persian periods is scanty and there is certainly no evidence for major occupation. See William G. Dever, “Archaeological Methods and Results: A Review of Two Recent Publications,” Or 40 (1971): 468–69; Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 204n77, 242–43; Israel Finkelstein and Lily Singer-Avitz, “Reevaluating Bethel,” ZDPV 125 (2009): 35, 42; Oded Lipschits, “Bethel Revisited,” in Rethinking Israel: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Ancient Israel in Honor of Israel Finkelstein, ed. Oded Lipschits, Yuval Gadot, and Matthew J. Adams (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017), 233–46; Faust, Judah, 214. 61 Martin Noth, The Deuteronomistic History, JSOTSup 15 (Sheffield: University of Sheffield, Department of Biblical Studies, 1981), 142n10. Elsewhere Noth noted that for the Judeans left in the land the events of 587 did not signify an end; life did continue. The History of Israel, rev. ed. (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), 292. 62 Albertz, Israel in Exile, 282–83.

250

Jeffrey R. Zorn

early history of Israel, Davies argued that a history was composed at Mizpah that promoted Benjaminite concerns with the intent of establishing the legitimacy of the Mizpah-based administration, as well as the importance of Benjamin in general as the primary locus of the post-invasion regime. This Benjaminite history focused on the conquest of Canaan beginning with the area of Benjamin by Joshua, followed by the actions of various judges from that region, beginning with Ehud in Judg 3 and continuing through the story of the prophet Samuel, culminating in the promotion and legitimation of the rule of the house of Saul. Davies’s suggestion is that the Deuteronomistic History, as it came to be, was a response or rebuttal to this Benjaminite history that also subsumed this earlier work to fit its own agenda.63 One may, perhaps, push Davies’s proposal a bit further. Davies suggested that the Benjaminite history composed at Mizpah ended with Saul. However, if the primary intent was to bolster the legitimacy of the Mizpah-based administration, ending the story with Saul seems problematic since the imagined history does not reach Gedaliah himself. Perhaps it is not too much of a stretch to suggest that an early Benjaminite history did include the period of Gedaliah. Moreover, if Jeremiah was edited at Mizpah (see below) at the same time as the Benjaminite history was being composed, it could make sense to see these works as part of a larger joint literary endeavor intended to fashion support for the new capital by linking its first non-Davidic ruler with its last non-Davidic ruler. After all, there are strong similarities between Jeremiah and the Deuteronomistic History. Support for this proposal comes from a comparison of the portrayals of Saul and Gedaliah in 1 Samuel and Jeremiah. The literary parallels between these two men are indeed striking. First, both Saul and Gedaliah are strongly associated with prophets connected to Benjamin: Samuel and Jeremiah. Second, both men begin their reigns at Mizpah; Saul is selected there while Gedaliah makes it his capital. Third, both men face opposition from a Davidic usurper (David and Ishmael) who is backed by a foreign power (Philistines and Ammonites), which will ultimately lead to their deaths. Finally, both men were or may have been Benjaminites themselves. Saul is famously the son of Kish of Benjamin. While the genealogy of Gedaliah’s family can only be traced back to the early seventh century, and no tribal affiliation for his line is ever given, the fact that members of his family were strong supporters of Jeremiah may indicate a Benjaminite origin for them.64 This editorial framing of the period of the monarchy by traditions associated with Benjamin and Mizpah perhaps signals that some important literary work was done at Mizpah at this time. Conversely, a locus of editorial activity at Mizpah may also help explain the relative prominence, in general, of Benjamin in other biblical passages. 63 Davies,

Origins of Biblical Israel, 107–15. Blenkinsopp, “Benjamin Traditions Read in the Early Persian Period,” in Lipschits and Oeming, Judah and the Judeans, 629. 64 Joseph

The View from Mizpah

251

Another collection of material to which an origin at Mizpah has been attributed is the book of Jeremiah itself. Davies argued that those most sympathetic to the Benjaminite prophet, those most likely to preserve his words, were not the exiles in Babylon, but those who remained behind in Benjamin and Judah, and concluded, “The least problematic and most obvious location for the origins of the book of Jeremiah is Mizpah.”65 Albertz also believed that the most likely locus for the Deuteronomistic edition of Jeremiah was the area of Mizpah (because it was Gedaliah’s capital) and Bethel,66 as did Seitz.67 Finally, it may be noted that some scholars see continuity in thought from the monarchic period into the early Persian period. This continuity is manifest in the works of Haggai and Zech 1–8, which draw on motifs found in earlier psalms.68 One might argue that conditions during the Babylonian era in Judah were scarcely conducive to major literary activity. After all, the land and many of its settlements, including its political and religious capital, had been devastated. The social fabric had been torn apart by mass deaths during the war and the deportation of the nation’s ruling class and its supporters. The population of Judah was a fraction of what it had been, and was no doubt dispirited by all it had experienced. Mizpah was a town of only a few hectares and a few hundred inhabitants. But do these conditions actually preclude literary creativity? After all, the exiles in Babylon, often credited with much of the shaping and editing of the biblical text, were a displaced and disenfranchised subject people who, like those who remained in the land, had also recently suffered the same shock of a devastating war that resulted in the loss of kin, city, temple, and ruling dynasty.69 Despite the depopulation of Judah following the Babylonian invasion, the majority of the people still resided there, not in Babylonia or Egypt.70 Were the conditions 65 Davies,

Origins of Biblical Israel, 122. Israel in Exile, 322–25. 67 Christopher R. Seitz, Theology in Conflict: Reactions to the Exile in the Book of Jeremiah, BZNW 176 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1989), 285–86. Seitz even suggests that the author of part of the Jeremiah material was a member of the scribal family of Shaphan, himself a relative of Gedaliah. 68 Jill Middlemas, “Going beyond the Myth of the Empty Land: A Reassessment of the Early Persian Period,” in Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd, ed. Gary N. Knoppers, Lester L. Grabbe, and Deirdre N. Fulton, LSTS 73 (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 177–78; Middlemas, Troubles, 234. 69 Moore and Kelle, Biblical History, 364–66; Middlemas, Troubles, 10. For an effort to reimagine the situation of the Judeans deported to Babylon, see David L. Smith-Christopher, “Reassessing the Historical and Sociological Impact of the Babylonian Exile (597/587–538 BCE),” in Exile: Old Testament, Jewish, and Christian Conceptions, ed. James M. Scott, JSJSup 56 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 23–36. 70 Albertz suggests that the absolute numbers of the intelligentsia in Babylonia and in Judah were probably similar, even if the Babylonian intelligentsia constituted a relatively higher proportion of the exilic population. Israel in Exile, 90. For a similar opinion, see Peter R. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration: A Study of Hebrew Thought of the Sixth Century B. C. (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968), 30–31. 66 Albertz,

252

Jeffrey R. Zorn

in Babylonia that much better than those in the homeland to justify the assumption that no literature could have been created there? Similarly, Persian-period Jerusalem and Yehud were, by all accounts, poor and underpopulated, and did not really recover from the Babylonian invasion and its aftermath until the middle of the Hellenistic period.71 Yet it is to this impoverished community that most commentators assign great Jewish literary creativity and editorial work.72 If such major work could be undertaken by a relatively few priestly scribes in an impoverished backwater settlement of the fifth to fourth centuries, it does not seem unlikely that analogous endeavors could have taken place in sixth‑ to fifthcentury Mizpah. And, as noted above, there are strong signals in the biblical text that this is actually what happened.

D. Conclusion It appears that not only did occupation continue at TEN after the murder of Gedaliah, but that Mizpah also continued to serve as the local administrative center, either under a Judean or Babylonian governor,73 first for the remnant of Judah and later for the Yehud province, from the first half of the sixth century until Nehemiah rebuilt the walls of Jerusalem in the middle of the fifth century. It was still a site of significance well after Jerusalem was refortified. Since Mizpah was the local administrative center, scribes would have been located there, along with the resources necessary to support them. The evidence for a settlement or temple at Bethel at this time is scanty, as compared with the much more abundant material from TEN. It seems, then, that the main locus for scribal activity in Judah in this period was likely Mizpah.74 The scribes located there reflected on the theological implications of recent events and edited and composed works that espoused their understandings of them.75 The theory that in the aftermath of the destruction of Jerusalem, Mizpah was the locus for the production of literature mourning the loss of that city and its temple, for the development of a Benjaminite history intended to support the new Mizpah regime, and for the editing of traditions associated with Jeremiah – the prophet who warned so strongly against rebellion and who resided, at least for a time, at Mizpah – seems quite well within the bounds of reason.

71 Eric Meyers, “Exile and Restoration in Light of Recent Archaeology and Demographic Studies,” in Knoppers, Grabbe, and Fulton, Exile and Restoration Revisited, 168–69. 72 Carter, Emergence of Yehud, 285–88; Meyers, “Exile and Restoration,” 169. 73 Albertz suggests a Babylonian officer was likely placed in charge, although there is no way to be certain. Israel in Exile, 95. 74 Contra Knauf, “Bethel,” 319. 75 Middlemas, Troubles, 70–71.

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon* Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse Sometime late in the second century BCE, a Babylonian priest affiliated with the Esangila temple copied a text purporting to be a letter of the seventh-century BCE Assyrian king Ashurbanipal to the “Babylonians,” i. e., to the temple community of the Marduk temple Esangila.1 The letter lists twelve scholars tasked with setting down in writing, apparently on seventy-two writing boards, the works of scribal erudition that they had “stored in their minds like goods piled in a magazine.” This work is intended for the king, or at least for his benefit, and the second part of the tablet concerns the promises made to the scholars by the king: payment of vast sums of money, privileged (i. e., tax-exempt) status (kidinnu), and prestige. This letter, along with a companion piece referring to tablets requested from the scholars of Babylon’s twin city of Borsippa, likewise extant in a second-century BCE manuscript,2 refers to the Assyrian king’s interest in collecting tablets for his famous library at Nineveh. The first editors of these texts, Grant Frame and A. R. George, believed them to be genuine correspondence of Ashurbanipal, but others, with reason, suggested that they were “pseudepigraphical,” even if * For advice and specific information the authors are indebted to Nicla De Zorzi, Eckhart Frahm, Uri Gabbay, Reinhard Pirngruber, Annette Schellenberg, Sven Tost, and Avraham Winitzer, and to discussants at the Pontifical Biblical Institute, where Michael Jursa presented parts of the argument advanced here. Jursa’s work on this paper was done under the auspices of the project “The Priesthood of Uruk in Late First Millennium BCE Babylonia,” funded by the Fritz Thyssen foundation, and, for its paleographic side, under the auspices of the project “Diplomatics and Palaeography of Neo‑ and Late Babylonian Archival Documents,” funded by the Austrian Science Fund. 1 Grant Frame and A. R. George, “The Royal Libraries at Nineveh: New Evidence for King Ashurbanipal’s Tablet Collecting,” Iraq 67 (2005): 270–77, BM 28825; Mary Frazer, “Akkadian Royal Letters in Later Mesopotamian Tradition” (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 2015), no. 6.3. For the dating of the copy and its scribe, see Eckart Frahm, “On Some Recently Published Late Babylonian Copies of Royal Letters,” NABU 2005/43. We follow Frahm in assuming that this is a letter of Ashurbanipal to the Babylonians, rather than vice versa. 2 BM 45642 (Frame and George, “Royal Libraries,” 267–70). The manuscript can be dated based on the identity of the priestly scribes mentioned in the colophon. Frahm, “Copies of Royal Letters.” For the family in question, see also Johannes Hackl, “Materialien zur Urkundenlehre und Archivkunde der spätzeitlichen Texte aus Nordbabylonien” (Ph.D. diss., University of Vienna, 2013), 461–72. For BM 28825, no such data are available. The tablet is clearly from the third or perhaps second century BCE, based on paleography.

254

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

they were based on genuine letters.3 Possibly the interest in Ashurbanipal’s tablet collection was partly reinforced by the intellectual climate of the Hellenistic world.4 Certainly, this memory was cherished in second-century BCE Babylon among the scholarly priests of Esangila,5 whence the tablets originated, for the prestige it bestowed on their community and their lore.6 This last point follows from a statement that was added to the Ashurbanipal letter as copied on BM 28825. Its unfortunately somewhat broken text runs as follows:7 [When] this letter (lit.: oblong tablet) [arrived] in Babylon […] the temple overseer (uppudētu) and five thousand men, Babylonians, to E[sagila …] … a great roaring occurred among the Babylonians. From [… this document] was copied onto a multi-leaf writing board and [it was presented] to Mar[duk].

While the main body of the text, the letter itself, is not obviously a late composition in its entirety on linguistic grounds, this final passage undoubtedly is; it does not precede by much the date of the copying of the tablet, if it does so at all.8 Its

3 Frahm,

“Copies of Royal Letters”; also Eckart Frahm, Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries: Origins of Interpretation (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2011), 274–75. Anachronisms and implausibilities in the letters include an improbable name (Frazer, “Letters,” 425; but she also refers to one possibly Assyrianizing verbal form as counter-evidence, ibid., 687) and the implausibly high amounts of money offered to the scholars, in light of seventh‑ century BCE evidence; see Michael Jursa, “Silver and Other Forms of Elite Wealth in Seventh Century BC Babylonia,” in Silver, Money and Credit: A Tribute to Robartus J. van der Spek on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday on 18th September 2014, ed. Kristin Kleber and Reinhard Pirngruber (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2016), 61–71. 4 Ronnie Goldstein, “Late Babylonian Letters on Collecting Tablets and Their Hellenistic Background – a Suggestion,” JNES 69 (2010): 199–207; discussed by Frazer, “Letters,” 687–93. 5 The letters refer to “scholars,” ummânu. At least in the late period, all Babylonians who might lay claim to that distinction were initiated priests affiliated with a temple, including the copyists of the tablets in question. 6 Paul-Alain Beaulieu, “The Afterlife of Assyrian Scholarship in Hellenistic Babylonia,” in Gazing on the Deep: Ancient Near Eastern and Other Studies in Honor of Tzvi Abusch, ed. Jeffrey Stackert, Barbara N. Porter, and David P. Wright (Bethesda: CDL, 2010), 2–3. Note that CT 22, 1, another letter referring to Ashurbanipal’s tablet-collecting, is transmitted by two copies from the sixth century BCE (as shown by their paleography). The text is thus not relevant for the discussion here, which focuses on later material only. 7 We follow here essentially Frame and George, “Royal Libraries,” and Frazer, “Letters,” and avoid uncertain restorations and conjectures. 8 This is shown by the use of the frozen demonstrative annâ, typical of fourth–first century BCE Babylonian, and the Persian loan word uppudētu “overseer,” which unambiguously points to the second century BCE. See Matthew Stolper, “Iranica in Post-Achaemenid Babylonian Texts,” in La transition entre l’Empire achémenide et les royaumes hellénistiques, ed. Pierre Briant and Francis Joannès (Paris: de Boccard, 2006), 231–32. It cannot be a coincidence that the title was demonstrably borne by the grandfather of the owner of BM 45642, the companion piece to our letter (see also Hackl, “Materialien,” 466–67). Note that at the end of line 39, we read ana dam[ar!.utu …] instead of Idì[r-ra-…]; Erra-names are not commonly used in secondcentury BCE Babylon.

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

255

style is reminiscent of Late Babylonian chronicles9 and the chronicle-like notes in the contemporary Astronomical Diaries.10 The passage recounts the arrival of the text in Babylon and the great emotional impact it had on the temple community; it was copied onto an archival document (of which one would assume the extant tablet is in its turn a copy) and, probably, stored in the temple treasury.11 The collective excitement supposedly caused by the king’s letter is revealing. This is how second-century BCE Babylonian priests imagined how their own ancestors would have received Ashurbanipal’s message, and thereby they betray their own motivation. Clearly, this interaction between the Late Babylonian priests’ ancestors and a famous king of the past conveyed to the second-century BCE temple community of Esangila a sense of validation: what they had to offer was valuable; it was appreciated by the high and mighty, even if they were not of Babylonian origin; and it brought material benefits. The link to past glories strengthened the priestly community internally, and to their thinking, it confirmed their claim to recognition by the foreign rulers of their country, Hellenistic or Parthian. This is the motivation or bias behind their interest in this correspondence; there is no disinterestedness here that could be used as an argument in favor of the authenticity of the letters.12 The same set of motivations is present in a range of literary works extant only in manuscripts from the library of the Esangila temple dating to the Hellenistic and Parthian periods. We argue here that these texts, rather than being simply late copies of older compositions, as was often assumed, are in fact creations of the period to which their manuscripts date and reflect the contemporary interests of their priestly authors. These texts comprise the Late Babylonian Priestly Literature (LBPL) that the present paper will survey. All genres of LBPL aim at situating the priestly community within its contemporary context. They do so principally by engaging with the imagined or remote past as well as with more immediate history and with the priests’ expectations and aspirations for the present and the future. We find historical-literary compositions reflecting what the priests considered to be ancient Babylonian history,  9 Irving Finkel and Robartus J. van der Spek, “Mesopotamian Chronicles,” Livius, http:// www.livius.org/sources/about/mesopotamian-chronicles/ (accessed July 21, 2018). 10 As for instance collected in Giuseppe Del Monte, Testi cronografici, vol. 1 of Testi dalla Babilonia ellenistica (Pisa: Ist. Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionali, 1997). 11 It is tempting to construe the passage as an account of the later finding of the letter in some archive in Babylon, a telltale sign of a pseudepigraphic document, but this seems unlikely based on the available evidence. The crucial verb is lost in line 37, but it was clearly a verb of movement (the passage runs literally: “this letter to Babylon […]”), so one cannot restore “was found” or “recovered in …” The other letter published by Frame and George, “Royal Libraries,” BM 45642, has a shorter explanatory rubric, likewise of late origin: “This document was copied on to a tablet made of alabaster and sent to all the colleagues” (Frame and George, “Royal Libraries,” 269). 12 As argued first by Frame and George, “Royal Libraries,” 283; discussed by Frazer, “Letters,” 687.

256

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

as well as chronicles and chronicle-like texts dealing with the more tangible past and the present. Hopes and ambitions for the present and the future are principally expressed by ritual texts. And finally, aspirations are also cast into the form of prophetical writing. The motifs of LBPL draw on the dynamics of a triangle whose vertices are (1) the priest, (2) Esangila and Marduk, and (3) the king.13 In contrast to much of Mesopotamian literature in general, it is the priest, not the king, who is the unambiguous defender of religious standards and cultic normality. The king is a more ambiguous figure: we have the good king who defends the temple, but also the bad king, who does not, and the repenting king who understands the error of his ways and bows to Marduk. Priests, who are the guardians of traditional written lore, possess the wisdom that is the principal yardstick for evaluating behavior that is acceptable to Marduk. In order to fulfill their regulatory function, the priests can and must aspire to royal recognition, but they also have the right and the duty to oppose the (foreign) king when the values of the religious system demand it. All the texts that will be discussed below share an interest in one or more of these motifs. These texts emerged from a coherent intellectual, political, and socioeconomic setting in the form in which they are known to us.14

A. Political and Socioeconomic Background Temple institutions, and in particular the temple of the chief deity, Marduk, were always central to Babylonian society of the first millennium BCE. As important socioeconomic players during the rapid economic expansion under the Neo-Babylonian empire, temples were targeted by heavy Achaemenid taxation after the conquest in 539 BCE and suffered in general under the economic hardship of the final years of the sixth century BCE and at the beginning of the fifth. 13 For the yardstick against which our evidence should be measured, see the excellent survey of Caroline Waerzeggers, “The Pious King: Royal Patronage of Temples,” in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture, ed. Karen Radner and Eleanor Robson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 725–51, and, for the Achaemenid period, eadem, “Babylonian Kingship in the Persian Period: Performance and Reception,” in Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context, ed. Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015), 187–89. Note, however, that some of the texts she uses for her reconstruction of the relationship between the king and the priest (e. g., the New Year Festival texts) are in fact parts of the late corpus here under discussion. Their views cannot be simply retrojected onto an earlier period. 14 Important papers that paved the way for the present work include Caroline Waerzeggers, “Facts, Propaganda or History? Shaping Political Memory in the Nabonidus Chronicle,” in Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire, ed. Jason M. Silverman and Caroline Waerzeggers (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2015), 95–124; eadem, “Babylonian Kingship”; and Geert De Breucker, “Heroes and Sinners: Babylonian Kings in Cuneiform Historiography of the Persian and Hellenistic Period,” in ibid., 75–94; they should be read jointly with the present essay.

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

257

This led to the rebellions against Xerxes and to Persian reprisals aimed at the temples of northern Babylonia.15 Some of the innovative traits of the Babylonian economy of the sixth century disappeared, and the hand of Persian elite landowners weighed heavily on the country, diminishing the scope of the temples’ economic activities. Royal interest in and engagement with these institutions was minimal.16 Still, after two centuries of Persian domination, especially after Xerxes dismantled most of the institutions of Babylonian self-rule in 484, the priestly temple communities were the only coherently functioning group of native Babylonian origin that retained a certain institutional power, at least in the cities, and probably to some degree also in the countryside. Alexander’s conquest presented the Babylonian temple elites with a window of opportunity. Indeed, as R. J. van der Spek has shown,17 a lunar eclipse observed in Babylonia on September 20, 331 BCE, would have been interpreted by the Esangila’s astrologers as an extremely negative portent for the ruling king – at the time, still Darius III. His predicted downfall indeed came to pass, as the battle of Gaugamela occurred eleven days later. The Babylonian priests must have been satisfied by this corroboration of their prediction, itself a product of the most advanced techniques of celestial divination available at the time. Consequently, they necessarily saw Alexander as enjoying divine support. There was soon contact between the priests of Babylon and the new pretender (and subsequently king), as an Astronomical Diary shows.18 These contacts were encouraging for both sides. The testimony of Arrian (Anabasis 7.17.2) and a dossier of Babylonian documents from the reign of Alexander referring to payments for the “removal of rubble of Esangila,” presumably for the purpose of reconstructing the temple tower, show that the Babylonians began working intensively on their temple not long after the king’s arrival.19 If they did not do so actually with royal funds,20 then they had at least the royal blessing, and the king enjoyed the local community’s acceptance. 15 For temples in the long sixth century BCE, see Michael Jursa et al., Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia in the First Millennium BC, AOAT 377 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2010). For Xerxes and the rebellions against his rule, see the essays in Caroline Waerzeggers and Maarja Seire, eds., Xerxes and Babylonia: The Cuneiform Evidence, OLA 277 (Leuven: Peeters, 2018). 16 For Babylonia under the Achaemenids, see Gauthier Tolini, “La Babylonie et l’Iran: les relations d’une province avec le cœur de l’empire achéménide” (Ph.D. diss., Université 1 de Paris, 2011); see also the summaries given by Reinhard Pirngruber, The Economy of Late Achaemenid and Seleucid Babylonia (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017), and Julien Monerie, L’économie de la Babylonie à l’époque hellénistique (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2018), 53–79. 17 R. J. van der Spek, “Darius III, Alexander the Great and Babylonian Scholarship,” in A Persian Perspective: Essays in Memory of Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg, ed. W. F. M. Henkelman and Amelie Kuhrt (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2003), 289–342. 18 van der Spek, “Darius III,” 297–99. 19 E. g., Monerie, L’économie, 95–103. 20 There is nothing in the available sources to support Strabo’s (Geographica 16.1.5) account of ten thousand Greek soldiers helping with the restoration of the temple.

258

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

This set the tone for the relationship between the native temple communities and the Hellenistic rulers of the country. The first century or so of Hellenistic rule over Babylonia demonstrably saw an increase in royal interest in the native temple institutions and temple cities. There are clear acts of royal euergetism – donations of land, royal building projects, and other types of engagement with the local temples – far beyond anything attested for the late Achaemenid period.21 It is thus not surprising that a Babylonian “prophetic” chronicle casts Seleukos as a ruler beloved of Marduk.22 Toward the end of the third century, however, we see a clear disengagement of royal interest, of which the foundation of Seleukia-on-the-Tigris as the new capital was only one symptom. Greek colonization shifted the overall economic and political focus to underexploited areas while the urban centers of Babylonian life suffered a certain degree of neglect. The new Greek poleis took over local administration, in Babylon and elsewhere, and temples entered a long period of decline during which their administrators were placed under the direct supervision of royal officials. This did not change with the Parthians’ conquest in 141 BCE: they, too, based their local power on the cooptation of the poleis. In conditions of considerable economic hardship and instability, the temples progressively lost economic power. Also their intellectual output, as measured in astronomical tablets – by far the largest group of texts – shrank, and their personnel was reduced.23 The decline leading to the temples’ eventual disappearance as institutions of recognizably ancient Near Eastern character in the first century CE (or perhaps slightly later) had irreversibly begun.24 Renewed royal interest in the temples and their cult in the late fourth and third century BCE, and the crisis that resulted from the withdrawal of royal support in the second century, form the context in which the composition of LBPL and its transmission as documented by the extant manuscripts is to be located.

B. Sources I. Historical-Literary Compositions The largest distinct group within the historical-literary corpus is that of pseudepigraphic letters attributed to kings of the past.25 We have one letter from a 21 Monerie,

L’économie, passim, e. g., 193–205, 320–24; Pirngruber, Economy, 37–46. Dynastic Prophecy; see below, at n37. 23 Philippe Clancier, Les bibliothèques en Babylonie dans la deuxième moitié du I er millénaire av. J.-C. (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2009), 309–17. 24 Monerie, L’économie, 382–86 with further references. 25 Most of these texts have been treated by Frazer (“Letters”), together with compositions of this type from earlier periods. Frahm (“Copies of Royal Letters”) gave the first concise description of the genre. In our discussion of sources, we do not engage with archival material from 22 The

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

259

Babylonian king to his Elamite adversary, set in the period of the conflict between Babylonia and Elam in the twelfth century BCE.26 The other letters are set at the end of the period of Assyrian rule over Babylonia and during the successful rebellion of the founder of the Neo-Babylonian empire, Nabopolassar. At least two letters represent the correspondence between Nabopolassar and the Assyrian pretender Sîn-šarru-iškun.27 Finally, three or possibly four letters refer to the exchange between Ashurbanipal and the priests of Babylon and Borsippa regarding the priests’ knowledge of writing and traditional, Marduk-sponsored lore.28 Several often fragmentary compositions are narratives of events set in a more or less distinct historical past. The time frame is the same that we find in the letters. The end of the Kassite period and the conflict with Elam come to the fore again in BM 34062. The text is usually assumed to refer to the ravages wrought by the Elamites on Babylonia in the twelfth century BCE (but it is quite possible that the subject is in fact the Babylonian–Persian conflict under Xerxes).29 The same is true for a fragment in poetic language referring to Marduk’s wrath against the invaders.30 A slightly later setting is given to the composition known as the Adad-šumu-uṣur epic and to another fragment referring to the same period.31 The former text, better preserved, recounts how Adad-šumu-uṣur came to the throne in Babylon by supplanting an Assyrian puppet king. He subsequently faced a rebellion of Babylonian elites, apparently caused by his neglect of Marduk and of the privileges he was expected to grant to the notables of Babylon. After confession and prayer, he then obtained the god’s blessing. Another fragment also refers to conflicts with Elam.32 the context of Esangila (Hackl, “Materialien”) nor with the Astronomical Diaries. The latter are fairly standardized records of astronomical observations accompanied by notes on the weather, on prices, and on the level of the Euphrates river. They contain also occasional ominous observations and, in later centuries, quite numerous notes on events mostly in Esangila and the city; the interests reflected in these notes are essentially those of the contemporary chronicle corpus (e. g., Pirngruber, Economy, 13–19). 26 BM 35404 (Frazer, “Letters,” no. 5.7); Benjamin Foster, Before the Muses: An Anthology of Akkadian Literature, 3rd ed. (Bethesda: CDL, 2005), 370–71. 27 BM 55467 and 37465 (Frazer, “Letters,” nos. 6.7 and 6.8). Possibly also the fragmentary letter CT 51, 73 (BM 34637, not treated by Frazer) belongs here, too. 28 See Frame and George, “Royal Libraries,” and Frazer, “Letters,” for the two letters mentioned at the beginning of this paper. The third text is Frazer, “Letters,” no. 6.5 (BM 37579, a small fragment). BM 34716, reedited below, may belong here as well; it was published as no. 10 in A. Kirk Grayson, Babylonian Historical Literary Texts (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1975), henceforth BHLT. 29 Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse, “A Babylonian Priestly Martyr, a King-Like Priest, and the Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” WZKM 107 (2017): 77–98; Waerzeggers, “Facts, Propaganda, History,” 104–5. 30 BM 35496 (Foster, Before the Muses, 374–375) includes at least one direct speech addressed to a king. This may be another literary letter. 31 BHLT, no. 6 and no. 5, respectively. 32 BHLT, no. 5.

260

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

Babylonian history in the Iron Age is prominently present in four compositions: an epic text dealing with the accession of the Babylonian king Nabopolassar, including his fight against Assyria;33 a fragment referring to the reign of Nebuchadnezzar’s son Amīl-Marduk;34 the Royal Chronicle or Nabonidus Epic, which deals with the last Neo-Babylonian king;35 and a long composition that narrates the defense of divinely ordained justice by a Babylonian king, who may be either Nebuchadnezzar or Nabonidus.36 Finally, one “prophetic” text, the Dynastic Prophecy, belongs here too.37 This fragmentary vaticinium ex eventu presents a sequence of Neo-Assyrian, NeoBabylonian, Persian, and Greco-Macedonian rulers, whose reigns are treated in short vignettes that each contain a value judgement. From what remains of the text, it is evident that particular attention was given to the phases of transition – from the Neo-Babylonian to the Persian period, and from the latter to GrecoMacedonian rule. II. Chronicles Beside the historical-literary texts, the interest of Esangila’s priests in the history of their city and their temple is best documented in a number of chronicles – texts relating events in recent or not-so-recent (local) history in chronological sequence.38 33 BM 34793; the fragment BM 45684 may belong here too. See most recently Rocío Da Riva, “The Figure of Nabopolassar in Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Historiographic Tradition: BM 34793 and CUA 90,” JNES 75 (2017): 75–92. 34 BM 34113, most recently Irving Finkel, “The Lament of Nabû-šuma-ukīn,” in Babylon: Focus mesopotamischer Geschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit, Mythos in der Moderne, ed. J. Renger (Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker, 1999), 335–38, and Hanspeter Schaudig, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon Kyros’ des Großen samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstanden Tendenzschriften: Textausgabe und Grammatik (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2001), 589–90; a new edition by the present writers is forthcoming. Note that based on a (albeit superficial) paleographic assessment, Finkel’s “lament of Nabû-šumu-ukīn (= Amīl-Marduk)” (Finkel, “Lament of Nabû-šumaukīn,” 325–31) is an earlier composition; the tablet should be assigned to the sixth century BCE. 35 Schaudig, Inschriften, 590–94, Waerzeggers, “Babylonian Kingship,” 217. 36 BM 45690 (the King of Justice text). See most recently Schaudig, Inschriften, 579–88; Foster, Before the Muses, 870–74. 37 BHLT, no. 3. Most recently, Matthew Neujahr, Predicting the Past in the Ancient Near East: Mantic Historiography in Ancient Mesopotamia, Judah, and the Mediterranean World (Providence: Brown Judaic Studies, 2012), 58–71, with bibliography (we do not share his conclusions; a new discussion by M. Jursa is forthcoming). Waerzeggers has discussed the question of the text’s focus, i. e., the question of whether or not the (badly broken) manuscript contained a lengthy passage on the Persian period, the existence of which would make the concentration on periods of regime change in the extant text more apparent than real. “Babylonian Kingship,” 205–8. Given the identical focus of the rest of the period’s historical-literary production, this bias would not be surprising (pace the argument of W. G. Lambert cited by Waerzeggers). 38 See the list in Clancier, Bibliothèques, 447–48. For editions, see ABC; Jean-Jacques Glassner, Mesopotamian Chronicles, WAW 19 (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004); Irving

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

261

In terms of numbers, chronicles referring to the period of the Macedonian conquest, the struggle of the Diadochoi, and the reign of the first Seleucids dominate, but some fragments referring to the second century BCE are also known.39 Only the tail end of the late Achaemenid period is represented, in the years just before the Macedonian conquest.40 The only other period dealt with in the chronicle literature is the end of the Neo-Babylonian dynasty. The Nabonidus Chronicle, which recounts the reign of the last Neo-Babylonian king and the fall of his kingdom at the hands of Cyrus, belongs here.41 Beyond the cuneiform tradition, the Babyloniaca of Berossos is a product of LBPL.42 Whether this “Babylonian History” was dedicated to Antiochos I or to Antiochos II, it is clear that the text emphasizes the Babylonian priestly scholars’ privileged access to antediluvian knowledge and thus shares a principal interest with the compositions written in Babylonian in this period: the priests’ indispensability for the “correct” execution of kingship, and their ability to establish royal legitimation.43

Finkel and Robertus J. van der Spek, “Mesopotamian Chronicles,” Livius, http://www.livius. org/sources/about/mesopotamian-chronicles/ (accessed July 27, 2018); these texts are referred to as BCHP (Babylonian Chronicles from the Hellenistic Period) + number. 39 This is the BCHP corpus, which is also partly included in ABC, nos. 10 (Diadochi), 11 (Antiochus the Crown Prince), 12 (end of the reign of Seleucos I), 13, 13B. Unpublished fragment: BM 34775. 40 ABC, no. 9 (Artaxerxes III); ABC, no. 8 = BCHP 1 (Alexander). 41 ABC, no. 7; Waerzeggers, “Facts, Propaganda, History.” Note that early Neo-Babylonian “history” features also in the Religious Chronicle (ABC, no. 17). Contrary to the cautious hypothesis formulated by Waerzeggers (“Facts, Propaganda, History,” 111), the famous Verse Account of Nabonidus (Schaudig, Inschriften, 563–78) should not be included here. A preliminary paleographic examination suggests a dating of the single extant manuscript, BM 38299, to the late sixth or the fifth century BCE. 42 E. g., Paul-Alain Beaulieu, “Berossus on Neo-Babylonian History,” Oriental Studies (2006): 116–49; Robertus J. van der Spek, “Berossos as a Babylonian Chronicler and Greek Historian,” in Studies in Ancient Near Eastern World View and Society Presented to Marten Stol on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, 10 November 2005, and his Retirement from the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, ed. Robertus J. van der Spek et al. (Bethesda: CDL, 2008), 277–318; Johannes Bach, “Berossos, Antiochus und die Babyloniaka,” Ancient West and East 12 (2013): 157–80; Geert De Breucker, “De Babyloniaca van Berossos van Babylon: Inleiding, editie en commentaar” (Ph.D. diss., University of Groningen, 2012); Johannes Haubold, Giovanni B. Lanfranchi, Robert Rolinger, and John Steele, eds., The World of Berossos: Proceedings of the 4th International Colloquium on “The Ancient Near East between Classical and Ancient Oriental Traditions,” Hatfield College, Durham, 7th–9th July 2010 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2013); John Dillery, Clio’s Other Sons: Berossus and Manetho (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2015). 43 E. g., Bach, “Berossos.” Note that for Dillery, Berossus’s interest in sages and ancestral wisdom reflects a Hellenistic inflection of local Babylonian views. Clio’s Other Sons, 66–72. This seems unlikely; in any case, the motif is quite prominent in LBPL in general.

262

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

III. Rituals In contrast to genres that deal with the priestly community’s past, ritual texts express its aspirations for the present and the future. A sizeable number of prescriptions for cultic performance have come down to us from Late Babylonian Babylon.44 Very few of them are demonstrably Achaemenid;45 the bulk of the material is from the Hellenistic period. Some of the late ritual texts are of calendrical nature, since they give but short notes on the cultic actions to be performed on certain days of certain months.46 Others can be considered proper ritual texts, for they give detailed instructions for a single ritual (which could last for more than one day).47 Some rituals are described in more than one tablet and can be viewed as a series.48 Many of the rituals presented in these texts are otherwise unknown: the texts have no precursors and the rituals are not mentioned in 44  The British Museum houses more than sixty tablets and fragments, more than half of which remain unpublished. The most important publications include Marc Linssen, The Cults of Uruk and Babylon: The Temple Ritual Texts as Evidence for Hellenistic Cult Practice, CM 25 (Leiden: Brill, 2004); A. R. George, “Four Temple Rituals from Babylon,” in Wisdom, Gods and Literature: Studies in Assyriology in Honour of W. G. Lambert, ed. A. R. George and I. L. Finkel (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000), 259–99; Galip Çağirgan and Wilfred G. Lambert, “The Late Babylonian Kislīmu Ritual for Esagil,” JCS 43–45 (1991): 89–106; Wilfred G. Lambert, “The Problem of the Love Lyrics,” in Unity and Diversity: Essays in the History, Literature, and Religion of the Ancient Near East, ed. Hans Goedicke and J. J. M. Roberts (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1975), 98–135; François Thureau-Dangin, Rituels accadiens (Paris: Leroux, 1921), henceforth Racc. A comprehensive study of the unpublished material is forthcoming by Rocío Da Riva; an initial publication appeared recently: Rocío Da Riva and Gianluca Galetti, “Two Temple Rituals from Babylon,” JCS 70 (2018): 189–227. A study and contextualization of the New Year Festival texts will be offered by Céline Debourse in her Ph.D. dissertation at the University of Vienna. The exact nature of ritual texts is contested: they are most commonly defined as prescriptive, but have also been called “literary” (Linssen, Cults, 11) or “descriptive” (Da Riva and Galetti, “Rituals,” 190). For a working definition of ritual, see Julia Krul, The Revival of the Anu Cult and the Nocturnal Fire Ceremony at Late Babylonian Uruk, CHANE 95 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 7. 45 One ritual text is dated in its colophon to the thirteenth regnal year of a king Darius (I or II): BM 78076 (ritual for Kislīmu; George, “Rituals,” 280–89). On paleographical grounds, BM 47902+ (akītu ritual) should also be dated to pre-Hellenistic times; see Wilfred G. Lambert, “Processions to the Akītu House,” RA 91 (1997): 52–56. 46 VAT 662+663 (Reisner, SBH, no. VIII; Galip Çağirgan, “Babylonian Festivals” [Ph.D. diss., University of Birmingham, 1976], 168–81); VAT 398 (Reisner, SBH, no. VII; Eckhard Unger, Babylon: Die heilige Stadt nach der Beschreibung der Babylonier [Berlin: de Gruyter, 1931], 260–61). 47 BM 32206+ (Çağirgan and Lambert, “Kislīmu ritual”); BM 32516 and BM 41239 (George, “Rituals,” 289–99); BM 32656 (George, “Rituals,” 270–80); BM 40090+ (Lambert, “Love Lyrics”); BM 40790 (Da Riva and Galetti, “Rituals,” 193–213); BM 40854+ (Da Riva and Galetti, “Rituals,” 213–22); BM 45381+ (unpublished); BE 13987 (Linssen, Cults, 301–5; Claus Ambos, Mesopotamische Baurituale aus dem 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. [Dresden: Islet, 2004], 180–89). 48 In particular the New Year Festival texts: DT 15, DT 114, BM 32485+, MNB 1848 (Linssen, Cults, 215–37; Racc, 127–54), BM 41577 (George, “Rituals,” 260–70), and BM 32655 (Jursa and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” 89–95).

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

263

(older) secondary sources.49 The ritual of the Divine Love Lyrics and the New Year Festival are the two important exceptions to this rule. The former refer to and include recitations known from Neo-Assyrian copies,50 and the New Year or akītu festival is attested from the third millennium BCE onwards.51 However, even though those rituals are part of the Mesopotamian cultic tradition, the ritual texts are new creations of the Hellenistic period.52 Thus, the ritual specificities of the Babylonian New Year Festival as described in these late texts have only few equivalents in earlier literature. Many clues suggest that the ritual texts were created in the same context as the historical-literary compositions pertaining to LBPL. First, the ritual texts show a similar interest in the past as the rest of the corpus: as stated above, some ritual texts relate to a cultic tradition that probably no longer existed.53 Moreover, the ritual texts exhibit some traits of antiquarianism. An excellent example is the Kislīmu ritual BM 32206+, which features several cultic agents who either no longer existed at the time of redaction, such as the Old Babylonian nadītupriestess, or whose names had been translated into Akkadian from old Sumerian titles, such as the mār eduppê, who can be identified as the Sumerian dumu é.dub.ba.a.54 Other titles of functionaries that are otherwise unattested may also have been derived from older names unknown to us, if they were not invented ad hoc.55 There is, too, the impression that the priests tried to provide these texts 49 On the validity of ritual texts as historical sources and the matter of cultic continuity in the Hellenistic period, see Linssen, Cults. 50 Dietz O. Edzard, “Zur Ritualtafel der sog. ‘Love Lyrics,’” in Language, Literature and History: Philological and Historical Studies Presented to Erica Reiner, ed. Francesca Rochberg-Halton (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1987), 57–69; Lambert, “Love Lyrics.” We will not deal any further with the corpus of texts of the ritual of the Divine Love Lyrics here. They are currently being studied by Rocío Da Riva and Nathan Wasserman, “Love Lyrics,” Oracc, http://oracc museum.upenn.edu/lovelyrics/ (accessed July 27, 2018). 51 Mark E. Cohen, Festivals and Calendars of the Ancient Near East (Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2015), 99–106 and 389–408; idem, The Cultic Calendars of the Ancient Near East (Bethesda, MD: CDL, 1993), 400–53. 52 The date of composition of the New Year Festival texts is discussed in Céline Debourse, “A New Hope: The New Year’s Festival Texts as a Cultural Reaction to Defeat,” in Proceedings of the Symposium “Culture of Defeat – Submission in Written Sources and the Archaeological Record of the Ancient Near East” (Jerusalem, 22–23 October 2017), ed. K. Streit, forthcoming. 53 The New Year Festival, for example, is not attested after the crown prince Cambyses participated in the festival during the reign of Cyrus (Finkel and van der Spek, “Nabonidus Chronicle,” Livius, http://www.livius.org/sources/content/mesopotamian-chronicles-content/ abc-7-nabonidus-chronicle/ [accessed August 28, 2018]) until the reign of Antiochos III (Finkel and van der Spek, “Chronicle 12b,” Livius, http://www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchp-12seleucus_iii/seleucus_iii_01 html [accessed August 29, 2018]); see also Waerzeggers, “Babylonian Kingship,” 198–201. 54 For 32206+, see Çağirgan and Lambert, “Kislīmu Ritual.” 55 For example, the dumu níg.la.la in BM 32206+ (we would in fact propose to read this mār šalāli, as will be discussed elsewhere). See also Alan Lenzi, Secrecy and the Gods: Secret Knowledge in Ancient Mesopotamia and Biblical Israel, SAA 19 (Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2008), 210n365.

264

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

with a flavor of venerability, as evinced, for example, by the use of often incomprehensible Sumerian in the New Year Festival texts.56 In addition, there is one ritual text that explicitly relates to an actual historical event in the same way that the historical-literary compositions and the chronicles do. BM 32656 contains a prayer to Šamaš in which there is a reference to the destruction of holy places by the Elamite enemy. This is reminiscent of BM 34062, in which a description of the attack of the Elamite king Kudur-naḫḫunte on Babylonia is given: “An aggressor attacked us, plundered our flocks. A wicked enemy came quickly against us, the evil one laid waste our countryside. […] Elam overwhelmed our sacred localities.”57 Second, there are many similarities between the corpora of historical texts and the ritual texts in the language, orthography, paleography, and tablet shape used. Many of the rituals are written on large library tablets with two or more columns on each side. On paleographic and orthographic grounds most tablets can be dated to the (late) third or second century BCE. Even though ritual texts employ a highly specific language, some passages are reminiscent of the historical-literary texts, such as the prayer to Šamaš mentioned above, but also, for example, the “negative confession” of the king in the New Year Festival texts (see below).58 Third, the characteristic motifs of LBPL, which will be discussed in more detail below, can be recognized in the late temple ritual texts too. The very fact that these rituals were composed attests to the first motif under investigation, namely the focus on and prominence of the observance of the cult at Babylon and most importantly at Esangila. Furthermore, the priests are the main protagonists in this corpus and their role as preservers and protectors of the cult is often emphasized; this is the third motif to be examined. The king, on the other hand, occurs less frequently than would be expected in terms of ideas of traditional Mesopotamian kingship, and he is no longer portrayed as the only imaginable supporter of the Marduk cult, in line with the second motif we will discuss.

C. The Principal Motifs of LBPL I. The Focus on Babylon and Its Temples All the pseudepigraphic letters and historical-literary compositions focus, to some degree, on Babylon, Marduk, Esangila, and the status of the temple community. To quote one example, the letter BM 35404 set in the Late Bronze Age: 56 Takayoshi M. Oshima, Babylonian Prayers to Marduk, Orientalische Religionen in der Antike 7 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), 102–9. 57 On BM 34062, see Jursa and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature”; translation from George, “Rituals,” 278. 58 MNB 1848 V 38–43 (Linssen, Cults, 232: 423–428).

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

265

“Who is the king of Elam who cared for Esangila, has established [the freedom of corvée (kidinnu)] of the Babylonians and [declared] their freedom of taxes (šubarrûšunu)?”59 (Elsewhere, Nabopolassar enumerates as Assyrian misdeeds not just the plundering “of all the lands,” but more specifically the sacking of Esangila, the killing of Babylon’s Elders (šībūt āli), and causing the downfall of the Babylonians.60 The Babylon-centric perspective of the authors of these documents is also demonstrated by the obviously ahistorical assumption that an Assyrian king/pretender would explicitly accept a Babylonian king’s primacy, as Sin-šarru-iškun does in his reply to Nabopolassar’s letter.61 Examples could be easily multiplied.62 In the chronicles, the events most frequently mentioned are movements in and out of the city, its palace, and its temple.63 Religious festivals in the city are likewise prominent,64 and of course attention is given to matters concerning Esangila, such as building activities, or royal offerings in the temple,65 or even the activities of individual priests.66 We also find records of potentially ominous events.67 Overall, the principal focus of the chroniclers’ interests was the city, or more precisely, its religious establishment and its fate at the hands of political powers. The “alterity” of the outside forces confronting the city and its temple is often mentioned explicitly, for example when the Greek politai established in Babylon are described.68 Finally, we find a focus on the city and the Marduk temple also in Berossos, in his description of the actions and building activities of Nebuchadnezzar.69 59 Frazer,

“Letters,” no. 5.7. 55467, Frazer, “Letters,” no. 6.7. 61 Frazer, “Letters,” no. 6.8. 62 E. g., in the Nabopolassar epic, after having been made king with the consent of “Bēl (= Marduk) in the assembly of the gods,” Nabopolassar explicitly promises to reign in Babylon (BHLT, no. 7 iii). In the fragmentary Amīl-Marduk epic, Babylon and Esangila and their wellbeing are likewise the central issue under contention (BHLT, no. 8). 63 Among many other examples, see ABC, no. 9. 64 E. g., ABC, no. 8; BCHP 8. For the New Year Festival in particular, see Julye Bidmead, The akītu Festival: Religious Continuity and Royal Legitimation in Mesopotamia (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2002), 145–54; A. Kirk Grayson, “Chronicles and the akītu Festival,” in Actes de la 17 e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, ed. A. Finet (Hamm-sur-Heure: Comité belge de Recherche en Mésopotamie, 1970), 160–70. 65 E. g., ABC, no. 11 obv. 7–8 (offering), no. 10 rev. 13, 33 (removing of rubble from the site of Esangila, after the Macedonian conquest), no. 13b, pp. 283–86 (royal offerings), BCHP 6 (royal offerings “in Greek fashion,” removing rubble from the site of Esangila). 66 E. g., BCHP 10, 12. 67 E. g., ABC, no. 17, passim. For such observations in the contemporary Astronomical Diaries, see Pirngruber, Economy, 203–4. Also ABC, no. 23 (chronicle of “historical” market prices) belongs here. 68 BCHP 14 (the distinguishing characteristic here is the politai’s use of oil for anointing). See also, e. g., the references to offerings “in the Greek fashion” (n61), or to heavily armored Greeks (“Haneans”) who are designated as “impious,” lā ādir ilāni, BCHP 11. 69 E. g., Beaulieu, “Berossus,” 133–38; van der Spek, “Berossos,” 296–313. 60 BM

266

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

In the rituals, Babylon’s chief temple Esangila is of central importance, but other, smaller temples are not left out. In fact, the cultic perspective of Babylon included Borsippa.70 Nevertheless, the central point of it all was Esangila. That is very explicit in the prayers in the New Year Festival texts, in which the word “Babylon” occurs seventeen times (as opposed to one mention of Borsippa and no mention of other cities; at the end of each prayer, Marduk is requested to “show mercy to your city, Babylon; turn your face to Esangila, your temple; grant freedom of service to the citizens of Babylon, the privileged ones.”71 II. The King In the way of a Fürstenspiegel, LBPL gives many exempla of commendable and divinely approved, as well as reprehensible, and hence divinely punished, royal behavior.72 In the most general form, this idea is represented by the King of Justice text.73 This document mentions various instances and ways in which a king whose name is lost (Nebuchadnezzar or Nabonidus) maintains justice in the land according to Marduk’s command. For example: For the sake of due process (the king) did not neglect truth and justice, nor did he rest day or night! He was always drawing up, with reasoned deliberation, cases and decisions pleasing to the great lord Marduk (and) framed for the benefit of all the people and the stability of Babylonia. He drew up improved regulations for the city …74

A principal focus of the text is on supra-rational ways of establishing justice, such as the ordeal. For our period, this is archaizing (and would have been so already in the sixth century BCE).75 In the context of LBPL, the text emphasizes the divine nature of justice, and a king’s need to pay attention to this aspect, in the face of “rationalizing” tendencies in legal procedure – best illustrated by the replacement of the ordeal by torture as a tool for judicial fact-finding.76 Similarly, the Dynastic Prophecy presents the sequence of kings it discusses as a sequence of (mostly) either good or bad kings. A good king will bring booty 70 As evinced by BM 40790 and BM 40854+, which relate the preparations of Nabû and his consorts in Borsippa for his participation in the New Year Festival at Babylon (pace Da Riva and Galetti, “Rituals”). 71 DT 15 I 30–32 (Linssen, Cults, 224: 30–32); translation by Céline Debourse. 72 In this, LBPL is of course not unique in the Mesopotamian record (see, e. g., Waerzeggers, “Pious King,” 738–40). The particular form this motif takes, however, is characteristic of our period. 73 See n36 above. 74 Foster, Before the Muses, 871. 75 The latest reference to an ordeal – which did not take place, according to the text – is found in a letter from around 600 BCE. Yuval Levavi, Administrative Epistolography in the Formative Phase of the Neo-Babylonian Empire (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2018), no. 22. Thereafter it is not mentioned again in archival sources. 76 References: Jursa and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” 81.

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

267

to Babylon and decorate Esangila and Ezida,77 while a bad king (Nabonidus in this case)78 will “oppress the land and [cancel] the festival of Es[angila] … (and) plot evil against Babylonia.”79 The much-discussed column iii of this text contains a culmination of sorts. It refers to a king who will overthrow an army of “Hanaeans” (an archaizing term, employed in this period for “Greeks and Macedonians”); “he will [carry] off its massive booty [and bring] it to his palace. The people who had ex[perienced] misfortune [will enjoy] well-being. The morale of the land […] exemption (zakûtu) from service […].”80 The lines preceding this passage mention the defeat of Darius III at the hand of the “Hanean troops,” i. e., the Macedonians. Then the passage goes on to speak – predictably in a broken context – of a subsequent81 defeat visited on the “Haneans” by a king whose name is lost in a break and who would go on to provide security and tax exemption for Babylon. This passage has been interpreted as a genuine prediction, after a series of vaticinia ex eventu, that constituted a Babylonian warning to Alexander against future defeat.82 However, as will be argued elsewhere, the interpretation of this passage as an authentic prediction, rather than as another vaticinium ex eventu, is forced. Following Mark Geller,83 the passage is better understood to refer not to a defeat of Alexander himself, but more generically to that of a foreign, Greco-Macedonian army at the hands of a new pretender who enjoyed local favor. The only plausible candidate for this pretender is Seleukos, whose dynasty at least initially lavished funds on Esangila and its temple community. With the benefit of hindsight, the priestly authors of the Dynastic Prophecy essentially claim Seleukos as one of their own, in contrast to his rivals such as Antigonos. This political statement cuts to the heart of the motivations behind the whole corpus of LBPL. In general, the implicit advice to kings built into our texts focuses on two principal motifs. The king is supposed to support Marduk, but we can also find negative exempla – sinning kings who are duly punished by defeat, or who may redeem themselves by repenting.84 Supporter of Marduk Ideally, the relationship between the king and Marduk is reciprocal. In one letter in the corpus, Nabopolassar claims, in fairly conventional diction, to have 77 BHLT,

no. 3, i 20–22. is presented as founder of the “Dynasty of Harran”; cf. Waerzeggers, “Facts, Propaganda, History,” 183. 79 BHLT, no. 3, ii 14–16. 80 Foster, Before the Muses, 1027. 81 The temporal reference given by the text is imprecise. 82 van der Spek, “Darius III”; similarly Neujahr, Predicting the Past, 58–71. 83 Markham J. Geller, “Babylonian Astronomical Diaries and Corrections of Diodorus,” BSOAS 53 (1990): 1–7. Also, e. g., Foster, Before the Muses, 1026. 84 This was well pointed out for some of our texts by De Breucker, “Heroes and Sinners.” 78 He

268

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

Marduk’s support, but he also speaks explicitly about having enjoyed favorable omens – implicitly a reference to priestly competences – and his deeds are explicitly presented as intended to avenge Babylon and Esangila and “to bring down [the prop]erty of Esangila and Babylon from the enemy land.”85 This motif reappears in the Nabopolassar epic, where the fragment BM 45684 has the chief diviner Ṣallāya announce the aforementioned positive omens, while the larger fragment BM 34793 refers to Nabopolassar’s “avenging Babylonia.”86 The same idea evinces from the Amīl-Marduk epic, in which the eponymous king is said not to have heeded a heroic courtier’s (see below) advice to do “what is good for [Esangila] and Babylon.”87 This is the gravest charge that can be leveled against a king in our literature. Sinning (and Repenting) The image of the “evil king” is carefully elaborated in the texts that deal, at least on the surface, with the conflict between Babylonia and Elam in the late Bronze Age, but may in fact (also) contain a reflex of the Persian period and in particular of the rebellions against Xerxes and the reprisals thereafter. This is clearest in BM 34062,88 which is cited below. In a similar vein, BM 35404 makes reference to a “Tukulti-Ninurta, son of Arad-Esangila,” born of a slave girl, who claimed the Babylonian throne but was killed in a rebellion – a reference to the Assyrian king of that name who conquered Babylon but was indeed murdered in a revolt.89 By the same logic, Nabopolassar is said to present his victory over Assyria as vengeance for the abomination wrought by the Assyrian king Sennacherib on [Esangila] and Babylonia: “because of the evil you (i. e., the Assyrian kings) did to Babylonia, Marduk the great lord [and all the great gods(?)] will hold you accountable.”90 However, for LBPL, evil is not only attributed to the “foreign” king, but, significantly, also to “legitimate” kings of Babylon. We have seen this already in the Dynastic Prophecy. The preserved part of the Adad-šumu-uṣur epic recounts a rebellion instigated by the city elites of Babylon and the city’s privileged citizenry.91 The king saves the situation by asking the rebels to allow him to go before Marduk, and subsequently before Nabû in Borsippa and Nergal in Kutha, 85 BM

55467; Frazer, “Letters,” no 6.7. Riva, “Nabopolassar”; see also below. 87 On the text see Finkel, “Lament of Nabû-šuma-ukīn,” 336–37; Schaudig, Inschriften, 589–90; Céline Debourse and Michael Jursa, „Priestly Resistance and Royal Penitence: A New Reading of the Amīl-Marduk Epic (BM 34113),” WZKM 109 (2019): 171–181.. 88 Jursa and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature.” 89 Frazer, “Letters,” no. 5.7. 90 BM 55467; Frazer, “Letters,” no 6.7. 91 BHLT, no. 6. The base of the rebellion is formed by the banûtu (BHLT, no. 6 iii 7), something like the “gentlemen,” the “free householders” (elsewhere mār banê) of Babylon. They are represented by their “leaders” or “lords,” rabû or bēlu (BHLT, no. 6, ii 15, 19). Collectively, 86 Da

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

269

to confess his misdeeds. He also lavishes funds on Esangila. The origin of the rebellion, then, was disrespect for the Babylonians and neglect of the temple, and the king had to humble himself to retain his power.92 This episode is reminiscent of a core element in the New Year Festival: the “negative confession” of the king before Marduk. There too, “privileges” of Babylon (kidinnu) are mentioned. The text describes how the king is made to enter Esangila (ušerrebūšu), where the priest (aḫu rabû) removes his regalia – the royal staff, ring, mace, and crown – which are then placed before Marduk by the priest. After that, the priest approaches the king and strikes his cheek, pulls him by the ears, and makes him kneel before Marduk, where the king has to pronounce a negative confession: he has to declare that he has not sinned against Marduk, Babylon, Esangila, and the privileged citizens. Thus, the ritual text clearly exemplifies what good Babylonian kingship is: [I have not sin]ned, lord of the lands, I have not neglected your divinity. [I have not rui]ned Babylon nor ordered its dissolution. [I have not] made Esangila tremble nor forgotten its rites. [I have not stru]ck the cheek of the privileged citizenry [(…) no]r brought about their humiliation […] to Babylon, I did not destroy its outer walls.93

The striking degree of agency allotted to the priest in the context of this ritual leads to the discussion of the priest as the principal protagonist of LBPL. III. The Priests and Their Competences One of the clearest characteristics distinguishing LBPL from earlier phases of Mesopotamian écriture is its focus on nonroyal actors. While Mesopotamian historical and historical-literary material in general usually names only kings and very occasionally high officials, in our literature the king is not necessarily the only, and sometimes not even the chief protagonist. Our texts give ample space to and frequently also name other protagonists as well – protagonists who in most cases come from the priesthood. The most explicit statement of the priest’s exceptional role in our literature is fittingly placed into the mouth of none other than Marduk himself. In an exceptional passage that must have been part of the New Year Festival documentation, the god pronounces the following eulogy on his chief priest, the Elder Brother:

they are the “privileged citizenry,” ṣāb kidinni (BHLT, no. 6, ii 18, 27). Priests were necessarily the core of such a group. 92 See also De Breucker, “Heroes and Sinners,” 78–79. 93 MNB 1848 V 38–43; translation by Céline Debourse.

270

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

May they call you Elder Brother of Eumuša. May you know my secret knowledge; may my asaru94 be familiar to you. May you know my rituals. I have determined a great fate for you; day and night perform [the rites for me]. May the king humbly revere you. May all the priests speak well of you. Without you no regular offerings should be established for me. May you know my secret knowledge and my purification rites. May you be pure as heaven; may you be clean as the earth. May your aura be as (bright as) the day; may your work be a work like the heavens. May your name be great like the king’s. Let no one treat you deceivingly. Let neither king nor governor strike your cheek. May your work be a work for eternity. The king or the governor who strikes your cheek, may a king who is their enemy defeat them. (subscript) a total number of 30 lines is on the tablet and elmēšu-stone of the Elder Brother of Eumuša95

Not only is the exceptionality of the priest pronounced by the god himself, it is emphasized that this exceptionality amounts to quasi-equality between priest and king, or even to the priest’s primacy over the king. In its assignment of near-royal or perhaps supra-royal status to the priest, this text is unique, to the best of our knowledge, in Mesopotamian history – but it is entirely fitting in the context of LBPL. The importance attributed to priestly agency, as well as the fact that it is not eclipsed by royal agency, is reflected throughout the rituals of our corpus. The humiliation of the king by the high priest in the episode described in the New Year Festival texts is a very explicit example of priestly agency. The king’s loss of status during a ritual is attested in older Mesopotamian rites, but it was never paired with physical pain.96 In this instance, the high priest is assigned a status that puts him on a level between the king and Marduk. More generally, it is the priest who performs most of the rites and manages the cult. He identifies himself in one of the prayers in the New Year Festival texts as the one speaking, thus 94 Some

type of text. and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” 89–94. 96  Most importantly, bīt salāˀ mê “house of sprinkling water” (BM 47696+), when the king was stripped of his regalia as well and was supposed to pass the night in a “prison”; the ritual served as preparation for the akītu in the autumn. See Ambos, Der König im Gefängnis. Note also the Neo-Assyrian coronation ritual VAT 9583+, in which the king was supposed to prostrate himself and roll on the ground before the god Assur. In the latest edition, a passage was reconstructed (based on the Hellenistic New Year Festival texts) as indicating that the priest slaps the king’s cheek; however, that is uncertain: [l]úsanga ša aš-šur ina pa-ni-šú-n[u te lugal] i-maḫ-ḫaṣ. See Simo Parpola, Assyrian Royal Rituals and Cultic Texts, SAA 20 (Helsinki: NeoAssyrian Text Corpus Project, 2017), no. 7. Others have proposed to see here a reference to the beating (“hitting”) of a drum. 95 Jursa

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

271

exhibiting his personal relationship with the god Marduk: “I am the aḫu rabû, who speaks favourably of you.”97 The king, on the other hand, can only address the god through an intermediary, the priest. In the ritual text BM 32206+, the only other text from the corpus mentioning the king, it seems that the priest is supposed to take the king by the hand. This gesture, highly symbolic in ritual contexts, implies a reversal of the traditional hierarchy:98 normally, he who leads is of higher prestige, as for instance in prayers in which gods are asked to take their supplicants by the hand and lead them to salvation. Moreover, it is significant in this context that in most ritual texts the king has no agency. Rituals are considered to belong to the lore of the priestly community, and no one outside that group is to be initiated. Hence, we find colophons stating that “he who reveres Bēl must not show it to anyone but the Elder Brother”99 or “to anyone but his son”100 – who was supposed to be a (future) priest as well.101 The continuation of the cult was of more importance than a (native) king’s participation in it, and the priests took it upon themselves to preserve what they considered to be the Babylonian cultic tradition. Searching for similar features in our corpus beyond the rituals, we may begin with one telltale episode in Berossos: when Nebuchadnezzar hurried back to Babylon from Syria upon hearing of his father’s death, he found the administration of the realm in good hands as the “Chaldeans” had taken charge of it.102 “Chaldeans” here must refer to the Marduk priesthood.103 Given the actual division of power in the Neo-Babylonian empire,104 such a strong political role for the priests is unlikely, and the detail is in fact absent in Berossos’s probable source, a sixth‑ century BCE Babylonian chronicle.105 It is instead the thirdcentury BCE priest’s vision of his and his peers’ aspirations that shines through this text. The chronicles also feature named nonroyal protagonists: the Babylonian Kidinnu, killed in the troubles before Alexander’s conquest according to the  97 BM

32485+ I 10ʹ (Linssen, Cults, 228: 245). 32206+ 1 20–21 (Çağirgan and Lambert, “Kislīmu Ritual”). The text is broken for two or three signs: lúšeš.gal […] x ù šuII bára [i-ṣab-bat]. For qātē DN ṣabātum, see Bidmead, Akītu Festival, 154–62.  99 DT 15 I 34–35 (Linssen, Cults, 224: 34–35). 100 BM 41577 III 3–4 (George, “Rituals,” 267). 101 Lenzi, Secrecy, 210: “perhaps the high-ranking šešgallu [sic] invoked secrecy in this ritual to support his own authority and to emphasize his distinctive ritual contributions.” 102 Stanley M. Burstein, The “Babyloniaca” of Berossus (Malibu, CA: Undena, 1978), 27 = De Breucker, “De Babyloniaca van Berossos,” 256–57; Elizabeth von Voigtlander, “A Survey of Neo-Babylonian History” (Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1963), 92. 103 See also van der Spek, “Berossos,” 289. 104 Michael Jursa, “The Neo-Babylonian Empire,” in Imperien und Reiche in der Weltgeschichte: Epochenübergreifende und globalhistorische Vergleiche, ed. Michael Gehler and Robert Rollinger (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2014), 121–48. 105 See the discussion of the Berossos passage and its probable source in Beaulieu, “Berossus,” 120–26.  98 BM

272

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

Alexander Chronicle, is a case in point;106 other examples include Rēmūt and Šarru-ilūʾa in the Adad-šumu-uṣur epic, and Enlil-kidinnī, mentioned in a fragment.107 Among the historical-literary compositions, we have also a courtier (manzāz pāni) as the real hero of the Amīl-Marduk epic (see below). The Nabopolassar epic108 mentions an exorcist at the climax of a clash with an Assyrian force described in the main fragment of the text,109 and a name-bearing chief diviner, Ṣallāya, appears in a related fragment. This man gets to deliver an exhortation to the king, promising that he will succeed.110 This is typical: the priests’ competences are crucial for the royal enterprise. But the priestly figure is of greater complexity, far transcending what can be found in earlier periods of Mesopotamian history. Resistance in the Name of Marduk: Babylonians as Heroes and Martyrs When independent agency is attributed to nonroyal protagonists, and in particular priests, LBPL breaks new ground and reveals its underlying interests most clearly. The Amīl-Marduk epic features as its principal protagonist a courtier who tries, in vain, to correct the evil ways of the king, apparently by referring to the king’s father Nebuchadnezzar as an exemplum: (The courtier) recalled Nebuchadnezzar constantly. [To him] his life was of no value, before [the king (…)] he stood and the (next) day, what is good for [Esagil and] Babylon he proposed to Amīl-Marduk (but) no one would listen [to him]. He made a second attempt to give advice but nobody [else] would listen to what he said.

Later in the text, the courtier does manage to change the king’s attitude: In his heart he does not care for son or daughter, there is no family or kin in his heart. To whatever is pleasant he does not pay attention, (because) his attention is focused on the well-being of Esangila and Babylon.

This passage explicitly states the paramount importance of the service of Marduk according to the ideology of our corpus. It is also remarkable for allowing a nonroyal agent to promote “what is good for Esangila and Babylon.” That, we venture, is hardly conceivable in a Babylonian historical-literary composition outside the realm of LBPL.111 In the text just discussed, this agent is a courtier, but elsewhere, it is a priest. 106 See van der Spek, “The Alexander Chronicle (BCHP 1): Commentary,” Livius, http://www. livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchp-alexander/alexander_03.html (accessed August 8, 2018); similarly, perhaps, Nabû-tattannu-uṣur in the Nabonidus chronicle (Grayson, ABC, I 15[!]). 107 BHLT, no. 6, iii 8 and no. 5 respectively. 108 Da Riva, “Nabopolassar.” 109 BHLT, no. 7, ii 2. 110 Da Riva, “Nabopolassar,” 79; BHLT, no. 9. 111 This argument holds even though the chief protagonist of the Amīl-Marduk epic may have been the future king Neriglissar. See the discussion in Debourse and Jursa, “Priestly Resistance

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

273

BM 34062 features one named protagonist, clearly a priest, who apparently manages to carry off Nabû’s statue into hiding in the face of an Elamite attack.112 The same text also contains the following story of a priestly martyr’s heroic resistance to an Elamite king’s attempts to involve him in sacrilegious acts. The enemy approached the Great Gate; he tore out the gate … he stood in the Great Court gazing at Ekur. He spoke, addressing (his) followers; he spat a blasphemous command to all his warriors: “Bring out the booty of Ekur, take its possessions; disrupt its order, interrupt its rites.” The enemy approached Iku, the seat of Ea. He destroyed [its] wall […] before it/him. […] Ešarra, […] its protective spirit took fright. He vandalized [Ešarra] and carried off its cultic paraphernalia. He entered Eadgigi and removed what was supposed to remain hidden. The enemy approached the god Ennundagala with the worst of intentions. But when faced with him the god started to radiate light, he flashed like lightning, he shook on (his) pedestal! The enemy became afraid and fled. There came his (the god’s) nešakku-priest, and (the Elamite king) said to him, “Can it really be that the god started to radiate light and flashed like lightning and shook on (his) pedestal? [Appro]ach Ennundagalla, remove his ornaments! [Take] his […]s, lead him away.” [The prie]st had no fear and was not mindful of (his own) life, [he did not] approach Ennundagalla, he did not remove (the god’s) diadems. [(Therefore)] the Elamite enemy spoke what he thought necessary. The Elamite, a vile man, ordered torture. The enemy repeated the command to an officer, “Let them bring the terrors of the wooden rack into Ekur. […] … in the Great Court I shall torture the nešakku-priest!” […] the officer executed the [order; in the Great Court he tor]tured the priest […] yelling at him [… deman]ding evil of him [(gap)].”113

It is quite probable that this is a veiled reference to Xerxes and his alleged desecration of Esangila. The similarity of this episode to Herodotus’s narrative of the theft of a gold statue in the temple by Xerxes and his killing of a priest who resisted him and warned him not to move the statue is striking.114 In any case, this passage is unique in our corpus due to its sharp juxtaposition of the evil (foreign) king and the valiant upright Babylonian priest, but it of course reflects the overall mores of LBPL. Knowledge The Babyloniaca of Berossos, a Babylonian history dedicated by a Babylonian priest of Esangila to a Seleucid king, embodies the motif of priestly knowledge perfectly: priestly authority rests on privileged access to traditional – “closed,” and Royal Penitence. For earlier treatments of the text, see Finkel, “Lament of Nabû-šumaukīn,” 336–37; Schaudig, Inschriften, 589–90. 112 Jursa and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” 88–89. 113 Jursa and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” 81–82. 114 Hist. 1.183. See Jursa and Debourse, “Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature,” 87–88.

274

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

unchangeable – erudition, which is of divine inspiration and which, in a mythologically constructed chain of transmission, reaches back beyond the flood. This is clear from those portions of the book that have been preserved; it does send a message of collective self-esteem and pride.115 The very same message can be culled from the correspondence between Ashurbanipal and priests from Babylon and Borsippa with which we opened this paper. This largely or entirely pseudepigraphic116 exchange between the Late Babylonian priests’ ancestors and the famous Assyrian transmitted – to one part of its intended second-century BCE audience, the priests of Esangila – a sense of self-esteem and purpose. The priests in turn could easily have used these texts to pass on this idea to the probable other part of the audience, the ruling GrecoMacedonian elite, including, possibly, the king himself.117 The exclusiveness of the priests’ claim to unrivaled, divinely inspired knowledge is one of the principal topics of another letter that very likely belongs to this correspondence. BM 34716 was most recently edited by Mary Frazer.118 To justify our new interpretation, we give here a new edition of the reverse of the tablet. The obverse is badly damaged and does not allow us to establish a coherent text. We agree with Albert Grayson that the fragment’s surface, at its maximum extension on the left, is broken quite close to the left edge of the original tablet. In the following transliteration, readings that diverge from Grayson’s editio princeps are indicated with an asterisk (*). If they can be found also in Frazer, “Letters,” they are indicated with a superscript circle (°). Apart from line 8 (Grayson), all restorations are ours. Rev. 1 [(ca. 5 signs) lug]al dingir.dingir d[amar.utu …] [ca. 6 signs)] ú ú-šá-lik ˹x˺ […] [ca. 5 signs) u]t-tap*-pil-šu-nu-tu4 du[mu*meš eki (?) …] 3a […] ˹x˺ 4 [ca 5 signs] šá tu-rap-pi-šu ma ˹x˺ […] 5 [ca. 5 signs]-KI-ka ana šá-la-lu šal-lat tin.tirki […] [ca. 4 signs] e-de-e ú-bal-lu a-dan-ni tu-ta […] 115 This is well summarized by Bach, who states that the Babyloniaca are not an explanation for Greeks of Babylonian traditions; rather, they are a statement of “Differenz im Sinne eines ‘Ihr habt eure Vorstellungen – wir aber haben unsere, und die schauen so aus.’” “Berossos,” 177. 116 Notwithstanding its possible historical core. 117 We would assume that the principal initiative here lies on the side of the priests, as these texts, as well as LBPL in general, clearly have an interest in enhancing community-internal coherence and self-esteem. Other aspects of the interaction on the religious, ideological, and political planes between the Seleucids and the priests may have been more strongly reciprocal, or may even have been initiated by the Seleucids. See, e. g., John P. Nielsen, The Reign of Nebuchadnezzar I in History and Historical Memory (London: Routledge, 2018), 134–37. 118 BHLT, no. 10; see Frazer, “Letters,” no. 7.12.

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

10

275

[ca. 3 signs] lugal dingir.dingir damar.utu im-šid mi-šit-tú ina ut-nin-ni l[ú*dumumeš eki (…)] [ca. 2 signs i]t-ta-as-kip lúkúr-ka ú-da-ap-par kal-la mur-ṣi [ina zumrika(?) (…)] [šá lugal i]l-ṭu-ru ana šu-ḫu-uz lúdub.sar-ru-ú-tú ana ṣe-˹ḫìr˺* […] [šá da]mar.utu šá ti(over partial erasure)-kip sa-an-tak-ku al-la lúdumu eki u al-la lú(text: d)dumu b[ár.sipaki ana mamma lā iqīšu] [ù lún]ak-ri u a-ḫu-ú la i-na-ṭal-lu ši-pir-šú ul nu-šá-an-ni [šipiršu] [šu-u]n*-nu-ú ti-kip sa-an-tak-ku ina qé-reb tin.tirki na-ṭa-lu [ša nakri u aḫî ikkib dmarduk] [šá i-qí-i]š*-šun-na-a-šú da-ri-iš šuk-lu-lu šip-ri a-ḫaz dub-ka u te°-[…] [(2–3 signs) šá šip-ri] ˹d˺amar.utu uš-tan-nu-ú ni*-iṣ-bat pa-rik-tú nu-[…] […] (Traces)-nu ú-˹x˺ […]

  1   3a   5

[… the ki]ng of the gods Marduk […] […] … he caused to go … […] […] he destroyed them. The [Babylon]ians […] […] … […] which you enlarged … […] […] your … for plundering Babylon […] [Regarding …] a notable should bring you have […] the deadline. [He who sinned against] Marduk, the king of the gods, paralysis struck (him) through the prayer [of the Babylon]ians, [and] your enemy was brought down, (but) all evil will withdraw [from your body (?)]. [Regarding what the king] wrote about the teaching of the scribal craft to the son of […]: 10–11 We will not change [the craft] of Marduk, who [gifted] cuneiform only to the Babylonians and Borsippeans and whose craft neither enemy nor stranger should see. 12 Changing (texts written in) cuneiform in Babylon and (their) inspection [by enemy or stranger is an abomination of Marduk.] The craft [(the god) gif]ts to us is perfect forever. Your studying a tablet and … […]. We intend to resist [(anyone) who] would change [the craft] of Marduk. We […] (break)   3   3a   4   7   9 10

Notes The verb napālu in the D form is rare, but it is attested in a late literary text that forms part of the corpus (CAD N/1, 275b). Between lines 3 and 4, text of which only traces remain was inserted in smaller script. Grayson proposed ‑ma l[i, but the traces of the final sign do not quite fit this reading. The phrase mišittu mašādu (“to hit, said of a stroke”) is attested as late as the middle of the second century BCE (AD, no. –136 B obv. 16ʹ). The reading i[ḫ at the end of the line, as proposed by Grayson, is not supported by the traces, but ḫìr fits the traces very well. Alternation between direct and indirect forms of address is not uncommon in Late Babylonian letters. In the break at the end of the line, one expects something like “has given” or “taught” “to no one but …” – lummudu, šūḫuzu, nadānu, and qâšu are some possibilities. We opted for qâšu because of line 13, but this is of course uncertain.

276

12

13

14

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

There are several possibilities for restoring the beginning of line 10 and the end of line 11; one might also think of a statement about the priests refusing to “change” Marduk’s command (amātu or qibītu). We suggest šipru because then the line is in symmetry with line 13. The restoration at the beginning of line 14 follows. The traces at the beginning of the line suggest what the following infinitive confirms: we have here two infinitives in a parallel structure; they take up the message of the preceding sentence. The restoration “… is an abomination of Marduk” makes perfect sense in context and finds parallels in, e. g., Ulrike Steinert, “‘Tested’ Remedies in Mesopotamian Medical Texts,” in In the Wake of the Compendia: Infrastructural Contexts and the Licensing of Empiricism in Ancient and Medieval Mesopotamia, ed. J. Cale Johnson (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015), 130. At first glance, one would want to read a stative form (3ms or 3fp) of šanû D at the beginning of the line: “… was/were changed for him.” However, the following considerations argue against this reading: Not very much is missing at the beginning of the line, and in light of the continuation “is perfect for ever,” a form of šanû D “change” should be preceded by a negation. But the remaining traces of the first sign after the break, two heads of vertical wedges preceded by faint traces of an oblique wedge, exclude reading la or ul or NU. ‑i]š, however, is eminently possible. Hence the suggestion to restore a form of qâšu “to gift,” followed by a suffix of the first-person plural (for the double n, cf. for instance lip-ṭur-un-na-šú “let them relieve us” in the letter Levavi, Administrative Epistolography, no. 175: 17). The reading is a conjecture, of course, but it fits the context very well. Both Grayson and Frazer read uš-tan-nu-ú-ni iṣ-bat, but clearly a first-person plural form is preferable in this context to an inexplicable ventive. The preterite must be translated as a cohortative.

In the reading proposed here, this is a letter of “the Babylonians (and Borsippeans?),” i. e., of the temple community of Esangila (and Ezida), to a king.119 Two topics can be identified. The first is Marduk’s physical punishment by disease of an enemy of the king addressed, caused by the intercession (utnennu) of the senders, and the healing of someone, in all likelihood the king. The second subject, introduced by reference to a previous message of the king, regards cuneiform writing, which is presented as the privileged possession of the Babylonians and Borsippeans in accord with the wish of Marduk. The king had apparently asked about the teaching of cuneiform wisdom to apprentice scribes, and perhaps (line 13) to himself. The response insists on the unchangeable nature of received written lore – owing to its divine origin – and on the pertinent restrictions on access by outsiders.120 This is a remarkably self-confident expression of the priest119 Note that contrary to the suggestion of previous commentators (cited in Frazer, “Letters”), there is no strong reason to connect the fragment Rm 742 with this letter. Rm 742 is at least in part addressed to a collective, in all likelihood the “Nippureans,” and may possibly deal with privileges that the latter share or do not share with the Babylonians and Borsippeans. If Frazer’s emendation of Rm 742 obv. 9 (d]˹an˺.šár-dù?- lugal) is correct, the text mentions Ashurbanipal by name, who thus in all likelihood is a passive, but not an active participant in this pseudepigraphic letter. 120 Note that this interpretation follows from the text extant on the fragment, as read here;

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

277

hood’s self-esteem. Not only is the divine punishment of the kings’ adversaries owed to their agency, as holders of the key to divine knowledge they need not cede or bow to outside pressure of any kind. This ties in perfectly with the spirit of Berossos and the eulogy of the Elder Brother cited above.

D. Conclusion When Antiochus III the Great entered Babylon in 188 BCE, he made lavish offerings at the gate of Esangila. The temple community that greeted him gifted him with a crown and other golden objects. Later the king visited the Day Onetemple. There he was shown, or perhaps even given, a garment that was presented to him as the purple robe of Nebuchadnezzar.121 The symbolic meaning is clear: in this carefully orchestrated event, the priests aimed at establishing a link of continuity between the venerated great king of their “national” past122 and the Hellenistic sovereign whose euergetism they craved.123 At the same time, we must assume that the king was not an unwilling, accidental participant in this symbolic communication; the point made was surely not lost on him, and may well have been welcome.124 It may even be that the symbolism used nods toward Hellenistic expectations. For Babylonians, the royal mantle, while an important item and a credible symbolic stand-in for the person of the king, was not among the canonical royal regalia (staff, ring, crown) that immediately captured their attention;125 but for Hellenistic Greeks, the purple mantle was one of the the restorations and conjectures proposed are in line with our understanding of the text, but the latter does not depend on them. 121 AD II, no. ‑187, rev. 4ʹ–18ʹ; Suzan Sherwin-White and Amélie Kuhrt, From Samarkhand to Sardis: A New Approach to the Seleucid Empire (London: Duckworth, 1993), 216. 122 We would not exclude that the image of Nebuchadnezzar I, the restorer of Marduk to his former glory (Nielsen, Nebuchadnezzar I, passim), and of Nebuchadnezzar II, the great king of the sixth century BCE, may have become indistinguishable at that point in time. 123 See Beaulieu, “Berossus,” 125–26. Beaulieu points out that Berossos presents Nebuchadnezzar as ruler over Palestine and Egypt, in order to turn him into a better role model for the Seleucids, whose interest in claiming the Neo-Babylonian empire as a legitimate forerunner of their own empire the Babyloniaca wants to promote. 124 Nielsen, in discussing this evidence and, inter alia, the Antiochus cylinder – a royal inscription of Antiochus I of completely traditional Babylonian form – speaks of “the Seleucid use of the Babylonian past” and of “the willingness of Berossos and men like him” to help “them access that past.” Nielsen, Nebuchadnezzar I, 136. It seems useful to repeat here what was said above (n118): on the symbolic and political level, the interaction between the Seleucid king and the priests may well have been dialogical and in part even a result of unprompted royal interest, but overall our corpus here is born out of Babylonian concerns and caters only to what the Babylonians perceived to be Seleucid interests. 125 This is evident from the material gathered by Irene Madreiter in the latest discussion of this event, even though she herself does not make this point. “Antiochus the Great and the Robe of Nebuchadnezzar: Intercultural Transfer between Orientalism and Hellenocentrism,” in Cross-Cultural Studies in Near Eastern History and Literature, ed. Saana Svärd and Robert

278

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

principal royal appurtenances.126 In any case this exchange encapsulates much of the nature of LBPL. In the context of LBPL, the Babylon priesthood engaged in an imaginative, literary (re‑)construction of their past and of their role in the present and the future, in response to the new political situation in which they found themselves after the fall of the Persian empire. They were still excluded from the center of political power and found themselves in a difficult socioeconomic setting, but they also perceived new possibilities and perhaps new threats and challenges on the horizon owing to the new Greco-Macedonian regime. Unsurprisingly, the historical-literary component of this literature has a particular interest in transitional phases (the Late Kassite period, the transition from Assyrian to Neo-Babylonian rule, the fall of the Neo-Babylonian dynasty), in the impact of foreign rule, and in the space for agency that this leaves for priests. By exploring priestly agency vis-à-vis the figure of the king – whether the traditional native ideal king, the new reality of a foreign king, or the absence of any king – priestly écriture pursued a group-internal objective: increasing selfesteem and self-awareness through emphasis on priestly competences, priestly achievements, and priestly exceptionality. The divine origin of cuneiform culture and erudition was construed here as the principal pillar on which priestly self-esteem rested. LBPL furthermore addressed foreign elites by offering them insights into the nature of the priesthood and its competences, and by presenting models – positive and negative – for an interaction that would grant priests the role to which they aspired and allow the new elites to claim legitimacy on native Babylonian terms. The extent and the ramifications of this literature remain to be explored, especially in light of possible new readings of traditional texts, i. e., texts with a long pre-Hellenistic history, that were kept in late temple libraries. Also, this literature may possibly serve as a valuable parallel to those strands of postexilic biblical and parabiblical literature that can be associated with a priestly background. For much of the period in question, the background conditions are the same: a priesthood has memories of the native kingship that supported it, but struggles to find its position in new circumstances in which this native kingship is no longer extant. The Babylonian parallel, while represented by far fewer literary texts than its Jewish equivalent, has the advantage of originating in a setting for which there is a much richer documentary record that allows establishing the

Rollinger (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2016), 111–36. Note that Madreiter assumes that the robe was genuine. While this or the opposite is unprovable and in any case irrelevant for the contemporary interpretation of the event, we would argue that a pia fraus – or simply a fraus – is much more likely. 126 E. g., Plutarch, Moralia, 486a. Evidence and discussion in Madreiter, “Robe of Nebuchadnezzar.”

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

279

political and socioeconomic position of the priesthood. Exploring these parallels remains a task for the future.127

E. Appendix: Uruk The foregoing discussion focused on Babylon, where the dynamics of the triangle comprised of (1) priest, (2) Esangila and Marduk, and (3) king inspired the literature we have described above. A comparable phenomenon can be observed in the southern city of Uruk, where similar ideas and concerns were expressed in new writings. Because many of these texts were found in regular excavations, much is known about their sociohistorical context.128 In part, the tablets come from the house of the āšipus, in which two subsequent archives were found. The one belonging to the Šangû-Ninurta family can be dated to the late fifth and early fourth century BCE, while the archive of the Ekur-zākir clan was in use from the second half of the fourth and throughout the third century BCE. On the other hand, a professional library in personal use by the Sîn-leqe-unninnī family during the second century BCE was excavated in the Bīt Rēš temple. Even though the first two archives were found in a private house, their owners were linked to the temple by virtue of their profession of āšipu, and the texts should not be considered in a different light than those belonging to the Sîn-leqe-unninnī family: all three libraries were created and maintained by traditional Urukean priests and served professional and educational purposes. Like the Babylon material, the texts coming from Uruk can be divided into three categories: temple rituals, historical-literary texts, and historical texts. The first category is by far the largest for Uruk, and the other two are much smaller than is the case in Babylon. Most temple-ritual texts stem from the Sîn-leqeunninnī library and relate to the family members’ service as lamentation priests

127 But note Caroline Waerzeggers, “The Prayer of Nabonidus in the Light of Hellenistic Babylonian Literature,” in Jewish Cultural Encounters in the Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern World, ed. M. Popović et al. (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2017), 64–75. In this paper, Waerzeggers suggests that the Aramaic Nabonidus prayer from Qumran, with its ramifications for Danielic literature, should possibly be seen as being an (indirect) reflex of Hellenistic discussions of this king – in Babylonian priestly circles – rather than a direct echo of political history of the sixth century BCE. 128 Clancier, Bibliothèques, 25–103. See also Kathryn Stevens, “Secrets in the Library: Protected Knowledge and Professional Identity in Late Babylonian Uruk,” Iraq 75 (2013): 211–54; Mathieu Ossendrijver, “Exzellente Netzwerke: Die Astronomen von Uruk,” in The Empirical Dimension of Ancient Near Eastern Studies / Die empirische Dimension altorientalischer Forschungen, ed. Gebhard J. Selz and Klaus Wagensonner (Vienna: LIT, 2011), 631–44; Paul-Alain Beaulieu, “The Descendants of Sîn-Lēqi-unninni,” in Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner, ed. Joachim Marzahn and Hans Neumann (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2000), 1–16.

280

Michael Jursa and Céline Debourse

(kalûs).129 The same cannot be said for the corpus of ritual texts stemming from the house of the āšipus, which is much more diverse and includes nonexorcistic rituals as well.130 Another substantial difference is the fact that precursors for the kalû-rituals are often known, while some of the rituals found in the Ekur-zākir library are otherwise unknown.131 Nevertheless, the ritual texts – though in some cases clearly based on an older tradition – are new compositions. Historical-literary texts include the story of the Crimes and Sacrileges of Nabû-šuma-iškun,132 the Šulgi Chronicle,133 the Uruk Prophecy,134 a text recounting the history of the Akkadian dynasty,135 and a composition about the capture of Ur.136 The category of historical texts is represented by three lists: the Uruk King List,137 the Uruk List of Kings and Sages,138 and a Catalogue of Texts and Authors.139 The themes in these late compositions are partly the same as those found in the late literature from Babylon: the priests’ important place in society, because of their cultic function as well as their scholarly knowledge; the focus on the city and its main temple and the elevation of its main god; and examples of good and bad rulership, particularly as they relate to the priest-scholars and the cult. However, there are some significant differences. The most obvious one is that the Urukean corpus promotes the god Anu, the Bīt Rēš, and the city of Uruk, and not Marduk, Esangila, and Babylon.140 Only in the early Hellenistic period 129 The building rituals TU 45 and TU 46 (Linssen, Cults, f; Ambos, Baurituale), the kettledrum ritual TU 44 and BaghMB 2, no. 5 with commentary TU 47 (Linssen, Cults, e; Uri Gabbay, “Drums, Hearts, Bulls, and Dead Gods: The Theology of the Ancient Mesopotamian Kettledrum,” JANER 18 [2018]: 1–47). 130 Most importantly, the description of daily offerings TU 38 (Linssen, Cults, a) and the New Year Festival texts TU 39–40 (Linssen, Cults, b), but also a building ritual for the kalû, SpTU 4 no. 141 (Ambos, Baurituale). 131 Such as the nocturnal fire ceremony TU 41 (Krul, Anu Cult), the description of daily offerings cited above, and possibly a festival for Ištar TU 42+ (Linssen, Cults, c). 132 Steven W. Cole, “The Crimes and Sacrileges of Nabû-šuma-iškun,” ZA 84 (1994): 220– 52; Ran Zadok, “The Account of Nabû-šuma-iškun,” AoF 44.2 (2017): 261–67; Foster, Before the Muses, 852–56; Benjamin Foster, Akkadian Literature of the Late Period (Münster: UgaritVerlag, 2007), 43–44 with further references. 133 Finkel and van der Spek, “Kings of Ur,” Livius, http://www.livius.org/sources/content/ mesopotamian-chronicles-content/cm-48-kings-of-ur/ (accessed August 27, 2018). 134 Foster, Akkadian Literature, 29 with literature; JoAnn Scurlock, “Whose Truth and Whose Justice? The Uruk Prophecy and Other Late Akkadian Prophecies re-Revisited,” in Orientalism, Assyriology and the Bible, ed. Steven W. Holloway (Sheffield: Phoenix, 2006), 449–67; Neujahr, Predicting the Past, 50–58. 135 LKU, no. 41. 136 LKU, no. 43. 137 Finkel and van der Spek, “Uruk King List,” Livius, http://www.livius.org/sources/content/ uruk-king-list/? (accessed August 27, 2018). 138 Alan Lenzi, “The Uruk List of Kings and Sages and Late Mesopotamian Scholarship,” JANER 8 (2008): 137–69. 139 BaghMB 2, no. 90. 140 Krul, Anu Cult, 9–106 with literature; Paul-Alain Beaulieu, “Antiquarian Theology in Seleucid Uruk,” ASJ 14 (1992): 47–75; idem, “The Historical Background of the Uruk Prophecy,”

Late Babylonian Priestly Literature from Babylon

281

was the Anu cult in full swing, after a slow process of revival that was accelerated by the events of 484 BCE and the subsequent abandonment of the Eanna of Ištar in Uruk. Especially the creation of new temple ritual texts is unsurprising in that light. This leads to the second difference: while the Late Babylonian priestly literature from Babylon grew in the context of what used to be the religious capital and the location of the seat of the head of the Babylonian pantheon, Marduk, for approximately a millennium, the Urukean literature was composed in a new temple environment (which admittedly was based in the same tradition). In that sense, the need for legitimation was much stronger in Uruk, since not only did the priests have to account for their existence in society, as was the case in Babylon too, but they also had to legitimize the new cult within the traditional Urukean community.141 It is perhaps for this reason that the role of the king in the Urukean material is slightly different from that found in the late literature from Babylon. We do find the contrast between good and bad rule as encountered in Babylon, but there is also a tendency not to include the king where he would be expected. This omission is most conspicuous in the Uruk List of Kings and Sages, where the final “king” is Anu-uballiṭ~Nikarchos, a local notable who rebuilt the Bīt Rēš in 244 BCE – which is in and of itself also a royal prerogative.142 This tendency should be seen in light of the historical development of both cities: in Babylon, the (former) imperial capital, the king was expected to participate in the cult, but in Uruk this had never been so. The traditional lack of royal involvement – during the Hellenistic period and earlier – must have strengthened this Urukean attitude of independence; the Urukean priests were therefore less inclined to woo the royal establishment or to agonize over royal disengagement. This explains why the dynamics we see shaping LBPL in Babylon are less distinct in Uruk.

in The Tablet and the Scroll: Near Eastern Studies in Honor of William W. Hallo, ed. Mark E. Cohen, Daniel C. Snell, and David B. Weisberg (Bethesda: CDL, 1993), 41–52. 141 Krul, Anu Cult, 79–106. 142 Lenzi, “Uruk List,” 163–65. Note also the absence of the king in, for example, the nocturnal fire ceremony, which served as a renewal festival (Krul, Anu Cult).

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch The Cases of Deuteronomy 1–3 and the Prophetic Tent of Meeting Tradition Erhard Blum Norbert Lohfink nonagenario

The peculiar status of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch has been recognized ever since Spinoza and Hobbes, at the latest. In terms of diachrony, Deuteronomy has been considered a unit in itself, whether or not scholars preferred some kind of source, supplementary, or fragment hypothesis (Quellenhypothese, Ergänzungshypothese, Fragmentenhypothese, respectively). During the twentieth century, mainstream scholarship followed Martin Noth, who assigned Deuteronomy to the Deuteronomistic History (DtrH), denying any early literary connection with the “Tetrateuch.” Nowadays, however, highly controversial debates about both issues – the genesis of the Pentateuch and the DtrH hypothesis – have brought questions about the independence or integration of Deuteronomy into focus again. This paper will concentrate on two crucial issues in this respect: first, the literary context of the Deuteronomic narrative, especially in chapters 1–3; and second, a significant cluster of traditions built around a prophetic Tent of Meeting that is attested in Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.

A. Narrative Continuation or Overture? The Profile of Deuteronomy 1–3 The nature of Deut 1–3 (along with chapters 5 and 9–10) might appear unclear at first glance.1 On the one hand, we find therein narrative material that resumes the Pentateuchal story. This would seem to indicate a basic continuation from Exodus and Numbers into Deuteronomy. On the other hand, the apparently 1 This part of the paper was also presented and discussed at a joint session of the Deuteronomistic History Section and the Book of Deuteronomy Section at the 2017 SBL Annual Meeting in Boston.

284

Erhard Blum

redundant duplication of several episodes recounted in Exodus and Numbers at the outset of Deuteronomy causes a problem. August Dillmann, for instance, stated in his 1886 commentary that one cannot seriously conceive some redactor (“Rd”) connecting the narrative of Exodus and Numbers with Deuteronomy as the author of chapters 1–3, because he would have had no reason at all to tell the story once more.2 Moreover, as long as the concept of an original Hexateuch prevailed, Deuteronomy represented a “foreign body,” so to speak, especially in the context of the Documentary Hypothesis, because the book created an interruption between Numbers and Joshua. All these problems were solved by Martin Noth, who first demonstrated the futility of Pentateuchal source criticism in the book of Joshua3 and then identified the Deuteronomistic Deuteronomy as the beginning, indeed, as the overture of the Deuteronomistic History (DtrG).4 Nevertheless, things have changed in the meantime. The traditional Documentary Hypothesis has dissolved almost completely, at least in German-speaking scholarship. Partially, we see a revival of interest in an original Hexateuch or even an Enneateuch. As a consequence, the traditional perspective on Deut 1–3, illustrated above with the example of Dillmann, has been called into question in several studies written inter alia by Reinhard G. Kratz, Konrad Schmid, Raik Heckl, and Jan C. Gertz.5 Although this debate sometimes seems to be about competing conceptions such as a “Hexateuch” versus a “Moses-exodus story,” the issue can only be resolved through philological analysis – or, as our archaeologist friends would put it, by “facts on the ground.” Gertz presents in his detailed study three main arguments that Deut 1–3 was created from the outset to serve within the surrounding literary context as a 2 August Dillmann, Die Bücher Numeri, Deuteronomium und Josua, 2nd ed., KEHAT 13 (Leipzig: Hirzel, 1886), 228. 3 Martin Noth, Das Buch Josua, 2nd ed., HAT 7 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1953). 4 Martin Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament, 2nd ed. (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1957). 5 Reinhard G. Kratz, Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments: Grundwissen der Bibelkritik, UTB 2157 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000); idem, “Der literarische Ort des Deuteronomiums,” in Liebe und Gebot: Studien zum Deuteronomium. Festschrift zum 70. Geburtstag von Lothar Perlitt, ed. Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann, FRLANT 190 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 101–20; Konrad Schmid, “Das Deuteronomium innerhalb der ‘deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke’ in Gen–2 Kön,” in Das Deuteronomium zwischen Pentateuch und deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk, ed. Eckart Otto and Reinhard Achenbach, FRLANT 206 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), 193–211; Raik Heckl, Moses Vermächtnis: Kohärenz, literarische Intention und Funktion von Dtn 1–3, ABIG 9 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2004); Jan C. Gertz, “Kompositorische Funktion und literarhistorischer Ort von Deuteronomium 1–3,” in Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions‑ und religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur „Deuteronomismus“-Diskussion in Tora und Vorderen Propheten, ed. Markus Witte and Jan C. Gertz, BZAW 365 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2006), 103–23. Cf. also Eckart Otto, “Deuteronomium 1–3 als Schlüssel der Pentateuchkritik in diachroner und synchroner Lektüre” (2008), in idem, Die Tora: Studien zum Pentateuch: Gesammelte Schriften, BZABR 9 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009), 284–420.

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

285

rereading (rélecture) of a preceding narrative thread in Numbers: (1) the stylization of the Deuteronomy chapters as a speech of Moses; (2) the substance of the retrospective references in Deuteronomy to the material in Numbers; and (3) the alleged attempt in these chapters to integrate “a previously independent Deuteronomy into the course of the narrative,” that is, a narrative that included the earlier Covenant Code.6 In this respect, Gertz finds the hermeneutical key in the reminiscence of the Sinai pericope in Deut 5. Here, the sequence of the Decalogue addressed directly to the people followed by the law given through Moses (i. e., the Deuteronomic Code) mirrors the order in Exod 20–23. As a consequence, the Deuteronomic Code is now in the position of the Covenant Code. This implication, however, proves meaningful in the case of both intratextual as well as intertextual relations between Deuteronomy and a given Sinai pericope.7 Gertz’s first argument concerning the stylizing of Deuteronomy as Moses’s speech was inspired by Dillmann, who thought for some reason that the introduction to Deuteronomy was originally a third-person narrative. Only secondarily, according to Dillmann, was this earlier third-person narrative at the outset of Deuteronomy recast as Moses’s speech in order to facilitate the integration of Deuteronomy into the Pentateuch. Kratz and Gertz do not accept Dillmann’s hypothesis, but they nevertheless have adopted his idea that the speech-form in Deuteronomy had a redactional purpose.8 And indeed, Deuteronomy could not occupy its present place in the Pentateuchal narrative if it had not been styled as a retrospective speech by Moses. Nevertheless, this was not the reason for the predominant speech-shaping of the book. This conclusion can be drawn from the very nature of the “historical” reminiscences in Deuteronomy. There are many occasions in biblical narrative on which past events are recalled, for example the speeches in Josh 24, 1 Sam 12, or 2 Sam 7. These are concisely formulated summaries of certain deeds and events. Such “abstracts” of history may recur multiple times in one literary work. They could have been included in Deuteronomy if it actually had been intended as a sequel to Exodus‒Numbers. The reminiscences in Deuteronomy, however, are different. What we find here are lively narrations that incorporate direct discourse, for instance Deut 1:19–27:9 6 Gertz, “Kompositorische Funktion,” 118: “Das grundlegende Problem der Redaktion dürfte doch die sachliche, historische und geographische Koordination des deuteronomischen Ge­ setzes und seines Rahmens mit der Sinaigesetzgebung und deren szenischer Einbindung gewesen sein.” 7 See already the options discussed in Erhard Blum, Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch, BZAW 189 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1990), 198–200: given a Deuteronomistic History alongside an older Sinai tradition, neither the intended replacement of the Covenant Code by Deuteronomy nor the intended “identification” of both could be excluded from the outset. In the case of literary juxtaposition in one and the same work (Pentateuch, KD [D-Komposition], etc.), however, the (virtual) identity of both codes is implied by the compositional texture. 8 Kratz, “Ort des Deuteronomiums,” 109; Gertz, “ Kompositorische Funktion,” 113. 9 Biblical translations follow the NRSV, with occasional adjustments.

286

Erhard Blum

19 Then,

just as the Lord our God had ordered us, we set out from Horeb and went through all that great and terrible wilderness … until we reached Kadesh-barnea. 20 I said to you, You have reached the hill country of the Amorites, which the Lord our God is giving us. 21 See, the Lord your God has given the land to you; go up, take possession, … 22 All of you came to me and said, Let us send men ahead of us to explore the land for us and bring back a report to us regarding the route by which we should go up and the cities we will come to. 23 The plan seemed good to me, and I selected twelve of you, one from each tribe. 24 They set out and went up into the hill country, and when they reached the Valley of Eshcol they spied it out. 25 … They brought back a report to us, and said, It is a good land that the Lord our God is giving us. 26 But you were unwilling to go up… . 27 You grumbled in your tents and said, It is because the Lord hates us that he has brought us out of the land of Egypt …

Here we do not have summaries, but an actual retelling. This means that the retrospective narration in Deuteronomy can stand on its own. It is fully sufficient for readers. They require no previous literary context. And this, in fact, is the kind of narrative design that we would expect at the opening of an independent book or a literary work. Furthermore, since the retelling in Deuteronomy is presented in direct speeches by the main agent, Moses, the recollections can be selective and also free. In terms of selection, the Moses speeches can leave out details of some reported scenes and completely disregard other scenes, as long as the speaker (Moses) makes no claim to completeness. In terms of freedom, the Moses speeches can vary the chronological sequence. And last, but not least, like any retelling, they are free to reshape the traditions innovatively for specific reasons. All this we find in the reminiscences integrated in Deut 1–3 and also in chapters 5 and 9–10: they recall only certain parts of the Exodus and Numbers traditions, but not the murmuring or the Balaam stories, for instance. Regarding the chronological order, the retelling proceeds from the mountain of God to east of the Jordan, then chapter 5 harks back to the Decalogue theophany, and then chapters 9–10 recall the drama with the golden calf. In short, stylizing the opening of Deuteronomy, and not just its legal code, as a direct speech of Moses was required because the author wanted to formulate his own self-contained discourse. Other reasons may be cited as well, such as the analogy of the ancient Near Eastern treaty pattern, which included addressing the treaty partner in direct speech (besides writing down the complete treaty on a scroll [‫]ספר‬, which we have in Deuteronomy as well).10 Gertz’s second argument in favor of regarding Deut 1–3 as a composition that complements the book of Numbers – namely, that references in Deut 1–3 to the 10 Regarding the analogy between Deuteronomy and ancient Near Eastern treaties, see already Erhard Blum, “Pentateuch  – Hexateuch  – Enneateuch? oder: Woran erkennt man ein literarisches Werk in der hebräischen Bibel?” (2007), in idem, Textgestalt und Komposition: Exegetische Beiträge zu Tora und Vordere Propheten, ed. Wolfgang Oswald, FAT 69 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 87–88.

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

287

earlier episodes in Numbers are no less strong than references to the following context – might be based on valid observations. Nevertheless, it cannot be conclusive in this case because strong references to the retold narrative belong to the very nature of any recollection, whether the relation is intertextual or intratextual. Would the case be different if Deut 1–3 presupposed that its audience knew the wording of the parallel texts? No. Even such an assumption would not require that all these texts be written on the same scroll, because the few professional scribes in tiny Yehud interested in theological subtleties knew the pertinent traditions by heart. Therefore, we must respond to the following decisive question: What was the purpose of the re-narration in Deuteronomy? Lothar Perlitt gave a clear and convincing answer in his commentary. According to him, Deut 1–3 and Josh 1–11 complement each other insofar as the former would be “incomplete” without the latter, and Josh would be “incomprehensible” without Deut 1–3.11 In other words: “Deut 1–3 is … conceived in respect to Joshua 1 and the following chapters: as a prelude to the Landnahme proper, which is therefore immediately set out in the command of Deut 1:8: ‫באו ורשו את הארץ‬.”12 Perlitt’s interpretation can easily be substantiated: Moses’s narration in its basic layers has two main points: (1) the imminent transition in leadership from Moses to Joshua; and (2) the Israelite settlement in Transjordan. The reason for not allowing Moses to cross the Jordan with the people is given in the Deuteronomy version of the spy story at the end of Deut 1:34–39* and repeated in 3:23–26 (27–28). The settlement in a specific area east of Jordan beside Edom, Moab, and Ammon is clearly set out as the objective of the journey report in Deut 2–3: Then the Lord said to me: … 4 Charge the people as follows: “You are about to pass through the territory of … the descendants of Esau … be very careful 5 not to engage in battle with them; for I will not give you even so much as a foot’s length of their land, since I have given Mount Seir to Esau as a possession.” (Deut 2:2–5) 2

Afterwards, the same divine order follows regarding the Moabites and the Ammonites; war is to be avoided, and their territories shall not be touched. The turning point comes at the Wadi Arnon: “Proceed on your journey and cross the Wadi Arnon! See, I have handed over to you King Sihon the Amorite of Heshbon, and his land. Begin to take possession by engaging him in battle!” (Deut 2:24). Then all the lands of Sihon, king of Heshbon, and of Og, king of Bashan, are captured and given to the tribes of Reuben, Gad, and the half-tribe of Manasseh as a possession. 11 Lothar Perlitt, Deuteronomium, 1. Teilband: Deuteronomium 1–6*, BKAT 5.1 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2013), 29. 12 “Dtn 1–3 ist … von Jos 1(ff.) her gedacht und entworfen: als Präludium der eigentlichen Landnahme, die darum im Landnahmebefehl von Dtn 1,8 schon im Blick ist: -‫באו ורשו את‬ ‫הארץ‬.” Perlitt, Deuteronomium, 29.

288

Erhard Blum

In sum: Perlitt is correct that the beginning of Deuteronomy was shaped as a preparation for and complement to the following story of Joshua. With regard to the diachronic literary relations of Deut 1–3 to the parallels in the Tetrateuch, I can summarize my understanding outlined above by citing Julius Wellhausen’s remark on these chapters: “Obviously, they did not have the aim of connecting to the preceding narrative, but rather to thoroughly recapitulate it, that is replace it.”13 Having decided that Deut 1–3 was intended as the opening of a literary work, and not as a sequel to Numbers, we are left with a fundamental literary-historical question: Does Deut 1–3 represent the beginning of a separate book, or of a literary work of greater extent? My answer is that both options are right, at one and the same time. As I have pointed out already on several occasions, probably the most salient indicators that Deuteronomy was composed as a separate book are its self-referential markers, for instance in Deut 31:9–13: Then Moses wrote down this Torah (‫ )התורה הזאת‬and gave it to the Levitical priests… . Moses commanded them: “Every seventh year … you shall read this Torah (‫התורה‬ ‫ )הזאת‬before all Israel …” 9

10 And

In addition, we have recurrent metatextual references to “this book” or “this book of the Torah” in Deuteronomy (1:5; 17:18–19; 28:58, 61; 29:19–20, 26; 30:10; 31:24–26), in contrast to a complete absence of self-referential formulas in Genesis–Numbers.14 Moreover, the note in Deut 31:9 actually functions as a narratively integrated colophon, and correspondingly 1:5 functions as an integrated title of the Deuteronomistic Torah-book: “Beyond the Jordan … , Moses undertook to expound this Torah clearly, saying …” At the same time, this quotable book could serve as the first component of a greater literary work, as we see immediately in Josh 1:8 (“This book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth”). This reference complements the intratextual connections already mentioned, which proves that the deuteronomistic Deuteronomy, including chapters 1–3, was designed as part of a narrative that continued with Joshua. “Deuteronomy + Joshua” alone, however, does not constitute a conclusive work. Indeed, Joshua shows a taut transition to Judges on its basic Deuteronomistic level (Josh 23* + Judg 2:6–10).15 But “Deuteronomy 13 The full quotation: “Denn Kap. 1–4 hat offenbar nicht den Zweck, an die vorhergehende Erzählung anzuknüpfen, vielmehr sie ausführlich zu recapitulieren, d. h. zu ersetzen.” Julius Wellhausen, Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments, 3rd ed. (Berlin: Reimer, 1899), 193. 14 Excluded here are references to parts of texts, as in Gen 5:1 and Exod 17:14a, or Lev 26:46 and Num 36:13. For a broader discussion, see Blum, “Pentateuch – Hexateuch – Enneateuch,” 391–396. 15 For a detailed analysis, see Erhard Blum, “Once Again: The Compositional Knot at the Transition between Joshua and Judges,” in Book-Seams in the Hexateuch I: The Literary

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

289

+ Joshua* + Judges*” obviously makes no sense either. So we end up with a Deuteronomistic History, basically along the lines proposed by Martin Noth, a history that ends at 2 Kgs 25.16 At this point, some brief remarks concerning the Moses traditions presupposed by the Deuteronomistic editors are in order. The parallels to Exodus and Numbers in Deuteronomy provide significant evidence concerning the pre-exilic Moses-exodus tradition. In terms of method, they are nearly as valuable as the synoptic parallels in the New Testament gospels. The spy story, for instance, is a relatively late tradition, since its very plot, the envisaged Landnahme through the Negev and southern highlands, shows a clear Judean point of view, while the exodus was basically a North Israelite tradition in which the approach to Canaan via the East Jordan highlands was a given, because Moses’s death and burial over there formed a fixed datum. That means that the spy story belongs to a Judean adaptation of the Moses-exodus tradition, most probably in the seventh century BCE.17 This is confirmed by the basic layer in Deut 1:19–46*, which proves to be an obvious retelling using inter alia the technique of flashback or retrospection (Nachholung) (cf. 1:28). This technique and its complement, the prolepsis, are even more intensively used in Deut 5, the reminiscence of the theophany and covenant-making at the mountain of God, and in Deut 9–10, the retelling of Israel’s breaking the covenant at the same place. In a Tübingen dissertation, Hendrik Stoppel has recently shown18 that the author of these reminiscences reckoned with recipients who knew the basic plot of the narratives. Relying on this, the Dtr author was able to transform those narratives into mainly discursive structures (“argumentative Strukturen”) geared toward the book of Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History. For that purpose, the Deuteronomistic editor(s) subtly reorganized the earlier, well-known narrative by repeatedly utilizing retrospection in Deut 9–10. Stoppel also showed that the presumed Vorlagen of the Deuteronomistic accounts match only the basic layers of the stories in Exod 19–20 and 32–34. The precise wording of these basic layers cannot be completely reconstructed. But the need to assume such layers – on the basis of the accounts in Deuteronomy and the obvious bias of Exod 32* against the official cult of the Northern Kingdom – clearly points again to a late preexilic Judean adaptation of the Moses tradition, just as in the case of the spy story. Conversely, the elaborated pre-Priestly shape of the Sinai-pericope, still quite identifiable, reveals that its authors/redactors knew of and were influenced by the Deuteronomistic Deuteronomy. We will see, however, in the following, that the literary interrelations were no longer intertextual at this stage, but intratextual. Moreover, the extension of the self-reference by ‫ התורה הזאת‬eventually was expanded to a broader composition beginning with Exod 1* and including the Sinai pericope with the Decalogue and the Covenant Code – encompassing these elements along with the formerly separate Deuteronomistic Deuteronomy. Transitions between the Books of Genesis/Exodus and Joshua/Judges, ed. Christoph Berner and Harald Samuel, FAT 120 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018), 221–40. 16 See Erhard Blum, “Das exilische deuteronomistische Geschichtswerk,” in Das deuteronomistische Geschichtswerk, ed. Hermann-Josef Stipp, ÖBS 39 (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2011), 269–95, which includes a broader discussion of DtrH’s unity, its type, and its scope. 17 See Erhard Blum, “Überlegungen zur Kompositionsgeschichte des Josuabuches,” in The Book of Joshua, ed. Edward Noort, BETL 250 (Leuven: Peeters, 2012), 145. 18 Hendrik Stoppel, Von Angesicht zu Angesicht: Ouvertüre am Horeb. Deuteronomium 5 und 9–10 und die Textgestalt ihrer Folie, ATANT 109 (Zürich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2018).

290

Erhard Blum

B. The Prophetic Tent of Meeting in Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy: A Post-Priestly or Pre-Priestly Stratum? Given the original independence of the main composition(s) in Deuteronomy, the question remains how the Deuteronomistic Torah book (‫ )ספר התורה‬designed as the overture of the Deuteronomistic History became the final book in the Pentateuch. In my view, this happened within the context of a proto-Pentateuchal composition that clearly differs from the main Deuteronomistic traditions in terms of conception and language, but at the same time, it carries on the legacy of the Deuteronomists. Therefore, I call it the “D-composition” (KD), deliberately avoiding the more specific term “Deuteronomistic.” This work consists largely of a rewriting of a preexilic Moses-exodus story, one that begins with the oppression of Israel in Egypt and the exodus.19 Within this scope, the most substantial revision by KD is found in the Sinai pericope. From the very beginning, in Exod 19:3–6, the Israelites are promised that they will be God’s “treasured possession out of all the people” (‫ )סגולה מכל העמים‬and “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation” (‫)ממלכת כהנים וגוי קדוש‬. And in fact, in Exod 24, the entire people is raised to the status of priesthood through an extraordinary rite of covenant (vv. 3–8).20 Even more, the ceremony reaches its apex in the covenant meal of seventy elders representing all Israel on the mountain in the presence of the enthroned God. They “saw the God of Israel,” but “upon the leaders of Israel he laid not his hand” (vv. 10–11). Such a scene of communion with the deity is unparalleled in the entire salvation history of the Hebrew Bible. 19  See Blum, Studien, and the revision concerning the beginning of KD in Erhard Blum, “Die literarische Verbindung von Erzvätern und Exodus: Ein Gespräch mit neueren Endredaktionshypothesen” (2002), in idem, Textgestalt und Komposition, 85–121. 20 Blum, Studien, 47, 49–53; Erhard Blum, “Esra, die Mosetora und die persische Politik” (2000), in idem, Textgestalt und Komposition, 183–85. Exod 19:3–6 and 24:3–8 are interconnected through clear cross-references (9:7–8 // 24:3, 7). They constitute the sequence of “announcement – performance,” since the singular scene in 24:3–8 (“young men” offering sacrifices; Moses sprinkling the blood of the covenant on the people [cf. the ordination of Aaron and his sons in Lev 8]) cannot signify anything but the ordination of all Israel as priests. This means that the people are granted the status of a “kingdom of priests” that was promised to them in 19:6. Pace Jean-Louis Ska, ‫ ממלכת כהנים‬represents a genitivus objectivus, not a genitivus subjectivus (meaning “hierocracy”); see his “Exodus 19:3–6 and the Identity of Post-exilic Israel” (1996), in idem, The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions, FAT 66 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), with literature. This is already clear in Exod 19:3–6 (given the focus on the difference between Israel and the other people, not on the internal structure of Israel, and given the fact that priests are no king) and is finally confirmed by Exod 24. Insofar as the theological line (Höhenlinie) of Exod 19:3–8 and 24:3–11 does not make any distinction between different degrees of sanctity within Israel, it contrasts sharply with P and especially H in the Pentateuch, on the one hand, and comports with the early postexilic prophecy of Isa 61:6, on the other hand.

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

291

The “Fall,” nevertheless, follows immediately: the worship of the golden calf in Exod 32. The breaking of the covenant finds its expression in the broken tablets. Although the imminent termination of salvation history is avoided by Moses’s intercession, and the covenant (including the tablets) will be renewed, Israel’s perfect communion with God cannot be restored. The priesthood of all Israelites is lost. Instead, the tribe of Levi is given the priesthood (Exod 32:26– 29). However, the main issue of Moses’s intercessory struggle in Exod 33–34 centers upon the question of whether the holy God can go with the unfaithful people. Moses puts it this way: “If your presence (‫ = פנים‬face) will not go, do not carry us up from here” (33:15). A solution is provided by means of a new institution that is personally bound to Moses, the Tent of Meeting or Ohel Moed. It occurs in several non-Priestly passages in the Pentateuch that feature five components which form a significant cluster: The characteristic elements: (1) The Ohel Moed (‫ )אהל מועד‬outside of the camp as the location of divine inquiry (2) YHWH’s occasional “coming down” (‫ )ירד‬in the “pillar of cloud” (‫)עמוד הענן‬ (3) YHWH communicating “face-to-face” with Moses (‫ פה אל פה‬,‫)פנים אל פנים‬ (4) Moses and the prophets (5) Joshua as Moses’s assistant (‫ )משרת‬and successor The textual distribution: Exod 33:7–11 (1) + (2) + (3) + (5) Exod 34 (1*) + (2) + (3*)21 Num 11:11–12, 24b–30 (1) + (2) + (4) + (5) Num 12:4–8 (1) + (2) + (3) + (4) Deut 31:14–15, 23 (1) + (2) + (5) Deut 34:10(–12) + (3) + (4)

The first element is the Ohel Moed itself and its location outside the camp of the Israelites. The designation “Ohel Moed” reminds one, of course, of the sanctuary introduced in the P texts in Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers, namely the tabernacle, which is also called miškān = “dwelling place.” The Ohel Moed of the D-composition, however, is totally different. It is not a sanctuary in the midst of the Israelites. Rather it is a “meeting place” in a strict sense, located far away from the camp. Accordingly, God does not dwell there, but occasionally “comes down” in a “pillar of cloud” (‫)עמוד הענן‬ – the second element of this cluster. The third element is YHWH’s speaking with Moses “face-to-face” (‫ )פנים אל פנים‬or “mouth-to-mouth” (‫)פה אל פה‬. This constitutes a kind of superlative prophecy, as explained in three pericopes that reflect on the relation between Moses and the prophets (Num 11; 12 and Deut 34:10); such reflections are the fourth element 21 The individual variation of elements (1) and (3) in Exod 34 indicated by the asterisk are due to the foundational character of Exod 34 with regard to the whole cluster, as explained below (pp. 296–298).

292

Erhard Blum

of the cluster. The fifth element is Joshua’s role as Moses’s servant at the Ohel Moed and as his successor. This cluster occurs for the last time in the book of Deuteronomy, spread over several verses in Deut 31 and 34. An initial indicator that these verses are postDeuteronomistic additions is the fact that the notion of an Ohel Moed is completely foreign to Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy 31:14–15, 23 also forms a clear doublet to the Deuteronomistic installation of Joshua as Moses’s successor in vv. 7–8, at the same time picking up some characteristic formulations out of v. 7. Similarly, 34:10 at the very end of Deuteronomy seems to be acquainted with the Deuteronomic law concerning the prophets: “I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their own people” (Deut 18:18). But Deut 34:10 maintains in accordance with Num 12 quite the opposite: “Never since has there arisen a prophet in Israel like Moses, whom YHWH knew face to face.” The placement of such a statement in the very finale of a book of torah, as Deuteronomy describes itself, is most illuminating. First, it underscores that the Ohel Moed cluster aimed at the legitimation of Moses’s authority as a kind of Über-Prophet.22 Second, it implies that this legitimation of Moses was primarily a validation of the Mosaic tradition closed by that statement.23 If so, the crucial question is: What exactly was the original literary context for which the prophetic Ohel Moed cluster was created? My own answer in 1990 was that the chain of Ohel Moed texts belonged to the reworking (inspired by the Deuteronomistic Deuteronomy) of a preexilic Moses-exodus story which, at the same time, was combined with the Deuteronomistic Deuteronomy. Deuteronomy 31:14–15, 23 and 34:10(–12) served as literary anchors in this compositional process in which the D-composition, a kind of proto-Pentateuch, was created. Due to the integration of Deuteronomy, the entire work inherited Deuteronomy’s title, “Torah.” This composition was nearly contemporary with the main Priestly 22 This so-called epitaph of Moses emphasizes his uniqueness compared to all other prophets (cf. Num 11, 12) and contradicts the Deuteronomistic concept in Deut 18:18. The interpretation that Deut 34:10 denies any prophecy after Moses constitutes a misunderstanding, pace Harald Knobloch, Die nachexilische Prophetentheorie des Jeremiabuches, BZABR 12 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, 2014), 178, 285–86; cf. also Eckart Otto, “Jeremia und die Tora: Ein nachexilischer Diskurs” (2007), in idem, Die Tora, 517, 529, 558. 23 It might be tempting to assign this apparently closing note in diachronic perspective to a “last” Pentateuchredaktor who finalized the Torah of Moses, i. e., the Pentateuch; see for instance Konrad Schmid, “Der Abschluss der Tora als exegetisches und historisches Problem” (2006–2007), in idem, Schriftgelehrte Traditionsliteratur: Fallstudien zur innerbiblischen Schriftauslegung im Alten Testament, FAT 77 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011). Nevertheless, there is here the risk of a short circuit because the closing evaluation might have been intended as the finale of some Moses tradition (which is probably right; see our conclusion below) and it might have been understood by later readers of the canonical traditions in this way (which is certainly right), but all this does not imply that it was the last to be added. Inferring this would be scarcely more cogent than the assumption that Gen 1 was the first text of the Pentateuch to be written.

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

293

layer but stratigraphically earlier than what I call the basic P-composition. In the same year (1990), a posthumously published article by Antonius H. J. Gunneweg presented a very similar description of the prophetic cluster including the Ohel Moed.24 Gunneweg, however, attributed the Ohel Moed cluster to a post-Priestly redaction, a position that has gained several followers including Eckart Otto, Reinhard Achenbach,25 and recently Rainer Albertz.26 Since the ongoing debate about the diachronic positioning of the prophetic Ohel Moed layer is of considerable importance for our understanding of the genesis of the Pentateuch – Albertz rightly calls Exod 33:7–11 a “Schlüsseltext” – we shall focus upon this issue. Gunneweg based his hypothesis of a post-P Ohel Moed redaction upon the distinctive tension between the P and non-P Ohel Moed traditions, and he assumed that the non-P traditions were composed as a corrective to the P traditions and thus used the Priestly term for the tent where YHWH met with Moses.27 Indeed, it seems unlikely that the use of the term in both the P and non-P traditions would have been a coincidence.28 Given the nature of their interdependence, however, the frequently supposed priority of the P texts proves questionable.29 I will name some reasons, often overlooked, that point in the opposite direction and will argue that there is clear stratigraphical evidence that excludes a post-Priestly origin of the prophetic Ohel Moed.

24 A. H. J. Gunneweg,

“Das Gesetz und die Propheten: Eine Auslegung von Ex 33,7–11; Num 11,4–12,8; Dtn 31,14 f.; 34,10,” ZAW 102 (1990): 169–80. 25 Cf. Eckart Otto, “Die nachpriesterschriftliche Pentateuchredaktion im Buch Exodus,” in Studies in the Book of Exodus: Redaction – Reception – Interpretation, ed. Marc Vervenne, BETL 126 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996), 91–92; Reinhard Achenbach, “Grundlinien redaktioneller Arbeit in der Sinai-Perikope,” in Das Deuteronomium zwischen Pentateuch und deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk, ed. Eckart Otto and Reinhard Achenbach, FRLANT 206 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), 79–80. Both studies assign the Ohel Moed of Exod 33:7–11 to the Pentateuchredaktor. 26 Rainer Albertz, “Ex 33,7–11, ein Schlüsseltext für die Rekonstruktion der Redaktionsgeschichte des Pentateuch,” BN 149 (2011): 13–43. See 13n5 for further (partly hesitant) supporters of a post-Priestly dating. Albertz presents a thorough analysis of our passage. Especially his critical discussion of proposed redaction-critical cuts in vv. 7–11, on the one hand, and of attempts at a harmonizing reading of 33:7–11 in the final text, on the other hand, seems to me convincing (16–17, 14–15). His own proposals will be discussed below. 27 According to Gunneweg, the scope of the Ohel Moed texts was “der Vorrang Moses und damit des Gesetzes vor Priestertum und Prophetie.” “Gesetz,” 178. 28 In terms of method, it seems wise to avoid a priori simplifications. This concerns not least the question of mutual acquaintance of traditions, concepts, and so on between different “schools” and scribal groups. If the abovementioned assumption that the main D‑ and P-compositions originated in more or less contemporary contexts (cf. Blum, Studien, 5) proves correct, then the scribal schools in question certainly knew each other in small Yehud. In this case, each group was familiar with the basic concepts of the other and this knowledge was probably not acquired from “published” literary works alone. 29 Cf. also Stoppel, Angesicht, 424–29 (with some reasons different from those advanced here).

294

Erhard Blum

First, one should keep in mind that the cluster under discussion occurs exclusively in non-P contexts. Second, the term ʾōhêl môʿēd30 (tent of meeting) in its strict sense corresponds exactly to the function of the tent as it is described in Exod 33. There the ʾōhêl môʿēd is the place to which Moses went if there was a need to inquire of YHWH and to which the pillar of cloud would then come down in order to speak with Moses. In contrast, the priestly Tabernacle bears two names, miškān and ʾōhêl môʿēˆ d. The first one, miškān, refers to the “Wohntheologie” (theology of dwelling) that is fundamental to the conception of P. The second, ʾōhēl môʿed, is in P part of a subtle net of expressions interconnected through puns like môʿed, nôʿād, ʿûd, ʿēdût, and so on that denote different parts and aspects of the sanctuary and its cult.31 It does not seem self-evident that the origin of a semantically straightforward and non-cultic32 term (ʾōhêl môʿēˆ d in Exod 33) should be found in a complex, multifaceted system such as the sanctuary theology of P. Third, it is characteristic of the P work as a whole that it conflicts with other traditions, especially if the priestly agenda is at stake. After all, this is a major reason for the high level of consensus that our discipline has reached in identifying Priestly texts in the Pentateuch. Fourth (and most importantly), it would have been an odd error of purportedly post-P redactors to think that they could successfully implement a corrective alternative to the massive description of the priestly tabernacle that dominates the P work by naming their own Mosaic tent after the tabernacle. On the contrary, only a clear terminological distinction between the new institution and the priestly Ohel Moed could save it from getting lost in the ocean of texts about P’s tabernacle. Traditional reception-history of the Pentateuch provides the best testimony in this respect.33 30 The

noun ‫ מועד‬means “meeting, meeting place, appointed time,” etc.; the verb ‫ יעד‬means “to appoint” (qal), “to have an appointment with, to be a companion to” (niphal; cf. Amos 3:3), etc. 31 Both môʿē ˆd and miškān are, so to speak, etiologically introduced in Exod 29:42–46, where God explains the meaning of the priestly sanctuary. 32 Albertz confirms that the tent in Exod 33 has no cultic function. “Schlüsseltext,” 31–32. Nevertheless, he identifies in Exod 33:10 (the people’s proskynesis) some “cultic action” (“Kulthandlung”) that was inspired by Lev 9:23–24 but did not constitute authentic worship; rather, it was an artificially constructed shadow of proper worship at the priestly sanctuary (33). In contrast, I am convinced that the prophetic Ohel Moed texts should be understood according to the logic of their own agenda: the prophetic Tent of Meeting definitely constitutes a “public” institution at which major actions (“Haupt‑ und Staatsaktionen”) would take place, such as the installation of a collective leadership in Num 11 and the judgment on Aaron and Miriam, who rebelled against Moses’s primacy (Num 12). First and foremost, however, the prophetic Ohel Moed has the function of highlighting the unique status of Moses, who as a mediator facilitates the enduring nearness of God’s face to his unfaithful people (see below). Almost dialectically, the tent’s location remote from the camp plays a necessary role in this drama about God’s presence through Moses. 33 According to most traditional Jewish interpreters, including the sharp-minded Abraham ibn Ezra, “Moses’s” Tent of Meeting is understood as a temporary institution that served Moses until the tabernacle was finished.

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

295

Would it be advisable to base a literary-historical solution on the assumed blindness of authors/redactors? The considerations presented so far hopefully have provided serious reasons to consider a pre-P context for Moses’s Tent of Meeting. More compelling evidence might be expected from stratigraphical data. Indeed, such data exist, as will be shown in the following.34 The introduction of the prophetic Ohel Moed in Exod 33:7–11 is difficult; in some respects, it appears ex machina, so to speak. Linguistically, this passage is distinguished by a long, almost uninterrupted series of sentences with twenty yiqtōl‑ and wě-qātal forms. Since this series is not embedded in a speech but in a narrative context, it must denote frequentative actions.35 In this case, however, one would expect a less abrupt start (‫)ומשה יקח את האהל‬.36 Above all, one would expect some kind of instruction or at least some introduction to this quite specific action. Therefore, Wellhausen37 and others assumed a textual corruption resulting in the omission of the original introduction to Exod 33:7–11. Facing these difficulties, some interpreters have suggested alternative options featuring some kind of discursive reading. Christoph Dohmen, for example, tries to understand 33:7–11 as a continuation of God’s speech in v. 5, a continuation that describes a potential future.38 Similarly, Georg Fischer and Dominik Markl propose that God is “meditating” here “together with the reader looking to the future.”39 Rainer Albertz eventually speaks in favor of “a reflection on God’s secret thought about the future.”40 Close scrutiny, however, proves that these readings constitute artificial constructions. 34 The following considerations originated in stimulating discussions with Hendrik Stoppel during his work on his dissertation. I refer the reader to Stoppel’s own presentation of this issue in Angesicht, 376–96. 35 Albertz, “Schlüsseltext,” 19, calls this interpretation into question, referring to the last sentence in v. 7, ‫וקרא לו אהל מועד‬, which seems to describe a single action. But a habitual meaning “and he/one would dub it …” / “er/man pflegte es … zu nennen” appears quite possible; cf. Rashi ad loc.: … ‫והיה קורא לו‬. 36 So rightly Albertz, “Schlüsseltext,” 18. At the same time, the article in ‫ האהל‬has here a standard cataphoric meaning, as in similar cases (cf. Gen 28:11, Exod 3:2, et al.). 37 Wellhausen, Composition, 93. Cf. the overview in Rainer Schmitt, Zelt und Lade als Thema alttestamentlicher Wissenschaft: Eine kritische forschungsgeschichtliche Darstellung (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1972), 198–99. 38 Christoph Dohmen, “Das Zelt außerhalb des Lagers: Exodus 33,7–11 zwischen Synchronie und Diachronie,” in Textarbeit: Studien zu Texten und ihrer Rezeption aus dem Alten Testament und der Umwelt Israels. Festschrift für Peter Weimar zur Vollendung seines 60. Lebensjahres mit Beiträgen von Freunden, Schülern und Kollegen, ed. Klaus Kiesow and Thomas Meurer, AOAT 294 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2003), 162. 39 Georg Fischer and Dominik Markl, Das Buch Exodus, NSKAT 2 (Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2009), 347: “Nachdem sich Jhwh in 33,5 die innere Frage stellt, ‚Was soll ich mit dir – Israel – tun?‘ meditiert er in V. 7–11 gemeinsam mit dem Leser gleichsam einen Blick in die Zukunft.” 40 Albertz, “Schlüsseltext,” 20: “eine Reflexion über Gottes geheime Überlegungen für die Zukunft.”

296

Erhard Blum

First, Exod 33:7 does not immediately follow the speech in v. 5, but is separated from it by a narrative notice in v. 6. Second, v. 5 ends with an extended speech that Moses has to deliver to the Israelites. Third, the deictic references typical of speech undergo a change in vv. 7–11 to indicate a clearly narrative discourse: Moses is no longer addressed in the second person, God no longer speaks in the first person.41 Fourth, given all these “anomalies,” the alleged divine speech or thought in vv. 7–11 would require, urgently, an explicit introduction, which is lacking. Fifth, in light of the conventions of biblical narrative and ancient storytelling in general, it seems improbable that the sequence of actions described in vv. 7–11 and pasted into the text like a collage would have been understood by ancient readers as God’s thought.42

In other words, we are still left with the impression that the text has been corrupted. At the same time, simply positing a lost introduction would not solve the paragraph’s problems, because, in terms of content, Exod 33:7–11 disrupts Moses’s ongoing dispute and struggle in 33:1–6,* 12–17 to reestablish YHWH’s sustained presence with Israel. Moreover, our paragraph prematurely anticipates the solution concerning YHWH’s “face” (‫ )פנים‬that will be reached only in the course of Exod 34, as we shall see. John I. Durham actually put it in a nutshell in his 1987 commentary on Exodus: “An account of an appointed place in which Yahweh is accustomed to make himself available to his people simply does not fit into such a narrative.”43 The great Abraham ibn Ezra, who noticed basic problems regarding our text already in the twelfth century, proposed a simple solution: the actions of vv. 7–11 actually happened after Moses’s descent with the new tablets in chapter 34. In this context, he pointed elegantly to the rabbinic axiom “There is no earlier or later in the Torah” (‫)אין מוקדם ואין מאוחר בתורה‬. If we translate Ibn Ezra’s exegetical insight into our historical-philological categories, we have to suppose that the account in vv. 7–11 had its original position at the end of Exod 34 and was secondarily transferred to its present place. This conclusion, which also was proposed by Durham,44 is supported by further observations: First, it is only on the mountain of God, after Moses’s plea that YHWH’s presence remain with the people, that the immediate encounter of Moses with God in the cloud is solemnly inaugurated (Exod 34:5–9). YHWH descended in the cloud (‫)וירד יי' בענן‬ and he [Moses] stood with him there (‫)ויתיצב עמו שם‬ and invoked the name of YHWH.

5

41 Albertz rightly excludes for this reason the interpretation of Exod 33:7–11 as an “Anweisung oder Planung Gottes.” “Schlüsseltext,” 20. 42 Cf. in contrast Gen 6:5–7 and 18:17–19, two fine examples of inner-divine deliberations. 43 John I. Durham, Exodus, ABC 3 (Waco, TX: Word, 1987), 441. 44 “It might work better if vv 7–11 had been located at the end of the dramatic Presence-Absence narrative, following 33:17 or 34:9 [which seems impossible to me, E. B.!] or even 34:35 [which seems a bit too late, E. B.]. As it stands, this brief notice about the Tent of Appointed Meeting simply cannot be made to fit its present location in the received text.” Durham, Exodus, 441.

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

297

6 YHWH passed in front of his face (‫)על פניו‬, and YHWH proclaimed: YHWH, a God, merciful and gracious … 8 And Moses quickly bowed toward the earth and threw himself down. 9 He said, If now I have found favor in your sight, O my Lord, I pray, let my Lord go among us (‫)בקרבנו‬. Although this is a stiff-necked people, pardon our iniquity (‫ )עוננו‬and our sin and take us for your inheritance (‫)ונחלתנו‬. 10 He said: I hereby make a covenant (= I swear): Before all your people (‫ )עמך‬I will perform marvels (‫)נפלאות‬, such as have not been performed in all the earth or in any nation; and all the people among whom you are (‫ )אתה בקרבו‬shall see the work of YHWH; for it is a frightening (‫ )נורא‬thing that I will do with you (‫)עמך‬.

The descending cloud and God’s appearance in front of Moses’s face (‫ )פנים‬form the theological core of the Ohel Moed cluster. Therefore, the scene on the mountain provides the foundational story – the etiology, so to speak – of the prophetic Tent of Meeting, which will function as a “mobile mountain of God.” The account, however, of its persistent use (Exod 33:7–11) should follow the foundational scene (34:5–9), not precede it as it does in the present text of Exod 33–34.45 Moreover, the prophetic tent forms the very target of the enduring intercessory struggle of Moses for YHWH’s presence and Israel’s status as populus Dei in Exod 32–34.46 In the intense dialogue of Exod 33:12–17, God promised Moses that his face (‫ )פנים‬would go with them – for Moses’s sake. But what does this mean specifically? In Exod 34, Moses again pleads, “If now I have found favor in your sight, O my Lord, I pray, let the Lord go among us (‫נא אדני בקרבנו‬-‫”)ילך‬ (34:9). In his answer, YHWH makes a covenant (běrît), that is, he takes an oath. However, his promise is not “I will go among my people,” but “all the people among whom you (sg.) are (‫ )אשר אתה בקרבו‬shall see the frightening work that I will do with you (sg.) (‫( ”)אשר אעשה עמך‬34:10). What is this work, these marvels (‫)נפלאת‬47 that God will do with Moses (‫ ?)עמך‬Again, it is the Jewish

45 Another sign that 33:7–11 has been relocated from another place is that Exod 33 makes no reference to the people’s inability to look at Moses’s face when he comes out of the tent (see the following paragraph). 46 For a more detailed exposition, see Blum, Studien, 58–72. Admittedly, however, I had not yet fully recognized (in that study) the strong nexus between the face-to-face-communication, inaugurated on the mountain, but continued within the tent, and YHWH’s běrît of 34:10 that sealed the overcoming of the crisis, as will be stressed immediately below. 47 With regard to the meaningful Leitwort-connection between ‫ ונפלינו‬in Moses’s begging (33:16) and the ‫ נפלאת‬promised to Moses in YHWH’s běrît, see Martin Buber, “Das Leitwort und der Formtypus der Rede: Ein Beispiel,” in Martin Buber and Franz Rosenzweig, Die Schrift und ihre Verdeutschung (Berlin: Schocken, 1936), 267–68; Blum, Studien, 63–64.

298

Erhard Blum

commentators such as Rashbam, Ibn Ezra, and finally Benno Jacob48 who have shown that the běrît refers to the miraculous shining of Moses’s face that frightened the Israelites when he came down from the mountain: When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, the skin of his face was shining, and they were afraid to come near him. (34:30)

Moreover, the divine light on Moses’s skin, unbearable to the people, was not temporary but enduring. Therefore, Moses had to veil his face. But whenever Moses went in to speak with YHWH, he would take the veil off, until he came out, and when he came out, the Israelites would see the face of Moses, that the skin of his face was shining. (34:34–35)

Benno Jacob has put it clearly: after the revelation on the mountain of God, YHWH spoke with Moses outside the camp in the prophetic tent.49 Nevertheless, YHWH’s face went with Israel, because he was present through Moses in the reflection of the divine light on Moses’s face. The inner logic of the non-P story therefore requires that the account of the prophetic Tent of Meeting (now in Exod 33:7–11) must follow the developments narrated in Exod 34:1–10.50 This is supported also by Exod 34:34–35, which hints at the Ohel Moed without naming it. In addition, typical P-elements and expressions in Exod 34:29–35 like ‫העדות‬, ‫הנשיאים‬, ‫אהרן‬, and ‫ העדה‬indicate some priestly reworking of the last verses in Exod 34. The intention of this redaction was apparently to suggest to readers that the place that Moses entered from time to time in order to speak with God was nothing other than the tabernacle, whose construction is narrated in the immediately following chapters (Exod 35–40). As the reception history shows, the priestly scribes had much success in conveying this impression.51 Finally, one more question demands an answer: Why is the non-Priestly Tent of Meeting now placed in Exod 33 and not in Exod 34? The answer is obvious: a simple combination of the Priestly material with the pre-Priestly composition would have resulted in both tents being introduced one after the other (in Exod 34*and Exod 35–40), with the tabernacle following the prophetic Ohel Moed. This being an intolerable state of affairs for the priestly scribes, they neutralized

48 Benno Jacob, Das Buch Exodus, ed. Shlomo Mayer with the assistance of Joachim Hahn and Almuth Jürgensen (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1997), 973–74. 49 Jacob, Exodus, 948–52. 50 With regard to the diachrony of Exod 34:11–26(27), cf. Erhard Blum, “Das sog. ‘Privilegrecht’ in Exodus 34,11–26: Ein Fixpunkt der Komposition des Exodusbuches?” (1996), in idem, Textgestalt und Komposition, 157–76. 51 Since the nature and scope of this redaction – especially in the case of potential omissions – can no longer be defined, it would be futile to attempt to reconstruct the assumed prePriestly text in Exod 34, including the introduction of the prophetic Ohel Moed (Exod 33:7–11*), verbatim.

The Diachrony of Deuteronomy in the Pentateuch

299

the concept of the prophetic tent by transposing its description to Exod 33.52 The integration of the transposed section in its new context was of little concern to them, but they then established an implicit equivalence between the tabernacle and the Ohel Moed by carefully retouching the last verses in Exod 34. As a result, the non-Priestly tent was finally swallowed up by the tabernacle.

C. Conclusion The literary-historical implications of the foregoing analysis are far-reaching. The prophetic Ohel Moed cluster originated as part of a non-Priestly tradition that preceded the literary combination of the P and non-P material in the Pentateuch. This datum provides important textual-stratigraphical evidence for a much more comprehensive literary work. On the one hand, the cluster proves to be part of a narrative line that comprises episodes about Israel in the desert (Num 11; 12) and extends as far as the finale of Deuteronomy (31:14–15, 23; 34:10). On the other hand, the Ohel Moed texts prove to be an integral part of the Sinai pericope, including the narrative-theological line (“Höhenlinie”) marked by Exod 19:3–8 and 24:3–11. All this indicates a major composition that comprised both Deuteronomy and its former “Vorlage” (the Judean Moses-exodus story, including the Covenant Code), albeit in an elaborate post-Deuteronomistic (but pre-Priestly) Fortschreibung. It was this composition (KD) that converted the Deuteronomistic Torah-book (Deut*), which was designed as an overture to DtrH, into the concluding part of a greater Torah composition that eventually represented a kind of “Proto-Pentateuch” culminating in a solemn “epitaph” for Moses (Deut 34:10).

52  During the session at the “Stones, Tablets, and Scrolls” conference in which this paper was presented, the question was rightly raised by a colleague whether there are other examples of redactional relocations of textual units in the Hebrew Bible. Such cases do exist and can be demonstrated with empirical evidence from the textual witnesses. The paragraph dealing with the altar on Mount Ebal (Josh 8:30–35), for instance, is placed at different positions in MT, G*, and 4QJosha; the sequence of 1 Kgs 20 and 21 differs in MT and G*; and the structure of the book of Jeremiah differs greatly in MT and G*. These and further examples are discussed in Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 2nd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum 1992), ch. 7, B.8. Apparently, even late “biblical” scribes did not hesitate to move small or larger textual sections for any reason whatsoever.

The Redactions of the Book of Jeremiah and the Exile* Hermann-Josef Stipp A. Background Before embarking on our topic, some remarks on matters of history and methodology are necessary. The book of Jeremiah is one of the major sources providing us insights on how the ancient Israelites dealt with the most dreadful trauma they experienced before the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE. In 587 BCE, Jerusalem and the temple were destroyed. The rule of the Davidic dynasty was brought to an end; a substantial section of the population, mainly from the upper classes, was deported to Babylonia. The number of Judah’s inhabitants and the size of its territory shrank massively.1 This experience was not only a psychological blow; it shook the foundations of the religious convictions of the Judeans. * The present paper was prepared during a study visit to the Department of Ancient Studies at Stellenbosch University (South Africa) in March–April 2017. I thank all my Stellenbosch friends for their generous support. In addition, I am greatly indebted to James Seth Adcock and the staff of the Pontifical Biblical Institute for carefully polishing my English. Nonetheless, all the shortcomings of this paper are my own. 1 For the consequences of the Judean defeat at the hands of the Babylonians in 587 BCE in terms of demographics and devastation, see, e. g., Avraham Faust, Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period: The Archaeology of Desolation, SBLABSt 18 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012); Israel Finkelstein, “The Territorial Extent and Demography of Yehud/Judea in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods,” RB 117 (2010): 39–54; Oded Lipschits, “Demographic Changes in Judah between the Seventh and the Fifth Centuries B. C. E.,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period, ed. Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 323–76; idem, “Shedding New Light on the Dark Years of the ‘Exilic Period’: New Studies, Further Elucidation, and Some Questions Regarding the Archaeology of Judah as an ‘Empty Land,’” in Interpreting Exile: Displacement and Deportation in Biblical and Modern Contexts, ed. Brad E. Kelle, Frank Ritchel Ames, and Jacob L. Wright, AIL 10 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), 57–90; Eric Meyers, “Exile and Restoration in Light of Recent Archaeology and Demographic Studies,” in Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd, ed. Gary N. Knoppers, Lester L. Grabbe, and Deirdre N. Fulton, LSTS 73 (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 166–73; Ephraim Stern, “The Babylonian Gap: The Archaeological Reality,” JSOT 28 (2004): 273–77; Kirsi Valkama, “What Do Archaeological Remains Reveal of the Settlements in Judah during the Mid-Sixth Century BCE?,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and Its Historical Contexts, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, BZAW 404 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 39–59; eadem, “Judah in the Mid-Sixth Century BCE: Archaeological Evidence for a Post-Collapse Society” (Ph.D. diss., University of Helsinki, 2012).

302

Hermann-Josef Stipp

Where was YHWH, their divine protector? Had he terminated his special relationship to his chosen people? From a theological perspective, the situation was aggravated by the fact that in the last decades before the disaster, the leading theological school of the Deuteronomists had published a voluminous account of Israel’s history, nowadays known as the Deuteronomistic History, that paraded the fate suffered by the northern tribes in 722 BCE as a searing reminder of how YHWH had punished the infidelity of his people. Defeat at the hands of a foreign invader and especially mass deportations were exhibited as conclusive evidence that his ties to his people had been forever severed. Or, in Deuteronomistic terms, one might say that his covenant with his people had been irrevocably broken.2 But now in 587 BCE the same calamity had caught up with Judah. Did the same model of interpretation not apply to the Judeans as well? One witness to how the Judeans struggled with this question is the book of Jeremiah. Jeremiah flourished in the last decades before the capture of Jerusalem, and within what in my opinion forms genuine prophetic material, I see no example that might have originated after the destruction of the city. This comes as no surprise, given that according to the testimony of the book the prophet soon joined the refugees fleeing to Egypt. So whatever we may glimpse of his own view of the exile relates to the first batch of deportees taken to Babylonia with Jehoiachin in 597 BCE. According to the picture drawn by the book, Jeremiah had to contend with a fairly triumphalist brand of Yahwism during Zedekiah’s reign. The recollection, much embellished in the course of time, that Jerusalem had weathered the Assyrian onslaught in 701 BCE unscathed (cf. 2 Kgs 18–19) seems to have encouraged a fanatic brand of Zion theology that felt absolutely assured that YHWH’s holy city was impregnable. Furthermore, large sections of the relevant Judean public were emboldened by King Josiah’s reforms, which only recently had brought official cultic life in Judah into conformity with the perceived will of God as revealed to Moses on Mount Horeb. As a result, Judah was supposed to be safe from the threats that had been realized in the downfall of the northern state. So when Judah came under Babylonian dominion in 605 BCE, and still more so when Judean captives were taken to Mesopotamia in 597, and, lastly, when Jerusalem came under siege in 589, many Judeans expected that YHWH would miraculously intervene to destroy the Babylonian power, to liberate his people from foreign subjugation, and to return the exiles, King Jehoiachin, and 2 I side with those positing a preexilic, Josianic date of the DtrH. For my reasons, see my “Ende bei Joschija: Zur Frage nach dem ursprünglichen Ende der Königsbücher bzw. des Deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerks,” in Hermann-Josef Stipp, Alttestamentliche Studien: Arbeiten zu Priesterschrift, Deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk und Prophetie, BZAW 442 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2013), 391–439.

The Redactions of the Book of Jeremiah and the Exile

303

the temple vessels to their home country (cf., e. g., Jer 6:14; 7:10; 21:2; 27:14–22; 28:1–4, 10–11). As the book of Jeremiah amply illustrates, the prophet adopted an entirely different stance in those tumultuous years. According to him, YHWH had conferred universal kingship on Nebuchadnezzar (cf. Jer 27:1–15), which is why the prophet carried a yoke around Jerusalem (27:2; 28:10) and sent his famous missive to the exiles urging them to prepare themselves for a stay abroad that could last for generations (29:5–7). His violent clash with Hananiah (ch. 28) as well as Shemaiah’s outrage over Jeremiah’s letter (29:24–28) exemplify the reactions that the prophet provoked with his attitude. All this is well known and needs no repetition here. What we lack is any comment from his side on the situation after 587 BCE. The burden of making sense of the total defeat was left to his disciples, who could use Jeremiah’s pre-587 pronouncements as a starting point, yet still had to find their own ways of creatively building on his heritage. The most important place where Jeremiah’s disciples left their traces is in the redaction history of his book. This brings us to a notoriously contentious field. I hope to be forgiven if I proceed from the model of the evolution of the book that I have developed in several studies during the last decades.3 One pillar on which I will base my exposition is the Deuteronomistic redactions of the book, with special emphasis on the use of the plural. The theory of Deuteronomistic redactional activity in Jeremiah enjoys fairly widespread support among scholars, even though numerous details are debated. As far as my own assessment is concerned, let me point out four premises that are consequential for my exposition. First, any redaction-critical theory about the book of Jeremiah must start with the reconstruction of the common ancestor of its ancient Hebrew and Greek editions. This textual predecessor stood very close to the shorter Septuagint Vorlage, as demonstrated by a host of solid evidence.4 Therefore, in the quotations from the book of Jeremiah following below, Masoretic pluses with respect to the 3 See, e. g., the following studies of mine: Jeremia im Parteienstreit: Studien zur Textentwicklung von Jer 26, 36–43 und 45 als Beitrag zur Geschichte Jeremias, seines Buches und judäischer Parteien im 6. Jahrhundert, BBB 82 (Frankfurt am Main: Hain, 1992); Jeremia, der Tempel und die Aristokratie: Die patrizische (schafanidische) Redaktion des Jeremiabuches, Kleine Arbeiten zum Alten und Neuen Testament 1 (Waltrop: Spenner, 2000); “Jeremia und der Priester Paschhur ben Immer. Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Studie,” in Kulte, Priester, Rituale: Beiträge zu Kult und Kultkritik im Alten Testament und Alten Orient. Theodor Seidl Festschrift, ed. Stephanie Ernst and Maria Häusl, Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament 89 (St. Ottilien: EOS-Verlag, 2010), 375–401; “Die individuellen Prosaorakel des Jeremiabuches,” in Studien zu Psalmen und Propheten: Hubert Irsigler Festschrift, ed. Carmen Diller et al., Herders biblische Studien 64 (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2010), 309–45. 4 See the most recent and comprehensive summaries by Richard D. Weis, “Jeremiah: 7.1 Textual History of Jeremiah,” in The Hebrew Bible: Pentateuch, Former and Latter Prophets, vol. 1B of Textual History of the Bible, ed. Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov (Leiden: Brill, 2017) 495–513; Armin Lange, “Jeremiah: 7.2. Ancient Hebrew-Aramaic Texts,” ibid., 514–42. For a different view, cf. Georg Fischer, “Jeremiah: 7.3. Septuagint,” ibid., 543–55.

304

Hermann-Josef Stipp

LXX will be placed in square brackets, and relevant alternative readings will be added after a slash. Second, I question views popular in German-speaking exegesis that the Deuteronomistic redactors as a rule merely reworked the literary units bearing their linguistic hallmarks. To my mind, the Deuteronomistic writers mostly shaped these units from scratch, without incorporating recoverable written materials.5 The third point is particularly vital for my argument: in my opinion we can discern three consecutive shifts of Deuteronomistic activity in Jeremiah. The foundations of the book as we read it today were laid by a Deuteronomistic editor living in Judah during the early exilic period (JerDtr I). He composed a literary work similar to what is now Jer 1–25 by alternating extant material with units from his own pen. The result was what I term the Judean book of Jeremiah. In a second step, a redactor from among the Babylonian exiles, working in the same manner, appended the bulk of Jer 26–45, thus creating what I call the Babylonian expansion of the book of Jeremiah (JerDtr II). The Deuteronomistic portions in these two sections of the book differ from each other in a list of features that I have compiled elsewhere.6 Later another editor back in Judah inserted Jer 32*, a Deuteronomistic promise of salvation (JerDtr III).7 As I will attempt to show, the first two Deuteronomistic layers, although sharing the same theological background, display opposing religious evaluations of the exile, depending on the place of residence of the redactors.8 Before continuing, let me add my fourth premise: The formulaic diction that is mostly taken as indicative of Deuteronomistic authors can be observed in literary units that are definitely not Deuteronomistic, as their conceptual outlook 5 See, e. g., Hermann-Josef Stipp, “‘But into the water you must not dip it’ (Jeremiah 13:1) – Methodological Reflections on How to Identify the Work of the Deuteronomistic Redaction in the Book of Jeremiah,” in Thinking of Water in the Early Second Temple Period, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, BZAW 461 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014), 167–95; and the expanded German edition, “Jeremias Zeichenhandlung mit dem leinenen Schurz (Jer 13,1–11). Zum Verfahren der Identifikation der deuteronomistischen Redaktion im Jeremiabuch,” in HermannJosef Stipp, Studien zum Jeremiabuch: Text und Redaktion, FAT 96 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 299–323. 6 See my “Das judäische und das babylonische Jeremiabuch. Zur Frage der Heimat der deuteronomistischen Redaktionen des Jeremiabuchs,” in Stipp, Studien zum Jeremiabuch, 325–47. 7 Altogether, I assign the following passages to the three Dtr editors: JerDtr I 1:11–19; 2:28; 5:19; 7:2d–8:3; 9:12–15; 11:1–14, 17; 13:1–14; 14:11–16; 15:1–3; 16:2–13, 16–18; 19:1–13; 22:1–6a, 8–9; *25:1–13 LXXA JerDtr II 26:1–6, 8*–9, 17–23; 34; *44:1–28 JerDtr III 32* 8 For studies investigating the tensions between the Judeans deported to Babylonia and those remaining behind, see, especially, the detailed treatments by Christopher R. Seitz, Theology in Conflict: Reactions to the Exile in the Book of Jeremiah, BZAW 176 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989); Carolyn J. Sharp, Prophecy and Ideology in Jeremiah: Struggles for Authority in Deutero-Jeremianic Prose, OTS (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2003); Dalit Rom-Shiloni, Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th–5th Centuries BCE), LHBOTS 543 (New York: Bloomsbury, 2013).

The Redactions of the Book of Jeremiah and the Exile

305

evinces. The vocabulary in question was a phenomenon of remarkable longevity, remaining productive up to the latest supplements to the book still lacking in the Septuagint Vorlage.9 This last point will become relevant when we treat Jer 24, a chapter brimming with pertinent linguistic usages, but propagating theological ideas far removed from Deuteronomistic thinking.

B. The Judean Book of Jeremiah Now let us turn to the work of the first Deuteronomistic redaction (JerDtr I), which produced the Judean book of Jeremiah. The Judean origin of this redactional stage is evident from the way it refers to the Babylonian exile.10 There are several passages threatening the Judeans with deportation. Jeremiah 16:13 reads: “Therefore I will hurl you out of this land into a land that neither you nor your ancestors have known, and there you shall serve other gods [day and night], who11 will show you no favor.” Interestingly enough, according to this prophecy the punishment will include the service of foreign gods. This is a secure indication that the Deuteronomistic unit in which this verse is embedded, Jer 16:2–13, was written in Judah. For if it had been authored in the golah, it would imply that YHWH wanted the exiles to become idolaters, which can be firmly ruled out. The verse may be plausibly read as a comment about the deportees’ experience from afar, but not as an example of the deportees’ own theological reflections. In several passages the first Jeremianic Deuteronomist depicted the exile as a place of utter doom, despair, and alienation from YHWH. In Jer 8:3 the redactor has YHWH declare, “Death shall be preferred to life by all the remnant that remains of this [evil] family in all the places where I have driven them.” In Jer 9:15 (Engl. 9:16) YHWH announces that nothing but death is awaiting the deportees: “I will scatter them among nations that neither they nor their ancestors have known; and I will send the sword after them, until I have consumed them.” In other words, the banishment to Babylonia is a method of annihilating the victims. Jeremiah 15:2 threatens deportation (‫)שׁ ִבי‬ ְ in one breath with death (‫)מוֶ ת‬, ָ war (‫)ח ֶרב‬, ֶ and famine (‫)ר ָעב‬. ָ To hammer home the message, Jer 13:1–11 narrates how the prophet traveled to the Euphrates in order to allow his linen loincloth rot to such a degree that “it was good for nothing” (v. 7). In v. 9, YHWH explains the meaning of the symbolic  9 See my “Formulaic Language and the Formation of the Book of Jeremiah,” in Jeremiah’s Scriptures: Production, Reception, Interaction and Transformation, ed. Hindy Najman and Konrad Schmid, JSJSup 173 (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2017), 145–65; Christl M. Maier, “The Nature of Deutero-Jeremianic Texts,” ibid., 103–23. 10 Quotations from the Bible are taken or adapted from the NRSV. 11 MT: “for I will show you no favor.” The Masoretic revision wanted to avoid the notion that foreign gods could exert power. See William L. Holladay, Jeremiah 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah, Chapters 1–25, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 474.

306

Hermann-Josef Stipp

act as follows: “Just so I will ruin the pride of Judah and the great pride of Jerusalem.” The lesson is obvious: the Euphrates serves as a cipher for the place of the Babylonian exile, and as is typical of the first Jeremianic Deuteronomist, only destructive effects are attributed to the expatriation. Verse 10 makes no bones about the harm to be inflicted on the deportees through the banishment: “This evil people … shall be like this loincloth, which is good for nothing.” The exile is not a place for, say, bringing about repentance and atonement, but is meant to ruin Judah and Jerusalem. So, this first Deuteronomistic editor, living among those remaining in Judah, took a stance toward the deportees similar to what the book of Ezekiel complains about. Ezekiel 11:14–16 cites the Judeans as saying about the deportees, “They have gone far from YHWH; to us this land is given for a possession” (v. 15). As the quotation intimates, the Judeans at home were driven by an ulterior motive when they claimed that the exiles were alienated from YHWH: they wanted to lay their hands on property left behind by the deportees. Ezekiel 33:23–29 points in the same direction when the passage attributes to those remaining in Judah the sentiment, “Abraham was only one man, yet he got possession of the land; but we are many; the land is surely given us to possess” (v. 24). These passages from the book of Ezekiel can be read as a protest against the Deuteronomistic portions of the Judean book of Jeremiah that leave no doubt that the exiles are totally written off. So in the Deuteronomistic sections of Jer 1–25 we encounter a string of prophecies threatening deportation and dispersal. It is revealing to compare these findings with what the second Deuteronomistic redactor had to say about the exile.

C. The Babylonian expansion of the Book of Jeremiah The Deuteronomistic parts of Jer 26–45 (JerDtr II) keep announcing doom and destruction, but we find no prediction of wholesale banishment. In fact, these passages include two announcements of future expatriation, but upon closer inspection they form a different category. According to Jer 34:2–3, during the siege of Jerusalem Jeremiah delivered an oracle to Zedekiah, prophesying that the king would be taken to Babylonia as a prisoner: “Thus says the Lord: I am going to give this city into the hand of the king of Babylon, and he shall burn it with fire. And you yourself shall not escape from his hand, but shall surely be captured and handed over to him; you shall see the king of Babylon eye to eye [and speak with him face to face]; and you shall go to Babylon.” This prediction, however, concerns the king alone, whereas Jerusalem is threatened with devastation. Given that the oracle is addressed to the king, the lack of a reference to mass deportations may appear insignificant, but additional observations cast the passage in a different light.

The Redactions of the Book of Jeremiah and the Exile

307

First, the divine pronouncement on Zedekiah is actually clad as a prophecy of salvation, for in Jer 34:5 it concludes with the promise: “You shall die in peace. And as fires were lit for your fathers who ʽreignedʼ before you, so they will light fires for you and lament for you, saying, Alas, lord!” So, amid all the doom and the gloom, the king will receive exceptional treatment. Although he will not evade deportation to Babylonia, he will be honored by dignified funeral liturgies. Consequently, the exile is part and parcel of a preferential treatment of Zedekiah denied to his compatriots. Second, the prophecy to Zedekiah in Jer 34:1–7 is followed by the report on the manumission of slaves and its repeal in vv. 8–22. The latter unit culminates in an oracle of woe announcing different punishments for the Jerusalemites at large, on the one hand, and for Zedekiah and his courtiers on the other. In v. 19, the prophecy lists several groups targeted by the verdict – namely, “the officials of Judah, [the officials of Jerusalem,] the eunuchs, the priests, and [all] the people of the land” – before passing judgment on them in v. 20: “I will hand them over to their enemies [and to those who seek their lives]. Their corpses shall become food for the birds of the air and the wild animals of the earth.” In v. 21, the divine speech continues as follows: “And as for King Zedekiah of Judah and his officials, I will hand them over to their enemies [and to those who seek their lives], and [to] the army of the king of Babylon, which has withdrawn from you.” Here we come across a distinction similar to what we find in Jer 34:2–3: Zedekiah is bound for exile, accompanied only by his courtiers, whereas the remainder of the population faces obliteration. This difference clearly mattered to the author, since he emphasized it by syntactically fronting Zedekiah and his officials, that is, by placing the object of the sentence before the verb, thus stressing the contrast between the sorts of treatment accorded the two groups. So, just as in the preceding episode, exile is not exactly a pleasure trip, but it has lost its horror, and compared to the wholesale carnage in the wake of the defeat, it is certainly the better option. The compulsory service to foreign gods mentioned in Jer 16:13 has no place in this vision of exile. In fact, the second Jeremianic Deuteronomist does refer to idolatry among Judeans abroad. Yet the idolatry he has in mind occurs not among the Babylonian exiles themselves but among those who took refuge in Egypt. Their country of destination is the place where the allure of idol worship will take effect. In Jer 44:7–8, the divine voice speaking through the prophet asks the Judeans gathered around Jeremiah in Egypt, “Why are you doing such great harm to yourselves, to cut off man and woman, child and infant, from the midst of Judah, leaving yourselves without a remnant, by provoking me to anger with the works of your hands, making offerings to other gods in the land of Egypt where you are coming to settle?” As this question implies, idolatry is rampant among Jeremiah’s audience. The assembled Judeans reply by insisting that they will obstinately cling to the

308

Hermann-Josef Stipp

iniquitous habits they inherited from their forefathers. They even go as far as to claim that they have pledged themselves to do so. Jeremiah 44:17 quotes them as saying, “We will do everything that we have vowed, make offerings to the ʽqueenʼ12 of heaven and pour out libations to her, just as we and our ancestors, our kings and our officials, used to do in the towns of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem.” To this, YHWH replies in v. 26: “Lo, I swear by my great name, says YHWH, that my name shall no longer be [pronounced] on the lips of any of the people of Judah in all the land of Egypt, saying, ‘As [the lord] YHWH lives.’” The Judeans in Egypt have vowed to keep worshipping foreign gods, as they did in the past; thus YHWH in return vows that no Judean in Egypt making a vow or oath will ever appeal to his name again. Vows invoking YHWH here apparently serve as a synecdoche for the cult of YHWH in general; so when YHWH vows to put an end to vows in his name, he vows to ensure that his worship in Egypt ceases altogether. In the following verse, Jer 44:27, YHWH spells out the consequences: “I am going to watch over them for harm and not for good; all [the people of] Judah who are in the land of Egypt shall perish by the sword and by famine, until not one is left.” Here it is the emigrants to Egypt who are preordained for extinction. While according to the book of Ezekiel the Judeans who remained in the land scorned the Babylonian deportees as being utterly alienated from YHWH, Jer 44 shifts this disgrace onto the Egyptian refugees. If we compare this portrayal of the Egyptian refugees to what the first Jeremianic Deuteronomist in Jer 16:13 had to say about compulsory idolatry, we may state that the second Jeremianic Deuteronomist in Jer 44 proceeded from the assumption that the refugees in Egypt really did worship foreign gods. So unlike his predecessor in the Judean book of Jeremiah, the second Jeremianic Deuteronomist did not threaten his compatriots in Egypt with the prospect of idolatry, thus avoiding the implication that their infidelity was actually in accord with YHWH’s intentions. Instead, he used the accusation of raging idolatry as the rationale for an oracle of doom. Whereas in Jer 16:13 idolatry was counted among the punishments imposed in a prophecy of judgment, here it acts as the justification for the punishments proclaimed in a prophecy of judgment. If these observations can be relied on, the Deuteronomistic portions in Jer 26–45 betray a sharply different attitude toward the exile, compared to what the corresponding sections in Jer 1–25 have to offer. Although the announcements of disaster continue, the threat of deportation is not repeated, let alone predictions tying dispersal to annihilation. Here we have a Deuteronomistic redactor who was experiencing the Babylonian exile himself, with the result that his

12 Thus MT and LXX; the Tiberian vocalization garbles the word, yielding the “drudgery” (‫)מ ֶל ֶכת‬ ְ of heaven.

The Redactions of the Book of Jeremiah and the Exile

309

evaluation of the banishment altered. Certainly, he had nothing good to say about his current living conditions, but he did not execrate them either. Provided that my views on the redaction history of the Babylonian book of Jeremiah are correct, what the second Deuteronomistic editor did was to incorporate into his work sources that drew a fairly upbeat picture of the Babylonians and the exile in Mesopotamia. It was this redactor who inserted the composition on false prophets now forming Jer 27–29, including YHWH’s proclamation of Nebuchadnezzar’s universal kingship in Jer 27:5–6 as well as Jeremiah’s letter enjoining the deportees to build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, [that they may bear sons and daughters]; multiply [there], and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city / the land where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its/their behalf, for in its/their welfare you will find your welfare. (Jer 29:5–7)

The largest source preserved by the editor of the Babylonian book of Jeremiah is what I term the “Narrative of Judah’s Downfall in Palestine,” comprising the bulk of Jer 37–43:7.13 The ideological centerpiece of this account is Jeremiah’s extended oracle to the Judeans planning to emigrate to Egypt (Jer *42:10–22). Within this speech the prophet utters a somewhat astounding promise involving the king of Babylon: “I will grant you mercy, and he [the king of Babylon!] will have mercy on you, and he will return you to your soil” (v. 12). This divine announcement, which proclaimed that the king of Babylon would return the Judeans to their home country, was a bit too absurd for the guardians of the textual tradition leading up to the Septuagint’s Vorlage, especially since the promise was directed at Judeans who wished to leave their own soil but had yet to do so. The Masoretic Text reads as if Jeremiah were speaking to the Babylonian exiles and assuring them that the king of Babylon would allow them to return home. Hence some scribe in the non-Masoretic textual tradition replaced the third-person morphemes referring to the king of Babylon with first-person morphemes representing YHWH. As a result, the LXX text of the passage reads: “I will grant you mercy, and I will have mercy on you, and I will return you to your soil.” Thus, this scribe reattributed the act of liberation to YHWH. In view of the actual course of history, however, there is no way that the act of releasing the deportees from the exile could have been secondarily transferred from YHWH to the king of Babylon. Therefore, the Masoretic reading must be original. Its strange wording is explicable on the assumption, supported by other features of the text, that the “Narrative of Judah’s Downfall in Palestine” originated in Mesopotamia, 13 See Stipp, Jeremia im Parteienstreit. Some comments on the source may be found in my “The Concept of the Empty Land in Jeremiah 37–43,” in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and Its Historical Contexts, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, BZAW 404 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 103–54.

310

Hermann-Josef Stipp

and that through the divine promise in Jer 42:12 its exilic author encouraged his fellow deportees to have faith in the willingness of the king of Babylon to finally grant them their freedom. So, building houses and eating the fruit of gardens in foreign parts traditionally deemed unclean, founding families, begetting children, praying for the pagan oppressors, hoping for the Babylonian king to grant release from captivity – such were the messages that the editor of the Babylonian book of Jeremiah did not proclaim himself, to be sure, but at least considered worthy of being included in his work. Thus, the successive stages of the Deuteronomistic redaction performed a profound reinterpretation of the exile: what used to be a locale of despair and annihilation became a place of cautious hope, offering a chance of survival and, in the long run, of a new beginning at home. Remarkably, the reassessment seems to have been encouraged by the actual experience of the captivity: What appeared as an abysmal calamity and final separation from YHWH, when seen from afar, proved to be rather different once it changed into a lived reality.

D. Jeremiah 24 To round off my paper, I would like to highlight another addition to the book that stands out for its surprising and quite radical reevaluation of the exile. As far as I can see, this redactional layer consists of one single literary unit: Jer 24, the report of the vision dated to the reign of Zedekiah in which Jeremiah is shown two baskets of figs: “one basket had very good figs, like first-ripe figs, but the other basket had very bad figs, so bad that they could not be eaten” (Jer 24:2; cf. v. 3). As YHWH explains in his interpretive comment, he will regard the Judeans deported with Jehoiachin in 597 BCE as good figs. In YHWH’s words: Like these good figs, so I will regard the exiles from Judah, whom I have sent away from this place to the land of the Chaldeans for (their own) good.14 I will set my eyes upon them for good, and I will bring them back to this land. I will build them up, and not tear them down; I will plant them, and not pluck them up. I will give them a heart to know that I am YHWH; and they shall be my people and I will be their God, for they shall return to me with their whole heart. (Jer 24:5–7)

The bad figs, on the other hand, symbolize the Judeans staying behind under Zedekiah. Again, to quote YHWH’s elucidation of the vision:

14 For the syntactical analysis implied by this translation, see my “Jeremiah 24: Deportees, Remainees, Returnees, and the Diaspora,” in Centres and Peripheries in the Early Second Temple Period, ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, FAT 108 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 165–66.

The Redactions of the Book of Jeremiah and the Exile

311

Like the bad figs that are so bad they cannot be eaten – thus says YHWH – so will I treat King Zedekiah of Judah, his officials, the remnant of Jerusalem who remain in this land, and those who live in [the land of] Egypt. I will make them a horror, [an evil thing,] to all the kingdoms of the earth – a disgrace, a byword, a taunt, and a curse in all the places where I shall drive them. And I will send sword, famine, and pestilence upon them, until they are utterly destroyed from the land that I gave to them [and their ancestors]. (Jer 24:8–10)

This brief chapter characterizes the exile in a fashion far removed from everything else we read about the banishment in the Bible. First, Jer 24 fully equates the Babylonian golah with the Judeans who accompanied Jehoiachin to Babylonia in 597 BCE. This is the group called “the exiles from Judah” (v. 5), and according to vv. 8–10 there will be no additional batch of deportees, because Zedekiah and his subjects will not be taken captive to Babylonia but will be scattered in a vast range of places where sword, famine, and pestilence are awaiting them. Second, Jer 24 turns the traditional interpretation of the exile on its head by construing it not as a judgment on the sinful Judeans, but to the contrary, as an escape from judgment. Certainly, it may appear that the chapter actually demarcates two stages of judgment: After the Jehoiachin group has suffered the ordeal of deportation, the Zedekiah group will follow suit in due course.15 Yet this is incorrect. As v. 5 declares, when the Jehoiachin group is taken to Babylonia, YHWH is sending them there “for (their own) good.” So their deportation is not a judgment but rather a deliverance from judgment; the judgment exclusively affects the Zedekiah group and does not involve exile but only dispersal. To sum up, the interpretation of the exile in the book of Jeremiah has come a long way. At some point, hindsight converted the banishment from an instrument of eradication into a tool of salvation. This radical about-face was apparently helped by the concrete experience of the exile and its long-term consequences, which says something about human suffering and its value. In the end, the change of perspective transformed the understanding of divine salvation in its entirety. From a fairly triumphalist idea, as was typical during the preexilic decades, it was turned into a much humbler view that left it to God to decide what was beneficial for human nature. This may be a helpful lesson to be learned from how the ancient Israelites dealt with the experience of the exile.

15 Expositions along that line have been championed – with differences in the details – by, e. g., Karl-Friedrich Pohlmann, Studien zum Jeremiabuch: Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach der Entstehung des Jeremiabuches, FRLANT 118 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978), 43; W. J. Wessels, “Jeremiah 24:1–10 as a Pronouncement of Hope?,” OTE 4 (1991): 406; Henk Leene, Newness in Old Testament Prophecy: An Intertextual Study, OTS 64 (Leiden: Brill 2014), 277.

Part 5

Rising from the Ashes (Persian Period)

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture as Seen from Persepolis, in a Historical Perspective Pierfrancesco Callieri The enormous importance that Persepolis had during the Achaemenid period makes it a key site for understanding the cultural and ideological climate at the center of the empire, which was doubtless also reflected in the farthest regions of the empire, thanks to the particular administrative structure of the satrapies, and which therefore influenced the cultural history of Palestine as well. The toponym used in the Elamite Fortification Texts for Persepolis was Pārsa, a term that indicates both the imperial citadel on the terrace and the imperial cemetery of Naqsh-e Rostam, as well as the commoners’ town in the plain around them. The fact that the information that has been obtained since 2011 by the Iranian-Italian Archaeological Mission directed by Alireza Askari Chaverdi of Shiraz University and myself at a site a short distance from the Persepolis Terrace, and therefore within the area of Pārsa, coincides fully with the reconstruction of Persian political ideology and its influence on the cultural developments in Palestine proposed by the biblical scholar Giovanni Garbini, suggested to me that it would be appropriate to present the following considerations, dedicated to the memory of Giovanni Garbini, in the framework of this book. My evaluation of Achaemenid political ideology is based mainly on architectural and visual evidence.1 This leads me to conclusions which to some extent differ from those of historians like Amélie Kuhrt, who rightly stresses the continuity with Assyrian and Babylonian traditions when characterizing Persian rule over subject peoples. Indeed, Kuhrt has demonstrated that the textual evidence does not justify taking for granted the concept that the Achaemenid kings maintained a different religious policy toward subject peoples; actually, the alleged alliance of the victors with the local deities provided a way to make integration of the new power with local societies possible after the decidedly violent conquest.2 1 I will not enter here into the complicated historical issues of the Achaemenid dynasty in connection with the known genealogies of Cyrus the Great and Darius I. The question involves the probable usurpation by Darius I of Cyrus’s existing lineage. 2 Amélie Kuhrt, “The Problem of Achaemenid ‘Religious Policy,’” in Die Welt der Götterbilder, ed. Brigitte Groneberg and Hermann Spieckermann, BZAW 376 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2007), 125, 128. Another historian, Pierre Briant, has outlined the difficult relationships between the written and visual sources in another respect. He notes that the classical sources encourage

316

Pierfrancesco Callieri

When we turn to the actual architectural and figural evidence stemming from the Achaemenid kings, we see that alongside themes and motifs of clear Egyptian and Neo-Assyrian origin, some themes and motifs, at least starting from the age of Darius I, appear to be original Persian creations. Achaemenid architecture and art, therefore, can be summarized as an original elaboration firmly based on previous traditions, particularly of the Neo-Assyrian empire, but integrated with original ideas that must have amounted to a statement of ideological diversity. Let us now take a look at this evidence.

A. The Persepolis Terrace and Achaemenid Imperial Iconography The name Persepolis is generally understood to refer to the monumental terrace built by the Achaemenid kings at the northeastern limits of a fertile plain in Central Fars. “Discovered” by the Greek sources only upon the arrival of Alexander’s army in 330 BCE, until recently Persepolis had been interpreted3 as a place used only for the celebration of the New Year feast, Nowruz, which even today remains the principal festival of Iranian peoples. Today the continuous use of the site has been demonstrated, based on the Elamite administrative texts and the evidence of an inhabited settlement in the surrounding plain.4 At the same time, scholars refrain from associating the terrace specifically with Nowruz.5 Leaving aside the practical functions of the Treasury and the other structures for local administration, an approach to the functional and ideological meaning of the so-called palaces of Persepolis should be based on a review of the evidence itself, which is architectural, iconographical, and epigraphical. A preliminary remark is necessary at this point. The hypothesis of a distinctly religious function of these “palaces,” recently advanced by Shahrokh Razmjou in collaboration with Michael Roaf,6 is not sufficiently supported by the architectural and figural evidence. While we may accept the claim that many of us to analyze the Persian ideological scheme as a permanent, unchanging system and ignore its diachronic aspects, to the extent that it is particularly difficult for us to assess the sources when they describe symbols of power that do not appear on the stone reliefs, leaving us to wonder whether these were depicted on perishable materials, such as wall paintings. Histoire de l’empire perse: De Cyrus à Alexandre (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 218. 3 Ali Mousavi, Persepolis: Discovery and Afterlife of a World Wonder (Boston: de Gruyter, 2012), 52. 4 Pierre Briant, Wouter F. M. Henkelman, and Matthew Stolper, eds., L’archive des Fortifications de Persépolis: État des questions et perspectives de recherches, Persika 12 (Paris: Éditions de Boccard, 2008). 5 Margaret C. Root, The King and Kingship in Achaemenid Art: Essays on the Creation of an Iconography of Empire, Acta Iranica 19 (Leiden: Brill, 1979), 278–80. 6 Shahrokh Razmjou and Michael Roaf, “Temples and Sacred Places in Persepolis,” in Tempel im Alten Orient. 7. Internationales Colloquium der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft, 11.–13. Oktober 2009, München, ed. Kai Kaniuth et al. (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2013), 407–25.

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

317

Persepolis’s buildings could not have had a mere residential function,7 affirming that the palaces have a “strong religious significance”8 can easily lead to misinterpretations.9 The Achaemenid architecture provides evidence of multiple rituals of various nature, from the ritual of royal initiation to offerings for the benefit of the kings, that were necessary to sustain the kingship through contact with the supernatural world and were part of the “religion” of the kings. Thus, I have proposed elsewhere10 to define this architecture as the “Ritual Architecture” of the Achaemenids, and this is in full agreement with the many Elamite tablets referring to various rituals carried out on the Persepolis Terrace.11 Within this broad functional attribution, the visual sources do in fact provide us with much evidence for tracing features of the ideology of the Achaemenid kings, through an appreciation of what Margaret Root has called “the realm of subjective historical self-perception,” in which “the image of the patron and his empire which is presented in his commissioned art must reflect the image of kingship which he himself wished to be surrounded by and to identify with, as well as the image with which he wished to be identified by others.”12  7 Lindsay Allen,

The Persian Empire: A History (London: British Museum Press, 2005), 79. Razmjou, “Persepolis: A Reinterpretation of Palaces and Their Function,” in The World of Achaemenid Persia: History, Art and Society in Iran and the Ancient Near East, ed. John Curtis and St John Simpson (London: British Museum Press, 2010), 242.  9 From an architectural viewpoint, the hypostyle halls of Persepolis do not in fact share any traits with other known temples in Iran or in Mesopotamia. 10 Pierfrancesco Callieri, “Achaemenid ‘Ritual Architecture’ vs. ‘Religious Architecture’: Reflections on the Elusive Archaeological Evidence of the Religion of the Achaemenids,” in Persian Religion in the Achaemenid Period / La religion perse à l’époque achéménide, ed. Wouter F. M. Henkelman and Céline Redard (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017), 387. 11 Wouter F. M. Henkelman, The Other Gods Who Are: Studies in Elamite-Iranian Acculturation Based on the Persepolis Fortification Texts, Achaemenid History 14 (Leiden: Brill, 2008); idem, “Parnakka’s Feast: šip in Pārsa and Elam,” in Elam and Persia, ed. Javier Álvarez-Mon and Mark B. Garrison (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 89–166. See also Daniel Potts, “Iran,” in The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Ritual and Religion, ed. Timothy Insoll (Oxford: University Press, 2011), 811–25 with bibliography. In fact, excluding these monuments from the realm of non-secular architecture would mean imposing a conception of “religion” which is much closer to a modern construction of ethical beliefs such as Christianity or Islam than to the complex supernatural world of ancient societies, where kingship is one of the fundamental pillars of religion. A rather similar interpretation has recently been put forward by Margaret C. Root, who states that in the Persepolis reliefs, “the Achaemenid king himself performed ultimately as the focus of a cult of what I will call hegemonic divinity.” “Achaemenid Imperial Architecture: Performative Porticoes of Persepolis,” in Persian Kingship and Architecture: Strategies of Power in Iran from the Achaemenids to the Pahlavis, ed. Sussan Babaie and Talinn Grigor (London: I. B. Tauris, 2015), 30. 12 Root, King and Kingship, 1–2. Despite the substantial efforts of the Achaemenid kings, who followed their great forebear Darius in maintaining unchanged their contributions to his building project, the diachronical perspective mentioned in the title of this paper is a preferable approach, because we have the ability to trace the architectural and artistic evolution of the buildings of the terrace, thanks to the inscriptions issued by the various kings, on the one hand, and to the painstaking investigations of archaeologists and restorers on the other. Michael Roaf’s internal chronology of Persepolis buildings (1983), following the fundamental  8 Shahrokh

318

Pierfrancesco Callieri

The king who founded the Persepolis Terrace was Darius I, as he himself states in the inscription DPf, engraved on the south revetment wall of the terrace, where the original entrance was located. Although the terrace is enormous, extending over twelve hectares, the buildings constructed by Darius hardly occupy a third of the surface of the terrace.13 I do not share the view that the king may have chosen to preserve large uncovered areas or gardens,14 since the stratigraphy below the floors as well as the drains built below the floors rule out the possibility of cultivation. Furthermore, gardens have been identified in the immediate surroundings on the plain, at the site of Persepolis West.15 It is much more likely that Darius had a different attitude from that of most of the kings before him. He did not simply build a palace for himself, but prepared the ground for a ceremonial center to be used by an entire dynasty of kings. Even though, as we shall see, it is particularly the figural reliefs that communicate an ideology, the architecture, too, therefore, has symbolic meaning.16 There are documents indicating that the construction of the terrace and of its main monuments had a strong symbolic significance. Here I am referring particularly to the foundation deposits of the Apadāna, the gold and silver plaques buried at the four corners of the building. This act has been seen as corresponding to the creation of the world and of the empire.17 Clarisse Herrenschmidt has astutely suggested that the king of the whole world, as the Achaemenid kings were often represented, is a mirror of the god who created the world, Ahura Mazda.18 excavations of the 1930s and 1950s, has been refined thanks to the long and accurate study that the Italian restorers of the IsMEO (Istituto italiano per il Medio ed Estremo Oriente), active on the terrace in the 1960s and 1970s under the guidance of Giuseppe and Ann Britt Tilia, carried out prior to restoration intervention, as acknowledged by Peter Calmeyer, “Persepoli,” in Enciclopedia dell’Arte antica, classica ed orientale: Secondo Supplemento, 1971–1994, vol. 4 (Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1996), 328–31. 13 Roaf, Michael, “Sculptures and Sculptors at Persepolis,” Iran 21 (1983): 1–164, figs. 153, 156. 14 Rémy Boucharlat, “Southwestern Iran in the Achaemenid Period,” in The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Iran, ed. D. T. Potts (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 515. 15 Alireza Askari Chaverdi and Pierfrancesco Callieri, Persepolis West (Fars, Iran): Report on the Field Work Carried Out by the Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in 2008– 2009, BAR.I 2870 (Oxford: BAR, 2017), 76–90, 287. 16 I would like to introduce the terrace with the telling words of Margaret C. Root: The terrace itself “is a throne platform presented metaphorically as a mirror-like jigsaw-puzzle metaphor of all lands of the empire.” “Achaemenid Imperial Architecture,” 34. 17 C. L. Nimchuk, “Empire Encapsulated: The Persepolis Apadana Foundation Deposits,” in Curtis and Simpson, The World of Achaemenid Persia, 225. 18 Clarisse Herrenschmidt, “Les Créations d’Ahura Mazdâ,” Studia Iranica 6, no. 1 (1977): 17–58. More recently, Dietrich Huff has also compared the foundation deposits of the Apadāna to the pre-Achaemenid tradition attested at Veshnaveh. “Problems of Votive Offerings in Zoroastrian Iran,” Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran und Turan 43 (2011): 79–111. These deposits have to be seen in comparison with the Mesopotamian tradition. See Richard S. Ellis, Foundation Deposits in Ancient Mesopotamia, YNER 2 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968).

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

319

In addition to the inscription DPf, the south wall of the terrace displays three more inscriptions.19 The first celebrates the Persian people and calls for Ahura Mazda to protect them, while the second lists the peoples subjugated by the Persian army, for which Darius requests support. As well explained by Pierre Lecoq,20 this is a valuable indication of one of the main functions of Persepolis, which is of a political nature: to highlight the superior role of the Persian people, to whom the other peoples are subjected.

B. Iconographic Features of Individual Structures on the Persepolis Terrace Having considered the symbolic role of the terrace as a whole, I will discuss the visual evidence offered by its successive buildings. The first building to be analyzed is the private palace of Darius I, which scholars conventionally identify by the Old Persian term Tačara, which appears in the inscriptions of Darius himself inside the building and in the inscription of Xerxes (XPc) on the façade wall, in which he attributes its construction to his father and its completion to himself (Fig. 1). The southern façade of the revetment wall that supports the front portico depicts two rows of nine Persian guards facing the Old Persian inscription at the center of the façade (Fig. 2).21 The presence of soldiers is a recurrent feature in most of the Persepolis scenes and reflects the role of the army within the Persian Empire. The two triangular sections of the façade, which correspond to the stairways, show a rampant bull attacked by a lion – a subject used wherever the architecture calls for a triangular panel (Fig. 3). The significance of this subject remains hypothetical; it must have been drawn from Mesopotamian precursors while retaining the meaning it had in its earlier context. In fact, according to Mazdean beliefs the lion is an evil creature, while the bull is a positive animal. An astral interpretation of the two animals has been proposed.22 The parapets and walls of the stairways show a procession of figures carrying implements and provisions, including animals, which have been variously explained as provisions for a banquet or as sacrifices for symbolic rituals (Fig. 3).23 19 DPd,

DPe, DPg. Lecoq, Les inscriptions de la Perse achéménide (Paris: Gallimard, 1997), 98. 21 The Babylonian and Elamite versions of the inscription are placed on the left and right sides of the façade, behind the guards. 22 And thus as an illustration of summer following spring, or of the sun prevailing over the moon (cf. Root, King and Kingship, 236n14). 23 Erich F. Schmidt, Persepolis I: Structures, Reliefs, Inscriptions, OIP 58 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953), 225; Root, “Achaemenid Imperial Architecture,” 28. 20 Pierre

320

Pierfrancesco Callieri

Figure 1. Persepolis. Darius I’s Tačara: view from the south. Photo: author.

Figure 2. Persepolis. Darius I’s Tačara: southern façade of the revetment wall. Photo: author.

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

321

Figure 3. Persepolis. Darius I’s Tačara: triangular section of the southern façade, corresponding to the western stairway. Photo: author.

These scenes are the primary basis for the religious interpretation of the terrace architecture proposed by Razmjou, who identifies the figures as priests and the animals as sacrificial victims.24 The rest of the motifs represented on the building’s doorjambs, do not, however, support a religious interpretation. The royal figure predominates: the king is depicted walking in or out of the main hall followed by attendants, or represented as the royal hero fighting a beast or a monster – a subject that has a strong apotropaic function; other subjects are servants or, again, guards.25

24 Shahrokh Razmjou, “Persepolis: A Reinterpretation of Palaces and Their Function,” in Curtis and Simpson, The World of Achaemenid Persia, 233–41. 25 The two jambs of the southern doorway of the main hall are decorated with a relief showing a royal figure who bears a staff and a flower walking out of the building, followed by two attendants, one carrying a flywhisk and scarf or towel, the other a parasol. The jambs of the two doors giving access to the northern rooms bear similar representations of a royal figure entering the main hall, with small differences in the attributes carried by the attendants. The two doorways leading from the main hall into the eastern and western rooms, as well as the doorway opening onto the western vestibule toward the stairway added by Artaxerxes III, are decorated with reliefs showing the so-called royal hero fighting respectively a lion, a lion monster, and a bull. The small doorways connecting two rooms on the east and west sides of the main hall bear reliefs depicting the royal hero holding a dagger in one hand and grasping a lion cub with the other. The jambs of the remaining doorways bear figures of servants or guards.

322

Pierfrancesco Callieri

Figure 4. Persepolis. Darius I’s Tačara: western doorway in the north wall of the main hall, east jamb. Photo: author.

The motif that has been described as “the king appearing in state”26 (Fig. 4), also found on the doorjambs of the private palace of Xerxes (the Hadiš), and of the so-called Harem of Xerxes, appears to be original in concept despite the existence of Egyptian and Neo-Assyrian prototypes.27 The motif of the royal hero (Fig. 5) introduces a mythical vision of kingship (to be sure, the identification of this figure as the king is not unanimous).28 26 Root,

King and Kingship, 285. King and Kingship, 290. 28 Root, King and Kingship, 300. 27 Root,

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

323

Figure 5. Persepolis. Darius I’s Tačara: southern doorway of Room 16, south jamb. Photo: author.

According to Root, the royal hero motif, of Mesopotamian derivation, represents the king as a “Persian Man” – a concept well illustrated in the inscription on Darius’s tomb29 – who guards against evil creatures seeking to enter the building, represented by the beasts or monsters defeated by the hero. On the basis of a perceptive observation, Root has proposed that the Tačara “must have been the site of some ritual activity involving investiture (and

29 Root,

King and Kingship, 305.

324

Pierfrancesco Callieri

perhaps its cyclical reaffirmation).”30 This interesting idea is based on the fact that the royal figures represented on the doorjambs of the rooms at the back of the main hall are almost identical, except that on one of the jambs the figure is represented as the king, on the other as the crown prince. Root has also stressed the similarity between the small male lion cub grasped by the royal hero on the jambs of the eastern doorway of the main hall of the Tačara and the two male lion cubs presented by the Elamite delegation to the king on the Apadana frieze, which she inteprets as a link with the ancient Elamite royal house, reinforcing the idea that the function of the building was associated with royal succession. If the subjects represented on the Tačara are largely in the Neo-Assyrian iconographic tradition, then the Persepolis Terrace is a monument built by Darius that celebrates him as the king of all the peoples. Thus we can ascribe to this king the birth of a new ideology of universal kingship – an ideology that has sometimes been overemphasized but should not be completely discarded. The most illuminating representation of this ideology appears in the scene carved in relief on the upper panel of the rock-cut tomb of Darius I at Naqsh-e Rostam, the royal necropolis of Persepolis (Fig. 6). Above a representation of a palace façade, whose main door corresponds to the entrance to the funerary chamber, a large panel represents the King of Kings standing before a fire altar located under the image of the bust of a bearded man emerging from a winged disk, which is now more widely interpreted as representing Ahura Mazda; behind Ahura Mazda is a disc with an inscribed crescent. The scene has no known precursor in ancient Near Eastern cultures, despite the acknowledged Neo-Assyrian origin of the divine motif, for there is a difference in the king’s positioning.31 The king and the altar stand on a large platform with decorated feet; the feet, however, do not touch the ground because the platform is supported by two tiers of representatives of the peoples of the empire. The entire scene is flanked on the left and right by Persian soldiers on three registers. God and king face each other and exchange a gesture of greeting, and together they represent the just order that is mentioned in Darius’s inscription on the same façade (DNa, § 4) – a cosmic-moral order that includes the peoples of the empire, represented as the king’s loyal subjects.32 The Achaemenid inscriptions celebrate the fortunate association of the king with Ahura Mazda, to whom the king’s success is attributed.33 The royal archi30 Root,

“Achaemenid Imperial Architecture,” 27. King and Kingship, 175. 32 Cf. Kuhrt, “ Problem of Achaemenid ‘Religious Policy,’” 121. 33 If I may touch on a subject that is beyond my scope, Ahura Mazda is credited with the success of the Persian king just as Assur is credited with the success of the Neo-Assyrian king. Ahura Mazda, however, is never identified with the king, unlike Assur in the Assyrian ceremony of enthronement for the new earthly king. See Steven W. Holloway, Aššur is King! Aššur is King! Religion in the Exercise of Power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, CHANE 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), xv. 31 Root,

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

325

Figure 6. Naqsh-e Rostam. Darius I’s rock-cut tomb, central and upper part of the façade. Photo: author.

tecture repeats this statement wherever possible, despite the fact that there is no major building constituting a temple dedicated to Ahura Mazda. The relationship between the king and his god is celebrated mainly in the words of the king, incised in his inscriptions, which suggests that the king felt it sufficient to depict it visually for his subjects through the winged-disk motif. While in the Near Eastern precursors the relationship between the imperial hierarchy and the peoples of the realm is portrayed as adversarial, in Achaemenid art the same hierarchy is portrayed as a supportive relationship, with benefits conferred by each side on the other.34 The Achaemenid rendering of the supporting figures in this scene places more emphasis on their unanimous collaboration than on their physical effort.35 Furthermore, given that all the representatives of the subject peoples are facing in the same direction, the Achaemenid reliefs suggest that the subject peoples are actually carrying the throne platform forward.36 This action has been taken as evidence that the Achaemenid reliefs depict an 34 Root,

King and Kingship, fig. 18. Root, King and Kingship, 153. 36 Root, King and Kingship, 154. 35 Cf.

326

Pierfrancesco Callieri

Figure 7. Persepolis. Hall of One Hundred Columns: eastern doorway in southern wall, east jamb. Photo: author.

actual rite, perhaps derived from Elamite tradition,37 symbolically related to the movement of astral bodies.38 In any case, as Root remarked, “The portrayal of the platform carriers as personifications of the specific lands/peoples of the

37 Root,

King and Kingship, 158. L’Orange, Studies in the Iconography of Cosmic Kingship in the Ancient World (Oslo: Instituttet for Sammenlignende Kulturforskning, 1953), 80–89; Gherardo Gnoli, “Politique religieuse et conception de la royauté sous les Achéménides,” in Hommage universel II, Acta Iranica 2 (Tehran: Peeters, 1974), 125. 38 H. P.

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

327

Figure 8. Persepolis. Tripylon: eastern doorway of main hall, south jamb. Photo: author.

empire is [a] symbolic device, a visual metaphor of the way in which the king wished to have his relationship to the subject peoples perceived.”39 This scene, which would be repeated on the other tombs at Naqsh-e Rostam and Persepolis, as well as, on a smaller scale, on the door jambs of the Hall of One Hundred Columns (Fig. 7) and of the Tripylon (Fig. 8), constitutes the first completely original Achaemenid iconography, without precedent in the Near Eastern heritage, and at the same time the first explicit expression of the new 39 Root,

King and Kingship, 160.

328

Pierfrancesco Callieri

Figure 9. Persepolis. Apadāna: view from the southwest. Photo: author.

Figure 10. Persepolis. Apadāna: eastern stairway, northern wing. Photo: author.

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

329

ideology of the universal empire, characterized by peace and harmony. Perhaps it was the unprecedented expanse of the Achaemenid Empire itself that prompted this innovation: for the first time in human history a huge territory, extending from Libya to India, had been subjected to a single political power and incorporated into its unitarian administrative structure. This new universalistic ideology is visually represented also on the reliefs of the Audience Hall, the magnum opus of Achaemenid art. Here too, despite some apparent Egyptian parallels and several details of Neo-Assyrian origin, Achaemenid iconography marks a departure from Near Eastern traditions. The construction of the Audience Hall (Fig. 9), which in a few later Old Persian inscriptions from Susa is called the Apadāna, was initiated by Darius I and completed by Xerxes.40 The reliefs on the walls of the two stairways on the eastern and northern sides are mirror images of each other. Each depicts the same two processions converging on the figures represented on the central projecting body, which originally included the enthroned king: from one side come soldiers and court officers (Fig. 10), while on the other side, twenty-three delegations representing the various peoples of the empire approach the king, bringing valuable gifts (Fig. 11). Due to the mirror-image arrangement of the reliefs, an observer at the northeastern corner of the terrace would have seen the procession of the empire’s peoples approaching the hall from the right (on the northern stairway) and from the left (on the eastern stairway). The procession of soldiers and court officers is led by a high official in Median costume,41 who performs proskynesis before the enthroned king, behind whom stands the crown prince. However, the large panels that depict the king, which originally occupied the central position in the projecting body of each stairway (Fig. 12), were moved, for reasons that remain unclear, to a court of the Treasury and replaced with panels depicting two rows of four guards facing each other (Fig. 13).42 The simultaneous presence, on the two sets of mirror-image reliefs, of the Persian court entourage and of the representatives of the empire paying homage to the King of Kings and to the crown prince is a powerful expression

40 In Persepolis the inner floor of the Apadāna is at a higher level than the surrounding courts. Unlike the Apadāna in Susa, therefore, it has on the eastern and northern sides two revetment walls with four converging flights of stairs: two stairways form a central body projecting from the façade of the revetment wall, while the other two stairways are at the extremities of the wall. 41 Cf. Root, King and Kingship, 238. 42 Thanks to the study of the Italian conservation team of the IsMEO, the original position of the two large panels – which are mirror images of each other, like the two processions – was not only hypothesized but also proved. See Ann Britt Tilia, Studies and Restorations at Persepolis and Other Sites of Fārs, IsMEO Reports and Memoirs 16 (Rome: Istituto Italiano per il Medio ed Estremo Oriente, 1972), 205–8.

330

Pierfrancesco Callieri

Figure 11. Persepolis. Apadāna: eastern stairway, southern wing. Photo: author.

Figure 12. Persepolis. Treasury: relief originally in the central section of the eastern stairway of the Apadāna. Photo: author.

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

331

Figure 13. Persepolis. Apadāna: eastern stairway, central section as it appears today. Photo: author.

of Achaemenid kingship, and more specifically of Darius’s line,43 depicted through what Root has defined as the “visual hypertext of ritualized court performances.”44 The main ideological meaning is clear: The Achaemenids … did in fact exact tribute from the peoples represented on the Apadana facade; but, nevertheless, they seemed to feel the importance of avoiding any blatant allusion to the obligatory nature of a tribute rendition and of de-emphasizing the concept of the tribute representation as a visual expression of the militarily imposed control of the king over the subject peoples bringing that tribute.45

The same subject was represented on the destroyed stairway of Artaxerxes I’s Palace H, reconstructed in drawings by A. B. Tilia following a study of the recovered fragments.46 That this “ritualized court performance” actually took place on the terrace seems confirmed by the trilingual inscription engraved on the upper parts of the 43 Cf. Root, King and Kingship, 92. This also explains Xerxes’s commitment to completing this building, as well as all the other buildings initiated by Darius. Cf. Rüdiger Schmitt and David Stronach, “Apadāna,” in Encyclopaedia Iranica, http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/ apadana, 2011 (last updated August 5, 2011). 44 Root, “Achaemenid Imperial Architecture,” 21. 45 Root, King and Kingship, 249. 46 Tilia, Studies and Restorations, 243–316.

332

Pierfrancesco Callieri

jambs of the monumental gate built on the terrace, in conjunction with the landing for the new entrance stairway ordered by Xerxes. Indeed, the fact that this inscription calls the gate the “portico of all the peoples” suggests that delegations from the empire provinces accessed the terrace through this gate in order to proceed to the Apadāna, whose north side faced the gate.47 The importance of the ideology of peace and harmonious order is expressed once more in a smaller version of the image of the king on a platform supported by the peoples of the empire, this time enthroned under a canopy above which is Ahura Mazda. This scene appears on the jambs of the two southern doorways of the Hall of One Hundred Columns or Throne Hall, started by Xerxes and finished by Artaxerxes I (Fig. 7). In addition, the jambs of the northern doorways represent the new motif of the enthroned king under a baldachin granting an audience, above six tiers of guards converging on the center (Fig. 14), and the jambs of the eastern and western doors depict the figure of the royal hero, discussed above; here he is seen stabbing respectively a lion monster and a bull, and a griffin monster and a lion. On the eastern doorway of the Central Building, also known as the Tripylon, is another representation of the king enthroned upon a dais supported by twenty-eight representatives of the peoples of the empire, arranged in three tiers (Fig. 8).48 As for the stairways of this building, the one on the south shows a procession of servants bringing provisions, while the stairway on the north shows several rows of standing guards and figures climbing the stairs (Fig. 15).

C. An Early Achaemenid Adoption of a Babylonian Architectural Tradition We may conclude this concise illustration of the ideological aspects of the art and architecture of Persepolis by mentioning its focus, on the one hand, on the king’s role as guardian of the cosmic order, and on the other hand, on the pride of a people that had conquered the largest empire in antiquity, and that now characterized itself as exercising universal rule without, however, depicting war and conquest. The difference in scale and administrative structure that distinguished the Persian Empire from its Near Eastern antecedents represents, perhaps, one of the main reasons for the visual innovations in Achaemenid iconography, which otherwise displays continuity with the iconography of earlier regimes. 47 The

functional features of the two stairways also support this view. date of this building is uncertain; it may have been started by Xerxes and finished by Artaxerxes I. On the northern and southern doorways, below the image of Ahura Mazda in the winged disc, holding a ring, the king walks out of the main hall, carrying a staff and a lotus blossom, followed by two attendants depicted in smaller scale. 48 The

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

Figure 14. Persepolis. Hall of One Hundred Columns: western doorway in northern wall, east jamb. Photo: author.

Figure 15. Persepolis. Tripylon: northern stairway, eastern wing, northern parapet. Photo: author.

333

334

Pierfrancesco Callieri

But were there really no innovations in Achaemenid iconography before ­Darius I? The biblical scholar Giovanni Garbini pointed out in his fundamental study Storia e ideologia nell’Israele antico (1986; ET: History and Ideology in Ancient Israel, 1988), that the only epigraphic document safely attributable to Cyrus the Great, namely the fragmentary Babylonian cylinder, indicates that his religious policy agreed completely with the Babylonian tradition. As a result, while discussing the influence of Persian political ideology on the cultural climate of Palestine and thus on the formation of the Hebrew Bible, Garbini suggested – precisely because the royal ideology insisting on the universal character of Achaemenid rule gained ground only starting with Darius I – that the date of Deutero-Isaiah (or at least some portions thereof) should be lowered to the time of Darius I.49 The new discovery in the area of Persepolis of a monumental gate that is clearly earlier than the Persepolis Terrace bears out Garbini’s insight regarding the Babylonian-oriented cultural policy of the Persian kings before Darius I. The gate discovered by the Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in Fars at Tol-e Ajori is a very striking example of a distinctly Babylonian architectural tradition adopted by the king, who ordered its construction within the area of Bagh-e Firuzi, only 3.5 kilometers west of the place where Darius I later founded the Persepolis Terrace. Indeed, this gate is built entirely with mud bricks and baked bricks, showing a decorated facing of glazed non-relief and relief bricks (Fig. 16), with fitters’ marks for assembling the glazed bricks and bitumen mortar in the outer courses (Fig. 17). The gate fits in perfectly with the Mesopotamian and Elamite tradition, and is quite different from the monumental buildings of the Persepolis Terrace, built in stone and mud brick by order of Darius I and his successors, who called on experienced craftsmen from Lydia and Ionia as well as Egypt for this elaborate and refined use of stone, new on the Iranian Plateau. Not only does the Tol-e Ajori gate reflect a Babylonian architectural tradition, the preserved part of the gate faithfully reproduces, in its plan (Fig. 18) as well as its figural decoration, the southern part of the Babylon Ishtar Gate. It is evidently a copy of the Ishtar Gate, built on a larger scale (ca. 40 × 30 m, whereas the Ishtar Gate measures 29 × 22 m), and with a few differences, such as the mud-brick cores of the walls and the long benches along the walls of the inner room. Indeed, a new reading of the geophysical surveys carried out during the last campaign in the field (2016) to the immediate north of the gate suggests

49 Giovanni Garbini, Storia e ideologia nell’Israele antico (Brescia: Paideia, 1986), 135: “Una serie di motivi contenutistici e ideologici presenti nel ‘Deutero-Isaia’ costringono ad abbassare la datazione di quest’opera (o almeno di certe sue parti) al tempo di Dario I.”

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

335

Figure 16. Tol-e Ajori. Trench Tr. 11, non-relief glazed bricks with floral and geometric decoration. Photo: Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in Fars.

Figure 17. Tol-e Ajori. Trench Tr. 1, fitters’ marks and bitumen mortar. Photo: Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in Fars.

Figure 18. Tol-e Ajori. General reconstructive plan of the gate, with trenches excavated up to 2015. Drawing: Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in Fars.

336 Pierfrancesco Callieri

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

337

that a second section of the monument, corresponding to the northern part of the Ishtar Gate, still lies buried there. Surprisingly, the decorative systems of the two gates overlap completely, thanks to the use of square bricks of the same dimensions (33 × 33 × 8 cm). The decoration of both the preserved and damaged parts of the Tol-e Ajori gate is identical to the comparable parts of the Ishtar gate. The lower part of the Tol-e Ajori gate, which is preserved to a maximum height of ca. 1.50 meters, is characterized by geometrical and floral motifs created using non-relief glazed bricks that are identical to those on the Ishtar gate; likewise, the upper panels of the Tole Ajori gate, which can be reconstructed from the many fragments found in the layers of destruction and collapse, are formed by relief glazed bricks that replicate the motifs on the Ishtar gate. The bricks from Tol-e Ajori fit perfectly in the graphic scheme of the Babylonian panels. As in Babylon, the largest groups of fragments belong to the two motifs of the bull (Fig. 19) and the snake-dragon or mushkhushshu (Fig. 20), facing right and left, with a very few fragments belonging to unglazed images of lions. The mushkhushshu is a mythical creature that never appears in the art of Persepolis and Susa or in the remainder of the figural evidence of the Achaemenid period, with the exception of a few impressions of seals of Neo-Babylonian style on some of the earliest inscribed tablets found in the Persepolis Fortifications archive.50 A probable reason for the absence of the mushkhushshu lies in the nature of the snake, which is an evil creature in Mazdean culture. Therefore, even without entering into the complex question of the religion of the Achaemenid kings, the mushkhushshu seems incompatible with their affiliation with Ahura Mazda, which Darius proclaimed in his first inscription at Bisitun.51 That the Tol-e Ajori gate should be dated before the Persepolis Terrace is borne out not only by the different architectural tradition of the gate and its extraordinary similarity to the Ishtar Gate, but also by the topographical context. The organization of the landscape of the entire Bagh-e Firuzi site, to which Tol-e Ajori belongs, is totally different from that of the areas surrounding the Persepolis terrace, which are oriented according to the axes of the latter. Apparently, before Darius started constructing the terrace around 518 BCE there was already an architectural project in the area of Pārsa.

50 Mark Garrison, personal communication. According to Sabrina Maras, in Susa the mushkhushshu would have been replaced by the gryphon. “A Reassessment of Brick Motifs and Brick-Building Techniques at Achaemenid Susa,” in Curtis and Simpson, The World of Achaemenid Persia, 212. 51 The affiliation of the kings with Ahura Mazda is one of the few conclusions agreed upon by all the scholars who took part in the conference organized in 2012 by the Collège de France on the subject of the religion of the Achaemenids.

338

Pierfrancesco Callieri

Figure 19. Tol-e Ajori. Glazed relief bricks from the Tol-e Ajori gate fitted into the graphic scheme of the bull panel from the Ishtar Gate of Babylon. Drawing: A. Esna’ashari, Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in Fars.

The epigraphic evidence from Tol-e Ajori is crucial for establishing the date of the gate.52 Out of the twelve excavated fragments bearing cuneiform signs that are painted with glaze and not incised on the bricks’ surface, not a single one belongs to the Old Persian writing system, rendering it quite probable that the Old Persian script, which is now considered to have first been employed in Darius’s inscription at Bisitun, was not used at Tol-e Ajori. In fact, the fragments belong only to Elamite and Babylonian texts. Also relevant to the dating of the monument is the paleographical character of those fragments: all of them correspond to signs of the Neo-Babylonian and Neo-Elamite period rather than to those used in the Babylonian and Elamite inscriptions of the Achaemenid age. Overall, then, the available evidence is sufficient to confirm that Tol-e Ajori predated the Persepolis terrace. Radiocarbon dating, as well as the study of ceramics and other finds, have only shown that the destruction of the monument took place quite soon after its construction, and in any case within the Achaemenid period. Ruling out the unlikely possibility that Tol-e Ajori was built by 52 Here I summarize remarks made by Gian Pietro Basello of the University of Naples “L’Orientale.”

Ideological Aspects of Persian Art and Architecture

339

Figure 20. Tol-e Ajori. Glazed relief bricks from the Tol-e Ajori gate fitted into the graphic scheme of the mushkhushshu panel from the Ishtar Gate of Babylon. Drawing: A. Esna’ashari, Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in Fars.

Darius I immediately after he consolidated his power in 520 BCE and before he began ca. 518 BCE the ambitious projects at Susa and Persepolis, the Persian copy of the Ishtar Gate could be assigned to the reign of Cyrus the Great or of his son Cambyses; an Akkadian document from Mesopotamia attests Cambyses’s use of Babylonian workers at a royal site in Fars, northwest of Pārsa, during his seventh regnal year.53 It is tempting to interpret the monument as a trophy ordered by Cyrus the Great in order to celebrate in his own homeland his outstanding conquest of Babylon in 539 BCE; in this case the Babylonian orientation of the king evidenced by the Cyrus cylinder in Mesopotamia would be confirmed in his homeland as well, fitting in perfectly with Garbini’s remarks. However, I realize the risk of a circular argument here and therefore leave the final attribution of the gate to a specific king to the time when an inscribed fragment bearing a royal name will hopefully be found in the extensive areas still remaining to be excavated. 53 Wouter F. M. Henkelman and Kristin Kleber, “Babylonian Workers in the Persian Heartland: Palace Building at Matannan in the Reign of Cambyses,” in Persian Responses: Political and Cultural Interaction with(in) the Achaemenid Empire, ed. Christopher Tuplin (Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2007), 163–76.

340

Pierfrancesco Callieri

In any case, the available evidence is sufficient to assert that in the Persepolis area, in the heartland of Fars, before the birth of the new imperial ideology illustrated by the Persepolis Terrace of Darius I and his successors, there was a phase characterized by a marked Babylonian cultural orientation. At the same time, however, I wish to point out that the archaeological evidence regarding Cyrus the Great also anticipates to some extent the multicultural trend in ideology inaugurated by Darius I. The introduction at Pasargadae, in the Iranian Plateau, of a cut-stone architecture of composite foreign origin, in which Ionian and Lydian competence was combined with features pointing to an Egyptian tradition, constitutes, in my opinion, an initial attempt to show in Cyrus’s homeland the extent of his conquests, and at the same time an early and still nonprogrammatic example of the wish to create an architecture and an art appropriate to an empire of huge and unparalleled dimensions.54 From this perspective, the construction of the copy of the Ishtar Gate in Fars is another event charged with ideological significance.

54 Pierfrancesco Callieri, “Terra e pietra nell’architettura dell’Iran degli imperi preislamici,” in Civiltà dell’Iran: Passato Presente Futuro. Atti del Convegno Internazionale, Roma 22–23 febbraio 2018, ed. Pierfrancesco Callieri and Adriano V. Rossi, Il Novissimo Ramusio 6 (Rome: Istituto Culturale della Repubblica Islamica dell’Iran-ISMEO, 2018), 92–93. This view is shared by Amélie Kuhrt, “Ancient Near Eastern History: The Case of Cyrus the Great of Persia,” in Understanding the History of Israel, ed. H. G. M. Williamson, Proceedings of the British Academy 143 (London: British Academy, 2007), 117.

Some Notes on Bilingualism and Diglossia in Judah during the Achaemenid Period* Agustinus Gianto The Hebrew Bible reflects not only the existence of various historical stages of Hebrew, but also differences in the regional and social background of its speakers. During the Achaemenid period, the diversity of Hebrew was increased by contact with other languages, notably Aramaic, which started to spread into Hebrew-speaking areas. In such a situation it is often the case that the population is familiar with both languages and, not infrequently, each language comes to be used for specific purposes; one may be reserved for literary works, while the other is used in daily life. This paper will examine this situation in terms of bilingualism and diglossia. Observations along this line may in turn help us to understand some passages in the Hebrew Bible that describe the use of Hebrew or Aramaic, such as 2 Kgs 18:26–28 // Isa 36:11–12 and 2 Chr 32:18. The occurrence of a brief Aramaic passage (Jer 10:11) within a solemn Hebrew discourse is of interest as well. Two other passages illustrate the use of one’s own language as an identity marker, namely Neh 13:23–24 and Gen 31:47. Finally, Neh 8:1–8 reflects the beginnings of the targumim or at least an effort to provide some normative interpretation of the sacred texts in a different language.

A. The Spread of Aramaic in Hebrew-Speaking Areas Aramaic started to spread throughout Syria-Palestine, including the Hebrewspeaking areas, during the Assyrian expansion into this region. The practice of replacing the population of a newly captured area with people from previously conquered territories created the need for a common language of administration and commerce. The conqueror’s language, Akkadian, with its complicated writing system, was not very practical for this purpose, and so Aramaic was used instead. Scribes writing in this language did not need long years of training, unlike their colleagues who wrote in cuneiform.1 The use of Aramaic as an * Unless otherwise indicated, all biblical translations are my own. 1 A wall painting from Tel Ahmar, ancient Til Barsip, presumably from the late eighth century, depicts the practice of writing in these two languages. An older, bearded scribe writing on a clay tablet in cuneiform is accompanied by a younger, clean-shaven scribe, writing on a scroll.

342

Agustinus Gianto

administrative language continued down to the Achaemenid period, when Aramaic flourished and become the official language of the Persian Empire.2 Officials in the Achaemenid chanceries dictated letters in their own language to a scribe who would write the message directly in Aramaic. When the letter reached its destination, it was read aloud by a scribe in the language of the recipient. Converting from Persian into Aramaic and vice versa was a well-known practice throughout the empire.3 An echo of this practice is found in Ezra 4:18. In his reply to the letter sent by the royal deputy Rehum, the scribe Shimshai, and the high officials governing the province Beyond the River, King Artaxerxes mentions that their letter has been read before him in translation. The Aramaic term used here, məpāraš (the pael passive participle of prš), refers to the practice of rendering a letter section by section for clarity, presumably in the king’s language, Old Persian. The usual rendering of this expression as “in translation” (NRSV) or even “clearly” (NKJV) conveys the general sense, although it fails to capture the practice of dividing an oral or written discourse into sections when converting directly from one language to another, as in simultaneous translation. A similar practice is also reflected in Neh 8:8. Here Ezra, together with his colleagues and the Levites, are said to “read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation (Hebrew məpōrāš, pual participle of prš). They gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading.” This second part of the verse makes clear the purpose of the practice. This passage will be discussed at some length near the end of this paper.

The younger scribe would convert the Akkadian record into Aramaic. See James B. Pritchard, ed., The Ancient Near East in Pictures Relating to the Old Testament, 2nd ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), 235. A similar motif is found in other Assyrian reliefs from the seventh century. See Pritchard, Ancient Near East, 236; G. R. Driver, Semitic Writing: From Pictograph to Alphabet, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976), 22–23 and pls. 23–24. Surviving Aramaic records written this way exhibit some influence from Akkadian. This variety of Aramaic, Mesopotamian Aramaic, first spread to northern Syria and gradually replaced some local forms of Aramaic in administrative use. See Holger Gzella, A Cultural History of Aramaic: From the Beginnings to the Advent of Islam, HdO 1.111 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 109–24, 139–44. 2 For the use of Aramaic during this period, see Jan Dušek, “Aramaic in the Persian Period,” HeBAI 2 (2013): 243–64. For the situation of Aramaic in Palestine, see Gzella, Cultural History, 157–77, 190–95. For a general discussion of Hebrew during the period, see Joseph Naveh and Jonas C. Greenfield, “Hebrew and Aramaic in the Persian Period,” in The Persian Period, vol. 1 of The Cambridge History of Judaism, ed. W. D. Davies and Louis Finkelstein (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 115–29; William M. Schniedewind, A Social History of Hebrew: Its Origins through the Rabbinic Period, ABRL (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), 139–63. 3 Naveh and Greenfield mention that the practice of converting a local language into Old Persian and vice versa is known as (h)uzvārišn; this term itself comes from Middle Persian and basically means “understanding.” “Hebrew and Aramaic,” 116. For the origin and development of this practice, see D. Durkin-Meisterernst, “Huzwāreš,” Encyclopaedia Iranica 12.6 (2004): 585–88.

Some Notes on Bilingualism and Diglossia in Judah during the Achaemenid Period 343

B. Yehud and Its Population During the Achaemenid period, the use of Hebrew became more and more restricted to the province of Yehud, where it was spoken by a population that consisted of the people who stayed in the land and the returnees from Babylon. It was in this setting that Hebrew and Aramaic came into intense contact with each other. Biblical sources give conflicting indications of the geographical extent of Yehud. The list of people from different localities who were called to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem (Neh 3:1–32) points to a small area within a radius of some 30 kilometers from Jerusalem. In contrast, the list of towns in Neh 11:25–35 suggests a larger area that includes Beer-sheba, implying a southern border at least 60 kilometers from Jerusalem.4 The list of towns in the larger Yehud, however, includes a number of places that are not mentioned again until the Maccabean period, and the list may in fact date to the second century BCE. Which description of Yehud represents the extent of the Hebrew-speaking community during the Achaemenid period? Archaeology and epigraphy may shed some light. The locations where stamp impressions bearing the name of Yehud have been found confirm the picture of a smaller Yehud, as does the evidence from coins.5 Together, the stamp impressions and coins – which are all inscribed in the Aramaic script – define the extent of the Achaemenid province of Yehud, and thus the area in Judah where Aramaic was used as the official administrative language. The use of Aramaic script to the apparent exclusion of Hebrew on stamps and coins is obviously the result of the integration of Judah into the Achaemenid bureaucracy, which favored the use of Aramaic. Surprisingly, toward the end of this period, Paleo-Hebrew script came back, not only in Judah but also in Samaria. This may be an indication of ongoing efforts among the population to

4 The smaller Yehud includes, in the west, the district of Mizpah; in the north, Bethel and Senaah; in the east, Jericho; and in the south, Tekoa and Beth Zur (but not Hebron, Maresha, Lachish, Arad, or Beer-sheba). For these localities, see the map in Ephraim Stern, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 732–332 B. C. E., vol. 2 of Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, ABRL (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 375. 5 The stamp impressions have conveniently been collected and classified by Oded Lipschits and David S. Vanderhooft, The Yehud Stamp Impressions: A Corpus of Inscribed Impressions from the Persian and Hellenistic Periods in Judah (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011). Taken together, the findings suggest that the line from Jericho to En-Gedi was the eastern border; the western border included two localities in the Shephelah, Gezer (Lod) and Tel Harasim (Keilah). The southern border extended a bit farther than Bet Zur, while the northernmost extent of the province was at the latitude of Tell en-Naṣbeh. Israel Finkelstein, however, denied that the densely populated Shephelah belonged to Yehud. See “The Territorial Extent and Demography of Yehud/Judea in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods,” RB 117 (2010): 39–54. For the numismatic evidence, see André Lemaire, Levantine Epigraphy and History in the Achaemenid Period (539–332 BCE) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 93–98.

344

Agustinus Gianto

reassert Jewish identity.6 Hence two important processes took place during the Achaemenid period: the increasing use of Aramaic in public affairs and administration, and at the same time, a growing desire in the sphere of religious life to recover the lost identity of being the people of God. This topic will be revisited later when dealing with the biblical texts. There are differing opinions as to the size of the population of Judah during the Achaemenid period. According to one estimate based on archaeological evidence, the population of Yehud comprised about 30,000 inhabitants, against the 50,000 suggested by the census in Ezra 2:64 and Neh 7:66–69. Of these 30,000 inhabitants, 75 percent lived in Benjamin and the Judaean hills, 15 percent in the Shephelah, and only 10 percent in Jerusalem.7 Another estimate, excluding the densely populated Shephelah and the areas north of Mizpah and south of BethZur, suggests a much smaller population of 12,000 inhabitants during the Achaemenid period.8 As for Jerusalem, the population did not exceed several hundred inhabitants. Yet, these were the elites of the Judaean population: the cult personnel mentioned in Ezra and Nehemiah as well as military officers, administrative officials, and professionals. This group presumably maintained a Jewish identity through a special allegiance to Hebrew, the language of the Torah. Though small in population, Jerusalem constituted the core cultural area in Judah.9 This core area was where those returning from captivity (bənê haggôlâ or hāʿōlîm miššəbî haggôlâ) lived. The periphery of the cultural area, on the other hand, was inhabited by people who stayed in the land (ʿam hāʾāreṣ). It is obvious that the designation “people of the land” reflects the point of view of those who returned to the land to rebuild the temple. Many of these lived alongside 6 As

suggested by David S. Vanderhooft in “ʾel-mĕdînâ ûmĕdînâ kiktābāh: Scribes and Scripts in Yehud and in the Achaemenid Transeuphratene,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period, ed. Oded Lipschits, Gary N. Knoppers, and Manfred Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 539. See also the paleographic discussion by William M. Schniedewind, “Aramaic, the Death of Written Hebrew, and Language Shift in the Persian Period,” in Margins of Writing, Origins of Culture, ed. Seth L. Sanders, OIS 2 (Chicago: Oriental Institute, 2006), 143–47. 7 This is the demographic picture offered by Eric Meyers, based on studies by Oded Lipschits and Charles E. Carter. See Meyers, “Exile and Restoration in Light of Recent Archaeology and Demographic Studies,” in Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd, ed. Gary N. Knoppers and Lester L. Grabbe with Deirdre N. Fulton (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 168–69; Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005); Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study, JSOTSup 294 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999). 8 This view is advocated by Finkelstein, “Territorial Extent,” 43–46. 9 See the papers in Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin, eds., Centres and Peripheries in the Early Second Temple Period (Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 2016), especially Diana V. Edelman, “Identities within a Central and Peripheral Perspective: The Use of Aramaic in the Hebrew Bible,” 109–32.

Some Notes on Bilingualism and Diglossia in Judah during the Achaemenid Period 345

and married non-Judahites who came to settle in this area. It is therefore natural that they did not always share the restoration program of the returnees and their sense of identity. These inhabitants of Judah were scorned by the returnees, who believed that they were less observant of the Law and were reluctant to embrace or even hostile to the religious ideals based on the Law. The returnees and the people of the land spoke different varieties of Hebrew and Aramaic. The Hebrew spoken by the returnees was closer to the preexilic written form and its use was practically confined to the religious and educational spheres. They used Aramaic for daily purposes. But this spoken Aramaic was closer to Mesopotamian Aramaic, simply because that was the kind of Aramaic they learned when they and the previous generation lived in Babylonia. The people of the land also spoke Hebrew, yet their language had evolved further since the preexilic period and was in constant contact with Aramaic. This was the linguistic situation in Yehud during the Achaemenid period. Although most of the population was bilingual in Hebrew and Aramaic, they did not always use the languages indiscriminately.

C. Bilingualism and Diglossia: Individual Speakers and Society Bilingualism may be defined as the ability of an individual to comprehend and actively use at least two languages in various communication situations. Strictly speaking, this ability develops at an early age and is distinct from the acquisition of another language as an adult. Without further education, however, childhood bilingualism may remain rudimentary. On the other hand, given the appropriate environment, an adult acquiring a second language may achieve a command of the language comparable to that of a native speaker. There are evidently differences in the degree to which bilingual speakers have mastered each of the two language they speak. In a society where the majority are bilingual, it is possible that each language may acquire specialized functions. When this distinction becomes routine practice in that society, diglossia arises. Although diglossia includes the use of more than one variety of a language or even more than one language, it is different from bilingualism. While bilingualism is essentially an individual trait, diglossia is first and foremost a feature of a society in which two different languages, or two distinct varieties of the same language, exist side by side, but one language is used exclusively for certain functions. Not everyone has access to the language or variety of language that is reserved for a specific purpose. One of the classic examples cited by Charles Ferguson, the scholar who introduced the notion of diglossia, is provided by the Arabic-speaking countries.10 Standard 10 Charles A. Ferguson,

“Diglossia,” Word 15 (1959): 325–40.

346

Agustinus Gianto

Literary Arabic is used for formal communications, such as public addresses, diplomatic relations, and classroom discussions. Ferguson labels this variety of Arabic “H,” for the “high” variety. In other settings, however – at home, in daily conversation, in markets, or during breaks at school or work – the same individuals use the vernacular form of Arabic. This variety of Arabic is labeled “L,” for the “low” variety. There are individuals living in the Arabic-speaking countries who are not familiar with Standard Literary Arabic and only speak the vernacular. Indeed, people who do not engage in formal communication have no need to learn the H variety. Basic to Ferguson’s understanding of the rise of diglossia is the exclusive use of one variety of language for certain purposes. He characterized this as “standardization”  – a natural standardization, not programmed. Other linguists, as well as Ferguson himself, have refined the theory of diglossia on the basis of other linguistic situations.11 Ferguson later admitted that diglossia can involve two different languages and not only two varieties of the same language.12 This view is more useful for understanding the use of Hebrew and Aramaic or other languages in Judean society during the Achaemenid period. As a consequence of the fall of Judah, Hebrew was no longer the national language of Judah, although it continued to be used in both its spoken and written forms. In the meantime, Aramaic became the language of administration.13 The two languages developed separately within Judah too. Hebrew was receding from certain formal sectors, but in the course of time it acquired a role as a marker of Jewish identity, as reflected in Neh 13:23–24, discussed below. It also became a language used for religious writings.14 This language is usually 11 Alan

Hudson gives a full account of the developments of Ferguson’s view, as well as an outline of the theory of diglossia, in “Outline of a Theory of Diglossia,” International Journal of the Sociology of Language 157 (2002): 1–48. 12 Charles A. Ferguson, “Diglossia Revisited,” Southwest Journal of Linguistics 10 (1991): 214–43. 13 Aramaic, for its part, did not remain confined to the sphere of administration. Gradually it grew into a literary language. In the different genres found in Ezra 4:8–6:18 we have some evidence of the diversity of Aramaic. In the narrative sections (4:8–10, 17a; 4:22–5:7; 5:16–6:2; 6:13–18) the object tends to follow the verb. This verb-object word order is normal in Standard Literary Aramaic. In the letters (4:11–16, 17b–22; 5:8–17; 6:3–12; 7:12–26), however, the object tends to precede the verb. This reflects the normal object-verb order in Official Aramaic. These variations reflect different registers of Aramaic, rather than diglossia as such. In formal communications, such as letters of petition, Official Aramaic with its object-verb order is more appropriate. In storytelling, it seems, Standard Literary Aramaic with its verb-object order is the norm. For further discussion, see Frank H. Polak, “Sociolinguistics and the Judean Speech Community in the Achaemenid Empire,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 594–95. 14 See Agustinus Gianto, “Il fattore linguistico: l’ebraico «biblico» come lingua letteraria al servizio dell’identità storico-religiosa,” RStB 25 (2013): 215–18; idem, “Linguistica e ispirazione,” in Ogni Scrittura è ispirata: Nuove prospettive sull’ispirazione biblica, ed. Peter Dubovský and Jean-Pierre Sonnet (Rome: Gregorian and Biblical Press; Milan: Edizione San

Some Notes on Bilingualism and Diglossia in Judah during the Achaemenid Period 347

labeled Late Biblical Hebrew to distinguish it from the Classical Hebrew of the preexilic period.15 Individuals living in Judah during the Achaemenid period were familiar to a greater or lesser extent with both Hebrew and Aramaic, and probably also other local languages as well. It so happened that for certain purposes, such as in the religious sphere, people tended to use Hebrew, but for other purposes, such as administration and business, Aramaic was used. This gave rise to a diglossia involving the use of two languages rather than two varieties of the same language. The question may be asked whether the notion of diglossia, with its “high” and “low” varieties, is applicable to Hebrew, as in the case of Standard Literary Arabic and the vernacular in Arabic-speaking countries. Gary Rendsburg was the first to suggest that varieties within Biblical Hebrew can be described in terms of diglossia.16 He claims that diglossia already started around 1000 BCE when Hebrew was standardized as a written language. Written Hebrew thus represents the “high” variety as opposed to the spoken vernacular used among the population. To establish this, Rendsburg identifies eleven morphological and syntactical features that can be attributed to a colloquial or vernacular variety of Hebrew as distinct from the written language. After 586 BCE the written language underwent changes under the influence of the vernacular. Later, after 70 CE, the classical standards were less and less followed and the vernacular, the spoken language, became the written language. Hence, throughout the history of Hebrew, two forms of the language existed side by side, the written and the colloquial. Shortly after Rendsburg’s study, Ian Young published his dissertation in which he focuses on the different origins of speakers of Hebrew. He claims that the different social groups within multilingual Canaanite society adopted Hebrew because of its special prestige.17 Even if this explains why Hebrew and not another Canaanite language was chosen, we still have to explain the origin of diversity within Hebrew.18 It may be argued that the diverse origins of the first speakers of the language gave rise to the diversity in Hebrew. Other factors, such as contact with Aramaic and internal development in Hebrew itself, contributed as well to the diversity of Hebrew. Paolo, 2013), 218–22; Ángel Sáens-Badillos, Storia della lingua ebraica (Brescia: Paideia, 2007), 95–107. 15 For a representative panorama of the Late Biblical Hebrew speech community, the corpus, and the special traits of the phonology, grammar, and lexicon, see Matthew Morgenstern, “Late Biblical Hebrew,” in Periods, Corpora, and Reading Traditions, vol. 1 of A Handbook of Biblical Hebrew, ed. W. Randall Garr and Steven E. Fassberg (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016), 43–54. 16 Gary A. Rendsburg, Diglossia in Ancient Hebrew, AOS 72 (New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 1990). 17 Ian Young, Diversity in Pre-Exilic Hebrew, FAT 5 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993). 18 As suggested in Agustinus Gianto, “Variations in Biblical Hebrew,” Bib 77 (1996): 493– 508.

348

Agustinus Gianto

The most important contribution of Rendsburg and Young lies in describing the variety in Hebrew rather than establishing diglossia in Biblical Hebrew itself. In my view, what Rendsburg considers to be evidence for diglossia within Hebrew can better be described as isolated cases in which the biblical writer uses certain forms to highlight a certain message.19 Varieties within Aramaic or within Hebrew did not rise to the level of diglossia. At least we do not have enough strong and undisputed evidence to confirm this. If diglossia existed, it involved the Aramaic and Hebrew languages, rather than varieties within one language or the other, as will be shown in the following section. These varieties at best reflect geographical or historical diversity. Unlike bilingualism, diglossia involving varieties within Hebrew has not been clearly demonstrated.20 Rendsburg’s use of diversity within Hebrew as evidence of diglossia blurs the larger picture of the special use of Hebrew vis-à-vis Aramaic, especially during the Achaemenid period.

D. Some Biblical Passages The rest of this paper will deal with five biblical passages in which bilingualism serves as a literary motif.21 Three of these passages are in Hebrew (2 Kgs 18:26–28; Neh 13:23–24; Neh 8:1–8), one is in Aramaic but is embedded in a long discourse in Hebrew (Jer 10:11), and another contains expressions in Hebrew and Aramaic (Gen 31:47). Whether diglossia plays a role in any of these passages remains to be seen. 19 Gianto,

“Variations,” 502–4. reiterated his 1990 position in “Diglossia,” in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, ed. Geoffrey Khan et al., 4 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 1:724–25. Ian Young and Robert Rezetko survey reactions to the proposal that diglossia existed in the Hebrew-speaking community in An Introduction to Approaches and Problems, vol. 1 of Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts (London: Routledge, 2014), 173–79. Their discussion sharpens the issues by taking into account the dialects of Hebrew. Still, the issue of diglossia in Hebrew is not yet settled. Maria Maddalena Colasuonno has surveyed the problems in attributing the status of diglossia to the morphological and syntactic diversity within Hebrew. See “Some Considerations on the Problem of Diglossia in Biblical Hebrew,” Annali, Sezione Orientale 76 (2016): 124–45. Recently Timothy Hogue has interpreted the switching back and forth in Ezra 1–7 between Hebrew and two varieties of Aramaic (mentioned in n13 above) as a literary creation reflecting the use of more than one language or more than one variety of language by a minority group (the Jewish people) within the empire. See “Return from Exile: Diglossia and Literary Code-Switching in Ezra 1–7,” ZAW 130 (2018): 54–68. 21 Not discussed here is the shift from Hebrew to Aramaic in Dan 2:4 and back to Hebrew in Dan 8:1, nor the alternation between these languages in Ezra 4–7. For the Daniel passages, see Edelman, “Identities,” 125–30, and for the Ezra passages, Hogue, “Return from Exile.” These scholars suggest that shifts from Hebrew to Aramaic and back to Hebrew in these passages are examples of code-switching. Werner Weinberg presents a systematic survey of how the Hebrew Bible itself presents various phenomena of language use in “Language Consciousness in the OT,” ZAW 92 (1980): 185–204. 20 Rendsburg

Some Notes on Bilingualism and Diglossia in Judah during the Achaemenid Period 349

I. Limited Bilingualism as a Literary Motif in 2 Kgs 18:26–27 According to 2 Kgs 18:26–27, Hezekiah’s officials asked the Rabshakeh to deliver Sennacherib’s message inʾărāmît, with which they were familiar, and not in yəhûdît, i. e., the Hebrew spoken in Judah. The assumption is that the people did not speak Aramaic and would not understood the message, which, as delivered in vv. 29–35, was blatantly hostile to Hezekiah and his god. The Rabshakeh, however, refused to use Aramaic and, as reported in v. 28, “called out in a loud voice in yəhûdît.” The people heard and understood the message but remained silent because Hezekiah had told them not to react. Hence for the book of Kings, limited bilingualism in Judah is an important literary motif. Interestingly, the request made by Hezekiah’s officials to the Rabshakeh is not found in the Chronicler’s account, nor is the Rabshakeh himself mentioned. Instead, 2 Chr 32:18 states that the servants of Sennacherib loudly delivered the messages (given in vv. 10–15 and 17) in yəhûdît to the people of Jerusalem standing on the wall, adding “to frighten and terrify them, so that they might take the city (ləmaʿan yilkədû ʾet-hāʿîr).” Unlike the book of Kings, the Chronicler’s account does not give special importance to the limited bilingualism in Judah. Instead it stresses the efficacy of the use of Hebrew by Sennacherib’s servants to terrify the people. Neither of the two passages above reflects diglossia. That the Judean elite is presented as capable of understanding Aramaic is not evidence for diglossia in Judah. II. Code-Switching in Jer 10:11 Bilingual speakers may switch between languages or varieties of a language in order to create special effects, such as emphasizing a topic or making it more appealing to the addressee. Jeremiah 10:11 is an interesting example of code-switching involving the use of Aramaic embedded in a longer passage in Hebrew. The isolated Aramaic passage instructs the house of Israel to pronounce a curse to the nations: “Thus you shall say to them: ‘The gods who did not make the heavens and the earth, they shall perish from the earth and from under these heavens’” (kidnâ tēʾmərûn ləhôm: ʾĕlāhayyāʾ dî šəmayyāʾ wəʾarqāʾ lā ʿăbadû yēʾbadû mēʾarʿāʾ ûmin təḥôt šəmayyāʾ ʾēlleh). The use of Aramaic here is an example of switching from one code, in this case Hebrew, to another code, Aramaic, in order to give more vividness to the message by evoking an international audience.22 The code-switching here thus implies an audience for the part written in Aramaic 22 For the discussion of code-switching in this passage, see E. Ray Clendenen, “Discourse Strategies in Jeremiah 10:1–16,” JBL 106 (1987): 405; Gianto, “Variations,” 504; Edelman, “Identities,” 124–25.

350

Agustinus Gianto

(v. 11) that is far larger than the audience of the surrounding passages in Hebrew (vv. 1–10 and 12–16) about the superiority of the God of Israel over the idols. It should be noted that the verb-final word order in the relative clause dî šəmayyāʾ wəʾarqāʾ lā ʿăbadû is typical of Official Aramaic with Mesopotamian influence.23 Furthermore, v. 11 would have been inconceivable if the intended reader could not understand or appreciate subtleties such as the two different spellings of the word for earth: ʾarqāʾ and ʾarʿāʾ. The first is part of a fixed older expression, “the heavens and earth,” while the second was the normal spelling in the later Achaemenid period when Aramaic was widely used throughout the empire. In any case, code-switching here is a literary device to indicate that the message would be directly accessible to the nations, who were imagined as using Official Aramaic as a common language. III. Language as Identity Marker in Neh 13:23–24 and Gen 31:47 Nehemiah writes in his memorial, “In those days I also saw Jews who had married women of Ashdod, Ammon, and Moab” (Neh 13:23) and continues with this observation (v. 24): “their children, in part,24 speak Ashdodit – consequently they make little effort to speak Yehudit  – or according to the language of each nation” (ûbənêhem ḥăṣî mədabbēr ʾašdôdît wəʾênām makkîrîm lədabbēr yəhûdît wəkilšôn wāʿām).25 The rendering of wəʾênām makkîrîm here differs from the traditional understanding, “they were not able (to speak Yehudit),” which seems to originate from LXX ouk eisin epiginoskontes “they do not know to (speak Judean),” echoed by Vulgate nesciebat and Peshitta lʾ ḥkmyn. As Ingo Kottsieper notes, the hiphil of nkr has a wide array of senses, such as “to recognize,” “to pay attention,” or “to care for someone or something,” but it does not mean “to be able to do something.”26 Hence his rendering “they do not care to speak Yehudit,” which reproduces the correct lexical meaning. At the same time, it is important to understand that their lack of interest in speaking Yehudit is presented as a consequence of speaking Ashdodit and other languages. The passage stresses that the children prefer to speak the languages of their foreign 23 For the sociolinguistic significance of the use of this type of Aramaic, see Polak, “Sociolinguistics,” 594–96, and more recently Hogue, “Return from Exile,” 62–66. 24 Literally “half,” referring to the children of the mixed marriages, and not to the mixing of Ashdodite with another language, as in the King James Version. 25 I understand wəkilšôn wāʿām as continuing from mədabbērʾašdôdît, completing it with the information that half of the children from marriages with foreign women (v. 24) speak their mother’s languages. 26 Ingo Kottsieper, “‘And They Did Not Care to Speak Yehudit’: On Linguistic Change in Judah during the Late Persian Era,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B. C. E., ed. Oded Lipschits, Gary N. Knoppers, and Manfred Oeming (Winona Lake IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 98.

Some Notes on Bilingualism and Diglossia in Judah during the Achaemenid Period 351

mothers to the extent that they, in Nehemiah’s view, make little effort to speak Hebrew. In any case, speaking a language is presented here as a marker of personal identity. Hence, speaking Ashdodit or any other people’s language means that the children perceive themselves as belonging more to that community; by not speaking Hebrew they distance themselves from Jewishness and from their fathers’ religious allegiance. The use of one’s own language as an identity marker also appears in Gen 31:47. Here Laban and Jacob conclude a covenant stipulating that Jacob will not mistreat his wives, the daughters of Laban, and not to invade each other’s territory. As a witness to the covenant they erect a heap of stones, which Laban calls yəgar śahădûtā (Aramaic), while Jacob refers to it as gal ʿēd (Hebrew). Both expressions mean the same thing: “stone-heap of witness.” Although Laban and Jacob knew each other’s languages, and were thus bilingual, on this solemn occasion each used his own language. It is important to note that the narrator presents these two expressions as a direct quotation of what each party would have said. In this case the narrator highlights the use of Hebrew as well as Aramaic as a marker of identity.27 Both passages discussed here focus on speaking one’s own language as an identity marker. Whereas the Nehemiah passage suggests a negative judgment on those who do not give importance to their own language, in the Jacob-Laban episode, speaking one’s own language on an important occasion is presented as appropriate behavior. IV. Torah Explained in Another Language in Neh 8:1–8 Nehemiah 8:1–8 describes a reading of the laws of Moses by Ezra during a solemn gathering outside the temple, accompanied by six men on his right and left. Afterward the Levites are said to be “interpreting” the reading. This text has often been adduced as providing some evidence for the origin of the Aramaic version of the Law, hence the targumim. There is nothing wrong with this idea. But the text cannot be considered as indicating, albeit indirectly, that Hebrew – the language of the Torah – was no longer accessible to the congregation. A close look at the passage will bear this out. According to v. 2, Ezra’s audience included men, women, and kol mēbîn, i. e., all who were capable of understanding. Verse 3 states that the people were listening to the reading. The Greek version here renders wəhēn məbînîm as kai autoi synientes, “and they understood.” Thus, the assumption that the people no longer understood Hebrew is contrary to the text. It 27 The purpose of the use of Hebrew and Aramaic in this passage is precisely to highlight the names that Jacob and Laban assigned to the stone-heap. It is therefore hard to accept Edelman’s suggestion that the use of Aramaic here is a case of borrowing or, alternatively, codeswitching. “Identities,” 123. She is, however, correct in stating that the implied audience of the passage was bilingual.

352

Agustinus Gianto

is true that the Levites, as in v. 7, are said to be “making the people understand” (məbînîm ʾet hāʿām) the text read by Ezra. Immediately afterward, however, the narrator adds that the reading taken from the book is done “section by section,” or məpōrāš (v. 8). (As indicated at the beginning of this paper, the same practice is mentioned in Ezra 4:18 using the Aramaic term məpārāš.) This practice involves the use of two languages: the language of the text, namely Hebrew, and that of the explanation, presumably Aramaic. It may also be suggested that the Aramaic spoken on this occasion must have been closer to Official Aramaic, which is the Aramaic that was used for all kinds of purposes in the Jewish communities but not as a sacred language. But what is the purpose of this practice? The phrase wəśûm śekel (v. 8) indicates that the Levites were “giving the sense” of the Hebrew text. This shows that the purpose of the interpretation was to elucidate linguistic difficulties in an older Hebrew text while actualizing the content for the benefit of speakers of the later form of Hebrew. If we retain the assumption that the explanation was in Aramaic, it is unlikely that the explanation would have replaced or even influenced the transmission of the sacred Hebrew text itself. It makes more sense to conclude that the explanation in Aramaic was meant to guarantee the integrity of the Hebrew text.28 Over time, the body of interpretation given in Aramaic took a literary form, becoming what we now know as Targum Onqelos and Targum Jonathan.

E. Conclusion The passages discussed above illustrate in different ways the biblical writers’ awareness of language as such. Limited bilingualism is the basis for the incident narrated in 2 Kgs 18:26–28. Its reworking in 2 Chr 32:18, however, shifts the focus from bilingualism to the importance of Hebrew. The use of Aramaic in Jer 10:11 is best described as code-switching that gives more salience to the message. In Gen 31:47 and Neh 13:23–24, the use of one’s own language is presented as an identity marker. Finally, the situation in the postexilic community reflected in Neh 8:1−8 may serve as evidence of the use of another language, namely Aramaic, to preserve the integrity of the sacred Hebrew text. There is not enough textual evidence to determine whether this practice led to a true diglossia. At best, the incident shows the beginnings of the specialized use of Hebrew and Aramaic in the sphere of religious life.

28 This is suggested by Abraham Tal, “Is There a Raison d’Être for an Aramaic Targum in a Hebrew-Speaking Society?,” REJ 160 (2001): 357–78.

Revising the Pentateuch: The Emergence of a National Identity under Persian Hegemony Federico Giuntoli Historical-critical exegesis of the Pentateuch today can be compared to that dark wood into which Dante stumbles at the beginning of his imaginary journey through the other world. In fact, there is little to say that has not already been proposed or challenged. If we start from the pioneering work of Richard Simon and Jean Astruc between the seventeenth and the eighteenth centuries, we have to note, albeit with a tiny measure of cynicism, that the following three centuries of academic research on the Pentateuch did not yield much in the way of assured results, and hardly anything that could be described as a consensus. We may safely say that Deuteronomy, or a part of it, is an appendix to a more extensive collection of texts, and that it is possible to identify a moderate number of texts, primarily ritual regulations, that appear to share a similar outlook and that have long been designated as “Priestly.” But, to quote Qoh 12:12, “Beyond these, my child, beware!”1 Precisely because of the uncertainties that beset any traveler in this dark forest, the very title of my contribution invites criticism: What was the state of the Pentateuch prior to its revision during the Persian period, especially if we consider the variety of textual forms that began to be produced with the passage of time? For too long, both synchronic and diachronic exegesis of the Torah have focused on a single text, the Masoretic Text, despite the fact that in the late Second Temple period many texts of the Torah were circulating and in use. Emanuel Tov confirms that the textual situation of the Torah in the Second Temple period reveals a considerable textual plurality that is attested in nearly a dozen different textual branches – far more than the number of textual branches that can be reconstructed for other books of Scripture, which are usually witnessed by one, two, or three textual traditions. Tov also suggests that this plurality could be reduced by positing two blocks of tradition – the MT and all other texts – that

1 Thomas M. Bolin, “Out of the Wilderness? Some Suggestions for the Future of Pentateuchal Research,” in History, Archaeology and the Bible Forty Years after “Historicity,” ed. Ingrid Hjelm and Thomas L. Thompson, Changing Perspectives 6, Copenhagen International Seminar (London: Routledge, 2016), 47–59, esp. 47.

354

Federico Giuntoli

are defined in terms of two different scribal approaches: “conservative” and “popularizing.”2 Moreover, in this period, is it really possible to speak of a national identity for Israel, understood as a compact unit, when we consider that, very probably, the return from Babylon did not happen en bloc or on a large scale, at least not as recounted literally in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, but rather as a series of much smaller migrations? As we know well, the disaster of the exile reduced to a tabula rasa the main institutions that, over time, had defined the cultural and national identity of Israel, particularly the temple and the monarchy, not to mention the irremediable loss of the land. For the people of Israel, the return to their native land at the end of the exile not only posed the challenge of the laborious reconstruction of an environment in which to live and in which to express themselves again, but also required that they grapple with the remaking of a past and of an identity in which they could recognize themselves, and by means of which they could manage to overcome the many internal tensions they had to face. In this paper, I would like to focus on two aspects which, in my opinion, should be borne in mind – among many others – concerning the formation of a people’s identity as they relate to Israel during the Persian period: (1) the peculiar way in which, in its postexilic writings, Israel connected with its past history; and (2) the phenomenon of the recovery of orality, something that had not wholly disappeared despite the fact that in that period writing had supplanted the need to rely on purely oral tradition.

A. Recounting the Past to Ground the Present How did Israel connect itself with its past in the later postexilic period, especially under Persian hegemony? What perception did it have of its own past and how did it recount this? Also, what relationship was being established between the present of the writer and the past which he was recounting? We are well aware that there is an ever-growing suspicion that the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, much of which are redacted in the form of a first-person narrative, are not a realistic picture of the periods which they claim to describe. Strangely, the historical reconstruction of the Persian period, perhaps on account of the scarcity of the sources available, has for a long time been based on the little that Scripture recounts of this period. To give just one example, it was long assumed that the return of Israel from Babylon happened en masse and in a few contingents, as described by Ezra and Nehemiah. However, this is hard to reconcile with the 2 Emanuel Tov, “The Development of the Text of the Torah in Two Major Text Blocks,” Textus 26 (2016): 1–27, esp. 1, 8–9.

Revising the Pentateuch

355

demographic collapse of Jerusalem and its suburbs that took place during the Persian period, something that is now well attested.3 Similarly, the lists of the returnees and the sites of their resettlement as recorded in Ezra 2 and Neh 7 are still regarded as accurate, objective data representing realities of the Persian period. However, the sites in the lists that have been identified with certainty suggest a more recent background than Ezra and Nehemiah would have us believe, a background that is probably Hellenistic.4 The same is true of the lists of 1 Chr 9, which seem to recall a context that is not so much Persian as Hellenistic.5 Likewise, archaeological excavation has not found any traces of the reconstructed wall of Jerusalem spoken of in the book of Nehemiah that predate the late Hellenistic period.6 What archaeology has revealed to date about the Persian period in the land of Yehud seems to evidence a divergence, sometimes quite a wide one, between what really happened there and what certain biblical books allege. In fact, regarding the Persian period in general, biblical exegesis and archaeology part ways sharply. This gulf between the scriptural record and the material record is in marked contrast to earlier periods, in which a certain manner of exegesis was oriented toward reconciling scripture and excavation results. Such reconciliation these days is a rare phenomenon, since there are now few who accept the historicity of certain key events described in the patriarchal narratives or even in the Deuteronomistic History; the presumed historicity of those events has been eroded by our exegetical approach to those texts. Yet, when we approach the Persian period, we are usually more inclined to read the information provided by the biblical texts as fairly faithful to factual reality, perhaps because we are dealing with a relatively recent period. 3 See, with bibliography, Oded Lipschits, “Persian Period Finds from Jerusalem: Facts and Interpretations,” JHebS 9 (2009): art. 20. 4 See, for example, Israel Finkelstein, “Archaeology and the List of Returnees in the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah,” PEQ 140 (2008): 7–16, esp. 14, with bibliography. An alternative interpretation identifies these sites as Iron Age II(A) settlements reoccupied during the Hellenistic period. 5 Cf. Israel Finkelstein, “The Historical Reality behind the Genealogical Lists in 1 Chronicles,” JBL 131 (2012): 65–83; see also Doron Mendels, The Land of Israel as a Political Concept in Hasmonean Literature: Recourse to History in Second Century B. C. Claims to the Holy Land, TSAJ 15 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987); Dieter Böhler, Die heilige Stadt in Esdras A und Esra-Nehemia: Zwei Konzeptionen der Wiederherstellung Israels, OBO 158 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag, 1997), 382–97. 6 Cf. Israel Finkelstein, “Jerusalem in the Persian (and Early Hellenistic) Period and the Wall of Nehemiah,” JSOT 32 (2008): 501–20; see also H. G. M. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, WBC 16 (Waco, TX: Word, 1985), xxxv; Jacob L. Wright, Rebuilding Identity: The Nehemiah Memoir and Its Earliest Readers, BZAW 348 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004); Jacob L. Wright, “A New Model for the Composition of Ezra-Nehemiah,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B. C. E., ed. Oded Lipschits, Gary N. Knoppers, and Rainer Albertz (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 333–48.

356

Federico Giuntoli

While the biblical sources for the Persian period are usually taken as evidence of lively scribal activity, as well as economic and social activity around the new temple, the archaeology for that period offers little if any evidence in Jerusalem of architectural elements and fortifications that could confirm this supposed economic and social activity. This paucity of archaeological evidence seems to continue right up to the early Hellenistic period. According to various studies, during the Persian period and the very beginning of the Hellenistic period, the population of the province of Yehud as a whole cannot have exceeded 12,000, and all of its urban areas covered at most 60 hectares. With regard to Jerusalem itself, the estimated population in this period totaled around 400 to 500 persons, including around 100 adult males, and all in an area of only 2 to 2.5 hectares – (as opposed to the roughly 60 hectares of the Late Iron Age II city).7 It is difficult to reconcile these figures with the biblical claim that Yehud was inhabited by tens of thousands of people (42,360 residents according to the lists in Ezra 2:64 and Neh 7:66, not to mention the 7,337 slaves [Ezra 2:65; Neh 7:67]) and an enormous number of animals, including 6,720 asses (Ezra 2:67; Neh 7:69). These estimates of population and settlement area mark a drastic curtailment of the flourishing state of affairs to be observed, for example, during the Iron Age IIC period. How could such a small and precarious community have built a temple, enjoyed lively commercial activity and a strong economy, and refortified Jerusalem with walls and ramparts?8 While the biblical texts, as noted above, imply a vigorous scribal culture in Yehud, the Hebrew language itself is all but absent from the archaeological record. The only slight evidence derives from the so-called YHD coins, but they are usually dated to about the fourth century BCE, that is, toward the end of the Persian period. Moreover, numismatic inscriptions have little to say about scribal activity as such. To date, no Hebrew inscription has been published that can be dated within the whole period from 586 to 350 BCE, and, in fact, rather few can be dated between 350 and 200 BCE. Moreover, it is not by chance that the little epigraphic evidence we possess for this period is written in the Aramaic script, that is, the official script of the Persian Empire.9 As Charles Carter already asked about twenty years ago, “If Yehud was this small and this poor, how could the social and religious elite sustain the literary activity attributed to the Persian period? … How could such a small community

7 Finkelstein, “Wall of Nehemiah,” 502; idem, “List of Returnees,” 7; cf. also Israel Finkelstein, “The Territorial Extent and Demography of Yehud/Judea in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods,” RB 117 (2010): 39–54. 8 Israel Finkelstein, “Jerusalem and Judah 600–200 BCE. Implications for Understanding Pentateuchal Texts,” in The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of the Torah, ed. Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl, and Jean-Pierre Sonnet, FAT 107 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 3–18, esp. 9. 9 Finkelstein, “Jerusalem and Judah,” 9–10.

Revising the Pentateuch

357

have built a temple and/or refortified Jerusalem?”10 Likewise, how can one continue to maintain Joel Weinberg’s theory about the “Bürger-Tempel-Gemeinde,”11 which depicts the community of Israel in the Persian period as reconstituted by multiple activities around the new temple, which had become a center that was not only religious, but also political and economic? If we observe, therefore, how the books of Ezra and Nehemiah narrate events connected with the early postexilic period and compare their account with what emerges from the archaeological data, we can perceive a particular process: in the present of the narrative, there is a contextualization of what in reality is happening only in the present of the writer, who is often quite distant in time from the moment he is describing in his narrative. To put it differently, within the biblical narratives, facts, actions, and events that belong to the present of the writer are being retrojected into the past, sometimes even the distant past. I. Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus (Horace, Ars poetica 359) This anachronistic way of relating to one’s own past is not exclusive to postexilic Israel. It is evident as early as Homer, and we can see how in eighth-century BCE Greece, recourse was made to the same expedient that seems to have been employed in Israel. In book 2 of the Iliad, we find a list of people and places that is usually known as the Catalogue of Ships (2.494–759).12 The catalogue lists the contingents of 10  Charles E. Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study, JSOTSup 294 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 285. 11 Joel P. Weinberg, “Die Agrarverhältnisse in der Bürger-Tempel-Gemeinde der Achämenidenzeit,” in Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft im Alten Vorderasien, ed. János Harmatta and Géza Komoróczy (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1990), 473–86 (repr. of Acta antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 22.1–4 [1974]); Joel P. Weinberg, The Citizen-Temple Community, JSOTSup 151 (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1992). 12 For the standard Greek text, see Martin L. West, ed., Rhapsodias I–XII, vol. 1 of Homeri Ilias, BSGRT (Stuttgart: B. G. Teubner, 1998), ad loc. For some introductions to and detailed studies of this textual section, see Adalberto Giovannini, Étude historique sur les origines du Catalogue des Vaisseaux (Berne: A. Francke, 1969); Richard Hope Simpson and John F. Lazenby, The Catalogue of Ships in Homer’s Iliad (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970); John K. Anderson, “The Geometric Catalogue of Ships,” in The Ages of Homer: A Tribute to Emily Townsend Vermeule, ed. Jane B. Carter and Sarah P. Morris (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995), 181–91; Francisco J. González García, El Catálogo de las Naves: Mito y parentesco en la épica homérica (Madrid: Ediciones clásicas, 1997); Benjamin Sammons, The Art and Rhetoric of the Homeric Catalogue (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010); Wim M. J. van Binsbergen and Fred C. Woudhuizen, Ethnicity in Mediterranean Protohistory, BAR.I 2256 (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2011), 99–116 (“The Homeric Achaean Catalogue of Ships”); Martin L. West, The Making of the Iliad: Disquisition and Analytical Commentary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 111–14; Wolfgang Kullmann, “The Relative Chronology of the Homeric Catalogue of Ships and of the Lists of Heroes and Cities within the Catalogue,” in Relative Chronology in Early Greek Epic Poetry, ed. Øivind Andersen and Dag T. T. Haug (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 210–23.

358

Federico Giuntoli

the Achaean army that sailed to Troy to fight the famous war. Among the various cities and regions listed, Homer describes the Argolis, the region that is situated on the northeast peninsula of the Peloponnese and contains the city after which it is named: Argos.13 It was precisely from this region that Achilles hailed, as well as the famous tribes of the Pelasgians, the Hellenes, and the Achaeans. Now, the map that Homer provides is highly anachronistic. In fact, to confine ourselves to a single example, the description that he gives of the Argos region does not correspond to that of the thirteenth century BCE, that is, to the time of the Trojan War that he is recounting. On the contrary, it corresponds to the borders of that region under the rule of Pheidon of Argos in the eighth to the seventh centuries BCE,14 that is, in the time when Homer, or whoever, committed that page of the Iliad to writing, or, better, inserted it at the point in which it is now found. There follows a very simple conclusion: the Argos of the mythical Heroic Age of which Homer speaks in his poems is being described as if it already possessed the geographical, political, and tribal structure that it acquired only in the Greece of the Archaic Age, that is, in the eighth to seventh centuries BCE.15 This sug13 Homer, Il. 2.559–568: 559 Οἳ δʼ Ἄργός τʼ εἶχον Τίρυνθά τε τειχιόεσσαν, 560 Ἑρμιόνην Ἀσίνην τε, βαθὺν κατὰ κόλπον ἐχούσας, 561 Τροιζῆνʼ Ἠϊόνας τε καὶ ἀμπελόεντʼ Ἐπίδαυρον, 562 οἵ τʼ ἔχον Αἴγιναν Μάσητά τε κοῦροι Ἀχαιῶν, 563 τῶν αὖθʼ ἡγεμόνευε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Διομήδης 564 καὶ Σθένελος, Καπανῆος ἀγακλειτοῦ φίλος υἱός. 565 τοῖσι δʼ ἅμʼ Εὐρύαλος τρίτατος κίεν, ἰσόθεος φώς 566 Μηκιστῆος υἱὸς Ταλαϊονίδαο ἄνακτος·567 συμπάντων δʼ ἡγεῖτο βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Διομήδης. 568 τοῖσι δʼ ἅμʼ ὀγδώκοντα μέλαιναι νῆες ἕποντο. 559 “And they who held Argos and Tiryns, famed for its walls, 560 and Hermione and Asine, that enfold a deep gulf, 561 Troezen and Eïonae and vine-clad Epidaurus, 562 and the youths of the Achaeans who held Aegina and Mases: 563 of these in turn Diomedes, good at the war cry, was leader, 564 and Sthenelus, dear son of glorious Capaneus. 565 And with them came a third, Euryalus, a godlike warrior, 566 son of king Mecisteus, son of Talaus; 567 but leader over them all was Diomedes, good at the war cry. 568 And with them there followed eighty black ships” (trans. A. T. Murray, slightly modified). 14  See Margalit Finkelberg, “Ajax’s Entry in the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women,” ClQ 38 (1988): 31–41, esp. 39; Nicholas G. L. Hammond, “The Peloponnese,” in The Expansion of the Greek World, Eighth to Sixth Centuries B. C., vol. 3, pt. 3 of The Cambridge Ancient History, ed. John Boardman and Nicholas G. L. Hammond, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 321–59, esp. 338–39; Giovannini, Catalogue des Vaisseaux, 26. See also Strabo, Geography 8.3.33 [C 358]; 8.6.11 [C 373]; Pausanias, Description of Greece 8.27.1; Herodotus, Histories 6.83; Wilhelm Dittenberger, ed., Sylloge inscriptionum graecorum, 3rd ed. (Leipzig: S. Hirzelium, 1915; repr., Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1960), no. 31; Eduard Schwyzer, ed., Dialectorum graecorum exempla epigraphica potiora (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1923), no. 91, lines 4 and 32. 15  In fact, it is not a question only of the region of Argos; the entire Catalogue of Ships is to be considered a document that does not mirror the geography and sociopolitical arrangements of the Greece of the Heroic Age in which the events narrated in the Iliad are contextualized, pace the following: Thomas W. Allen, The Homeric Catalogue of Ships (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921; repr., Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 2005); Viktor Burr, ΝΕΩΝ ΚΑΤΑΛΟΓΟΣ: Untersuchungen zum homerischen Schiffskatalog, Klio 49 (Leipzig: Dieterich Verlag, 1944; repr., Aalen: Scientia Verlag, 1961); Denys L. Page, History and the Homeric Iliad, Sather Classical Lectures 31 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1959); Geoffrey S. Kirk, The Iliad: A Commentary, vol. 1, Books 1–4 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), ad loc. In fact, in its entirety, the catalogue is a document of the eighth–seventh centuries BCE in which the

Revising the Pentateuch

359

gests that, in his depiction of the Heroic Age, Homer found himself systematically updating the past in such a way that it would be relevant to the present in which he was writing. One has the impression that behind this mode of action lay the need to represent the Greece of the Heroic Age as a harmonious Panhellenic whole, already containing the political and ethnic elements of the much more recent Archaic Age.16 Beyond the divisions and the differences, even heated ones, that existed among the tribes who lived in the Greece of the Archaic Age – that is, at the time when Homer was writing – there was clearly the need to create an all-inclusive and compact identity of “Hellenes” that could be believed to have existed for some time, beginning already in the distant past. In this connection, we must not forget that the name of the region of Argos is used in Homer on more than one occasion to signify the whole of Greece.17 This indicates the advantage to Homer of manipulating the ancient borders in the sense that I have just mentioned. Putting it another way, by modifying the picture of its heroic past, the new Greek civilization not only acquired a unity that it did not have at the beginning, but it also established a continuity between the Greece of the Heroic Age and that of the Archaic Age, since the former was seen as already in possession of the geographical, ethnic, and political structure that was actually characteristic only of the latter. This way of performing surgery on the past could be the result of a cultural strategy that, to borrow the title of an article of Nadav Na’aman, can be described as “the fashioning of collective memory.”18 In fact, of the pictures of Heroic Age author represented not the remote Mycenaean civilization, but rather his own time. Thus, in it, we continue to be faced with the device we have already observed: situations and events of the time of the writer are projected back into the distant past in such a way as to “archaize” them. This gives the reader the impression that their geographical, political, and tribal structure was already in existence long before. In this connection, see the excellent treatment in Giovannini, Catalogue des Vaisseaux. Older authors were already of this opinion: cf. Benedikt Niese, Der homerische Schiffskatalog als historische Quelle betrachtet (Kiel: Carl Schröder, 1873), 14–15, 33; Karl J. Beloch, Die Zeit vor den Perserkriegen, vol. 1 of Griechische Geschichte (Strassburg: K. J. Trübner, 1912; repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), pt. 2, 51, 133; Felix Jacoby, Kleine philologische Schriften, ed. Hans J. Mette, Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, Schr. f. Altertumswissenschaft 21 (Berlin: Akademie, 1961), 54; Günther Jachmann, Der homerische Schiffskatalog und die Ilias, WAAFLNW 5 (Cologne: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften, 1958). The same opinion is shared by, among others, Arnold J. Toynbee, Some Problems of Greek History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), 10–12; Anderson, “Catalogue of Ships”; Sammons, Homeric Catalogue, 138–39; West, Making of the Iliad, 112; Kullmann, “Relative Chronology.” 16 Margalit Finkelberg, “Homer as a Foundation Text,” in Homer, the Bible, and Beyond: Literary and Religious Canons in the Ancient World, ed. Margalit Finkelberg and Guy G. Stroumsa, JSRC 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 75–96, esp. 80–81. 17 Cf., for example, Iliad 2.287; 6.456; 7.363; 9.246; 12.70; 13.227; 14.70; 15.372; 19.329; 24.437 (cf. also 2.348; 3.75, 258); Odyssey 4.99; 24.37. 18 Nadav Na’aman, “Historiography, the Fashioning of Collective Memory, and the Establishment of Historical Consciousness in Israel in the Late Monarchial Period,” Zion 60 (1995 [5755]): 449–72 (in Hebrew); see also Nadav Na’aman, The Past that Shapes the Present: The

360

Federico Giuntoli

Greece that circulated in the Archaic Age, it was the one found in the Homeric poems that became the standard, if not the sole account of their own past that the following generations of Greeks could imagine and so learn and memorize. By the second half of the fifth century BCE, in the discussion of Homer’s Catalogue of Ships in his History of the Peloponnesian War, even such a critical and clear-minded historian as Thucydides took for granted that the Trojan War was the first genuinely pan-Hellenic undertaking of historical Greece.19 II. What Is More Ancient Is More Important Leaving Homer and returning to the Hebrew Bible, there is nothing new in the observation that, especially in the later writings of Israel’s textual tradition – the Priestly writings, but, to an even greater degree, the post-Priestly writings – biblical writers transposed realities and institutions that existed only in their own recent present into distant periods of their own history with the aim of legitimizing them. As a simple and well-known example, I could mention the sacrifice offered by Abel in Gen 4: a sacrifice of the firstborn of the flock and their fat, that is, a sacrifice wholly in conformity with legislation codified only many centuries later. In fact, the account of Cain and Abel turns out to be a text that is later than the Priestly writings and thus postdates the Neo-Babylonian period.20 Thanks to the phenomenon of retrojection, a basic cultic law of Israel turns out to have been observed a long time before its actual promulgation. In this way, the first two sacrifices to God in the whole of Scripture are turned into a warning and a prediction. One could also mention the very late text of Gen 14,21 in which Abraham pays Creation of Biblical Historiography in the Late First Temple Period and after the Downfall, Yeriot 3 (Jerusalem: Hess, 2002 [5762]) (in Hebrew). 19 Finkelberg, “Homer as a Foundation Text,” 84–85. 20 Cf., for example, Jean-Louis Ska, “Genesi 1–11: Un testo sacerdotale e i suoi complementi,” in Genesi 1–11 e le sue interpretazioni canoniche: Un caso di teologia biblica. XLI Settimana Biblica Nazionale (Roma, 6–10 Settembre 2010), ed. Ermenegildo Manicardi and Luca Mazzinghi, special issue, RStB 24.1–2 (2012): 49–66, esp. 59, with bibliography. See also Andreas Schüle, Der Prolog der hebräischen Bibel: Der literar‑ und theologiegeschichtliche Diskurs der Urgeschichte (Gen 1–11), AThANT 86 (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2006), 179–210; Andreas Schüle, Die Urgeschichte (Genesis 1–11), ZBK.AT 1.1 (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2009), 87–100. 21 Among the recent bibliography, cf. Jan C. Gertz, “Abraham, Mose und der Exodus. Beobachtungen zur Redaktionsgeschichte von Genesis 15,” in Abschied vom Jahwisten: Die Komposition des Hexateuch in der jüngsten Diskussion, ed. Jan C. Gertz, Konrad Schmid, and Markus Witte, BZAW 315 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2002), 63–81; Benjamin Ziemer, Abram – Abraham: Kompositionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Genesis 14, 15 und 17, BZAW 350 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2005); Christoph Berner, “Abraham amidst Kings, Coalitions and Military Campaigns. Reflections on the Redaction History of Gen 14 and Its Early Rewritings,” in The Reception of Biblical War Legislation in Narrative Contexts: Studies in Law and Narrative, ed. Christoph Berner and Harald Samuel, BZAW 460 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015), 23–60;

Revising the Pentateuch

361

the tithe to the king and high priest of Salem (Jerusalem)22 long before the moment in the Torah’s own narrative when the system of tithes to the temple priests was codified, thus implicitly inviting all his future descendants to imitate him (Gen 14:18–20).23 Staying with the book of Genesis, we could mention the list of animals that Abraham in Gen 15:9–10 – another text that is very probably post-Priestly – prepares for the rite of the covenant with Adonai. They are all animals that will be mentioned in the rituals of the tent of meeting in the desert and in the worship of the temple in texts that are equally late. This also explains the five animals used by Abraham in this covenant ceremony (a heifer, a she-goat, a ram, a turtledove, and a dove), whereas in general one is sufficient (Jer 34:18–20).24 In this case also we continue to observe the same phenomenon: retrojecting into the narrative of the past usages, customs, realities, and concerns primarily existing in the recent present of the writer, thus rendering them ancient and so authoritative. Jean-Louis Ska has nicely summarized this practice according to the so-called law of antiquity: “What is more ancient is more important.”25 Also, in the equally late, post-Priestly, text of Gen 22, we can detect the same stratagem.26 The sacrifice of a sheep “on the mountain where the Lord will Nadav Na’aman, “Abraham’s Victory over the Kings of the Four Quadrants in Light of Darius I’s Bisitun Inscription,” TA 42 (2015): 72–88. However, contra Ziemer and Gertz, for the dating of Gen 14 prior to that of Gen 15, a dating that I share, see Israel Finkelstein and Thomas Römer, “Comments on the Historical Background of the Abraham Narrative: Between ‘Realia’ and ‘Exegetica,’” HeBAI 3 (2014): 3–23, esp. 16n56. Cf. also Thomas Römer, “La construction d’Abraham comme ancêtre œcuménique,” in Abramo tra storia e fede: XLII Settimana Biblica Nazionale (Roma, 10–14 Settembre 2012), ed. Angelo Passaro and Antonio Pitta, special issue, RStB 26.1–2 (2014): 7–23, esp. 20, 22. 22 For the identification of Salem (Šālēm) with Jerusalem, see Klaus Baltzer, “Jerusalem in den Erzvätergeschichten der Genesis? Traditionsgeschichtliche Erwägungen zu Gen 14 und 22,” in Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift für Rolf Rendtorff zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Erhard Blum, Christian Macholz, and Ekkehard W. Stegemann (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990), 3–12; John A. Emerton, “The Site of Salem, the City of Melchizedek (Gen xiv 18),” in Studies in the Pentateuch, ed. John A. Emerton, VTSup 41 (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 45–71. 23 For examples, with different emphases, of some postexilic rereadings of Abraham as the “new David” and thus as a replacement for the Davidic dynasty, which at that time had been irretrievably lost, cf. Matthias Köckert, Vätergott und Väterverheißungen: Eine Auseinandersetzung mit Albrecht Alt und seinen Erben, FRLANT 142 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1988), 276–99; Thomas Römer, “Abraham and the Law and the Prophets,” in The Reception and Remembrance of Abraham, ed. Pernille Carstens and Niels P. Lemche, PHSC 13 (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2011), 103–18. 24 Jean-Louis Ska, “Some Groundwork on Genesis 15,” in idem, The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions, FAT 66 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 67–81; Thomas Römer, “Zwischen Urkunden, Fragmenten und Ergänzungen: Zum Stand der Pentateuchforschung,” ZAW 125 (2013): 2–24, esp. 12–13. 25 Jean-Louis Ska, Introduction to Reading the Pentateuch (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 165–69. 26 See, with bibliography, Heinz-Dieter Neef, Die Prüfung Abrahams: Eine exegetisch-theologische Studie zu Gen 22,1–19, 2nd ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 18–20; see also Timo

362

Federico Giuntoli

make himself seen” (Gen 22:14) turns out to be the first-ever sacrifice offered on Mount Moriah, that is, on the mountain identified with Mount Zion, the mountain of the temple of Jerusalem, as the late text of 2 Chr 3:1 reminds us. In this way, therefore, Abraham initiated not only the payment of the tithe (Gen 14), but also the custom of sacrificing on the holy mountain. Finally, to select just one more of the very numerous examples, when, in Gen 24, another post-Priestly text,27 Abraham asks his servant to find a wife for his son Isaac among his own kindred and not among the Canaanites (Gen 24:3–5), he is not only observing a law before its promulgation by Moses (in Deut 7:3–4), but also confirming the prohibition of mixed marriages so dear to certain currents after the exile (it is sufficient here to mention Ezra).28 Moreover, as is well known, the geographical borders not only of the province of Yehud, but also of the promised land at the time of the conquest, as we find them described in the Hexateuch, for example, often turn out to be totally anachronistic with respect to the ancient periods in which they are being contextualized. So we continue to see how, in its later texts, redacted no earlier than well into the Persian period, Israel not only located in the sometimes distant past particular events, situations, and realities in order to legitimate a practice in existence primarily in the time when the texts were written, but also, starting out precisely Veijola, “Das Opfer des Abraham – Paradigma des Glaubens aus dem nachexilischen Zeitalter,” ZTK 85 (1988): 129–64; Konrad Schmid, “Die Rückgabe der Verheißungsgabe. Der ‘heilsgeschichtliche’ Sinn von Gen 22 im Horizont innerbiblischer Exegese,” in Gott und Mensch im Dialog: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 80. Geburtstag, ed. Markus Witte, BZAW 345 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 271–300; Thomas Römer, “Abraham’s Righteousness and Sacrifice: How to Understand (and Translate) Genesis 15 and 22,” CV 54 (2012): 3–15; idem, “Le ‘sacrifice d’Abraham’, un texte élohiste? Quelques observations à partir de Gn 22,14 et d’un fragment de Qumrân,” Sem 54 (2012): 163–72. Cf. also Robert W. L. Moberly, “The Earliest Commentary on the Akedah,” VT 38 (1988): 302–23; Federico Giuntoli, Genesi 12–50: Introduzione, traduzione, apparato critico e commento, Nuova Versione della Bibbia dai Testi Antichi 1.2 (Cinisello Balsamo, Milan: San Paolo, 2013), ad loc. 27 Alexander Rofé, “An Enquiry into the Betrothal of Rebekah,” in Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift für Rolf Rendtorff zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Erhard Blum, Christian Macholz, and Ekkehard W. Stegemann (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990), 27–39; cf. also Alexander Rofé, “The Admonitions Not to Leave the Promised Land in Genesis 24 and 26 and the Authorization in Genesis 46,” in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles, ed. Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid, FAT 101 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 177–84; Finkelstein and Römer, “Historical Background,” 21. 28 For these rereadings of the patriarch Abraham, see particularly Jean-Louis Ska, “L’espe­ rienza del tempo nel libro della Genesi,” in Il tempo nella Bibbia, ed. Lino Dan (Rome: AdP, 2009), 39–67; cf. also Beate Ego, “Abraham als Urbild der Toratreue Israels: Traditionsgeschichtliche Überlegungen zu einem Aspekt der biblischen Abrahamsbildes,” in Bund und Tora: Zur theologischen Begriffsgeschichte in alttestamentlicher, frühjüdischer und urchristlicher Tradition, ed. Friedrich Avemarie and Hermann Lichtenberger, WUNT 92 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 25–40.

Revising the Pentateuch

363

from certain texts of Ezra and Nehemiah (I am referring, for example, to the reconstruction of the walls or to the list of returnees or to the sites repopulated by them), probably transferred and retrojected into the past realities that were in existence only in the present of the writers of those texts29 – a present more recent than it would like us to believe, a present shifted more toward the end of the Persian period if not to the beginnings of the Hellenistic period.30 The terminus ante quem could only be the translation of the Septuagint, that is, the third century BCE. In a way not wholly different from that which moved Homer to describe the region of Argos in the thirteenth century BCE with categories appropriate to the seventh and eighth centuries, the purpose of the biblical writers could perhaps have been to create, beyond the sometimes heated divisions and differences that roiled the heart of Israel during the Persian period and the beginning of the Hellenistic period, an all-inclusive and compact identity of “Israelites” who had returned from Babylon, an Israel whose existence as a “nation” was already established in the early years after the exile.31 I believe also that these piae fraudes would have had little chance of encountering critical readers able to uncover them. As we know, the sacred texts were certainly not in the public domain. On the contrary, they were preserved and redacted by a very restricted circle, and the very low level of literacy in those days ensured that they remained inaccessible to most Israelites. From this point of view, if we consider the text of Neh 9, the well-known public reading of “the Torah” coram populo within the penitential liturgy, we see that the whole of that reading consisted simply in recounting succinctly the distant history of Israel 29 Already Arnaldo Momigliano thought he could detect a Hellenistic background behind Ezra and Nehemiah: “Nehemiah’s work can best be understood if compared with Greek events. In political terms Nehemiah was a tyrant imposed by the Persians just as much as Histiaeus and others had been imposed as tyrants over Greek cities by the Persian government. Nehemiah rebuilt Jerusalem, as Themistocles had to rebuild Athens. His remission of debts had obvious analogies in Greek practice of the sixth and fifth centuries. Nehemiah’s law against mixed marriages was paralleled in Athens by Pericles’ legislation against foreign wives. Even Ezra’s and Nehemiah’s autobiographies were new in Judaea, as Ion of Chios’ memoirs were new in Greece – practically at the same time.” Alien Wisdom: The Limits of Hellenization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 81. 30 A similar attempt to project back into the distant patriarchal past situations and events from a present as late as the Persian period is clearly visible in the, respectively, Priestly and postPriestly additions of Gen 48:3–6 and 48:15–16. In these late rereadings, Joseph’s sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, stand for the exiles and, particularly, those exiles who were born outside the land of Canaan. For all this, see Federico Giuntoli, “Ephraim, Manasseh, and Post-Exilic Israel. A Study of the Redactional Expansions in Gen 48 Regarding Joseph’s Sons,” in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles, ed. Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid, FAT 101 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 203–32. 31 Isocrates, Panegyricus 7–8: οἱ λόγοι τοιαύτην ἔχουσι τὴν φύσιν ὥσθ᾽ οἷόν … τά τε παλαιὰ καινῶς διελθεῖν καὶ περὶ τῶν νεωστὶ γεγενημένων ἀρχαίως εἰπεῖν. “Oratory is of such a nature that it is possible … to recount the things of old in a new manner or set forth events of recent date in an old fashion.”

364

Federico Giuntoli

from the call of Abraham to the Babylonian exile. These are all events of which no one among the audience could have claimed to be a firsthand witness. However, when the moment comes to narrate, in real time, the present before the assembly who are living it themselves, the text says simply: Today we are slaves, and the land that you gave our fathers to enjoy its fruit and bounty – here we are slaves on it! On account of our sins it yields its abundant crops to kings whom You have set over us. They rule over our bodies and our beasts as they please, and we are in great distress. (Neh 9:36–37, NJPS)

No other account of the present could be more general and, at the same time, more true. When the text affirms that “Today we are slaves,” none of the audience could fail to be in agreement whether the words were heard at the beginning of the Persian period or at the beginning of the Hellenistic period. A “present” valid in all seasons, one could say. Moreover, despite the enormous differences in literary genre, perspective, and aim between our texts and late apocalyptic literature, the latter adopted a similar strategy of transferring situations contemporary with the writer to the past: apocalyptic texts retrojected into the past situations of persecution and difficulty that were actually happening only in the present of the writers, but for various reasons could not be described as belonging to that present. III. When It Is the Present That Houses the Past In this what I would call “elastic” space that seems to be being traced between present and past in certain postexilic texts, I think it is interesting to note the opposite movement also: not only is the present retrojected into the past, but also the past is being reproduced in the present. In Num 13:29, to confine ourselves to a single example, once they have returned from their inspection of the land of Canaan, the spies give an account of the peoples of the land whom they encountered during their expedition: Anakites, Amalekites, Hittites, Jebusites, Amorites, and Canaanites. In Ezra 9:1, in a way that is really symptomatic, in order to identify the peoples who were in possession of the promised land during the years of Israel’s deportation to Babylon, recourse is made to names that are similarly antiquated or even identical to those which, in Numbers, described the populations there before the conquest of the land. In Ezra 9:1, in fact, we find Canaanites, Hittites, Perizzites, Jebusites, Ammonites, Moabites, Egyptians, and Amorites. Many of these names, which have now become ciphers and symbols, are highly anachronistic in the postexilic context of Ezra. The ancient peoples who possessed the land before the conquest turn out, along with others, to be the same as those who occupied the land during Israel’s exile in Babylon. Here, then, by contrast with what we have seen up to now, the past has been represented in narrative form as present.

Revising the Pentateuch

365

In this connection, it is interesting to observe that in the Greek book of 1 Esdras, the list of those ancient-sounding peoples encountered by the returning exiles replaces the Amorites of the Masoretic Text with the Idumeans (1 Esd 8:66). The latter are among the peoples who, according to some sources, actually repopulated the land during the exile. According to 1 Esd 4:45, Zerubbabel states that although the Chaldeans destroyed Jerusalem, the Idumeans burned the temple (cf., on the contrary, 2 Kgs 25:9). In fact, within 1 Esdras (cf. 4:50), there is an emphasis on the fact that the Idumeans occupied the Jewish villages during the enforced absence of their legitimate inhabitants. In light of this evidence, the bitterness toward the Idumeans or Edomites that animates certain biblical passages turns out to be easily understandable.32 Here, in 1 Esd 8:66, the ancient and anachronistic peoples are named alongside a people who, in the recent past, were actually found occupying the land during the exile. Here past and present collide. To quote Marguerite Yourcenar’s remarks on the narrative representation of time, in the sense of narrative time (erzählte Zeit): Those who put the historical novel in a category apart are forgetting that what every novelist does is only to interpret, by means of the techniques which his period affords, a certain number of past events; his memories, whether consciously or unconsciously recalled, whether personal or impersonal, are all woven of the same stuff as History itself… . Time itself has nothing to do with the matter. It is always surprising to me that my contemporaries, masters as they consider themselves to be over space, apparently remain unaware that one can contract the distance between centuries at will.33

This contraction of time is precisely what may be at work in Ezra and Nehemiah in connection with what the biblical writers describe as contemporary to them,

32  In fact, in addition to those cited, other passages that are quite late paint a very negative picture of Edom: cf., for example, Isa 34:5–17; Lam 4:21–22; Ezek 32:29; Obad 9. For a skillful survey of the prophetic passages concerning Edom, see Claire R. Mathews, Defending Zion: Edom’s Desolation and Jacob’s Restoration (Isaiah 34–35) in Context, BZAW 236 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1995), 69–119. See also Birgit Hartberger, “An den Wassern von Babylon …”: Psalm 137 auf dem Hintergrund von Jeremia 51, der biblischen Edom-Traditionen und babylonischer Originalquellen, BBB 63 (Bonn: Hanstein, 1986), 140–67; Bert Dicou, Jakob en Esau, Israël en Edom: Israël tegenover de volken in de verhalen over Jakob en Esau in Genesis en in de grote profetieën over Edom (Den Haag: Publivorm Voorburg, 1990), 61–175, which is partly taken up and reworked in idem, Edom, Israel’s Brother and Antagonist: The Role of Edom in Biblical Prophecy and Story, JSOTSup 169 (Sheffield: Academic Press, 1994), 20–114. 33 Marguerite Yourcenar, Memoirs of Hadrian, and Reflections on the Composition of Memoirs of Hadrian, trans. Grace Frick in collaboration with the author (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1954), 243. French original: “Ceux qui mettent le roman historique dans une catégorie à part oublient que le romancier ne fait jamais qu’interpréter, à l’aide des procédés de son temps, un certain nombre de faits passés, de souvenirs conscients ou non, personnels ou non, tissus de la même matière que l’Histoire… . Le temps ne fait rien à l’affaire. Ce m’est toujours une surprise que mes contemporains, qui croient avoir conquis et transformé l’espace, ignorent qu’on peut rétrécir à son gré la distance des siècles.” Marguerite Yourcenar, Carnets de notes de “Mémoires d’Hadrien” (Paris: Club de Meilleur Livre, 1953), nn. 33, 34.

366

Federico Giuntoli

just like what happens in some postexilic texts of the Pentateuch with regard to their narration of the past – even the distant past – as we have seen. In its historical accounts, narratively speaking, the Hebrew Bible never appears to describe the present of real history in real time, not even when it intends to give the impression of doing so (one thinks of Ezra and Nehemiah, who are narrating events in which they themselves participated). On the contrary, it seems to describe that present only a posteriori, revising it and correcting it from the point of view of the historical present of the writer.34

B. The Phenomenon of Orality in Greece during the Fifth and Fourth Centuries BCE I would like now to hint at another factor which, I believe, ought to be taken into consideration in the investigation of the formation of a national identity for Israel in this historic period: the phenomenon of orality. The contrasting readings of “Idumean” (1 Esd 8:66) and “Amorite” (Ezra 9:1) in the list of nations that replaced Israel in Canaan return us to a topic noted at the beginning of this paper, namely, the multiplicity of textual forms generated as biblical literature developed, especially in the Second Temple period. As Emanuel Tov asserts, “Undoubtedly, the Torah was the most liked part of Scripture as is recognizable from the many copies found in the Judean Desert and from the many new compositions based on it. There is no way to date this large textual group. The popular text that is presupposed by the common ancestor of the LXX and SP [Samaritan Pentateuch] group predated the time of the translation of the LXX, and therefore we find ourselves in the fourth century B. C. E. or earlier,”35 that is, in the Middle-Late Persian period. He further observes, “No solid facts are known about the textual condition of the Torah prior to 250 B. C. E., that is, the period of the first Qumran fragments, and therefore whatever happened before that time is mere speculation.”36 How do we account for such a conspicuous flourishing of textual traditions of the Torah? What might this pluriform context of growth, expansion, and revision of the texts say about the texture of Israel’s society and the formation of its own identity as a people? In conjunction with the aforementioned 34 John D. Y. Peel, “Making History: The Present in the Ijesha Present,” Man 19 (1984): 111– 32, esp. 113: “Where possible, present practice is governed by the model of past practice and, where change does occur, there is a tendency to rework the past so as to make it appear that past practice has governed present practice. This stereotypic reproduction serves both to slow down social change and to deny that such change occurs.” Cf. Marc Zvi Brettler, The Creation of History in Ancient Israel (London: Routledge, 1995), 135–44, 218–22. 35 Tov, “Text of the Torah,” 12. 36 Tov, “Text of the Torah,” 5.

Revising the Pentateuch

367

considerations – (1) the pluriform nature of the textual traditions of the Torah; and (2) the considerable reduction in human presence and activity in Jerusalem and its suburbs during the Persian period – I would like to consider some aspects of the continuing existence of the phenomenon of orality within societies that were becoming “literate” over the centuries. To do this, I will draw on parallels to this same phenomenon in Greek society also during the Persian period. Fifth‑ and fourth-century BCE Greece was a land where orality continued to maintain a strong presence. It is not correct to claim that once writing had been established, it was used for everything, nor is it correct to think that its advantages were immediately perceived in such a way that orality was speedily abandoned. Several studies have corrected these impressions.37 It is often vaguely claimed that oral tradition disappears when literacy becomes widespread. In this way, “orality” and “literacy” are often seen as dialectically opposed. Romantic visions of oral societies usually lead to a seductive picture of popular culture – intimate, spontaneous, and simple – that was destroyed by the arrival of literacy. In fact, the society of classical Athens was still strongly dependent on the spoken word even in the fourth century BCE, to the extent that one can still justly speak of oral tradition during that century. Written records functioned within an oral framework. Oral practices, therefore, did not suddenly become obsolete and forgotten. In the fourth century BCE, we still find traces of a complex mixture of both oral and written methods that persisted long after the introduction of writing. In fact, from this point of view, to apply the concepts of “original” (αὐτόγραφος) and “copy” (ἀντίγραφον) to ancient documents is highly anachronistic. To understand all this better, it is necessary to abandon the modern concept of “authenticity” with reference to an αὐτόγραφος, just as it is necessary to abandon the similarly modern demand for an exact and verbatim correspondence between the αὐτόγραφος and its ἀντίγραφα, punctuation included 38 A precise differentiation between original versions and inferior copies, or an insistence on 37 See especially the seminal work, with bibliography, of Michael T. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record: England, 1066–1307, 3rd ed. (London: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013). 38 Cf. Günther Klaffenbach, Bemerkungen zum griechischen Urkundenwesen, SDAW, Klasse für Sprachen, Literatur und Kunst, 1960, no. 6. (Berlin: Akademi-Verlag, 1960), esp. 34–36. Limiting ourselves to a few examples, we note here the well-known differences between the copies of the “Peloponnesian Treaties” of Thucydides and the actual Attic inscriptions; cf. IG I3, 83 (in David Lewis, ed., Inscriptiones Graecae I: Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno anteriores, 3rd ed. [Berlin: de Gruyter: 1981–1998], fasc. 1). See also Arnold W. Gomme, Anthony Andrewes, and Kenneth J. Dover, Historical Commentary on Thucydides, vol. 5 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), 47. The same thing could also be said of the epigraphic copies, which, in some cases, differ from one another. Among others, one thinks of the inscriptions on the Athenian treasury at Delphi that reproduce with some variations a text found in Athens (cf. IG I3, 78, in Lewis, Inscriptiones Graecae I, fasc. 1); see also Gaston Colin, “La deformation d’un document historique dans une argumentation d’orateur,” RevPhil 7 (1933): 237–60. Moreover, Plutarch (Lycurgus, 852) cites the decree of Stratocles in memory of Lycurgus in a way that diverges from IG II2, 457 (in Johannes Kirchner, ed., Inscriptiones Graecae II: Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno posteriores, pt. 1, 2nd ed. [Berlin: de Gruyter, 1913–1916], fasc. 1).

368

Federico Giuntoli

absolute verbatim accuracy, seems, in fact, to be the product of a highly developed mentality of literacy, of an extreme familiarity with the written word and with a strong sense of its importance to the point of requiring that the copy preserve not only the sense of the original, but also the actual words.39 The modern and contemporary assumption is that if we have to discuss a text, we must also necessarily have the text in front of us. Such a mentality would have been surprising in classical Athens. It would have become increasingly familiar, but not earlier than the very late fourth century BCE. As Rosalind Thomas has observed, Still in the late fifth and early fourth centuries a great deal of the literary activity, knowledge and discussion [in Athens], even among the highly educated, was not necessarily based upon books and “book learning,” although books did exist. A written text often seems to have been an aid to the memory rather than the primary object of study.40

It is not, therefore, uncommon to find a combination of orality and writing side by side. Such juxtapositions challenge the existence of a neat division between oral societies and literate ones.41 Similarly, in ancient Greece, we find exactly the same combination of writing and orality when, for example, a merchant relies on both a written contract (συγγραφή) and witnesses.42 Thus, the συγγραφή was beginning to be used, but always within an oral context, namely, parallel to the employment of witnesses. The witnesses, the orality, are therefore still trusted, perhaps trusted still more than the writing, whereas the written record has succeeded in attaining legal status. In this light, even when we detect emphasis on the verbal accuracy of a written text, that accuracy may not be as strict as we might expect. 39 For

all this, see the excellent treatment in Rosalind Thomas, Oral Tradition and Written Record in Classical Athens, CSOLC 18 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 15, 21, 24–26, 28–30, 47–49. We are following it here. For detailed analyses, see also Frederic G. Kenyon, Books and Readers in Ancient Greece and Rome, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1951); William C. Greene, “The Spoken and the Written Word,” HSCP 60 (1951): 23–59; Eric G. Turner, Athenian Books in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries, 2nd ed. (London: H. K. Lewis, 1977); Eric A. Havelock, The Literate Revolution in Greece and Its Cultural Consequences (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982); Bernard M. W. Knox, “Books and Readers in the Greek World. From the Beginnings to Alexandria,” in Greek Literature, vol. 1 of The Cambridge History of Classical Literature, ed. Pat Easterling and Bernard M. W. Knox (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 1–15; Robert C. Culley, “Oral Tradition and Biblical Studies,” Oral Tradition 1 (1986): 30–65; Eric A. Havelock, The Muse Learns to Write: Reflections on Orality and Literacy from Antiquity to the Present (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986); Ian Morris, “The Use and Abuse of Homer,” ClAnt 5 (1986): 81–138; Ian Worthington and John M. Foley, eds., Epea and Grammata: Oral and Written Communication in Ancient Greece, OLAG 4 (Leiden: Brill, 2002). 40 Thomas, Oral Tradition, 21. 41 Cf. Ruth H. Finnegan, Literacy and Orality: Studies in the Technology of Communication (Oxford: Blackwell, 1988; repr., Derry: Callender, 2014). 42 Cf., for example, Demosthenes, Against Lacritus 35.10–14. See especially Francis D. Harvey, “Literacy in the Athenian Democracy,” REG 79 (1966): 585–635.

Revising the Pentateuch

369

Plutarch recalls that, late in the fourth century, the politician Lycurgus43 adapted the texts of the three great tragedians – Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides – so that they might be performed ἐν κωινῷ – literally “in public,” “in common” – perhaps in the Μητρῷον, the temple dedicated to the mother goddesses.44 It was considered forbidden for actors to depart from these texts, and, if they had to perform them, they had to refer to them and learn them thoroughly. This seems to favor the idea that Lycurgus sought to establish an accurate and authoritative text of these works. It is fitting that this should have occurred in the late fourth century, since, as we have stated, it was exactly from this time that increased attention was given to written records; in this case, such attention was also a sign of reverence for the great tragedians of the fifth century. However, the existence of these authoritative texts alone was not sufficient to ensure that actors would transmit them accurately. In fact, when actors wanted to perform one of those tragedies, it was a secretary who had the task of reading the text aloud to them. A law mandated “that their tragedies be written out and kept in a public deposit and that the secretary of the polis read them out to the actors who are to perform them.”45 On the one hand, this practice guaranteed the stability of a fixed and authoritative text; on the other hand, its transmission was wholly oral. Thus, the accuracy with which the text was transmitted remained far from the precision that would have been obtained by learning the various parts directly from the written text. This Lycurgan institution illustrates much of what was characteristic of the classical use of the written word right down to the late fourth century BCE. Even when a written text was available – a text that was held to be authoritative and required to be adhered to scrupulously – it was not necessarily transmitted directly to a reader of the written text; rather, it might be transmitted orally, through the intermediate figure of a secretary (γραμματεύς), with the written text serving only as a mnemonic aid for the oral transmitter.46 Oral transmission, therefore, was able to exist alongside literacy without any particular incompatibility between the two. As the available sources show, then, orality was still a very 43 Lycurgus made a notable effort to promote the image of Athens and devoted particular attention to the theater, building the theater of Dionysus. For a more detailed analysis, cf. Ruth Scodel, “Lycurgus and the State Text of Tragedy,” in Politics of Orality, ed. Craig R. Cooper, OLAG 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 129–54. 44 Cf. Plutarch, Lycurgus 841–42. 45 καὶ τὰς τραγῳδίας αὐτῶν ἐν κοινῷ γραψαμένους φυλάττειν καὶ τὸν τῆς πόλεως γραμματέα παραναγινώσκειν τοῖς ὑποκρινομένοις. Plutarch, Lycurgus 841F. Text: H. N. Fowler, Plutarch: Moralia, vol. 10, LCL (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1936); English translation: Thomas, Oral Tradition, 49. 46 Cf., for example, Ruth H. Finnegan, Oral Poetry: Its Nature, Significance and Social Content (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977; repr., Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1992); Jack Goody, The Interface between the Written and the Oral, Studies in Literacy, Family, Culture and the State (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987). For all this, see Thomas, Oral Tradition, 48–49.

370

Federico Giuntoli

important phenomenon in the late fourth century BCE, at a time when the written word was certainly abundant.47 I. Orality and the Multiplicity of Textual Types in Greece and in Yehud in the Late Persian–Hellenistic Period: An Attempt at Comparison While taking into account the considerable differences between the Greek and Judean contexts, I believe that the relationship between orality and literacy we have observed in Greece in the Persian and early Hellenistic periods is pertinent to our understanding of some biblical texts as well.48 47 Cf. Thomas, Oral Tradition, 95. For the Israelite world, we note the work of Susan Niditch, Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature, LAI (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996; repr., London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1997), 88: “Israelite writing is set in an oral context.” In particular, see Raymond F. Person Jr., “The Ancient Israelite Scribe as Performer,” JBL 117 (1998): 601–9, esp. 602: “As members of a primarily oral society, they [the ancient Israelite scribes] undertook even their literate activity – that is, the copying of texts – with an oral mind-set. When they copied their texts, the ancient Israelite scribes did not slavishly write the texts word by word, but preserved the texts’ meaning for the ongoing life of their communities in much the same way that performers of oral epic re-present the stable, yet dynamic, tradition to their communities. In this sense, the ancient Israelite scribes were not mere copyists but were also performers.” For the same conclusion, see, among others, Michael Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 78–79, 83–88, and many of the contributions in John G. Gammie and Leo G. Perdue, ed., The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990). 48 Contacts between the Greeks and Israel during the Persian and Hellenistic periods were not insignificant. For an examination of this question, see Arnaldo Momigliano, “Persian Historiography, Greek Historiography, and Jewish Historiography,” in idem, The Classical Foundations of Modern Historiography (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), 5–28. See also Momigliano, Alien Wisdom, 74–76: “Trade relations between Greeks of some sort and Palestinians started in the Mycenaean period; Greek mercenaries represented another point of contact… . Contacts survived the exile. Finds of Greek pottery at Bet-Zur on the road from Jerusalem to Hebron are signs of brisk trade in the first part of the fifth century. Attic sherds of En-gedi belong mainly to the late fifth and early fourth centuries… . Money of Yavan – of Greece – it will be remembered, is mentioned in one of the papyri, dated 402 B. C., of the Jewish colony of Elephantine in Egypt (Brooklyn Pap. 12).” Cf. also Baruch Lifshitz, “L’hellénisation des Juifs de Palestine,” RB 72 (1965): 520–38; Elias J. Bickerman, The Jews in the Greek Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988), esp. 3–25; Erich S. Gruen, Heritage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition, HCS 30 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998). For connections between Greek and Israel during the end of the Hellenistic period and the Roman era, see Saul Lieberman, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine: Studies in the Literary Transmission, Beliefs, and Manners of Palestine in the I Century B. C. E.–IV C. E., TSJTSA 18 (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1950), repr. in Greek in Jewish Palestine / Hellenism in Jewish Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1994); Margaret H. Williams, The Jews among the Greeks and Romans: A Diasporan Sourcebook (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998); John M. G. Barclay, Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora: From Alexander to Trajan (323 BCE–117 CE), HCS 31 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999). It is interesting to note also that in the coinage of the province of Yehud during the Persian period, coins have been found that copied Athenian coinage by using the helmeted head of Athena on the obverse, and on the reverse, in some cases, an owl, a symbol of Athena, together with an olive twig and the inscription YHD in Aramaic. See Diana V. Edelman, Philip R. Davies,

Revising the Pentateuch

371

The poems of Homer, like the Hebrew Bible, began to be put into writing toward the end of the eighth century BCE and after centuries of transmission reached a stable form toward the third to second centuries BCE. The Iliad and Odyssey are each divided into twenty-four books,49 corresponding to the letters of the Greek alphabet, and the same is true for the Hebrew Bible, although the early sources reflect an alternative tradition that divides Scripture into twentytwo books, corresponding to the letters of the Hebrew alphabet.50 Toward the conclusion of the process of their textual transmission, the Iliad and the Odyssey were, very probably, transcribed from the ancient Attic alphabet into the classical one,51 just as the biblical texts were copied from the paleo-Hebrew alphabet into the square letters (and from papyrus to animal parchment [vellum]).52 If we Christophe Nihan, and Thomas Römer, Opening the Books of Moses (Sheffield: Equinox, 2011), 71–73. For this recent view, see also Diana V. Edelman, The Origins of the ‘Second’ Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem, BibleWorld (London: Equinox, 2005), 47, 69–70; Ya‘akov Meshorer, Persian Period through Hasmonaeans, vol. 1 of Ancient Jewish Coinage (Dix Hills, NY: Amphora, 1982), 13, 15, 16, 21, 24; Ya‘akov Meshorer and Shraga Qedar, The Coinage of Samaria in the Fourth Century BCE (Jerusalem: Numismatic Fine Arts International, 1991), 9, 11, 14, 21–22, 37, 48, 50–54, 57, 60–63 = idem, Samarian Coinage, Numismatic Studies and Research 9 (Jerusalem: Israel Numismatic Society, 1999), 32, 40, 61, 66, 83–4, 89–90, 92, 94, 99–101, 104, 116, 119, 121–122, 124; Ya‘akov Meshorer, A Treasury of Jewish Coins: From the Persian Period to Bar Kokhba (Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi Press; Nyack, NY: Amphora, 2001), 7–8, 14–15. 49  Pseudo-Plutarch, Vita Homeri 2.4: Εἰσὶ δὲ αὐτοῦ ποιήσεις δύο, Ἰλιὰς καὶ Ὀδύσσεια, διῃρημένη ἑκατέρα εἰς τὸν ἀριθμὸν τῶν στοιχείων, οὐχ ὑπὸ αὐτοῦ τοῦ ποιητοῦ ἀλλ’ ὑπὸ τῶν γραμματικῶν τῶν περὶ Ἀρίσταρχον. “There are two poems [of Homer], the Iliad and the Odyssey, each divided into as many books as there are letters of the alphabet, not by the poet in person, but by the scribes of the school of Aristarchus” (cf. also Eustathius of Thessalonica, Commentarii ad Homeri Iliadem 1.10; 5.29). Seneca, Epistulae morales ad Lucilium 88.40: “Apion grammaticus … aiebat Homerum utraque materia consummata, et Odyssia et Iliade, principium adiecisse operi suo quo bellum Troianum conplexus est. Huius rei argumentum adferebat quod duas litteras in primo versu posuisset ex industria librorum suorum numerum continentes” (The grammarian Apion … said that after Homer had composed both his poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, he added to his work an introduction which dealt with the Trojan War. And he conveyed as proof of this the fact that Homer had inserted into the first verse two letters which indicated the number of his books). The reference here is to the first verse of the Iliad, in which the two first letters μ and η of the first word – μῆνιν – correspond to the number forty-eight, the total number of books in the Iliad and the Odyssey. 50 Cf. Guy Darshan, “The Twenty-four Books of the Hebrew Bible and Alexandrian Scribal Methods,” in Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters, ed. Maren R. Niehoff, JSRC 16 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 221–44, esp. 223–29. 51 Cf. Martin L. West, “The Textual Criticism and Editing of Homer,” in Editing Texts – Texte edieren, ed. Glenn W. Most, Aporemata: Kritische Studien zur Philologiegeschichte 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 94–110, esp. 97n4. 52 In connection with the change from the paleo-Hebrew to the square alphabet, cf. b. Sanhedrin 2: “In the beginning, the Torah was given to Israel in ʿibrî writing and in the holy language (that is, Hebrew) [‫]בכתב עברי ולשון הקודש‬. It was given to them again in the days of Ezra in ʾaššûrî / square writing and in the Aramaic language [‫]בכתב אשורית ולשון ארמי‬. Israel chose for itself the ʾaššûrî writing and the holy language and left to the common (people) the ʿibrî writing and the Aramaic language” (cf. also b. Zebaḥim 62a). Among the various sources that are

372

Federico Giuntoli

consider more closely the history of the transmission of the text of the Homeric poems, I believe that we can trace particular analogies to the history of the transmission of the Torah with respect to the considerable textual plurality observed during the Second Temple Period.53 found to witness indirectly to the act of writing and its materials, cf. also Letter of Aristeas 176 (in connection with the arrival in Alexandria of the translators with the parchments of animal skins [διφθέραι] of the law written in Jewish letters [Ἰουδαϊκὰ γράμματα]); Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica 2.32.4 (during the Persian Empire, some royal documents are attested on animal skins [διφθέραι]); Sopherim 1:7 (the sacred texts can no longer be written in ancient Hebrew letters [‫]עברי‬, but rather in ʾaššûrî / square [‫ ]אשורי‬writing). For more information and a bibliography, see Jean-Louis Ska, “‘Persian Imperial Authorization’: Some Question Marks,” in Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch, ed. James W. Watts, SBLSymS 17 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2001), 161–82, esp. 171–72. See also André Lemaire, “Writing and Writing Materials,” ABD 6:999–1008, esp. 1001, 1003; Joseph Naveh, “Aramaic Script,” ABD 1:342–45, esp. 344; Frank M. Cross, “The Development of the Jewish Scripts,” in The Bible and the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of William F. Albright, ed. George E. Wright (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1961), 133–202; Menahem Haran, “BookScrolls at the Beginning of the Second Temple Period. The Transition from Papyrus to Skins,” HUCA 54 (1983): 111–22; idem, “Bible Scrolls in Eastern and Western Jewish Communities from Qumran to the High Middle Ages,” HUCA 56 (1985): 21–62. Cf. also Alan D. Crown, Samaritan Scribes and Manuscripts, TSAJ 80 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001). 53 For one of the first works to compare Homeric and biblical literature, see Zachary Bogan, Homerus Ἑβραιζων, sive, comparatio Homeri cum Scriptoribus Sacris quoad normam loquendi subnectitur Hesiodus Ὁμηριζων (Oxford, 1658). Among the other works of the last century, especially for the relationships between the Homeric literature and the texts of the Old Testament, see Cyrus H. Gordon, “Homer and the Bible. The Origin and Character of East Mediterranean Literature,” HUCA 26 (1955): 43–108 (repr., Ventnor, NJ: Ventnor Publishers, 1967); idem, Before the Bible: The Common Background of Greek and Hebrew Civilizations (New York: Harper & Row, 1962; repr., New York: Norton, 1965); David Weissert, “Alexandrian Analogical Word-Analysis and Septuagint Translation Techniques,” Textus 8 (1973): 31–44. For a summary of the parallels that can be traced between the biblical and Homeric literatures, in addition to the “Index Scripturarum” in Bogan, Homerus Ἑβραιζων, see especially the extended treatment in Martin L. West, The East Face of Helicon: West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry and Myth (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), esp. 334–437. See also Elimelekh E. Hallewy, “Biblical Midrash and Homeric Exegesis,” Tarbiz 31 (1961–62 [5721–22]): 157–69, 264–80 (in Hebrew); Herbert Haag, “Der gegenwärtige Stand der Erforschung der Beziehung zwischen Homer und dem Alten Testament,” Das Buch des Bundes: Aufsätze zur Bibel und zu ihrer Welt, ed. Herbert Haag and Bernhard Lang (Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1980), 109–18; Amir Yehoshua, “Homer und Bibel als Ausdruckmittel im 3. Sibyllenbuch,” in Studien zum Antiken Judentum, ed. Amir Yehoshua, BEATAJ 2 (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1985), 83–100; Mosheh D. Herr, “External Influences in the World of the Sages in Palestine: Reception and Rejection,” in Acculturation and Assimilation: Continuity and Change in the Culture of Israel and the Nations, ed. Yosef Kaplan and Menahem Stern (Jerusalem: Shazar Center, 1989 [5749]), 60–64 (in Hebrew); Louis H. Feldman, “Homer and the Near East: The Rise of the Greek Genius,” BA 59 (1996): 13–21 (repr. in idem, Judaism and Hellenism Reconsidered, JSJSup 107 [Leiden: Brill, 2006], 37–51); Philip S. Alexander and Leonard V. Rutgers, “‘Homer the Prophet of All’ and ‘Moses Our Teacher.’ Late Antique Exegesis of the Homeric Epics and the Torah of Moses,” in The Use of Sacred Books in the Ancient World, ed. Leonard V. Rutgers et al., CBET 22 (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 127–42; Trevor V. Evans, “The Comparative Optative: A Homeric Reminiscence in the Greek Pentateuch?,” VT 49 (1999): 487–504; Evangelia D. Dafni, “ΝΟΥΣ in der Septuaginta des Hiobbuches. Zur Frage nach der Rezeption der Homerepik im hellenistischen Judentum,”

Revising the Pentateuch

373

In the same way as Jewish youth learned to read from the Hebrew Bible, the Greeks learned by heart the verses of the work attributed to Homer.54 Each corpus constituted a foundational literature within its society. With the passage of time, the sages of the Second Temple period seem to have recognized the analogy between Homeric and biblical literature within the Greek and Jewish spheres respectively, taking into account, obviously, their clear differences. It seems fairly apparent that they perceived the Hebrew Bible and the works of Homer as corresponding but, at the same time, contrasting pillars, constituting the foundational literatures of the Jewish people and the Hellenistic world.55 Along these lines, some halakhic debates recorded in the Mishnah set the two literatures in explicit opposition: The Sadducees say: “We protest against you, O Pharisees. For you say: ‘The Sacred Scriptures render the hands unclean, but the books of Homer [‫ספרי המירס‬56] do not render the hands unclean.’ […] Or as Jochanan ben Zakkai asserts: ‘Even so the Sacred Scriptures, in proportion to the love for them so is their uncleanness, [but] the books of Homer [‫ספרי‬ ‫ ]המירס‬which are not beloved of us do not render the hands unclean.’”57 JSJ 37 (2006): 35–54; eadem, “Βροτός. A Favourite Word of Homer in the Septuagint Version of Job,” VeEc 28 (2007): 35–65; Maren R. Niehoff, “Homeric Scholarship and Bible Exegesis in Ancient Alexandria,” ClQ 57 (2007): 166–82; Serge Frolov, “Homeric and Ancient Near Eastern Intertextuality in 1 Samuel 17,” JBL 130 (2011): 451–71; Richard W. Burgess, “Another Look at Sosates, the ‘Jewish Homer,’” JSJ 44 (2013): 195–217; Lee M. McDonald, “Hellenism and the Biblical Canons: Is There a Connection?,” in Early Christianity in Its Hellenistic Context, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts, vol. 2 of Christian Origins and Hellenistic Judaism: Social and Literary Contexts for the New Testament, TENTS 10 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 13–49; Martin Meiser, “Theologische Anmerkungen in alexandrinischer Homerphilologie und theologische Korrekturen in der Septuaginta,” in Worte der Weissagung: Studien zu Septuaginta und Johannesoffenbarung, ed. Julian Elschenbroich and Johannes de Vries, ABIG 47 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2014), 108–36; David A. Bosworth, “Weeping in Recognition Scenes in Genesis and the Odyssey,” CBQ 77 (2015): 619–39; Meik Gerhards, Homer und die Bibel: Studien zur Interpretation der Ilias und ausgewählter alttestamentlicher Texte, WMANT 144 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2015). By contrast, for a caustic and also entertaining assessment of the excessive and uncritical “parallelomania” between Homer and biblical literature found in certain works that appeared between the end of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth centuries, see Michael Adler, “Was Homer Acquainted with the Bible?,” JQR 5 (1892): 170–74. 54 Among the other sources on the memorization of Homer’s poems, we consider as exemplary the evidence of the Homeric papyri in the Ptolemaic period; see Stephanie West, The Ptolemaic Papyri of Homer (Cologne: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1967). On the presence of the Greek language in the Jewish environment, cf. Haiim B. Rosén, L’Hébreu et ses rapports avec le mond classique: Essai d’évaluation culturelle (Paris: Paul Guethner, 1979); William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989); Seth Schwartz, “Language, Power, and Identity in Ancient Palestine,” PAP 148 (1995): 3–47. 55 For all this, cf. Darshan, “Twenty-four Books,” 222–23. 56 Cf. also the variant ‫המירם‬. For this, with conclusions that cannot be shared, see Alexander Kohut, “Sifre Homeros, Books of Entertainment,” JQR 3 (1891): 546–48. 57 Cf. m. Yadayim 4:6; for some commentators, the expression Sifrê Homêros stood for the texts of Homer as well as for pagan Greek wisdom in general. Other reflections on the text of Homer are found in both the Jerusalem and the Babylonian Talmuds: “He who reads the

374

Federico Giuntoli

Now, right up to the middle of the second century BCE, that is, to the completion of the editorial work undertaken by Aristarchus, Homer’s text underwent a slow process of crystallization. That is, it evolved from a relatively fluid state to one of relative rigidity. What is important to emphasize is that, at every stage of its development, it continued to preserve a certain degree of pluriformity, even after being committed to writing.58 Moreover, this process is also what is conjectured for Holy Scripture, and with good reason. The long tradition of oral performances of Homer continued to influence the written text of the two poems to such a degree that the variants in the written textual traditions of Homer that have come down to us mostly reflect the pluriformity of the oral tradition. Despite the writing down of the text, at each performance of the Homeric poems, the rhapsodists who were recognized as authoritative produced a sort of “new version” of Homer’s text with various retouchings extracanonical books such as the book of Ben Sira and the books of Ben La‘anah [has no share in the world to come], but he who reads the books of Homer [‫ ]ספרי המירס‬and all other books that were written beyond that is considered like one who is reading a secular document” (cf. y. Sanhedrin 10:1; b. Sanhedrin 90a; cf. also b. Menaḥot 99b). As is well known, the Talmud here considers the books of Homer to be literature that is not antinomically opposed to the books of the Torah. In any case, the rabbis have also left proof of their explicit knowledge of some points of the Homeric literature. For example, they mention the Sirens by name, just as they also know of the Centaurs (cf., for example, Bereshit Rabbah 23:6), while Qohelet Rabbah 9:11 cites Iliad 20.227 word for word. Moreover, the content of the books of Homer was well known in certain Jewish circles in Palestine. An example of this is the epigram written in Homeric Greek hexameters that is published in Mosheh Schwabe, “A Graeco-Jewish Inscription from Beth Shearim,” BJPES 6 (1939 [5699]): 105–14 (in Hebrew); cf. also Mosheh Schwabe and Baruch Lifshitz, The Greek Inscriptions, vol. 2 of Beth She‘arim (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1974), 45–51. For the relations between the Homeric literature and the world of ancient Judaism, see especially Ahuvia Kahane, “Homer and the Jews in Antiquity,” Textus 25 (2010): 75–115. According to b. Sanhedrin 21b–22a, picking up on Deut 17:18–19, a copy of the scroll of the Law is always to remain with the king and he must use it “as an amulet to bind on his arm” [‫]כמין קמיע ותולה בזרועו‬. Now, this is exactly what the emperor Julian reports about his treatment of Homer and Plato (letter 80): καὶ ταῦτα δὲ αὐτὰ τοῖς περιάπτοις ἔοικε καὶ φυλακτηρίοις· δέδεται γὰρ ἀεί, “and these [Homer and Plato] are like amulets and talismans since they are always bound [to me].” Joseph Bidez and Franz Cumont, ed., Iuliani Imperatoris: Epistulae, leges, poematia, fragmenta varia (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1922), ad loc. 58 For this pluriformity, see, among others, Gregory Nagy, Poetry as Performance: Homer and Beyond (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 151–52; cf. already idem, “Homeric Questions,” TAPA 122 (1992): 17–60 (repr. in Homeric Questions [Austin: University of Texas Press, 1996], 29–63; in this same work, cf. also 103–4). For a summary of Nagy’s position and a defense of a position that is partly different, see Margalit Finkelberg, “The Cypria, the Iliad, and the Problem of Multiformity in Oral and Written Tradition,” CP 95 (2000): 1–11. For other works entering into a critical dialogue with Nagy, see, among others, Stephanie West, “Elements of Epic,” TLS, August 2, 1996, 27; Hayden Pelliccia, “As Many Homers As You Please,” New York Review of Books, November 20, 1997, 46; Barry B. Powell, review of Poetry as Performance: Homer and Beyond, by Gregory Nagy, Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 97.3.21, http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/1997/97.03.21 html. For Nagy’s point-by-point response to the critical observations of B. B. Powell, see Gregory Nagy, “Response: Nagy on Powell on Nagy, ‘An Inventory of Debatable Assumptions about a Homeric Question,’” Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 97.4.18, http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/1997/97.04.18 html.

Revising the Pentateuch

375

and revisions. These new versions influenced the written text of the Homeric poems, presumably whenever this text was being edited or even copied anew. This is why, even if the performances of the rhapsodists entailed with the passing of time a gradual decrease in variability, the Homeric text maintained its pluriform nature even after it had been fixed in writing. In this sense, the line between the rhapsodist (ῥαψῳδός) and the bard (ἀοιδός) was not so firmly inscribed. The rhapsodist was the person who memorized the text that the bard had creatively composed. It was the bard and not the rhapsodist who was the true creative poet. However, as already stated, the rhapsodist too had the opportunity to intervene in the text that he was reciting, and, if the rhapsodist was authoritative, his contributions to the texts that he recited must have produced a “new version” of Homer’s text. From this point of view, there are many scholars who speak of various “city-editions” of Homer59 that circulated before the stabilization of the text toward the middle of the second century BCE as a result of the editorial work of Aristarchus. With respect to biblical literature, already in the nineteenth century Abraham Kuenen had discussed the presence of three major local recensions of the Pentateuch: the Samaritan, the Alexandrian, and the precursor of the so-called Masoretic Text prior to the establishing of that text.60 In this light, the “creative rhapsodist” does not seem to me to be so far from the “creative scribe” of the biblical text in his way of proceeding. Moreover, the Qumran scrolls have taught us that each scribe created his own text, as Emanuel Tov has often confirmed.61 Certainly, we must not undervalue the huge differences between the Homeric epics  – together with the presupposition of their public performance – and the biblical writings. However, as I have shown, some aspects of the transmission of their texts could not have been all that dissimilar. Without doubt, Aristarchus succeeded in producing a standard text of Homer. However, we have to arrive at the end of the Hellenistic period before we can speak of having a text of Homer at all. As we know, the problem of the pluriform nature of the oral poetic tradition was introduced by Albert Lord in the fifth 59 For the conjecture of the so-called “city editions” of Homer’s poems, see already Friedrich A. Wolf, Prolegomena ad Homerum, sive de operum Homericorum prisca et genuina forma variisque mutationibus et probabili ratione emendandi (Berlin: S. Calvary, 1795; repr., Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 2013); ET: Prolegomena to Homer, 1795, trans. Anthony Grafton, Glenn W. Most, and James E. G. Zetzel, Princeton Legacy Library (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985). 60 Abraham Kuenen, Het ontstaan van de historische boeken des Ouden Verbonds, vol. 1 of Historisch-Kritisch Onderzoek naar het onstaan en de verzameling van de Boeken des Ouden Verbonds (Leiden: Akademische Boekhandel van P. Engels, 1861) = De Thora en de historische boeken des Ouden Verbonds, vol. 1 of Historisch-Kritisch Onderzoek naar het onstaan en de verzameling van de Boeken des Ouden Verbonds (Amsterdam: S. L. van Looy, 1887). See also John Van Seters, The Edited Bible: The Curious History of the “Editor” in Biblical Criticism (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 242. 61 See, for example, Tov, “Text of the Torah,” 4.

376

Federico Giuntoli

chapter of his famous The Singer of Tales, building on the studies of Milman Parry, whose assistant he was.62 According to Lord’s theory, while the essence of the story remained identical in all its versions, its formulation and some selfstanding episodes were variable. Thus, the rhapsodist was free to introduce some details that appeared to suit the general scheme of the work. What followed was a composition that was simultaneously fixed and fluid: fixed in its constitutive and essential parts and fluid in the details, or in those parts of the narrative that were self-contained and self-sufficient. Applying this principle to the Greek epics would mean that, although the cause of the Trojan war will always be Helen and not any other woman, Hector will be slain by Achilles and not vice versa, Odysseus will eventually come home, and Agamemnon will be assassinated at the moment of his return, the poet was nevertheless free to introduce additional details that would fit the main outlines of the saga or to elaborate on its basic “facts” without at the same time interfering with the essentials.63 In a recent and very well documented work, John Van Seters has distinguished between two categories of “authors” of the biblical texts, using two terms borrowed from classical Greek: the diorthōtēs (διορθωτής) and the diaskeuastēs (διασκευαστής).64 The diorthōtēs was someone who preserved and transmitted his sources faithfully. By contrast, the diaskeuastēs was someone who expanded and so corrupted them.65 Van Seters maintains that the distinction between these 62  Albert B. Lord, The Singer of Tales, 3rd ed., Hellenic Studies Series 76; Publications of the Milman Parry Collection of Oral Literature 4 (Cambridge, MA: Center for Hellenic Studies and Harvard University Press, 2018); see also Adam Parry, ed., The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971). 63 Finkelberg, “Oral and Written Tradition,” 3; see also Margalit Finkelberg, The Birth of Literary Fiction in Ancient Greece (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 68–73, 151–60. Cf. John M. Foley, The Theory of Oral Composition: History and Methodology (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1988), 43: “even from the same singer, stability from one performance to the next is likely to lie not at the word-for-word level of the text, but at the levels of theme and story pattern.” 64 Van Seters, Edited Bible; see also John Van Seters, “Author or Redactor?,” JHebS 7 (2007): art. 9, http://www.jhsonline.org/Articles/article_70.pdf. 65 For an interesting study of the use of the term diaskeuastēs in biblical studies from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries onward, see Konrad Schmid, “Von der Diaskeuase zur nachendredaktionellen Fortschreibung. Die Geschichte der Erforschung der nachpriesterschriftlichen Redaktionsgeschichte des Pentateuch,” in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles, ed. Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid, FAT 101 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 1–18; for an updated and expanded version, see Konrad Schmid, “Post-Priestly Additions in the Pentateuch. A Survey of Scholarship,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America, ed. Jan C. Gertz et al., FAT 111 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 589–604. The use of the term diaskeuastēs (in the obsolete form diaskeuē) with reference to biblical literature seems to go back to Julius Popper, Der biblische Bericht über die Stiftshütte: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Composition und Diaskeue des Pentateuch (Leipzig: Hunger, 1862), although Otto Thenius, Abraham Kuenen, and Julius Wellhausen also knew of it.

Revising the Pentateuch

377

two categories is lost since both have been merged in the figure of the “editor” or “redactor.” As I have tried to show, this distinction is primarily theoretical. In reality, not all the texts that were being produced could be said to be authoritative with their definitive completion marked by publication at a clearly defined moment, as, for example, were some works of Plato, or of Pliny the Younger in Latin. In these specific cases it is true: every subsequent addition or manipulation of the text by a diaskeuastēs had to be conceived as a corruption and alteration of the original work that had been published by a diorthōtēs. In many other cases, however, whether with Homer or with Scripture, the distinction between diorthōtēs and diaskeuastēs is not valid. The plurality of textual forms of the Torah attested in the late Second Temple period cannot be explained in terms of corruptions of an original. Even the interventions of authoritative scribes in these texts cannot be said to be corruptions. We must not forget, in fact, that both the poems of Homer – to confine ourselves to him alone – and the texts of Scripture are anonymous works, products of “schools” of authors and, in addition, produced over long periods of time. Moreover, the texts of Homer are hard to ascribe to Homer, if we understand Homer as an individual person. If we say that Homer wrote the Homeric poems, then we have to go on to say that the Torah of Moses was also written by Moses. The problem with the distinction between diorthōtēs and diaskeuastēs made by Van Seters arises from the fact that, behind the Torah, he presupposes principally the work of a single author: his Yahwist. Under this presupposition, every diaskeuastēs can only be considered a traitor to the text that was faithfully preserved and transmitted by the diorthōtēs. In fact, just as the rhapsodist could authoritatively add details during the declamation of the text that had been transmitted to him – details that, once put into writing, themselves became part of Homer’s text – so too did the scribes who intervened in the various textual traditions of the Torah that flourished in the late Second Temple period. Taking inspiration from the title of a work by Erhard Blum, I would say that a final form of the Pentateuch never existed.66 One could say something similar, mutatis mutandis, for the poems of Homer.

C. Conclusion The ways in which a people recounts its own past, together with the ways in which the written texts of these accounts have been constantly updated and 66 Erhard Blum, “Gibt es die Endgestalt des Pentateuch?,” in Congress Volume: Leuven, 1989, ed. John A. Emerton, VTSup 43 (Leiden: Brill, 1991), 46–57; see also Emanuel Tov, “The Myth of the Stabilization of the Text of Hebrew Scripture,” in The Text of the Hebrew Bible: From the Rabbis to the Masoretes, ed. Elvira Martín-Contreras and Lorena Miralles-Macía, JAJSup 13 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014), 37–45; and in the same volume, John Van Seters, “Did the Sopherim Create a Standard Edition of the Hebrew Scriptures?,” 47–61.

378

Federico Giuntoli

transmitted, are undoubtedly important fields of investigation for the reconstruction of the national identity of Israel during the elusive years of Persian domination. The present contribution constitutes a modest attempt at continuing the process of reconstruction, in particular by trying to construct some fragile bridges between two cultural worlds – Greece and Yehud – that were very dissimilar in themselves but, in that period of history, were united by a common foe.

The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context Eric M. Meyers Recent scholarship has demonstrated in any number of ways and beyond any doubt the importance of the Persian period. Generations of scholars once considered it an era in which narrow legal and ritual concerns came to the fore, even negatively influencing late biblical prophecy; they thought of it as a kind of inbetween phase in the evolution of biblical thought that led to the New Testament. Much of this line of thinking arose because of the late, postexilic dating of P, the Priestly document. This period, also known as the return and restoration, held a more positive position in traditional Jewish scholarship and was viewed as the period when the homeland was renewed, the temple rebuilt, and parts of the Torah established as authoritative in the land. Peter Ackroyd of University College, London,1 and his student, Rex Mason of Regent’s Park College, University of Oxford,2 were major contributors to a positive reassessment of this period. In terms of the material world, Ephraim Stern of Hebrew University3 and Oded Lipschits of Tel Aviv University4 have led the movement to reclaim the Persian period as one of the most important eras in the history of ancient Israel/Judah. Ironically, Jewish tradition, favoring as it has so often the lachrymose view of history, has elevated the commemoration of the Ninth of Ab (Tisha b’Ab) to such a degree that the fall of Jerusalem has overshadowed the enormous creativity of the postexilic era, whether in the flowering of 1 A memorial volume testifies to Ackroyd’s unique contribution to the process of reevaluating this era: Gary N. Knoppers and Lester L. Grabbe, eds., Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd, LSTS 73 (London: T&T Clark, 2009). 2 Rex Mason’s work dealt especially with the latter prophets; see, e. g., The Books of Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi, CBC (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977). His later book, Preaching the Tradition: Homily and Hermeneutics after the Exile (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), expands greatly on his earlier work by setting Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi in the context of Ezra–Nehemiah and the Levitical sermons of the Chronicler. 3 Ephraim Stern, Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period, 538–332 B. C. (Warminster: Aris & Phillips; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1982); idem, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 B. C. E.), vol. 2 of Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 2001). 4 See especially Oded Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005), and his many articles, too numerous to list here, on this period.

380

Eric M. Meyers

late biblical prophecy or in the enormous and successful effort in bringing much of the Tanak or Scripture into its penultimate form.5 In this paper I would like to build on the ongoing project of reclaiming the positive aspects of the Persian period and to place as its centerpiece the emergence of Scripture as an evolving corpus of authoritative texts. Another major consideration will be to evaluate the achievements of the period within the newly conceptualized demographic space that is Yehud in the Persian period. I believe that understanding the restoration era in the homeland as one that was slow and modest in material terms will underscore even more the magnitude of the achievement in the realm of Scripture. Haggai and Zechariah are two of the prophetic voices that allow us to reassess the state of biblical literature in the return as well as to get a sense of the challenges of reestablishing the temple and its laws and traditions.6 Ezra and Nehemiah reflect the difficulties and challenges that still faced the Jewish people in Yehud about seventy years later. One of the reasons for those problems was “underpopulation,” which was largely the result of the modest response to the Edict of Cyrus in 538 BCE allowing exiled Jews to return to the homeland.7 The magnanimous tone of the edict should not be misunderstood as reflecting Persia’s generosity of spirit, for it was also rooted in the desire for its conquered peoples to remain subordinate and relatively quiet under their rule. Still the biblical authors, especially Second Isaiah (Isa 44:28; 45:1), hailed the action and praised Cyrus in messianic terms – as “shepherd” and “anointed one” – for recognizing the future hopes of the people (cf. Ezra 1:2–4; 2 Chr 36:22–23). However, the idea that there would be a swift end to the exile and a mass return to Eretz Israel, as alluded to in Ezra 1–3, simply never happened, nor is it reflected in the archaeology and demographic realities of Yehud. On the contrary, studies of the cuneiform documents of Babylonian Jewish settlements, the Murashu archives8 and the al-Yahudu corpus,9 show that the diaspora in Mesopotamia remained strong during the entire Persian period. The Babylonian community has 5  See Eric M. Meyers, “The Babylonian Exile Revisited: Demographics and the Emergence of the Canon of Scripture,” in Judaism and Crisis: Crisis as a Catalyst in Jewish Cultural History, ed. Armin Lange, K. F. Diethard Römheld, and Matthias Weigold, Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum 9 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011), 1–13. 6 See Eric M. Meyers, “Haggai and Zechariah: A Maximalist View of the Return in a Minimalist Social Context,” Enemies and Friends of the State: Ancient Prophecy in Context, ed. Christopher Rollston (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017), 433–48. 7 See the important collection of essays in Touraj Daryaee, ed., Cyrus the Great: An Ancient Iranian King (Santa Monica: Afshar, 2013). 8 See Michael D. Coogan, West Semitic Personal Names in the Murašu Documents, HSM 7 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1976). 9 See Laurie E. Pierce, “New Evidence for Judeans in Babylonia,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, ed. Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 399–412.

The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context

381

also been credited with contributing to essential features of Jewish thought and tradition: monotheism, prayer and the rise of the synagogue, and literary creativity, features often noted as being associated with the golah community.10 Let us keep in mind that this Jewish community ultimately produced the Babylonian Talmud nearly a thousand years later, a document that, along with the Hebrew Bible, became one of the foundational works of Judaism. The main task before us is to evaluate the accomplishments of these two communities in relation to their respective size. This entails estimating the size of the Persian-period community in Eretz Israel, that is, the recently returned group along with those who stayed behind. Estimating the size of the Babylonian golah community, however, is far beyond our capabilities for obvious reasons and somewhat beyond the purview of this paper. Before addressing the demographic issue, a few words about those Jews who stayed behind and were not deported after 586 BCE are in order. While some still assume that the destruction of Jerusalem by the neo-Babylonians resulted in the forced exile of most of the Judean inhabitants and left the land “empty,” recent scholarship has proved that assumption to be untenable and a gross exaggeration of the reality. While the homeland was badly battered in the war, the area of Benjamin was largely spared and an alternative administrative center was established there in Mizpah, where Gedaliah, a non-Davidic governor, was appointed before the fall of Jerusalem. Mizpah probably served as the de facto capital of Judea after the Babylonian conquest and as the main arm of the neo-Babylonian bureaucratic structure. The existence of some forty or more seal inscriptions bearing the letters MṢH/MWṢH and coming mostly from Mizpah11 illustrates the level of administrative control the neo-Babylonians maintained over the local population until Persia took over in mid-century – Cyrus came to the throne in 559 BCE and captured Babylon in 539. And yet by the time of the prophet Haggai in 520, the temple still lay in ruins and the economy had not recovered from the destruction and forced exile of many locals (Hag 1:4–11). Consequently, the small influx of returnees apparently had not had much of an impact. It would take another five years for the temple-rebuilding project to be completed and to provide the impetus for the local community under its new diarchic leadership of the Davidic governor Zerubbabel and the high priest Joshua to thrive. But its numbers were few and there were many challenges ahead. How the various elements of both communities met those challenges and what they accomplished is the rest of our story.

10 See Charles E. Carter, “(Re)Defining ‘Israel’: The Legacy of the Neo-Babylonian and Persian Periods,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Ancient Israel, ed. Susan Niditch (Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell, 2016), 232. 11 See Carter, “(Re)Defining ‘Israel,’” 227, and also Lipschits, Rise and Fall, 149–52.

382

Eric M. Meyers

A. The Exile and Return as a Spur to Literary Activity Let me first suggest that the crisis of the exile and destruction led immediately to a sense of urgency to pull together the various strands of written and oral tradition that were in the hands of the elite priests and tradents who were among those who had been forcibly evicted from the homeland and resettled in Mesopotamia. I would concur with the growing group of scholars who believe that large portions of the Hebrew Bible, including much of the Priestly document, already existed in the preexilic period and that the exacting and challenging process of pulling it all together – redacting, editing, and promulgating the existing materials – fell to the exilic and postexilic leadership. That one of the main players in the restoration was none other than the high priest Joshua ben Jehozadak suggests that the priests were a key part of this process. In this regard, the priestly lineages of Ezekiel and Zechariah and the central role of the priestly Torah in Hag 2:10–14 are especially noteworthy.12 Among the important sections of the Hebrew Bible to take shape during the exilic period were the three Major Prophets – Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Isaiah – with Third Isaiah dating toward the end of that period or possibly somewhat later. But just as significant and reflecting a composition date well before the Major Prophets is the corpus of the Former Prophets that was attached to the Pentateuch some time in this period and edited to comprise what David Noel Freedman termed the Primary History: Genesis through 2 Kings.13 Others term this achievement, or parts of it, the Deuteronomistic History, edited and promulgated in several versions in the exilic period and later by those committed to the distinctive theological underpinnings of Deuteronomy’s view of blessing and curse, which in so many ways differed from the priestly view.14 In his presidential address to the Catholic Biblical Society of America in 2016, Leslie Hoppe proposed that the Deuteronomistic History (Joshua–2 Kings) was not only redacted in the Persian period but also provided a blueprint for survival: living without statehood, worshipping without a temple, and hearing God’s word

12 See Carol L. Meyers and Eric M. Meyers, Haggai, Zechariah 1–8: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 25B (New York: Doubleday, 1987), 55–58, 76–84. See also Eric M. Meyers, “The Use of Tora in Haggai 2:11 and the Role of the Prophet in the Restoration Community,” in The Word of the Lord Shall Go Forth: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday, ed. Carol L. Meyers and Michael O’Connor (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983), 95–119. 13 See David Noel Freedman, The Unity of the Hebrew Bible (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991), 1–40. 14 Raymond F. Person Jr., The Deuteronomic History and the Book of Chronicles: Scribal Works in an Oral World, AIL 6 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2010). See also Thomas C. Römer, “The Current Discussion on the So-Called Deuteronomistic History: Literary Criticism and Theological Consequences,” Humanities: Christianity and Culture 46 (2015): 43–66.

The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context

383

without the intermediation of the prophets.15 He went on to say, “The goal of this work was to underscore the role of the written, authoritative law in securing Israel’s future as expressed in Solomon’s prayer … (1 Kgs 8:58).”16 If we date these editorial accomplishments to the exilic or early Persian period, then to all intents and purposes we are saying that the Babylonian golah community is to be credited with pulling much of the Torah together. Such an extraordinary accomplishment cannot be overly exaggerated. Another important accomplishment of the golah was learning to pray without benefit of a temple by forming prayer groups, possibly based on Ezekiel’s “diminished sanctuary” (miqdāš mĕʿaṭ, Ezek 11:16); such groups have rightly been considered to be the forerunner of the synagogue.17 In addition, articulating complex and sophisticated views dealing with suffering (Isa 53) and national displacement (Ezek 37) were significant theological developments. These literary and communal accomplishments had the desired effect of preserving and maintaining the identity of the community in exile for more than two millennia. But even more, as the desire to return to the homeland began to materialize, it was the very selfsame Scripture in its early form, edited and redacted in the diaspora, that dominated the homeland as well. As we will indicate below, however, the number of returnees to the homeland remained ever so modest until the Hellenistic period, a demographic anomaly with far-reaching implications. Several examples suffice to elaborate the point that large portions of the Hebrew Bible were available early in the postexilic period and were edited in the homeland. The first example is from Hag 2:10–14, the so-called priestly ruling with prophetic interpretation, which is dated to December 520 BCE. While the language is somewhat arcane and expressed in agricultural terms, this passage can be related to the fortunes of the people. The rhetorical style is that of a dialogue between priests and Haggai, with Haggai asking the priests questions that require yes-or-no answers. When the prophet uses the priests’ rulings to make his point, we get a sense of the important role of the priest on the eve of the rededication of the temple. The clarity of the priestly response is based upon Pentateuchal texts in Leviticus (Lev 10:10–20) and Numbers (Num 5–7, etc.). The Haggai passage thus provides evidence for the existence of legal materials that had been passed down from preexilic times in whatever form the Pentateuch existed. It also supports the presence of expanded priestly powers in the judicial system and teaching spheres.18 The lesson of Haggai in the end is that sanctity is 15 Leslie Hoppe, “The Strategy of the Deuteronomic History: A Proposal,” CBQ 79 (2017): 18–19. Hoppe conveniently summarizes a good deal of recent work on it in his notes. 16 Hoppe, “Strategy,” 18. 17 Note that the rabbis actually called the synagogue the “diminished sanctuary,” using Ezekiel’s language (b. Megillah 29a). 18 Carter and others have commented that Ezra and Nehemiah contain echoes of earlier prophetic utterances, the Deuteronomic historian, and the Holiness Code. Carter, “(Re)Defining ‘Israel,’” 232.

384

Eric M. Meyers

nontransferable and defilement is. The prevalence of such a priestly concern so early in the restoration era foreshadows similar matters in Zechariah and in the remainder of Second Temple times, when the authority of the priests was even greater under a form of government operated without governors.19 Perhaps the most important texts for illustrating the expanding role of priest and prophet in the postexilic era are Zech 3 (the investiture of the high priest Joshua) and 4 (the lampstand scene, in which Zerubbabel is referred to as an “anointed one” along with the high priest).20 While the diarchic form of leadership, governor and priest, is new, the use of earlier texts to bolster and support it shows just how important the older patterns and texts were in the new era when the Second Temple was being rebuilt and rededicated. The prophet Zechariah at the very outset says to his audience: Don’t be like your ancestors who were rebuked by the earlier prophets (Zech 1:4). This allusion to “earlier prophets” shows a clear awareness of the prophets of the preexilic period and is similar to Jeremiah in particular, who was especially active in calling for repentance. Zechariah refers to the “earlier” prophets again in 7:7 and 7:12. The increasing tendency of the latter prophets to quote from earlier prophets and earlier strata of the biblical text is one of the hallmarks of late biblical prophecy and is fitting testimony to the emergence of Scripture at this early point in the Second Temple period. Second Zechariah (chs. 9–14) was also prone to quote extensively from both Haggai and First Zechariah (chs. 1–8) as well as many other Pentateuchal and prophetic texts,21 revealing the tendency to accept the authoritative word of previous biblical spokesmen. Inner-biblical exegesis, or intertextuality as it is commonly called, is thus one of the most compelling reasons for placing the emergence of Scripture in this period and its heyday in the Persian period. In addition, we are quite confident that the dual Persian policy of allowing a degree of religious freedom to its conquered peoples and of reorganizing the empire into satrapies had the effect of encouraging the local people to collect and organize the codes and texts that were a vital part of their ethno-national and religious traditions. The Persians appointed a Davidide as governor along with a lineal priestly descendant to carry out their policies. This action surely had the indirect effect of further encouraging the Judean leadership to edit and revise as necessary those important writings, thereby furthering the work that had begun in exile. The task of editing and revising now achieved a kind of urgency and a special role in the newly organized province of Yehud. Although the population 19 In this regard my views diverge strongly from those of Hoppe (“Strategy”), who sees the priestly influence as lessening in the Deuteronomic History and paving the way for a nontemple-based Judaism. In light of the usurpation of the priesthood by the Hasmoneans and the minting of Yehud coins with the names of priests, e. g., yḥzqyh, I find this unlikely. 20 See also Zech 6:11–14. These passages are discussed in Meyers and Meyers, Haggai, Zechariah 1–8, ad loc. Cf. Meyers, “Haggai and Zechariah.” 21 Carol L. Meyers and Eric M. Meyers, Zechariah 9–14: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 25C (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 39–44.

The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context

385

of Yehud and its leadership were small, the likelihood that so much had already been accomplished in exile made the task somewhat less formidable. Working on a special literary project for the temple rededication ceremony in 515 BCE could well have been a priority. In my opinion a composite work, Haggai-Zechariah 1–8, might well have been prepared with the rededication in mind. But there was plenty of work to be done, in addition to what had been accomplished in the diaspora, on the Primary History and on the editing of Deuteronomy and the so-called historical books.22 No doubt the Book of the Twelve23 was also an important part of the challenge – the process of converting the sacred word communicated orally into written form so that it might be passed on to the next generation. The unusual form of Persian governance that allowed for local administrative appointments, such as Zerubbabel and Joshua and the governors and priests who succeeded them, thus not only led to important changes in the nature of religious leadership and tradition but also indirectly contributed to the promulgation of the written word of Scripture in a time of unparalleled change. In a recent work Israel Finkelstein calls the seventh century BCE “the moment when Judah becomes what one can describe as a ‘writing society’ beyond the circles of temple and palace in the capital.”24 However, another prominent scholar, Christopher Rollston, argues that such a situation could well have existed earlier for Israel, Judah, Moab, and Edom. He writes: The convergence of epigraphic evidence demonstrates that the intellectual scribal infrastructure was already present in these regions for the production of literature in (at least) the ninth century … [and] that there are historical materials in the Hebrew Bible that are most naturally understood as having been based on written royal annals of the ninth-century officialdom of Israel and Judah.25

Finkelstein notes that such a high state of literacy was probably the outcome of being integrated into the sphere of the Assyrian “global-economy, administration 22 Frank M. Cross and others have understood the redaction process to have occurred in several stages. See Cross’s “The Themes of the Book of Kings and the Structure of the Deuteronomic History,” in Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973), 274–89. More recently K. L. Noll has proposed that the first edition dates to the Persian period and the second to the Hellenistic era. “Deuteronomic History or Deuteronomic Debate? (A Thought Experiment),” JSOT 31 (2007): 311–45. See also Thomas Römer, The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction (London: T&T Clark, 2005). 23 Barry Jones, The Formation of the Book of the Twelve: A Study in Text and Canon, SBLDS 149 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995). 24 Israel Finkelstein, “Jerusalem and Judah 600–200 BCE: Implications for Understanding Pentateuchal Texts,” in The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of the Torah, ed. Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl, and Jean-Pierre Sonnet, FAT 107 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 6. 25 Christopher Rollston, “Inscriptional Evidence for the Writing of the Earliest Texts of the Bible; Intellectual Infrastructure in Tenth‑ and Ninth-Century Israel, Judah, and the Southern Levant,” in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America, ed. Jan C. Gertz et al., FAT 111 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 19.

386

Eric M. Meyers

and culture” from ca. 730 to 630 BCE.26 Whichever chronology one selects for identifying a high degree of preexilic literacy, one could say something similar about Yehud in the Persian period. However, there is one important and significant difference: during the early Iron II period (tenth to eighth/seventh–century BCE), Judah and Israel had relatively large populations,27 with Jerusalem and Judah probably absorbing many refugees after the downfall of the Northern Kingdom in the eighth century, whereas the population of Jerusalem and Yehud was quite small in the period of the return and restoration. Finkelstein adds that the evidence for writing in the Persian period, at least in the archaeological record, is almost absent.28 Assigning major portions of the Hebrew Bible to the late Iron II preexilic period seems reasonable. Yet we must continue to ask in what form those biblical strands existed in postexilic times. I have already stated that the Persian period for many reasons is the period in which much of the Hebrew Bible takes shape. Why is this so, and where did it occur – in the homeland or in the diaspora? Before attempting to answer those questions, let us first look at some of the population estimates for Yehud in the Persian period.

B. A Scribal Infrastructure in Persian Yehud? A consideration of the population of Yehud and Jerusalem is dependent in part upon an assessment of the boundaries mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, especially in Neh 3. I refer the reader to either Carter or Lipschits in this regard.29 Carter began his work on this project as a graduate student under my direction in the 1980s and based his estimates on 12 excavated sites among the 111 sites within the boundaries of Yehud. Some years later when his book was published, there were 125 sites.30 Nonetheless, until today, estimates are based mainly on surveys, although Finkelstein’s latest figures (mentioned below) are based on plotting the distribution of Yehud seal impressions. Carter’s estimate for the first half of the Persian period is ca. 13,000, and he proposes a population of ca. 30,000 toward the end of the period in the fourth century.31 Lipschits also suggests a peak population in the late fifth–early fourth century of 30,000 but, unlike Carter, 26 Finkelstein,

“Jerusalem and Judah,” 6. we must leave out the demographic picture for Rollston’s suggestion because there are no concrete or reliable figures available, and Finkelstein (“Jerusalem and Judah,” 6) sees the population spurt after the destruction of the Northern Kingdom in 722. 28 Finkelstein, “Jerusalem and Judah,” 14. 29 Carter, “(Re)Defining ‘Israel,’” 221–24; Lipschits, Fall and Rise of Jerusalem, 134–46, 152–74. 30 Charles E. Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 75–99. 31 Carter, “(Re)Defining ‘Israel,’” 219–29. 27 Here

The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context

387

includes the Shephelah.32 Yet both place the majority of the population in sites within the central hill country of Benjamin and Judah, with Jerusalem having between 1,500 and 2,750 inhabitants throughout the Persian period. Finkelstein some years ago estimated the total number of inhabitants of Yehud for the entire Persian period to be ca. 12,000, or roughly half the numbers estimated by Carter and Lipschits except for the beginning of the period.33 Whatever one says about the proposed numbers, the decline in population from the Iron IIC period to the Persian period is dramatic and indicates that the return was quite modest. As for the population of Jerusalem, Carter and Lipschits, as noted above, provide estimates of between 1,500 and 2,750 people.34 Geva suggests a lower figure of 1,000.35 Finkelstein proposes a total of four hundred, with only one hundred men, for the time of Nehemiah, although he supposes that there could have been “a secluded, educated priestly group near the temple” that was able to write Hebrew.36 According to Finkelstein, even more significant than the low population in Yehud and Jerusalem is the lack of Hebrew writing in the archaeological record of the Persian period, especially when compared to the Iron IIC period, when writing apparently penetrated to the lower echelons of society. Of course there is evidence for writing: bullae, Yehud seals in Aramaic script (482 according to Lipschits and Vanderhooft37), jar stamps, and Yehud coins; but there is no securely dated inscription or ostracon from the entire period. Finkelstein thus concludes that scribal activity must have severely declined during this period and infers that there were insufficient human resources to account for the extensive literary output that so much of biblical scholarship has situated in the Persian period.38 He argues against assigning so many late biblical texts to the Persian period in Palestine and maintains that most of the literary productivity of this period probably occurred in Babylonia. Because the archaeological record indicates a small population and contains little Hebrew writing, he assumes that the elites – the educated intelligentsia, the priestly caste – would have been among the first to be exiled and that they remained there in Babylon until a much 32 Lipschits,

Fall and Rise, 270–71. Finkelstein, “The Territorial Extent and Demography of Yehud/Judea in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods,” RB 117 (2010): 39–54. This is the same figure he used in his 2016 article “Jerusalem and Judah.” 34 See also Oded Lipschits, “Persian Period Finds from Jerusalem: Facts and Interpretations,” JHebS 9 (2009): 2–30. 35 Hillel Geva, “Estimating Jerusalem’s Population in Antiquity: A Minimalist View,” ErIsr 28 (2007): 156–67 (in Hebrew). See also Eric M. Meyers and Mark A. Chancey, Alexander to Constantine, vol. 3 of Archaeology of the Land of the Bible (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012), 1–10 with notes. 36 Finkelstein, “Jerusalem and Judah,” 15. 37 Oded Lipschits and David S. Vanderhooft, The Yehud Stamp Impressions: A Corpus of Inscribed Impressions from the Persian and Hellenistic Periods in Judah (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011), 9–22. 38 Finkelstein, “Jerusalem and Judah,” 4, 14–15. 33 Israel

388

Eric M. Meyers

later time, probably until the Hellenistic period when the population in Palestine began to recover significantly. However, some elites surely returned earlier and could have supported literary activities. And who were they? They would have included Aaronide, Zadokite, and Levitical priests (Ezra 8:15–36; Neh 7:1, 39, 43). Other specialists supporting literary activities might have been the singers (Neh 7:1, 23, 45) and the Levites and scribes (Ezra 7:6–24, 25), some of whom might not have lived in Jerusalem.39 Ramat Raḥel, about four kilometers from Jerusalem, would have been a likely location for many of them. This settlement apparently served as a central administrative site during the entire Persian period, and the majority of Yehud stamped seals – 278 in all, compared to 80 from Jerusalem and 49 from Tell enNaṣbeh – have been recovered from Ramat Raḥel.40 Even the small numbers suggested by Carter and Lipschits would have included specialists who would be considered “elite” in the governor’s retinue. The elite components of even so small a population would have been in the 5–10 percent range, which is the number we associate with preindustrial societies with a potential for literary production.41 Contra Finkelstein, we believe that there were individuals among the population of Jerusalem who were capable of carrying out the challenge that the Persian government had set before the people: to organize their historical records as they went about rebuilding the temple, pulling together the national traditions, and getting the economy of the province back on track. Udjahorresnet did this in regard to written traditions in Egypt in the late sixth century;42 perhaps Ezra was the one to do this in Yehud in the fifth century. In my opinion, to rule out the possibility of literary production in Yehud from ca. 600–500 to ca. 160 BCE seems extreme, notwithstanding the relative paucity of written materials from this period.

C. The Role of Scripture in Persian Yehud Before exploring further the implications of a small population in Jerusalem and Yehud for literary activity, let us look briefly at Ezra‒Nehemiah for clues that might help us understand this supposed anomaly. These works, which presumably are set in the fifth century in the middle of the Persian period, support 39 We should also note that the population estimates are only for Yehud, and there is reason to believe Jews inhabited other areas as well. 40 Carter, “(Re)Defining ‘Israel,’” 228. 41 Carter, Emergence of Yehud, 286–88. In regard to such matters Carter and the author have turned to the work of our colleague at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Gerhard Lenski, especially his Power and Privilege: A Theory of Social Stratification (New York: McGraw Hill, 1966). 42 Meyers and Meyers, Haggai–Zechariah 1–8, xxx–xxxvii.

The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context

389

a view of high literary activity and creativity. Ezra and Nehemiah alone would make assigning a priori authorship of Persian-period books to Babylonia problematic. In addition, the Chronicler and Malachi, the last of the Minor Prophets, are also from the end of the Persian period, and their works are also part of this era. The composite work of Ezra‒Nehemiah attempts to deal with the major themes of restoration, the efforts to rebuild and reestablish the temple, the expansion of the holy temple that would lead to an expansion of the holy city, and the importance of written sacred texts.43 Carter has recently noted that Ezra‒Nehemiah also makes abundant use of “the prophetic tradition and Deuteronomic perspectives, references to ideologies that reflect the Priestly and/or Holiness ideologies and a fully developed monotheism. It would seem therefore that the writer(s) had direct access to versions of the Torah, the Deuteronomic History and many of the prophetic books associated with both Israel and Judah.”44 Encapsulated within the composite Ezra‒Nehemiah work is the so-called Nehemiah Memoir (Neh 1:1–2:20; 3:33–7:3; 13:4–31), which is in many ways at odds with the rest of Ezra‒Nehemiah. The blunt style of a first-person narrative is out of place and the memoir contains few biblical allusions. Furthermore, the writer or redactor of the composite work, like the later rabbis (b. Sanhedrin 93b), is clearly uncomfortable with the focus on Nehemiah himself in the memoir. The narrative preceding the memoir is that of Ezra, who is credited with similar accomplishments but acts with humility and in consultation with the people. A recent study by another student of mine dates the incorporation of the Nehemiah Memoir into the composite work to the late Persian period, possibly as late as the early Hellenistic period.45 Whatever date we pick for the composite work, the centrality of authoritative Scripture in Ezra–Nehemiah, especially in Neh 8:1–8, cannot be denied. The Torah of Moses is read by Ezra on the New Year, in the seventh month, in the square before the Water Gate, where he stood on a wooden platform made especially for that purpose: “And Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people … and when he opened it, all the people stood up. Then Ezra blessed the Lord, the great God, and all the people answered, ‘Amen, Amen’” (Ezra 8:5–6, NASB). Ezra had summoned the people to hear the reading of the law and to obey it, and the Levites helped the people to understand it (v. 7). Generations of scholars not only have seen in the passage the possibility of explaining the origins of the synagogue but also have identified it as the locus classicus for the reading of the Torah as the central feature of synagogue liturgy. 43 Tamara Cohn Eskenazi, In an Age of Prose: A Literary Approach to Ezra–Nehemiah (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988). 44 Carter, “(Re)Defining ‘Israel,’” 232. 45 Sean Burt, The Courtier and the Governor: Transformations of Genre in the Nehemiah Memoir, JAJSup 17 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014), 204–6.

390

Eric M. Meyers

Levine in fact has proposed that the city gate and its communal function served as the model for the future synagogue, with Neh 8 fitting well into that pattern.46 However we interpret the Ezra‒Nehemiah composite work over against the Nehemiah Memoir, the attempts by Ezra and Nehemiah to improve and safeguard life in the holy city – by improving its defenses, banning intermarriage because of a small, largely male Jewish population, and securing the purity of the cult – indicate that all these actions were necessary to bring about the successful restoration of Jerusalem and to ensure that those who maintained the temple followed its laws. At the very heart of the enterprise was the reestablishment of the Torah as the law of the land and the placement of Scripture, such as it was at that time, at its center. Removing such central features of Second Temple history and suggesting that Babylonia is the only logical locus for literacy activities because of a minimal demographic context and the relative silence of archaeology in the homeland, is simply going too far, in my view. I have already referred to the work of one of the leading scholars of this period, Tamara Eskenazi.47 In a synthetic article that appeared at the end of 2016,48 she deals with many of the issues I have been considering in this paper. However, she limits her treatment to the Writings or Ketuvim, all of which she assigns to the Persian period. She admits that the province of Yehud was sparsely populated and experienced dire economic conditions for the duration of the period because of the Babylonian destruction. But she also suggests that peoples from other nations and ethnicities moved in to partially fill the vacuum and that this influx created a multicultural setting that reinforced the need among the returnees and those who had stayed behind to “forge and sustain a shared identity so that they would not simply disappear as did other peoples.”49 She further suggests that the situation was even more acute in the diasporas of Egypt and Mesopotamia, in part because the Jews there were so removed from the homeland. She refers to all of the books as “Judean writings.” And she avers that Chronicles, which she and most others consider later than Ezra–Nehemiah, reinterprets the past in light of the present and changed circumstances and institutions of the Persian period. In that changed environment the temple was even more important than in the monarchic era, and consequently David is praised by the Chronicler for his preparations in building the temple and not for his military accomplishments.50 Even his unsavory exploits are overlooked. This is precisely the milieu – in which a robust Davidic messianism and mindset had taken shape – that influenced the 46 Lee I. Levine, The Ancient Synagogue: The First Thousand Years (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 26–30. 47 See n43 above. 48 Tamara Cohn Eskenazi, “The Flowering of Literature in the Persian Period: The Writings/ Ketuvim,” in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Ancient Israel, ed. Susan Niditch (Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell, 2016), 476–92. 49 Eskenazi, “Flowering,” 477. 50 Eskenazi, “Flowering,” 480.

The Rise of Scripture in a Minimalist Demographic Context

391

editing and redaction of Second Zechariah, which in part builds on sections of First Zechariah but also is inspired by the state of affairs in Yehud, where Persian imperial control left any hope for an independent state confined to the distant future.51 The only Davidic descendant mentioned after Zerubbabel is Shelomit, his daughter (1 Chr 3:19), wife of Elnatan the governor (510–490? BCE); outside the Bible she is mentioned only in a bulla.52 Reattributing to another place or time so many major biblical writings that have been assigned a provenance in Yehud or Jerusalem and dated to the Persian period would at the very least embarrass many scholars.

D. A Maximalist Response in a Minimalist Demographic I have spent most of my professional career, more than forty-five years, excavating in Israel and Italy. I consider archaeology to be the true handmaiden of history and perhaps the most important tool, apart from textual studies, for shedding light on the world of the Bible. Although I acknowledge that the small size of Yehud and Jerusalem seems problematic, I do not think it justifies shifting the entire direction of biblical scholarship and opting for a diasporic provenance and golah-community authorship for much of the literature discussed in this essay, or to postulate an even more radical solution, namely, to date all these works to the Hellenistic period. If anything, the archaeological data allow me to appreciate even more the nature of the positive response to crisis and tragedy. The creativity and enormous output generated by the exile and restoration under Persian hegemony are simply one of the greatest achievements of antiquity; they led, years later, to what we call the Hebrew Bible. This does not mean that Yehudite society in the homeland had a high degree of literacy in the traditional sense; a limited number of elites who were learned enough to write and edit their thoughts and those of others would certainly have been sufficient. Society was no doubt “aural” and performative, features that would go along well with the increased teaching role of the priests, especially the Levitical priesthood. Some of the books among the Writings, such as Ezra‒Nehemiah or the Chronicler, might be considered somewhat xenophobic; but that is understandable in the context of a small Jewish population among a much larger gentile one. And let us not forget the universal thrust of a book such as Jonah, usually attributed 51 Meyers and Meyers, Zechariah 9–14, passim, and Raymond F. Person Jr., Second Zechariah and the Deuteronomic School, JSOTSup 167 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993). See also Eric M. Meyers, “Messianism in First and Second Zechariah and the ‘End’ of Biblical Prophecy,” in Go to the Land I Will Show You: Studies in Honor of Dwight W. Young, ed. Joseph Coleson and Victor H. Matthews (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1996), 127–42. 52 Eric M. Meyers, “The Shelomit Seal and Aspects of the Judean Restoration: Some Additional Considerations,” ErIsr 18 (1985): 33*–38,* and idem, “Haggai and Zechariah.”

392

Eric M. Meyers

to the fifth century, or the earlier inclusive message of the conclusion to First Zechariah (8:20–23), in which many peoples and many nations come to entreat the favor of the Lord in Jerusalem. The threat to Jewish survival did not end with the restoration at the end of the sixth century. The Greco-Persian wars and insurrection in Babylonia during the fifth century BCE left the Levant in a situation of great uncertainty. Some of that uncertainty is reflected in the birth of Jewish apocalyptic and heightened messianic eschatology. This leads me to characterize the Persian-period Jewish experience as a maximalist response in a minimalist demographic.53 We need not accept an argument about the absence or unlikelihood of literary activity in Yehud that rests largely on the limited nature of archaeological and epigraphical evidence if we recognize the eloquent testimony of the voices of the homeland searching for identity and meaning amid the ruins. The voices were not unified by any means, but they were uniform in expressing their love of the past, their traditions, and their unique identity in an ever-expanding world.

53 In Rome, a colleague at the Biblicum who heard my lecture remarked that the situation was similar to the disproportionate influence of the Vatican on the Roman Catholic Church. He also said that, with fewer than one thousand souls in Vatican City, much has been accomplished throughout the years – something one could hardly deny.

Part 6

Coping with Western Culture (Greco-Roman Period)

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Contextin Light of the Evidence from Qumran* Katell Berthelot As another way of addressing the issue of “coping with Western culture” in the formation of the Hebrew Bible, which was one of the questions raised by the editors of this volume, in this paper I would like to explore the impact of GrecoRoman culture, and Hellenistic philological and literary culture in particular, on the formation of the Hebrew Bible. I should emphasize that I shall not deal here with the influence of Greek literary traditions on the content of biblical books – such as the possible influence of the model of Heracles on the figure of Samson, or of the myth of the sacrifice of Iphigenia on the story of Jephtah’s daughter.1 Rather, I shall focus on the philological approach that developed within the Hellenistic world – first and foremost in Alexandria – and investigate its possible impact on the work of Judean scribes, on the stabilization and standardization of the text of each biblical book, and on the development of commentaries, basing my investigation on the evidence we have from Qumran.

A. The Formation of the Hebrew Bible as a Reaction to a Greco-Roman Context Numerous theories exist concerning the impact of Hellenistic culture – including its so-called canonization of the classical works of Homer, Pindar, Aeschylus and others, as well as its endeavor to establish a correct text of each work – upon the elites of Judea during the second and first century BCE. These theories all take as their starting point an analysis of the textual evidence of the manuscripts found in the Judean Desert. Since this evidence has been ably described by Emanuel

* TDMAM (UMR 7297), Maison Méditerranéenne des Sciences de l’Homme, Aix-enProvence, France. 1 On Jephtah’s daughter, see inter alia Thomas Römer, “La fille de Jephté entre Jérusalem et Athènes: réflexions à partir d’une triple intertextualité en Juges 11,” in Intertextualités: La Bible en échos, ed. Daniel Marguerat and Adrian H. W. Curtis, MdB 40 (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2000), 30–42; idem, “Why Would the Deuteronomists Tell About the Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter?,” JSOT 77 (1998): 27–38.

396

Katell Berthelot

Tov in several publications, I shall limit myself to a very brief summary of the state of research. On the one hand, the biblical manuscripts from Qumran reflect a great diversity of recensions or textual types, including original variants that are attested only in these manuscripts. The so-called nonaligned texts (which do not form a family) may represent a bit more than 40 percent of the biblical manuscripts (37 percent of the Torah scrolls, 53 percent of the other books), at least if we rely on texts that are sufficiently extensive for analysis.2 Moreover, although no sectarian textual type has been identified, most biblical manuscripts copied according to the Qumran scribal school differ from the Masoretic Text (MT). Finally, it must also be remembered that no specific text type or recension is favored in the biblical quotations found in the nonbiblical Qumran compositions.3 However, among the biblical manuscripts from Qumran, the proto-Masoretic text is the dominant one: 52 percent of the Torah scrolls and 44 percent of the other biblical manuscripts are proto-Masoretic in character. On the other hand, the biblical manuscripts from Masada, copied between 50 BCE and 30 CE,4 as well as the biblical manuscripts stemming from various Judean Desert sites such as Wadi Sdeir (Naḥal David),5 Naḥal Ḥever,6 Naḥal Tzeʾelim,7 and Wadi Murabbaʿat8 – sites associated with the First and Second Jewish Revolts in Judea and containing scrolls dated to the period from the beginning of the first century CE to the first half of the second century – all correspond to the proto-Masoretic text.9 Moreover, these manuscripts are more 2 See Emanuel Tov, “The Biblical Texts from the Judean Desert – An Overview and Analysis,” in Hebrew Bible, Greek Bible and Qumran: Collected Essays, TSAJ 121 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 145. Cf. idem, “Scriptures: Texts,” EDSS, 2:832–36. 3 See Armin Lange, “The Status of the Biblical Texts in the Qumran Corpus and the Canonical Process,” in The Bible as Book: The Hebrew Bible and the Judaean Desert Discoveries, ed. Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov (London: British Library; New Castle, DE: Oak Knoll, 2002), 27; Tov, “Biblical Texts,” 137. 4 The Masada biblical scrolls include one manuscript of Genesis (but only a few words are preserved), two of Leviticus, one of Deuteronomy, one of Ezekiel, and two of Psalms. 5  One fragmentary scroll of Genesis was found there; see Hanan Eshel, “Sdeir (Wadi),” EDSS, 2:851–52. 6 Fragments of Numbers (5/6Ḥev1a) and Psalms (5/6Ḥev1b) were found at this site, to which fragments of a Greek Minor Prophets scroll from the Seyal collection (8 Ḥev 1) must be added. See Hannah M. Cotton, “Ḥever, Naḥal: Written Material,” EDSS, 1:359–61. 7 See Hannah M. Cotton, “Ṣe’elim, Naḥal: Written Material,” in EDSS 2:860–61. As far as biblical manuscripts are concerned, only fragments of a phylactery (34 Se 1) were found here. 8 See Hanan Eshel, “Murabba‘at, Wadi: Written Material,” EDSS 1:583–86. Eshel mentions a scroll containing sections of Genesis, Exodus, and Numbers (Mur 1), a manuscript of Deuteronomy (Mur 2), a scroll of the minor prophets (MurXII or Mur 88, dated to the second half of the first century CE, and identical to MT), a fragment from a manuscript of Isaiah (Mur 3), phylacteries, and a mezuzah. 9 See Emanuel Tov, “A Categorized List of All the ‘Biblical Texts’ Found in the Judaean Desert,” DSD 8 (2001): 67–84; idem, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 2nd ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 1992), 28, 33–34. According to Tov, “Excavations

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context

397

closely aligned with the Masoretic Text as it is known through the Leningrad Codex than the proto-Masoretic biblical scrolls found at Qumran are. What we do see on the ground between the second century BCE and the second century CE may thus be described as a process of standardizing the text of the biblical books, and disseminating a text that conforms to the later, medieval Masoretic Text.10 Moreover, the evidence from Masada, although limited (seven fragmenon Masada yielded two manuscripts of Leviticus (Leviticusa–b [Mas1a, Mas1b]), one of Deuteronomy (Mas1c), one of Ezekiel (Mas1d), and two or three of Psalms (Psalmsa–b and Psalmsc [Mas1e, Mas1f, Mas1g(?)]). All these texts are very close to the Masoretic Text. The texts from Naḥal Ḥever (Numbers [XḤev/Se 1, 2], Deuteronomy [XḤev/Se 3], and Psalms [XḤev/Se 4]) and Murabba‘at are also almost identical to the Masoretic Text. This is especially evident in the well-preserved Minor Prophets scroll (Mur 88) from Murabba‘at.” “Scriptures: Texts,” 836. See also Emanuel Tov, “The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Textual History of the Masoretic Bible,” in The Hebrew Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Nóra Dávid et al. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: 2012), 42. 10  In addition to the various publications by Emanuel Tov referred to in this article, see Armin Lange, “‘They Confirmed the Reading’ (y. Ta‘an. 4.68a): The Textual Standardization of Jewish Scriptures in the Second Temple Period,” in From Qumran to Aleppo: A Discussion with Emanuel Tov about the Textual History of Jewish Scriptures in Honor of His 65th Birthday, ed. Armin Lange, Matthias Weigold, and József Zsengellér, FRLANT 230 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2009), 29–80. Tov has recently changed his mind, and during the “Stones, Tablets, and Scrolls” conference at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in May 2017 he argued that the “textual situation” in Judea between the first century BCE and the second century CE should be interpreted not as the result of a standardization process, but rather as an illustration of the fact that distinct groups had different text types (see Tov’s contribution in this volume, “The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel in Light of the Judean Desert Texts,” 427–441). This is basically a revival of a theory already put forward by Frank M. Cross. See “The History of the Biblical Text in Light of the Discoveries in the Judaean Desert,” HTR 57 (1964): 281–99; “The Fixation of the Text of the Hebrew Bible,” in idem, From Epic to Canon: History and Literature in Ancient Israel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), 213–18. Like Cross, Tov correlates the proto-Masoretic texts found at Masada, Wadi Sdeir, and the other sites (apart from Qumran) with the Pharisees, and the proto-Masoretic texts found at Qumran (which are less close to MT) with the Qumranites or Essenes. He thus explains the presence of proto-Masoretic manuscripts at Masada by arguing that the people of Masada were somehow connected with the Pharisees. However, the information we have from Josephus and the site itself (in which manuscripts of works characteristic of Qumran were found, such as the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice) runs against such a claim. According to Josephus, the people who occupied Masada at the end of the war were Sicarii (Jewish War 7.253), but the fact that manuscripts of compositions like the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice were found there suggests that different people from the area of the Dead Sea, including people from Qumran, may have found refuge at Masada during the war against Rome. Ada Yardeni has provided further proof of a connection between Masada and Qumran: the fragments of the Joshua Apocryphon – a composition known from Qumran – found at Masada were written by the same scribe who copied around fifty manuscripts at Qumran. “A Note on a Qumran Scribe,” in New Seals and Inscriptions, Hebrew, Idumean, and Cuneiform, ed. Meir Lubetski, HBM 8 (Sheffield: Phoenix, 2007), 287–98. As for the connection between the Pharisees/rabbis and the people who found shelter in the caves of the Judean Desert during the Bar Kokhba revolt, such a connection is not impossible in itself, but remains unfounded, because the documents from the caves, such as business or marriage contracts, do not align with what we know of Pharisaic or rabbinic halakhah. Tov’s reasoning is in fact circular: the presence of proto-Masoretic scrolls very close to MT is explained by a connection with the Pharisaic milieu, but the evidence that the

398

Katell Berthelot

tary scrolls), shows that this process was already quite advanced during the first century CE – in other words, the beginning of this process can no longer be dated after 70 CE.11 Thus, the following questions arise: What were the circumstances that prompted such a standardization process? Who was in charge of carrying out this kind of work? How was the standardized text spread? Who were the people supervising such a process? I. The Hebrew Bible as a Hasmonean Initiative I cannot rehearse here in detail all the theories that have been formulated concerning the standardization of the biblical text  – such as the one associating the rise of the proto-Masoretic text with the Pharisees12 – and shall thus first consider the tendency to associate the emergence of a standard text with the Hasmonean dynasty, which means locating the starting point of the process during the Maccabean crisis or shortly thereafter. Scholars such as Moses Hirsch Segal, Julio Trebolle Barrera, Arie van der Kooij, Philip Davies, and David M. Carr, for example, have proposed such a context.13 According to Carr, “the Hasmonean monarchy is the most plausible sociopolitical context that had both the power and the interest to initiate this process of textual standardization in people behind these proto-Masoretic scrolls were associated with the Pharisees comes from the presence of the proto-Masoretic texts on the sites. Finally, Tov’s thesis presupposes the wideranging influence of the Pharisees – and later the rabbis – on Judean society, to the extent that they would have been able to spread or even impose a certain type of text; however, this is a problematic historical thesis. 11 Cf. Cross, “Fixation,” 213–18. According to Cross, an authoritative “rabbinic” recension of the Hebrew Bible became dominant only in the period between the two revolts, “when the Pharisaic party came wholly to dominate the surviving Jewish community” (216), but the process started at the beginning of the first century CE (217). For Dominique Barthélemy, the standardization process took place between the two revolts, Ezéchiel, Daniel et les 12 Prophètes, vol. 3 of Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament, OBO 50.3 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag, 1992), cxiii. For Eugene Ulrich, the standardization process happened as a consequence of the revolts. “Methodological Reflections on Determining Scriptural Status in First Century Judaism,” in Rediscovering the Dead Sea Scrolls: An Assessment of Old and New Approaches and Methods, ed. Maxine L. Grossman (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 145–61. 12 See n10 above. 13 See Moses Hirsch Segal, “The Promulgation of the Authoritative Text of the Hebrew Bible,” JBL 73 (1953): 35–47; Julio Trebolle Barrera, “Qumran Evidence for a Biblical Standard Text and for Non-Standard and Parabiblical Texts,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context, ed. T. H. Lim et al. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), 89–106; Arie van der Kooij, “Canonization of Ancient Hebrew Books and Hasmonean Politics,” in The Biblical Canons, ed. Jean-Marie Auwers and Henk Jan De Jonge, BETL 163 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2003), 27–38; Philip R. Davies, Scribes and Schools: The Canonization of the Hebrew Scriptures, LAI (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 174–82; idem, “The Hebrew Canon and the Origins of Judaism,” in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honour of Lester L. Grabbe, ed. Philip R. Davies and Diana V. Edelman, JSOTSup 530 (New York: T&T Clark, 2010), 194–206; David M. Carr, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), ch. 5.

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context

399

Second Temple Judaism.”14 For Carr, the political goal of the Hasmoneans was to compete with the Greek world by developing an alternative educational system based on Judean traditions and literary works in Hebrew, a kind of cultural counter-model that simultaneously rejected the Hellenistic model and drew its inspiration from it. A passage from 2  Maccabees plays a prominent role in this explanatory model. First, according to 1 Macc 1:56, the books of the Law had been burned by the soldiers of Antiochos IV Epiphanes during the so-called persecution, prompting Judas to restore the collection in the temple. In a letter addressed to the Jews of Egypt that is appended to 2 Maccabees, we learn that “So too did Judas gather all (the writings) which had been scattered by the war which transpired, and they are with us” (2 Macc 2:14).15 This letter states that Judas acted as Nehemiah, who, “having founded a library, collected the books concerning the kings and the prophets, and also David’s books, and kings’ epistles concerning votive offerings.”16 Some scholars consider this sentence to be an indication that a canon had been formed at the time of the redaction of the letter, but the reference to letters sent by kings about the anathēmata, the offerings, shows that the text refers to a royal archive of some sort, a royal library that was not limited to the works that later came to constitute the Hebrew Bible. That Judas gathered the same kind of books later on can be interpreted as an indication of his royal stature in the eyes of the redactors, rather than as an attempt to imitate the Alexandrian textual scholars. Moreover, if the Hasmoneans attempted to impose a standard text and a canon during the second century BCE, the least we can say is that such an endeavor is not corroborated by the evidence from Qumran, which displays great textual diversity and would thus rather reflect a form of resistance to standardization.17 II. The Hebrew Bible as a Herodian Initiative An alternative theory has been formulated by Armin Lange, who attributes the initiative to create a scriptural canon and standardize the text to Herod the Great.18 He bases his approach on a detailed study of the correlation between the 14 Carr,

Formation of the Hebrew Bible, 153. Daniel R. Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, CEJL (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008), 132. 16 Schwartz, 2 Maccabees, 132. 17 In itself this fact would not be surprising, if one agrees that the circles that produced the sectarian scrolls and gathered the manuscripts were opposed to the Hasmoneans. 18 See Lange, “They Confirmed the Reading,” 52–64. See also Armin Lange, “‘Nobody dared to add to them, to take from them, or to make changes’ (Josephus, Ag.Ap. 1,42): The Textual Standardization of Jewish Scriptures in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino García Martínez, ed. Anthony Hilhorst, Émile Puech, and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, JSJSup 122 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 105–26; Armin Lange, “The Qumran Library in Context: The Canonical History 15 Trans.

400

Katell Berthelot

textual variants in the Qumran scrolls vis-à-vis the MT and their paleographical dating, and reaches the conclusion that there is much more conformity with MT from the period of Herod onwards.19 According to Lange, Herod’s motivations were cultural and political: just as he wanted to embellish the city of Jerusalem, to enlarge and renovate the temple, to build palaces all over Judea, and to sponsor works of art abroad – in other words, to act as a Greco-Roman ruler and euergete – so too he wanted to give Judea a proper corpus of canonical works that could stand on par with the classical works of the Greeks. In such a case, the motivations for standardizing the biblical texts would not be as counter-cultural as in the case of the Hasmoneans in Carr’s theory, but the result would be similar. A full written presentation of Lange’s theory is still forthcoming, which is why I cannot assess it in depth here. In a 2009 publication, Lange dated the process to the second half of the first century BCE, but pointed to priestly circles, not to Herod: “Rabbinic evidence as well as remarks by Josephus Flavius and the colophon of the Esther-LXX suggest that this standard text was created by priests in the Jerusalem temple.”20 III. A Process within Priestly Circles at the Temple A third theory, supported for example by Greg Doudna, Ian Hutchesson, and Ian Young, posits that the biblical scrolls from Qumran testify to a process that took place in priestly circles, but not necessarily on the initiative of a given political leader.21 Chronologically speaking, Young locates this process somewhere between Hasmonean rule and a Herodian initiative. He considers that the standardization process began after the Maccabean crisis, in a Hellenistic context, and that it was due to the influence of the general notion that “standard texts and Textual Standardization of the Hebrew Bible in Light of the Qumran Library,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran and the Concept of a Library, ed. Sidnie White Crawford and Cecilia Wassen, STDJ 116 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 259–79. I greatly benefited from an oral presentation of Lange’s theory at a seminar in Aix-en-Provence in March 2017. 19 There is “a first peak of proto-Masoretic manuscripts in the second half of the first century B. C. E.” Lange, “They Confirmed the Reading,” 79. 20 Lange, “They Confirmed the Reading,” 79. 21 See Ian Hutchesson, “63 BCE: A Revised Dating for the Depositation of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” QC 8.3 (1999): 177–94; Gregory L. Doudna, “Redating the Dead Sea Scrolls Found at Qumran: The Case for 63 BCE,” QC 8.4 (1999): 1–96; idem, 4QPesher Nahum: A Critical Edition, JSPSup 35 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), appendix B: “Was Hyrcanus II the Teacher of Righteousness and Were All of the Qumran Texts Deposited in the Caves in 40 BCE?,” 683–754; Ian Young, “The Stabilization of the Biblical Text in the Light of Qumran and Masada: A Challenge for Conventional Qumran Chronology?,” DSD 9.3 (2002): 364–90. The idea that the standardization of the text was the result of a process that had its roots in the Hellenistic world was already put forward by Moshe Greenberg in “The Stabilization of the Text of the Hebrew Bible, Reviewed in the Light of the Biblical Materials from the Judean Desert,” JAOS 76 (1956): 157–67.

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context

401

are a worthwhile aim,” rather than to the adoption of the methods of the Alexandrian scholars stricto sensu.22 According to Young, who in this respect shares the view of Saul Lieberman, Emanuel Tov, and other scholars, the MT tradition goes back to a standard text that was kept in the Jerusalem temple, and from which the scrolls with a proto-Masoretic text were copied.23 This view is documented mainly by late rabbinic sources, but it makes a lot of sense, because of the scribal activity that is supposed to have taken place at the temple and the centrality of the temple within Judean society. For Young, “The shift that occurred in the more than a century between the Qumran scrolls and the Masada texts was the rise to dominance of the scribal ideology that valued ‘letter-perfect’ copying of the exemplar text, the Temple text.”24 The Qumran manuscripts would thus reflect a transitional situation, in which one finds both manuscripts with scribal interventions and a multitude of harmonizing additions, as well as unusual orthography and morphology, and manuscripts that belong to the protoMasoretic group.25 That there was a change in mentality and in approaches to texts in the priestly and scribal circles in Judea during the second and first century BCE, consisting of a progressive adoption of the Hellenistic ideal of a standard text, is not contradicted by the existence of anti-Hellenistic works like the book of Jubilees, or the fact that the Hasmoneans built their legitimacy upon the rejection of Hellenism. Indeed, the examples I have just mentioned specifically show that even Judeans who were hostile to Hellenism were influenced by Hellenistic models (Greek geography in the case of Jubilees, Hellenistic diplomacy and kingship in the case of the Hasmoneans). As Carr has already emphasized, there is thus no contradiction between Judean “nationalism” and the adoption of Hellenistic literary norms or ideas. However, we do not need to suggest that the rise of the standard text was due to a political decision, since this phenomenon could have originated and become widespread among the priestly elites even without such a decision. Contact with Jews from Egypt could partially explain such an evolution. The Letter of Aristeas, generally dated to the second century BCE, shows knowledge of the Alexandrian philologians’ methods. Interestingly enough, the letter claims that a Hebrew copy of the Law was sent from Jerusalem by the 22 Young,

“Stabilization,” 383–84n53. the idea of master copies kept in the temple, see Samuel Krauss, Talmudische Archäologie, 3 vols. (1912; Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1966), 3:171; Saul Lieberman, “The Texts of Scripture in the Early Rabbinic Period,” in Hellenism in Jewish Palestine: Studies in the Literary Transmission, Beliefs and Manners of Palestine in the I Century B. C. E.–IV Century C. E., TSJTSA 18 (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950), 22; Tov, “Dead Sea Scrolls,” 47. 24 Young, “Stabilization,” 386. 25 See also Emanuel Tov, “The Scribal and Textual Transmission of the Torah Analyzed in Light of its Sanctity,” in Pentateuchal Traditions in the Late Second Temple Period, ed. Akio Moriya and Gohei Hata, JSJSup 158 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 57–72. 23 For

402

Katell Berthelot

high priest Eleazar so that the translation would be based on the correct text (see §§ 30–32, 46, 176, 310–311), but it simultaneously rejects most of the Alexandrian scholars’ premises.26

B. Qumran and Hellenistic Philology In light of the above, how are we to interpret the evidence from Qumran, and how does it fit in with the hypothesis of a Hellenistic influence on Judea during the second and first century BCE, leading to standardization and canonization? In my opinion, the main question that arises is whether the Qumran scrolls testify to a process of textual standardization at work in the manuscripts themselves, either through the implementation of corrections or the addition of critical signs in order to harmonize the texts with MT (or with another text type), especially in the most recent scrolls. The main critical signs (sēmeia) used as philological tools by the Alexandrian scholars were the obelos (—), a short line that Zenodotus of Ephesus, the first librarian of Alexandria (ca. 285–270 BCE), used to mark the lines he considered spurious; the asteriskos (※),which indicated a line repeated elsewhere; the sigma (Ϲ) and the antisigma (Ͻ), which were used together to mark two consecutive lines of identical content; and the diplē (›), an arrow-like sign invented by the great scholar Aristarchus of Samothrace to mark lines on which Aristarchus had made comments (regarding language, content, myth, style, etc.), comments that would then appear in separate commentaries called hypomnemata.27 In papyri and manuscripts one finds other signs as well whose meaning is often unclear. We should also remember that in the Hellenistic and Roman world, not every manuscript of a classical author followed the model elaborated by the Alexandrian scholars. Yet, this new development was to leave an enduring legacy. Now, if we look at the Qumran biblical manuscripts, which were not all copied in a sectarian context, what do we observe? First, except in the case of the texts written in paleo-Hebrew characters, the Qumran scrolls indeed contain numerous scribal marks of correction, which have been studied in depth by Emanuel

26 Cf. Lange: “The phrase ‘accurate version’ (διακριβωμένα; Let. Aris. 31) reflects knowledge of the standards of the critical editions which were produced at the library of Alexandria… . For Egyptian Judaism, my analysis confirms thus Moshe Greenberg’s suspicion of a Hellenistic background of textual standardization in ancient Judaism.” “They Confirmed the Reading,” 71. 27 Aristarchus also used the antisigma periestigmenon, the “dotted” antisigma (·Ͻ·), to indicate passages that contained tautologies. On these critical signs, see Francesca Schironi, “The Ambiguity of Signs: Critical σημεῖα from Zenodotus to Origen,” in Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters, ed. Maren R. Niehoff (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 87–112.

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context

403

Tov in his invaluable volume on scribal practices.28 These practices include deletion dots above and below letters or words, cancellation strokes, crossing out letters and words with a line, and parenthesis signs (perhaps reflecting the use of sigma and antisigma, also known as inverted nunin in rabbinic tradition) in the case of longer omissions. Most interesting for our purposes is the occasional presence of a single letter in paleo-Hebrew or in the Cryptic A script in the margin of certain Qumran scrolls, as well as what modern scholars call the X sign, found in 1QIsaa in particular.29 These enigmatic letters in the margin have been interpreted by some as an equivalent of the diplē, that is, as signs indicating that a given passage or expression is problematic or of particular interest and deserves further analysis.30 If this was indeed the case, we would have strong evidence for the adoption of an Alexandrian philological practice in the Qumran scrolls (although the X sign at Qumran may not have been a pointer to a written commentary, as in the case of Aristarchus’s diplē, but to an oral teaching). However, the interpretation of these signs remains hypothetical. All in all, the Qumran scrolls do not really attest the use of Alexandrian critical signs.31 Some scribal marks in the Qumran scrolls, like the cancellation dots above and below a letter or a word, as well as the parenthesis signs, are comparable to correction marks found in Greek manuscripts, and their use at Qumran may indicate the adoption of Greek practices, since they are not known from earlier Hebrew or Aramaic sources.32 However, in most cases we are dealing with marks that are not associated with the critical edition of texts, but with the mere process of copying a text. In other words, many corrections were made by the copying scribe himself, who realized he had made a mistake (such as

28 See Emanuel Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2004). 29 Tov, Scribal Practices, 196. See, for example, 1QIsaa XLV 10 and 13 (where the sign is placed at the end of the line and refers to the text on the right), on Isa 54:11–14. There are no differences here between 1QIsaa and MT except for orthography. 30 Kathleen McNamee notes that “there is considerable evidence in secondary sources to support the theory that the [X‑]sign was a reference mark directing the reader to a commentary.” Sigla and Select Marginalia in Greek Literary Papyri, Papyrologica Bruxellensia 26 (Brussels: Fondation Égyptologique Reine Élisabeth, 1992), 19. 31 See Tov, Scribal Practices, 274. 32  See Eric G. Turner, Greek Manuscripts of the Ancient World, 2nd ed., rev. and enl. by P. J. Parsons, Institute of Classical Studies Bulletin Supplement 46 (London: University of London, 1987), 16; Tov, Scribal Practices, 176, and 189, where he writes: “In the tradition of the Alexandrian grammarians, the antisigma denoted erroneous repetition (system of Aristophanes of Byzantium, c. 257–180 BCE) or disturbed word-order (system of Aristarchus, c. 217–145 BCE). Several examples in the Judean Desert texts do not fit this description, while 4QJera XII 11 as well as the four units in a box-like shape fit the former definition, and 11QpaleoLeva I 1–2 fits the latter one.” Other Greek practices, such as the indication of a large omission with an anchor-shaped sign in the margins of the manuscript, are not found in the Qumran scrolls. For the Greek sign, see Turner, Greek Manuscripts, documents 12, 34, and 41; McNamee, Sigla, 11–13.

404

Katell Berthelot

dittography or homoioteleuton)33 and thus deleted part of the text (by crossing it out or adding cancellation dots above the letters) and wrote the correct letter(s) or word(s) immediately afterwards, on the same line or above the line, or, less frequently, in the margin.34 For example, in 4QQoha (4Q109) II 1 (corresponding to Qoh 6:4), a parenthesis (sigma) relates to the text written in the top margin (‫ )הלך ובחושך שמו‬and indicates the addition of words that had been omitted by way of homoioteleuton. What is important to emphasize is that corrections made during the process of copying are not equivalent to editorial or philological practices, and thus cannot be used to demonstrate that the latter were adopted by Judean scribes. In other words, the correction marks do not prove that the scribes consulted different manuscripts, compared them, and corrected the text in order to make it conform to a certain text type or recension. Certainly, corrections and changes were sometimes performed by another scribe or user at a later stage, which brings us closer to the situation of the Alexandrian philological scholars. However, in this case too, most corrections can be explained by the immediate textual context and the desire to correct a mistake, and while they may be based on knowledge of another manuscript, they generally do not show an attempt to harmonize the text with the proto-Masoretic text or another text-type or recension. There may be a few exceptions. Armin Lange has argued that the supralinear corrections of 5QDeut can be viewed as a recension of a Hebrew text towards the Hebrew Vorlage of the Old Greek.35 Another possible exception is the great Isaiah scroll (1QIsaa), dated to roughly 50 BCE and copied according to the scribal practices that Emanuel Tov characterizes as typically Qumranic. This scroll contains a non-MT, non-aligned text of Isaiah, but has occasionally been corrected to match MT. For example, – in 1QIsaa III 25 (Isa 3:18), the Tetragrammaton YHWH is replaced by ‫אדוני‬, as in MT; – in 1QIsaa XIII 14 (Isa 15:7), the word is corrected from ‫ ופקודותים‬to ‫ ופקודתם‬and the corrected text conforms to MT; – in 1QIsaa XVI 14 (Isa 21:1), the adjective ‫ רחוקה‬in ‫ מארץ רחוקה‬at the end of the verse is deleted via cancellation dots and replaced by ‫נוראה‬, as in the MT and other textual witnesses; – in 1QIsaa XXII 20 (Isa 28:16), ‫ אדוני‬is added supralinearly and juxtaposed to YHWH, as in MT; – in 1QIsaa XXVIII 28 (Isa 35:10), the word ‫ בה‬in ‫ ישיגו בה‬is suppressed via cancellation dots above the ‫ ב‬and the ‫ה‬, and the corrected text is equivalent to MT; 33 See

Leeor Gottlieb, “Repetition Due to Homoioteleuton,” Textus 21 (2002): 21–43. Scribal Practices, 184 (“in many cases the dots [indicating letters to be deleted] were inserted during the course of the copying”), 187 (“most crossings out of elements were executed by the scribes themselves during the course of the writing”; “when in 4QCantb 1 3 the scribe wrongly wrote ‫ עת‬which should have been written later on in the sentence, that word was crossed out, probably by the scribe himself”). 35 Lange, “They Confirmed the Reading,” 62. 34 Tov,

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context

405

– in 1QIsaa XXIX 3 (Isa 36:4), the words ‫ מלך יהודה‬are cancelled via cancellation dots above all the letters, thus aligning the text with MT and 2 Kgs 18:19.

However, it cannot be ruled out that in some cases the corrections reflect the scribe’s Vorlage itself; in other words, the scribe originally made a mistake and then corrected it according to the text he had before his eyes. Finally, there may also be cases in 1QIsaa in which the correction distances the text from MT,36 so that it is difficult to draw definitive conclusions from this scroll. In the end, we may concur with Emanuel Tov in cautiously stating that “no solid conclusions can be drawn about the approach of the Qumranites towards the biblical text. But it is safe to say that they paid no special attention to textual differences.”37 We may add that the Qumran scrolls do not testify to an ongoing editorial process of the Alexandrian type,38 nor do they provide clear evidence of the standardization work toward MT that was taking place at that time in Judea. By contrast, as emphasized by Armin Lange, “8HevXII gr attests to a Greek text which reworks the Old Greek translation towards the consonantal text of MT.”39 Moreover, Papyri Fouad Inv. 266b (middle of the first century BCE) and 266c (end of the first century BCE or beginning of the first century CE) show “an early recension of the Old Greek text of Deuteronomy towards the consonantal text of the MT.”40

C. Qumran in Light of the Development of Commentaries in the Greco-Roman World Another important aspect of Alexandrian scholarship was the development of commentaries. Commentaries went hand in hand with critical editions of texts. As Francesca Schironi reminds us, “Aristarchus was the first of the Alexandrians to write a commentary (hypomnema) on Homer in addition to his editorial work (ekdosis). This new way of presenting philological work provided a new vehicle by which a scholar could discuss in detail his editorial choices and interpretative issues in the Homeric texts.”41 In such commentaries many different aspects of a text were discussed, “from very basic issues, like simple understanding of the phrasing, to more complex problems, like discussing different variants, 36 See 1QIsaa III 24 (Isa 3:17), in which ‫( אדוני‬which corresponds to MT) is replaced by YHWH; however, the verse in MT also has the name YHWH immediately afterward, so it may be a mistake on the part of the scribe. 37 Tov, “Biblical Texts,” 149. See also Tov, Scribal Practices, 183. 38 I should add that we have not found at Qumran any scroll containing a grammar, a lexicon, or other types of philological tools that would later become common in medieval Judaism; nor do we find glosses like those of Rashi. 39 Lange, “They Confirmed the Reading,” 57. 40 Lange, “They Confirmed the Reading,” 59. 41 Schironi, “Ambiguity of Signs,” 92.

406

Katell Berthelot

questions of authenticity and various types of exegetical questions (e. g., references to myths, geographical and historical questions, etc.) up to the discussion of poetics and aesthetic judgment of the poems themselves.”42 In some cases the quotation of the lemma was followed by a mere paraphrase in koinē Greek, comparable mutatis mutandis to the later targumim in a Jewish context. Still, this paraphrase was found within a literary structure that clearly differentiated between the text commented upon and the commentary. Certainly, in the Greek and Roman world there were also other types of commentaries, not only the strictly philological ones,43 and other types of exegesis in the broad sense of the term. In particular, we find in Hellenistic exegetical works two hermeneutical principles that would greatly influence Jewish and Christian exegesis: the use of allegory, and the idea that one should interpret a text in light of other passages from the same text. However, all these works can be characterized as distinguishing between text and commentary. In comparison, the evidence from Qumran stands out and reflects a different kind of approach. Qumran nonbiblical scrolls are very often exegetical, but they rarely take the form of a commentary. As Maren Niehoff puts it, “The distinction between the canonical text and its exegesis is a necessary condition of commentary activity.”44 But at Qumran this distinction is generally nonexistent. Exegesis (or interpretation) mainly occurs through rewriting, and in compositions such as the Genesis Apocryphon, the book of Jubilees, and the Temple Scroll, no biblical lemma is quoted, even when biblical wording is inserted into the text; as a matter of fact, the rewriting blurs the distinction between the source text and the rewritten text. In some cases the interpretation of the biblical texts on which the new composition is based is even presented as a new revelation, which somehow competes with the source text. None of these nonbiblical works discusses any textual problem in an explicit way, nor formulates questions concerning the verisimilitude of a given aspect of the biblical narrative, or points to a contradiction between biblical laws. In order to interpret the text, it is simply rewritten, and in some cases it is difficult to state where the redactional history of a biblical book ends and the exegetical process begins. This is the case, for example, in some manuscripts of the Reworked Pentateuch type, such as 4Q158, which I tend to view as an exegetical work rather than a biblical manuscript.45 42 Francesca

Schironi, “Greek Commentaries,” DSD 19 (2012): 412. the Derveni papyrus, dated to the fourth century BCE, we already have a commentary on an Orphic theogony. 44 See Maren R. Niehoff, “Commentary Culture in the Land of Israel from an Alexandrian Perspective,” DSD 19 (2012): 454. Moreover, whereas commentaries presuppose an established text to a great extent, rewritten compositions participate in the fluidity of the textual transmission. 45 I concur with Michael Segal’s analysis of 4Q158 and other Reworked Pentateuch manuscripts. See Segal, “Biblical Exegesis in 4Q158: Techniques and Genre,” Textus 19 (1998): 45–62; “4QReworked Pentateuch or 4QPentateuch?,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after 43 With

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context

407

Now, some may object that there is also a certain amount of rewriting in Philo’s exegetical works and in rabbinic midrashim – in other words, in these works as well, some exegetical problems are solved through rewriting rather than through a critical discussion of the problems encountered in the biblical text.46 This is true enough, but the framework of most Philonic and midrashic works is still of the commentary type, with a clear distinction between the lemma and its interpretation.47 Although Philo and the rabbis reject some aspects of Hellenistic scholarly culture, such as textual emendation, they nevertheless can be considered to be participating in some respects in this common culture, whereas the Qumran scrolls belong to a different world. Even the few compositions at Qumran that could be considered commentaries from a formal point of view, because they quote a biblical lemma and then comment upon it, differ fundamentally from what we find in the Hellenistic and Roman world, including in Jewish Hellenistic works. As Maren Niehoff has shown, there is neither an explicit questioning of the text in these works, nor any critical examination of the text in light of philological, stylistic, halakhic, geographical, historical, scientific, ethical, or theological issues. The case of the pesharim is particularly intriguing: by quoting biblical verses (or parts of verses) and giving an interpretation often introduced by a technical expression such as pishro, “its explanation (is …),” the pesharim look very much like commentaries, but the fact that the authority of the commentator is associated with a sort of prophetic inspiration, and the fact that the biblical text is interpreted systematically in connection with contemporary events, differentiate them strongly from Hellenistic commentaries on classical works.48 Beyond their formal differences, both the rewritten Bible compositions and the commentary-like compositions from Qumran represent a form of ongoing revelation rather than a critical evaluation and interpretation of the biblical texts. There is thus no trace of any influence from Alexandrian commentary culture at Qumran. Their Discovery, ed. Lawrence H. Schiffman, Emanuel Tov, and James C. VanderKam (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000), 391–99. 46 On Philo see, for example, Katell Berthelot, “Philo of Alexandria and the Conquest of Canaan,” JSJ 38 (2007): 39–56; on the midrashim see Steven Fraade, “Rewritten Bible and Rabbinic Midrash as Commentary,” in Current Trends in the Study of Midrash, ed. Carol Bakhos, JSJSup 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 59–78. 47 The case of Philo’s Exposition of the Law is different, because it was probably aimed at least in part at a non-Jewish audience, and may thus be considered an explanation of the Law for beginners and a type of apologetic work. 48 They have been seen as closer to Babylonian forms of dream interpretation than to Greek or Roman commentaries. See the demonstration in Niehoff, “Commentary Culture”; and Uri Gabbay, “Akkadian Commentaries from Ancient Mesopotamia and Their Relation to Early Hebrew Exegesis,” DSD 19 (2012): 267–312; Alex P. Jassen, “The Pesharim and the Rise of Commentary in Early Jewish Scriptural Interpretation,” DSD 19 (2012): 363–98.

408

Katell Berthelot

D. Conclusion The Hebrew Bible as we know it is the result not only of a long redactional history, but also of a process of textual standardization that started in the Hellenistic period, at the latest in the first century BCE. Some scholars have explained this process as a political decision (made by a Hasmonean leader or Herod), but I would rather view it as a consequence of a change of paradigm among priestly and scribal elites, who came to see the copies held at the temple as a standard text with which other copies had to align. In the long run, this vision gained the upper hand and led to the dissemination of the (proto‑)Masoretic text among Jewish communities all over the world – even if other types of texts continued to be circulated in some circles, as the cases of the Samaritan Pentateuch, the Peshitta, and even the early rabbinic midrashim themselves remind us.49 Because the communities associated with the Dead Sea Scrolls had estranged themselves from the Jerusalem temple, they were less exposed to the process of standardization, which explains why the evidence from Qumran shows less alignment with the proto-Masoretic text than do texts from other sites, such as Masada. What the evidence from Qumran also shows is that the notion of a standard text, and the letter-perfect copying of this text with an extremely high level of accuracy, was not the only possible understanding of authoritative Scripture, and not necessarily the most traditional or the most ancient one (which is not surprising if we are willing to admit that the traditions of ancient Israel were transmitted orally for quite a long time). Moreover, the contrast between the rigid interpretation of the Law found in the halakhic texts from Qumran and the fact that they had multiple recensions of the books of the Law is striking, because it shows that a conservative application of the commandments was compatible with textual fluidity. Conversely, the rabbis worked with a standard text, but were open to multiple and diverging interpretations of the Law. Another striking contrast is the one between the Qumran scrolls and the Jewish texts in Greek from Alexandria, such as the Letter of Aristeas, the fragments of Demetrius and Aristobulus, and Philo’s writings. Comparison of the Qumran 49 On the midrashim see Menahem Kahana, “The Halakhic Midrashim,” in The Literature of the Sages. Second Part: Midrash and Targum, Liturgy, Poetry, Mysticism, Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science and the Languages of Rabbinic Literature, ed. Shmuel Safrai et al. (Assen: Royal Van Gorcum; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006), 3–105. Kahana writes, “As regards the biblical text underlying Halakhic Midrashim, it should be emphasized that it is not absolutely identical with the Masoretic text, the details of which were finally formulated only in the medieval period. Here and there the Halakhic Midrashim cite a different version that accords with the Septuagint, the Samaritan Tora, or the Peshitta. We also find midrashim based on a non-Masoretic version that prove this was the consensual biblical text possessed by the Tanna’im-exegetes. An awareness of the phenomenon is of importance both for an examination of the textual versions of the Bible and for a proper understanding of the midrash itself” (13).

The Formation of the Hebrew Bible in a Greco-Roman Context

409

scrolls and this Judeo-Alexandrian literature shows that different approaches to texts had developed within Judaism, and corroborates the idea that the notion of a standard text came from Judaism’s encounter with the Hellenistic world, as Moshe Greenberg already argued in 1956.50 In the end, it seems that the Qumran circles were less exposed than other priestly circles to the influence of the Hellenistic notion of an edited, standard text. The absence at Qumran of proper commentaries on the biblical books is also an indication that Hellenistic scholarly culture had not penetrated these Judean circles in depth. However, we should also keep in mind that whereas Philo embraced the use of allegory in order to interpret the Law of Moses, he rejected the idea that the text should be emended, as well as other aspects of the editorial work of the Alexandrian scholars;51 nor did the rabbis really accept the idea of correcting the biblical text, according to Saul Lieberman.52 The impact of Hellenistic textual scholarship on the Jews who were responsible for the formation, transmission, and interpretation of the Bible was real, but also limited, and this limit certainly had to do with the differences between the status of the Greek classics and that of the Torah within Greek and Jewish societies respectively.53

50 Greenberg,

“Stabilization.” Philo’s rejection of text emendation, see Maren R. Niehoff, Jewish Exegesis and Homeric Scholarship in Alexandria (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 112–29. 52 “The Rabbis never suggest a correction of the text of the Bible… . It is therefore obvious that the textual corrections of Greek classics practiced by the Alexandrian grammarians have no parallel in the rabbinic exegesis of Scripture.” Saul Lieberman, “Rabbinic Interpretation of Scripture,” in Hellenism in Jewish Palestine: Studies in the Literary Transmission, Beliefs and Manners of Palestine in the I Century B. C. E.–IV Century C. E., TSJTSA 18 (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1950), 47. See also Cross, “Fixation,” 213. Finally, Lange writes, “Although the origins of textual standardization are due to Hellenistic influence the editorial schemes of the Alexandrian library seem to have been of no influence on the text critical methods employed at the Jerusalem temple. The majority decisions of the correctors as described in y. Ta‘an. 4.68a have nothing in common with the methodology of the Alexandrian scholars.” “They Confirmed the Reading,” 76. 53 Cf. David M. Carr, “The Rise of Torah,” in The Pentateuch as Torah: New Models for Understanding Its Promulgation and Acceptance, ed. Gary N. Knoppers and Bernard M. Levinson (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 39–56. Carr writes, “[The Torah] enjoyed a status not just as a foundational educational document but as a law that forms a community” (39). 51 On

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide How the Book of Judith Takes Up a Greek-Hellenistic Discourse Barbara Schmitz “My son, beware of making many books; there is no end” (Eccl 12:12 LXX). This warning at the end of Ecclesiastes is not only true today, but was true also in Hellenistic times. Jewish literature from Hellenistic times is rich and diverse. It includes wisdom literature as well as commentary, history, letters, poetry, philosophical compositions, and apocalyptical writing. It includes anonymous texts as well as the earliest Jewish texts whose authors are known by name. In this variegated landscape of Jewish literature, narrative is one special type of writing: the Greek book of Esther, the Greek book of Daniel, fragments from Jewish historians, 1–2 Maccabees, 3 Ezra, the book of Judith, Joseph and Aseneth, the book of Tobit, 3 Maccabees, and so on. All of these writings have one thing in common: they tell a story. The story may recount events of recent history, as in 1–2 Maccabees, or it may be a fictional narrative set at a specific moment in the distant past, such as Joseph and Aseneth, the book of Tobit, or the book of Judith. Telling new stories and inventing innovative fiction seems to have been a broad phenomenon and a popular style of writing in Jewish literature of the Hellenistic period. Since the publication of Lawrence M. Wills’s study The Jewish Novel in the Ancient World in 1995,1 it has become common to speak of “Jewish romances” or “Jewish novels.” The questions of whether the writings listed above should be construed as one group and whether they should be classified under the rubric of “romance” or “novel” are much debated, especially as “romance” and “novel” are modern categories developed in the context of modern literature. Furthermore, we do not have any Greek or Latin writings from the Hellenistic period that could be identified as “romances” or “novels.” The five narratives that are often referred to as Greek novels2 were written later: Chariton’s Chaereas and 1 Lawrence M. Wills, The Jewish Novel in the Ancient World (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995). 2 For the datings, see Renate Johne, “Übersicht über die antiken Romanautoren bzw. ‑werke mit Datierung und weitergeführter Bibliographie,” in Der antike Roman: Untersuchungen zur literarischen Kommunikation und Gattungsgeschichte, ed. Heinrich Kuch (Berlin: AkademieVerlag, 1989), 198–230. For the Greek novel, see Graham Anderson, Ancient Fiction: The Novel in the Graeco-Roman World (London: Croom Helm, 1984); Ewan L. Bowie, “The Greek

412

Barbara Schmitz

Callirhoe (ca. first century CE),3 Xenophon of Ephesus’s Ephesiaca (ca. second century CE), Achilles Tatius’s Leucippe and Cleitophon (ca. second century CE), Heliodorus’s Aethiopica (third–fourth century CE), and Longus’s Daphnis and Chloe (ca. third century CE). This is also true for the two works in Latin, the Metamorphoses of Apuleius (second century CE) and the Satyricon of Petronius (first century CE).4 From my point of view, it is very difficult to assign labels to these texts and perhaps even not very helpful. What we can safely say is that Hellenistic Jewish literature includes a diverse and rich group of fictional narratives, each of which is anchored in a particular historical moment and tells a new story appropriate to the context. At the same time, these writings incorporate many biblical citations and allusions, and they adapt biblical literature in a very creative way. Sara Raup Johnson therefore calls them “historical fictions.”5 This can be understood in two ways: On the one hand, by virtue of their narrative placement in specific historical moments, they are fictions embedded in history. On the other hand, the new fictional narratives cite, allude to, and remember moments, motifs, and themes of the past, so that they also contain history embedded in fiction. Judith, for example, in a completely fictive narrative, saves Israel and the whole world from the Assyrian superpower. In doing so, she reminds the reader of Miriam, Deborah, and Jael, and also of David confronting Goliath or Judas confronting Nicanor. To understand all the rich citations, allusions, themes, and plays on words and motifs, it is not enough to focus on biblical literature. On the contrary, during the last few decades, it has become clear that biblical literature and, even more so, Jewish literature from the Hellenistic period cannot be separated from its Greek surroundings. Jewish Hellenistic life as a matter of course was fully situated in the Greek-Hellenistic context, in terms of daily life, culture, literature, education, and so on. There is no doubt that the authors of Jewish literature drew from their Greek context quite naturally and integrated it in their work. Furthermore, Novel,” in Greek Literature, vol. 1 of The Cambridge History of Classical Literature, ed. Patricia Easterling and Bernard Knox (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 683–99; Tomas Hägg, The Novel in Antiquity (Oxford: Blackwell, 1983); Arthur Heiserman, The Novel before the Novel (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977); Heinrich Kuch, Der antike Roman: Untersuchungen zur literarischen Kommunikation und Gattungsgeschichte (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1989); Reinhold Merkelbach, Roman und Mysterium in der Antike (Munich: Beck, 1962); Erwin Rohde, Der griechische Roman und seine Vorläufer, 3rd ed. (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1914); Otto Weinreich, Der griechische Liebesroman (Zurich: Artemis, 1962). 3 The date of composition of Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe is debated (between the second half of the first century BCE and the second century CE). Christina Meckelnborg and Karl-Heinz Schäfer, Chariton, Kallirhoe, Edition Antike (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2006), vii. 4 Susan Stephens and John J. Winkler, Ancient Greek Novels: The Fragments (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), 4. 5 Sara Raup Johnson, Historical Fictions and Hellenistic Jewish Identity: Third Maccabees in Its Cultural Context, HCS 43 (Berkeley: University California Press, 2004), 2.

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide

413

we have to assume that their audience included readers who understood and could decode these allusions and who – perhaps – enjoyed them. Therefore, in the following pages I will attempt to answer the following questions: How do Jewish narratives, which quite often combine creative motifs from diverse unrelated sources, deal with Greek-Hellenistic material? Which literary works, historical memories, traditions, discourses, and motifs are taken up, and how? What function do they fulfill in their new context? Specifically, I will focus on the book of Judith and ask: How does the book of Judith interact with Greek-Hellenistic culture and literature?

A. The Book of Judith The book of Judith was composed in Greek, most likely around 100 BCE, and the biblical text that is referred to is the Septuagint (not the Hebrew Bible).6 The book tells how Judith saved Israel and the whole world from the Assyrian superpower and from its king, Nabouchodonosor, who wanted to conquer the whole world and subdue it. From the first sentence on, the book of Judith makes very clear that the reader deals with a fictional story: “It was the twelfth year of the reign of Nabouchodonosor, who ruled over the Assyrians from Nineveh, the great city” (1:1). The historical Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar II is represented here as an Assyrian living in Nineveh, the city that the king’s own father had destroyed. For readers in antiquity as well as for modern readers, it is obvious from this historically absurd beginning that the ensuing narrative is a completely fictional story. Compounding the absurdity, Nabouchodonosor has a general, Holofernes, who – like his servant Bagoas – has a Persian name. Furthermore, the geography of the book of Judith includes the river Hydaspes (1:6), which alludes to the military campaign of Alexander the Great, who reached that river. The rededication of the temple in Jerusalem (4:3) brings to mind the events under Antiochus IV Epiphanes and Demetrios I. Finally, the Assyrian(!) king Nabouchodonosor wants to be worshipped as a god (3:8; 6:2), which reflects not only Israelite monotheism but also the divinization of Hellenistic kings. This small overview shows that the book of Judith combines Israel’s entire past in one story. Against this backdrop, I want to inquire about the book of Judith’s engagement with Greek-Hellenistic culture and literature. That this is appropriate can be shown by two details in the narrative: “And all the women of Israel rushed together to see her. And they blessed her and some of them performed a choral dance for her. And she took wands (θύρσους, i. e., thyrsoi) in her hands and gave 6 Barbara Schmitz and Helmut Engel, Das Buch Judit, HThKAT (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2014), 40–44, 61–63.

414

Barbara Schmitz

them to the women with her. And they crowned themselves with olive wreaths (καὶ ἐστεφανώσαντο τὴν ἐλαίαν), she and those with her. And she went before all the people leading all the women in dancing” (15:12–13). A grand procession to the temple in Jerusalem follows, during which Judith sings a song in which she recalls and interprets the events that have just happened as a way of thanking God for them (15:8–20). Women who sing and dance after a military victory are well known from biblical literature: Miriam sang with a tambourine and danced (Exod 15:20–21), and Jephthah was welcomed by his singing and dancing daughter (Judg 11:34). After the victory of Saul and David against the Philistines, the women of Israel sang and danced before the victors (1 Sam 18:6–7; cf. 21:12; 29:5), and Deborah too sang her victory song (Judg 5). So Judith’s and her maids’ singing and dancing fit well in the biblical tradition. But in the same scene, Judith and her followers carry thyrsoi in their hands and wear wreaths of olive branches on their heads. Thyrsoi are sticks with ivy or vine leaves or with pine cones on the top.7 They were carried by Maenads, the companions of the god Dionysus. They follow Dionysus while singing, and instead of covering their hair they wear ivy wreaths on their heads,8 as Euripides depicts them in his Bacchae.9 Diodorus relates in his Histories that, after the return of Alexander the Great from India, they celebrated the feats of three years while women were carrying thyrsoi (cf. Ovid, Metamorphoses 9.641).10 Josephus speaks of thyrsoi in the Jewish context (Antiquities 13.372), and thyrsoi were carried during the rededication of the temple in Jerusalem (2 Macc 10:7).11 In the book of Judith, the women also wear wreaths of olives branches on their heads. Wearing wreaths is not a custom mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, but it is familiar from Greek and Roman culture. Each type of wreath has its own meaning according to the material from which it is made. Wreaths of olive branches were worn by leading commanders after a military victory; for example, Herodotus notes that Themistocles was awarded an olive wreath for his wisdom and cleverness after his victory against the Persians (Histories 8.124). The winners in the Olympic games received olive wreaths as their only award.12 So the victory celebration after Israel’s rescue shows how biblical traditions and Greek-Hellenistic habits are interwoven in the book of Judith. It also  7 Ferdinand-Gaudenz von Papen, Der Thyrsos in der griechischen und römischen Literatur und Kunst (Bonn: G. Reimer, 1905), 15–31; Friedrich von Lorentz, “Thyrsos,” PW 11 (1936): 747–52; Charalampos Tsochos, “Thyrsos,” DNP 12 (2002): 526.  8 Hans Yohanan Priebatsch, “Das Buch Judit und seine hellenistischen Quellen,” ZDPV 90 (1974): 50; Barbara Schmitz, Gedeutete Geschichte: Die Funktion der Reden und Gebete im Buch Judit, HBS 40 (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2004), 353–54.  9 Euripides, Bacchae 64–80, 176–77, 240, 254, 495, 704–11, etc. 10 Papen, Thyrsos, 33. 11 See Deborah Levine Gera, Judith, CEJL (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014), 444–45. 12 Schmitz, Gedeutete Geschichte, 355–56.

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide

415

indicates how natural it was for Jews to draw on the customs of the people around them. The book of Judith seems to be the work of someone well informed about Greek-Hellenistic culture and well educated in both Jewish and GreekHellenistic literature, history, and art. Judith’s celebration is narrated like those of Miriam and Deborah, but it also reflects the honoring of winners at Olympia and the behavior of the ecstatic followers of Dionysus. What Noah Hacham wrote regarding the Letter of Aristeas is also true of the book of Judith: it is “a combination of total loyalty to Judaism and deep and active involvement with the Hellenistic world and culture.”13 The book of Judith works with a double system of references, acknowledging biblical literature as well as Greek-Hellenistic culture. This can be shown in the portraits of Holofernes,14 Achior,15 and Judith.16 Furthermore, the book of Judith refers to words, issues, motifs, and themes from Homer (Iliad 14.166–86; 3.121– 244), Herodotus’s Histories,17 the Lindos Chronicle,18 Xenophon’s Cyropaedia, and other Greek writings.19 The plurality and diversity of adoptions, allusions, and citations shows, as Jeremy Corley points out, that the book of Judith was written by a “sophisticated author.”20 Against this background, I want to focus on the assassination scene in the book of Judith (ch. 13) and ask whether there is a Greek discourse behind this most intriguing passage of the narrative. If so, we could gain a much better understanding of this scene.

B. Judith Kills Holofernes The book of Judith makes it very clear that it was Judith who killed Holofernes: They all left and no one, small or great, remained in the bedroom. Judith stood near his bed and said in her heart, “Lord, God of all might, look this hour upon the work of my hands for the exaltation of Jerusalem. For now is the time to lay claim to your heritage 13 Noah

Hacham, “The Letter of Aristeas: A New Exodus Story?,” JSJ 36 (2005): 19. Corley, “Imitation of Septuagintal Narrative and Greek Historiography in the Portrait of Holofernes,” in A Pious Seductress: Studies in the Book of Judith, ed. Géza G. Xeravits, DCLS 14 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012), 22–54. 15 Barbara Schmitz, “Zwischen Achikar und Demaratos  – Die Bedeutung Achiors in der Juditerzählung,” BZ 48 (2004): 19–38; Friedrich V. Reiterer, “Meines Bruders Licht. Untersuchungen zur Rolle des Achior,” in Xeravits, Pious Seductress, 111–60. 16 Deborah Levine Gera, Warrior Women: The Anonymous “Tractatus De Mulieribus” (Leiden: Brill, 1997). 17 Mark Stephen Caponigro, “Judith, Holding the Tale of Herodotus,” in No One Spoke Ill of Her: Essays on Judith, ed. James C. VanderKam, SBL Early Judaism and Its Literature 2 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 31–46; Schmitz, “Zwischen Achikar und Demaratos,” 19–38. 18 Corley, “Septuagintal Narrative and Greek Historiography,” 37–39. 19 Gera, Judith, 57–78. 20 Corley, “Septuagintal Narrative and Greek Historiography,” 27. 14 Jeremy

416

Barbara Schmitz

and to carry out my plan to shatter the enemies who have risen against us.” Approaching the bedpost that was near Holophernes’s head, she withdrew his sword from it. She came near the bed, took hold of the hair of his head, and said, “Make me strong, God of Israel, on this very day.” She then struck his neck twice with all her strength and cut off his head (καὶ ἀφεῖλεν τὴν κεφαλὴν αὐτοῦ). She rolled his body off the bed and removed the canopy from the posts. (Jdt 13:4–9)

The killing scene reflects the double system of references that permeates the book of Judith. Judith’s deed recalls two biblical moments in particular: First, it was the young and untrained shepherd David who beheaded Goliath with Goliath’s own sword (1 Sam 17:50–54). This scene is explicitly taken up in the book of Judith: “she cut off his head” (καὶ ἀφεῖλεν τὴν κεφαλὴν αὐτοῦ, 13:8) is a quotation of 1 Sam 17:51 LXX. Second, it was Judas who cut off the head and arm of Nicanor and exhibited them in Jerusalem (1 Macc 7:47; 2 Macc 15:30–33). There are other beheadings in the Bible as well (1 Sam 31:8–9; 2 Sam 4:5–12; 20:22).21 But decapitation is not exclusive to the Bible. Beheading was practiced by the Assyrians, for instance.22 In inscriptions and pictures Assyrian kings praise themselves for having beheaded enemies;23 a stone relief of a banquet scene shows Ashurbanipal reclining near a tree from which the severed head of TeUmman, king of Susa, is suspended.24 Herodotus gives more examples (Histories 3.69, 4.64–65, 4.103, 7.238). Deborah Gera cites two women of antiquity who decapitated men: a Celtic woman Chiomara, who cut off the head of a Roman soldier who raped her (ca. 189 BCE; Polybius, Histories 21.38 = Plutarch, Mulierum virtutes 258d–f), and the beautiful wife of Spitamenes, one of Alexander the Great’s enemies, who decapitated her husband with his own sword when he was lying on his bed in a drunken stupor (Curtius Rufus, Histories of Alexander the Great 8.3.1–10).25 These biblical and extrabiblical parallels to the decapitation of Holofernes indicate how the book of Judith reflects both Jewish and Greek-Hellenistic culture. Besides these references, the book of Judith – and this is my thesis – also participates in a highly important and much-debated discourse in the Greek world, namely, the discourse on tyrannicide.26 This dimension of the book of Judith has not received the attention it deserves.

21 Gera,

Judith, 396–97; Schmitz and Engel, Judit, 358–59. the following see Gera, Judith, 397; see also 65–71. 23 Erika Bleibtreu, “Grisly Assyrian Record of Torture and Death,” BAR 17 (1991): 52–61, 75. 24 Stephanie Dalley, Esther’s Revenge at Susa: From Sennacherib to Ahasuerus (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 51–52. 25 Gera, Judith, 65–71. 26 For my initial reflections on tyrannicide and the book of Judith, see Barbara Schmitz, “War, Violence and Tyrannicide in the Book of Judith,” in Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature: Yearbook 2010, ed. Jan Liesen and Pancratius Beentjes (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010), 103–19. 22 For

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide

417

C. Harmodius and Aristogeiton In antiquity, Harmodius and Aristogeiton are celebrated as the first tyrant-slayers, who thereby liberated Athens from tyranny.27 In contrast to the early legends commemorating Harmodius and Aristogeiton, the historical reconstruction of their deeds is much more down-to-earth. The main sources for the reconstruction are Herodotus’s Histories (5.55–57; cf. 6.109, 123), Thucydides’s Peloponnesian War (1.20; 6.54–60), and PseudoAristotle’s Athenian Constitution (16–19).28 During the Panathenaic Games in 514 BCE, Harmodius and Aristogeiton planned to kill the tyrant Hippias and his brother Hipparchos. The latter were the sons of Peisistratos, who had seized power in 528 BCE in Athens. The motive for the assassination of Hippias was not political, but private: Hipparchos had fallen in love with Harmodius, but Harmodius did not reciprocate his feelings. Instead, he remained loyal to his lover Aristogeiton. In return, Hipparchos arranged for Harmodius’s sister to be dishonored in order to accuse her publicly.29 The insult to the girl seems to have been the trigger that caused Harmodius and Aristogeiton to act. With the aid of some conspirators, they planned to kill Hippias and Hipparchos during the procession before the Panathenaic Games. During the preparations for the procession, however, Harmodius and Aristogeiton mistakenly thought that their plan had been betrayed and therefore immediately killed Hipparchos, who was standing nearby, in order to remove at least one of the brothers. Hippias immediately had them captured; Harmodius was summarily executed, whereas Aristogeiton was slain after long interrogations and torture. From a critical historical perspective, the murder of Hipparchos was not really a tyrannicide, but rather the climax of a dramatic love story. But, in the very early reception of these events, people construed the murder as a tyrannicide and made Harmodius and Aristogeiton the first tyrant-slayers in history. The two were seen as heroes and ideals. Why were Harmodius and Aristogeiton almost immediately considered the “founders” of tyrannicide and the saviors of the democracy? There may have 27 Heinrich Schlange-Schöningen, “Harmodios und Aristogeiton, die Tyrannenmörder von 514 v. Chr.,” in Das Attentat in der Geschichte, ed. Alexander Demandt (Augsburg: Bechtermünz, 2000), 17–24. The word tyrant (τύραννος) originally had no negative connotation and was synonymous with basileus. Only after the development of Greek democracy did its meaning change; it became the term for a ruler who breaks the constitution, violates democratic law, and assumes power (cf. Xenophon, Memorabilia 4.6.12; Plato, Politicus 573f; Aristotle, Politica 1279b, 1295a). 28 For the Athenian Constitution, see Peter J. Rhodes, A Commentary on the Aristotelian “Athenaion Politeia” (Oxford: Clarendon, 1981); Mortimer Chambers, Aristoteles: Athenaion Politeia (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1990). 29 Brian M. Lavelle, “The Nature of Hipparchos’ Insult to Harmonios,” American Journal of Philology 107 (1986): 319.

418

Barbara Schmitz

been political reasons: in fact it was not the killing of Hipparchos, the tyrant’s brother, that reestablished democracy in Athens (510 BCE); rather, some years later Cleisthenes overthrew Hippias with the help of Sparta.30 Since Sparta was historically the primary enemy of Athens, it may have been preferable to honor the native sons Harmodius and Aristogeiton as the abolishers of tyranny in Athens.31 In the following decades, songs and poems were written about Harmodius and Aristogeiton. The lovers were portrayed as heroes and their deed was cemented in the collective memory of Athens. One of the oldest and most well-known32 drinking songs (skolion) celebrates them as the first tyrant-killers: I will carry my sword in a myrtle bough Just like Harmodius and Aristogeiton When they slew the tyrant And made Athens a place of equality under the law (ἰσονόμους τ’ Ἀθήνας ἐποιησάτην). Dearest Harmodius, you never died, Rather, they say, you dwell in the Blessed Isles There with swift-footed Achilles And, they say, noble Diomedes the son of Tydeus. I will carry my sword in a myrtle bough Just as did Harmodius and Aristogeiton When, during the Athenian sacrifices, They killed the tyrant, a man, Hipparchus. Fame shall be yours forever throughout the earth, Dearest Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Because you slew the tyrant And made Athens a place of equality under the law (ἰσονόμους τ’ Ἀθήνας ἐποιησάτην).33

The skolion speaks of Harmodius and Aristogeiton as not only the first tyrantslayers, but, even more importantly, as immortal heroes.34 Furthermore, the drinking song states, in the first and last stanzas, that they implemented isonomia, “equality under the law,” in Athens (ἰσονόμους τ’ Ἀθήνας ἐποιησάτην).

30 Josiah Ober, The Rise and Fall of Classical Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), 159–60. 31 Anthony J. Podlecki, “The Political Significance of the Athenian ‘Tyrannicide’-Cult,” Historia 15 (1966): 129–41. 32 The first line is quoted in Aristophanes, Lysistrata 632. 33 The translation follows Michael W. Taylor, The Tyrant Slayers: The Heroic Image in Fifth Century B. C. Athenian Art and Politics (New York: Arno, 1981), 22–23. 34 Hans Friedel, Der Tyrannenmord in der Gesetzgebung und Volksmeinung der Griechen, Würzburger Studien zur Altertumswissenschaft (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1937).

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide

419

Isonomia is the central concept in a Greek polis and means that every citizen is equal and has the same rights before the law.35 The descendants of Harmodius and Aristogeiton were awarded monetary compensation and other privileges by the state. Every year there were sacrifices for Harmodius and Aristogeiton, an honor that normally only fallen soldiers received. For example, Harmodius and Aristogeiton were honored on the same level as the warriors in the battle of Marathon (cf. Pseudo-Aristotle, Athenian Constitution 58.1). Furthermore, it was forbidden to name a slave after Harmodius or Aristogeiton, or to make jokes about them. Soon, statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton were erected, an act of recognition that was repeated in all subsequent tyrant-slayer laws. Antenor was instructed to make statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton soon after 510 BCE, and they were the first statues of men to be placed among the statues of gods on the agora.36 This statue group was removed by the Persian king Xerxes (486–465 BCE). In 477/476 BCE, however, Kritios and Nesiotes made new statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton that were placed on the agora. Much later, in the time of Alexander the Great or Seleukos I, Antenor’s original statues were returned to the agora.37 Several copies were made and erected in Rome; some of them survived. Besides the statues, there are also vase paintings of the heroes that often illustrate the killing.38 The importance of Harmodius and Aristogeiton should not be underestimated. They were well known in antiquity, mentioned even in Greek comedies.39 They gained immortal fame and appear in modern works of literature as well, for example, in Hölderin’s Hyperion.40

35 Victor Ehrenberg, “Das Harmodioslied,” Wiener Studien 69 (1956): 67–69; Taylor, Tyrant Slayers, 24–27. 36 Sture Brunnsåker, The Tyrant-Slayers of Kritios and Nesiotes: A Critical Study of the Sources and Restoration, 2nd ed. (Stockholm: Svenska Institutet i Athen, 1971), 39–44; Taylor, Tyrant Slayers, 13–21. 37 For early literary references, see David A. Teegarden, Death to Tyrants! Ancient Greek Democracy and the Struggle against Tyranny (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), 34; see also Ernst Buschor, “Die Tyrannen-Mörder,” Sitzungsberichte der Bayrischen Akademie der Wissenschaften: Philosophisch-historische Abteilung 5 (1940): 3–31; Karl Schefold, “Die Tyrannenmörder,” Museum Helveticum 1 (1944): 189–202; Charles W. Fornara, “The Cult of Harmodius and Aristogeiton,” Philologus 114 (1970): 155–80. 38 Martin von Wagner Museum, Würzburg, Inv. 515 (470/460 BCE); see Brunnsåker, Tyrant-Slayers, 108–9. 39 See Aristophanes, Lysistrata 632; Acharnenses 979, 1053; Equites 763 ff., etc. 40 Hyperion, vol. 1, book 2. See Friedrich Hölderlin, Hyperion, Empedokles, Aufsätze, Übersetzungen, vol. 1 of Sämtliche Werke und Briefe, ed. Jochen Schmidt (Frankfurt am Main: Deutscher Klassiker Verlag, 1994), 72–73. For the reception history of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, e. g., in Germany under Hitler and in the Soviet Union, see Burkhard Fehr, Der Tyrannentöter, oder: Kann man der Demokratie ein Denkmal setzen? (Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1984), 55–68.

420

Barbara Schmitz

D. The Oath of Demophantos In the centuries after Harmodius and Aristogeiton, a series of laws established the rules for tyrant slaying and guaranteed impunity for tyrant-killers.41 One of the oldest known examples of such laws is the decree of Demophantos (410 BCE), which contains an oath that binds Athenian citizens to execute anyone who attempts to install a tyrant in the city.42 The end of the fifth century BCE was marked by political instability and struggles between democracy and oligarchy or tyranny in Athens. Within a decade, two separate revolts each resulted in a period of tyranny. The first stasis in 411 BCE was followed by the rule of the Four Hundred (and Five Thousand); the second, in 404/403 BCE, paved the way for the rule of the Thirty Tyrants. The first stasis especially was a shock for Athens, which had previously been a stable democracy. Therefore, the events had to be worked through and the democracy had to be reconstituted and reestablished. In this process the oath promulgated by Demophantos in 410 BCE – a direct consequence of the tyranny of the Four Hundred43 – played an important role.44 In addition, the oath seems to have contributed to the overthrow, under the leadership of Thrasybulus, of the Thirty Tyrants in 403 BCE.45 Therefore, the decree of Demophantos played an important role in reestablishing and stabilizing democracy in Athens.46 The decree itself was inscribed on a stone stele, no longer extant. But the text has survived in a speech of Andokides, On the Mysteries (399 BCE),47 in which the decree is cited verbatim.48 Resolution of the council and the dēmos. The Aiantis tribe were presidents, Kleigenes was secretary, Boethos was chairman. Demophantos drew up the following proposal. This decree dates from the council of five hundred appointed by lot, for whom Kleigenes was the first secretary. 41 For

older texts see Athenaion Politeia 16, 21; Teegarden, Death to Tyrants, 42. Death to Tyrants, 30; for older attestations, see ibid., 42. Cf. Athenaion Politeia 16.10. 43 Teegarden, Death to Tyrants, 47, 53. 44 So Julia L. Shear, “The Oath of Demophantos and the Politics of Athenian Identity,” in Horkos: The Oath in Greek Society, ed. Alan H. Sommerstein and Judith Fletcher (Exeter: Bristol Phoenix Press, 2007), 148–49. See also for the broader context Julia L. Shear, Polis and Revolution: Responding to Oligarchy in Classical Athens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 45 See David A. Teegarden, “The Oath of Demophantos, Revolutionary Mobilization, and the Preservation of the Athenian Democracy,” Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 81 (2012): 433–65. 46 See Josiah Ober, “Tyrant-Killing as Therapeutic Conflict: A Political Debate in Images and Texts,” in Athenian Legacies: Essays in the Politics of Going on Together, ed. Josiah Ober (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005), 212–47. 47 Douglas M. MacDowell, ed., Andokides: On the Mysteries (Oxford: Clarendon, 1962). 48 Teegarden, Death to Tyrants, 30–53. 42 Teegarden,

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide

421

If anyone overthrows the democracy at Athens, or holds any office when the democracy has been overthrown, he shall be an enemy (πολέμιος) of the Athenians and shall be killed with impunity, and his property shall be confiscated and a tenth part of it devoted to the goddess; and he who kills (ἀποκτείνας) or helps to plan the killing of such a man shall be pure and free from guilt (ὅσιος ἔστω καὶ εὐαγὴς). All Athenians shall swear over perfect victims by tribes and by demes to kill such a man. The oath shall be as follows: I shall kill (κτενῶ), by word (καὶ λόγῳ) and deed, by vote and by my own hand (καὶ ἐμαυτοῦ χειρί), if I can (ἂν δυνατὸς), anyone who overthrows the democracy at Athens, and anyone who, when the democracy has been overthrown, holds any office thereafter, and anyone who aims to rule tyrannically or helps to set up the tyrant. And if anyone else kills him, I shall consider that man to be pure (ὅσιον) in the sight of both gods and spirits (πρὸς θεῶν καὶ δαιμόνων), because he has killed an enemy (πολέμιον κτείναντα) of the Athenians, and I will sell all the property of the dead man and give half to the killer and not keep any back. And if anyone dies while killing or attempting to kill any such man, I shall care both for him and for his children, just as for Harmodius and Aristogeiton and their descendants. And all oaths that have been sworn against the people of Athens, at Athens or on campaigns or anywhere else, I declare null and void. All Athenians shall swear this oath over perfect victims, in the customary manner, before the Dionysia, and they shall pray that he who keeps his oath may have many blessings, but that for him who breaks it destruction may befall himself and his family.49

The decree of Demophantos contains a brief introduction and the decree proper, which incorporates the full text of the oath.50 The text is interesting not only because it refers to Harmodius and Aristogeiton explicitly, but because it provides detailed instructions in case a new tyranny should arise. The decree is directed against any person who “overthrows the democracy at Athens, or holds any office when the democracy has been overthrown” and anyone “who aims to rule tyrannically or helps to set up the tyrant.” He is “an enemy of the Athenians,” and therefore “shall be killed with impunity.” Anyone who kills or helps to kill him is “pure and free from guilt” in every respect, “in the sight of both gods and spirits.” The property of the victim shall be confiscated; half of it should be given to the tyrant-slayer (“give half to the killer”) and one-tenth is devoted to the goddess. The decree stipulates that if the tyrant-slayer has died, his offspring shall be supported by the state, and refers explicitly to the treatment of the descendants of Harmodius and Aristogeiton as a precedent. The oath itself begins with the words, “I shall kill, by word and deed, by vote and by my own hand.” The oath of Demophantos seems to have been sworn publicly51 after the expulsion of the Four Hundred in Athens. Then the text of the decree was inscribed 49 The translation follows Teegarden, Death to Tyrants, 31; cf. MacDowell, Andokides: On the Mysteries, 134–35. 50 Friedel thinks that the oath is an old text that is to be dated soon after Harmodius and Aristogeiton, around 507 BCE. Tyrannenmord, 40. 51 See Teegarden, Death to Tyrants, 15–43; Shear, “Oath of Demophantos,” 153–58.

422

Barbara Schmitz

on a stone stele that was erected on the agora. At that time, very few laws were displayed on the agora, which gives special importance to those that were published in this manner. Moreover, the stele seems to have been located within sight of the statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton on the agora.52 This staging uses the visual representation of the original tyrant-killers as an ideal and model for further generations. A series of decrees and laws regulating tyrannicide followed over the next two centuries, including the Eretrian Tyrant-Killing Laws (ca. 341 BCE), the law of Eucrates (336 BCE), six texts of Eresos (between 332 and 300 BCE), the Philites stele from Erythrai, and the Illian tyrant-killing law. The Eretrian Tyrant-Killing Laws affirm: “And if someone kills him or his family member, his hands shall be pure (καθαρὸς ἔστω χεῖρας) and he shall receive the rewards for these things just as is written in the stele if someone kills a tyrant.”53 In all of these texts, killing a tyrant is met with impunity and the tyrant-slayer is rewarded, mostly from the confiscated property of the tyrant.54

E. Tyrant Killing and the Book of Judith My hypothesis is that the killing scene in the book of Judith echoes not only the biblical episodes discussed above, but also the Greek discourse on tyrant killing. There are many parallels to Judith’s deed in the legend of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, as well as in the decree of Demophantos and subsequent laws. Like Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Judith and her “servant”55 (ἅβρα) are also a pair working (nearly) equally together in order to realize their plan. Just as Hipparchos desired Harmodius, Holofernes has sexual designs on Judith. Judith kills Holofernes with his own sword, striking him twice (Jdt 13:8); Hipparchos was stabbed (Thucydides, Peloponnesian War 6.57). Harmodius and Aristogeiton were honored by statues; Judith is publicly rewarded by the elders and people of Bethulia, and by the high priest and the gerousia, who came to Bethulia to honor Judith (Jdt 15:8–10). The narrative ends by describing Judith’s fame (16:21–25). Just as Harmodius and Aristogeiton were part of the collective Greek memory, Judith is assured that she will be remembered forever (15:10; cf. 8:32). Just as Harmodius and Aristogeiton are among the immortal heroes, Judith is not attainable by men; she decides to live on her own (16:22). Further parallels can be drawn when the oath of Demophantos is taken into account. The aim of the oath is to defend democracy in Athens. This is certainly 52 See

Shear, “Oath of Demophantos,” 152–53, 159. Death to Tyrants, 62, 64. 54 This was soon criticized; see, e. g., Aristophanes, Birds 1072 ff. 55 Judith’s ἅβρα is much more than a “servant”; because she is responsible for Judith’s whole property, it would be better to translate her title as “commercial manager.” 53 Teegarden,

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide

423

not the aim of the book of Judith, but Judith, alone at first but later joined by her people, fights to save Israel and Jerusalem, especially the temple of the one and only God in Jerusalem. For Judith and indeed for all of Israel, this is as important and fundamental as democracy was for (democratic) Athens. The oath of Demophantos makes clear what every good Athenian must do: he has to defend democracy and is thus obligated to kill any tyrant or anyone who aims to rule tyrannically, because that person is the enemy (πολέμιος) of the Athenians. In the book of Judith, Nabouchodonosor is the principal enemy (πολέμιος, 15:4) of Israel. Besides the tyrant, however, the oath of Demophantos also speaks explicitly of eliminating those who “help to set up the tyrant.” In the book of Judith, this is Holofernes. Seen through the eyes of the oath of Demophantos, Holofernes surely belongs to the group that must be killed. The decree of Demophantos also stresses that killing a tyrant will be met with impunity. Those who realize or help to realize the killing (and the text stresses this twice) are “pure and free from guilt” (ὅσιος καὶ εὐαγής) and pure (ὅσιος) in the sight of both gods and spirits (πρὸς θεῶν καὶ δαιμόνων). The word ὅσιος refers to everything that is allowed or good according to divine law; εὐαγής refers to cultic purity. So the tyrant-slayer, according to the decree, is not only held to be innocent, but also remains pure and free from guilt in a cultic sense.56 In the book of Judith, there is absolutely no discussion about whether Judith and her servant are guilty or not. It is very clear that there is no guilt. On the contrary, Judith is honored publicly for what she did by Ouzias, the elder of Bethulia: “May God make these deeds redound to your eternal glory, rewarding you with good, since you did not spare your life when our nation was cast down, but proceeded against our downfall, walking on the straight path (ἐπ᾿ εὐθεῖαν) in front of God” (13:20). In his speech, Ouzias points out that Judith did “what is straight and right” (εὐθύς). This is repeated when the high priest Joakim and the gerousia come to Bethulia in order to honor and congratulate Judith and identify what Judith did as “the good” (τὰ ἀγαθά, 15:8, 10): “You are the exaltation of Jerusalem, you are the great pride of Israel, you are the great boast of our people. You have done all this with your own hand, you have done good to Israel, and God is well pleased with this” (15:9–10). Thereby, Judith is not only sanctified for killing – in the words of the oath of Demophantos – “with impunity,” but is also “pure and free from guilt” (ὅσιος καὶ εὐαγής) toward men and gods.57 Or, as the Eretrian Tyrant-Killing Laws (ca. 341 BCE) stress, the hands of the offender are pure (καθαρὸς ἔστω χεῖρας).

56 Friedel,

Tyrannenmord, 41, 45. Judith returned home, she stressed that there was “no defilement and shame” (13:16). The book of Judith also emphasizes that Judith and her servant observed the laws of purity in the Assyrian camp (10:5; 12:9). 57 After

424

Barbara Schmitz

Hands are an important motif in the oath of Demophantos as well as in the book of Judith. The oath begins as follows: “I shall kill (κτενῶ), by word (καὶ λόγῳ) and deed, by vote and by my own hand (καὶ ἐμαυτοῦ χειρί), if I can (ἂν δυνατὸς), anyone who …” First, the regulation “if I can” (ἂν δυνατὸς) is interesting with respect to the book of Judith, as Judith is the only one who “can” kill Holofernes, because she is the only one who has met him personally. And as she is the only one who “can,” she has to! Second, at the beginning of the oath, four elements are enumerated: “word,” “deed,” “vote,” and “my own hand.” In the book of Judith, the first and the last of these are quite important. Judith uses words to reprimand her fellow Israelites and to ask God for help. She gives a long and theologically deep speech to the elders of Bethulia, whose decisions she criticizes for theological reasons (ch. 8), and then she offers a long prayer to God in which she requests God’s help for the plan she has already formulated, but which has not yet been revealed to the reader (ch. 9). She prays for the strength of her forefather Simeon, who took revenge on behalf of his sister Dinah (Gen 34). Judith reminds God that he placed a sword in the hands of Simeon to kill the violator and the strangers (ᾧ ἔδωκας ἐν χειρὶ ῥομφαίαν εἰς ἐκδίκησιν ἀλλογενῶν, 9:2). Now she asks God to place a sword in her hand (9:9). In the book of Judith, the motif of the hand serves to express the book’s interpretation of Judith’s deed.58 The book makes it very clear that it was Judith who killed Holofernes with her own hand (13:4, 8; cf. 15:10). Yet, four times before and four times after her deed, the book affirms that God himself saved Israel through Judith’s hand (8:33; 9:9, 10; 12:4; and 13:14, 15; 16:2, 5). Judith is the agent who commits the deed, but the book of Judith’s reflections on theology and history in biblical tradition before and after the deed make it obvious that Judith had to do it, as she was the only one who could. In the end, Judith’s actions have a function equivalent to that which the laws on tyrannicide fulfill in the Greek world. Finally, two more details in the book of Judith are paralleled by elements in the Greek laws on tyrant killing. First, as noted above, after returning to Bethulia, Judith and the women celebrate their victory by dancing with olive wreaths on their heads (15:13). In the Greek tradition of honoring military leaders for achieving victory with an olive wreath, it became customary to bestow the same prize on tyrant-slayers. For example, after the expulsion of the Thirty in Athens some years after the decree of Demophantos, those who drove away the tyrants were given wreaths of olive (“then that they be crowned each with a crown of olive, not of gold,” Aeschines, Against Ctesiphon 187).59 Given this precedent, it makes quite good sense that Judith and the women wear olive wreaths.

58 For

a synopsis of the hand motif, see Schmitz and Engel, Judit, 296–97. Tyrannenmord, 60.

59 Friedel,

The Book of Judith and Tyrannicide

425

Second, the decree of Demophantos, as well as other tyrant-killing legislation, rules that the property of the tyrant and his helpers is to be confiscated and that a certain percentage is to be awarded to the tyrant-killer. In the book of Judith, the Assyrian camp is plundered and Holofernes’ belongings are confiscated and given to Judith (15:11). Judith does not keep them, however, but consecrates them to the temple in Jerusalem (16:19).

F. Some Aspects of Reception History The similarities between the book of Judith and the legend of Harmodius and Aristogeiton were observed in ancient history. When Clement of Alexandria (d. 220 CE) listed men and women who were examples of perfection, he named Judith, but also Leaena (Stromata 4.118). Leaena was one of the conspirators who aided Harmodius and Aristogeiton and did not betray anyone, even under torture (Stromata 4.120).60 It is revealing that the memory of Harmodius and Aristogeiton remained that vivid seven hundred years after the fact, but it is also revealing that Clement puts Judith and Leaena, each of whom represents a tyrant-killer tradition, close together in the same category. The use of the book of Judith to justify tyrant killing was not limited to antiquity. Two examples will suffice here. Du Bartas retold the Judith story in his La Judit61 (1564) and drew a parallel between the liberation of the besieged Bethulia (including the killing of Holofernes) and the liberation of the besieged Orléans (1563) (including the killing of François de Lorraine).62 The second example is Donatello’s statue Judith and Holofernes. Sarah Blake McHam has shown that this statue was inspired by a lively discourse on tyrant killing during the Italian Renaissance.63 The legend of Harmodius and Aristogeiton and John of Salisbury’s Policraticus (ca. 1159) greatly influenced this discourse.64 John of Salisbury presented Judith as an example of a legitimate tyrant-killer.65

60 See

Pausanias, Description of Greece 1.23.1–2; Pliny, Natural History 7.87. Baiche, Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas: La Judit (Toulouse: Assoc. des Publ. de la Fac. des Lettres et Sciences Humaines, 1971). 62 Robert Cummings, “The Aestheticization of Tyrannicide: Du Bartas’s La Judit,” in The Sword of Judith: Judith Studies across the Disciplines, ed. Kevin R. Brine, Elena Ciletti, and Henrike Lähnemann (Cambridge: OpenBook, 2010), 228–29. 63 Sarah Blake McHam, “Donatello’s Judith as the Emblem of God’s Chosen People,” in Brine, Ciletti, and Lähnemann, Sword of Judith, 307–24. 64 Johannes von Salisbury, The Statesman’s Book (New York: Russell & Russel, 1963). 65 Another instance of Judith as an example for tyrannicide is Rolf Hochhuth’s play Judith. See Rolf Hochhut, Judith: Trauerspiel. Mit einem Essay von Margarete Mitscherlich-Nielsen und einem Gespräch mit Jost Nolte (Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1988). 61 André

426

Barbara Schmitz

G. Conclusion The book of Judith recounts Judith’s deed as a purposeful and premeditated killing intended to save Israel and the world from Nabouchodonosor’s goal to rule the whole world and to be worshipped as God (3:8; 6:2). From the perspective of Israel, this is a tyrannical ambition on the part of the king, and Holofernes, as the agent of the king, is equally culpable. Taking into account that the author of the book of Judith was familiar with Greek-Hellenistic discourses and made numerous references to Greek-Hellenistic literature, history, and culture, it is quite plausible that the discourse on tyrannicide was also known to the author. After all, the legend of Harmodius and Aristogeiton was popularized in many media, from statues and comedies to drinking songs, and tyrant-killing laws were publicly posted. In the book of Judith, there are explicit references to the discourse on tyrannicide, such as the motif of the hand, the olive wreaths, and so on. Judith’s killing of Holofernes is neither a personal act of revenge nor a chance occurrence, but rather a political act set against the background of tyrant killing. In this case, killing the tyrant is not an option, but a duty. The book of Judith is a narrative that reveals its fictional nature from the beginning. Therefore, it opens up a literary world in which theological and ethical positions can be presented. To this end the book draws on not only biblical literature, but also – quite obviously – the Greek-Hellenistic world.

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israelin Light of the Judean Desert Texts Emanuel Tov A. Textual Plurality Our interest is centered on the textual plurality of the biblical text during the last three pre-Christian centuries and the first century of the Common Era. In those four centuries, the Bible text was known in different forms in the land of Israel. It is possible that this plurality also existed in the century or centuries preceding 250 BCE, before the time of the earliest Dead Sea Scrolls, but we have no evidence for that period. This textual plurality ended in the second century CE. By that time, the Judean Desert communities had been extinguished, including that at Qumran. The Samaritan Pentateuch (SP) must have existed but the Samaritans had separated from Judaism, and the Hebrew source of the LXX, reflecting a Hebrew text that differed from the Masoretic Text (MT), was no longer used within Judaism. As a result, MT became the only text used in Judaism. The earliest evidence of textual plurality is indirect, reflected by the LXX of the Torah. Its Hebrew source differed from MT, and it should probably be characterized as a harmonizing and popular text that removed several contextual difficulties. If the LXX of the Torah was indeed translated around 285 BCE, as is commonly believed, the Palestinian Hebrew manuscripts from which it was translated must have existed already for some time. It would be fair to say that this manuscript tradition existed from at least 350 or 400 BCE. This tradition was also close to the SP, more specifically to the nonsectarian base of that version, similar to the pre-Samaritan texts found at Qumran.1 It is more difficult to determine how far back we can push the tradition of MT as there is no evidence for the text of MT before the time of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Chronicler does

1 For further details about the common origin of the LXX and the SP, see my study “The Samaritan Pentateuch and the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Proximity of the Pre-Samaritan Qumran Scrolls to the SP,” in Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, Septuagint, vol. 3 of Collected Essays, VTSup 167 (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 387–410.

428

Emanuel Tov

not necessarily quote the MT;2 on the contrary, in Samuel, he is often closer to the Palestinian text of 4QSama than to Samuel MT.3 Direct manuscript evidence for textual plurality derives from 250 BCE onwards and is found in such Qumran scrolls as 4QExod-Levf (250 BCE), 4QSamb and 4QpaleoDeuts (both 250–200 BCE), and 4QExodd (225–175 BCE). The period for which textual plurality is recorded thus lasted at least four hundred years, from 300 BCE until 100 CE, and even longer if we include the Hebrew source texts of the Greek Torah. In some cases, a limited textual plurality must have existed at a still earlier period, as attested by the differences between the MT and LXX of Jeremiah, since the Hebrew base of the LXX was preexilic while MT was postexilic.4 Within this framework, it is also relevant to discuss the number of Scripture copies in early centuries and their diffusion.5 We do not know how many different Scripture copies circulated in those centuries. According to some scholars, merely a very few copies of the Bible books were in existence until a rather late period, and they were deposited in a central place, possibly the Jerusalem temple. I accepted the view that single copies of the Scripture books were stored in the temple at the time of the First Temple and that some of them were actually rewritten there.6 At some point, books started to circulate beyond the temple. It is hard to know when a wider diffusion of the Bible books took place, possibly 2 Preliminary

investigations do not show a clear opposition between the MT on the one hand and the LXX and SP on the other in the Torah text quoted in Chronicles. However, Gillis Gerleman provided a few examples of agreements between SP-Torah and MT-Chronicles, but there are many more disagreements. Synoptic Studies in the Old Testament (Lund: Gleerup, 1948), 9–12. Frank M. Cross accepted the views of Gerleman. “The Evolution of a Theory of Local Texts,” in Qumran and the History of the Biblical Text, ed. Frank M. Cross and Shemaryahu Talmon (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1975), 310. 3 See Eugene Ulrich, “A Qualitative Assessment of the Textual Profile of 4QSama,” in Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino García Martínez, ed. Anton Hilhorst, Émile Puech, and Eibert Tigchelaar, JSJSup 12 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 147–61, with earlier literature. 4 Worthy of special consideration are Jer 27:19–22, in which the postexilic additions in MT are inappropriate in the context (they are anticlimactic and serve as a vaticinium ex eventu and betray the postexilic date of that layer). Additional examples of postexilic additions are found in MT in 25:14, 27:7, and 29:6 as compared with the LXX. See my Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 3rd ed., rev. and exp. (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 286–88, henceforth TCHB. 5 See my study “Some Thoughts about the Diffusion of Biblical Manuscripts in Antiquity,” in Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, Septuagint, 60–81. 6 Tov, “Diffusion.” My description owes much to Norbert Lohfink and Menahem Haran. See Lohfink, “Gab es eine deuteronomistische Bewegung?,” in Jeremia und die “deuteronomistische Bewegung,” ed. Walter Gross, BBB 98 (Weinheim: Beltz Athenaum, 1995), 313–82; Haran, “Book-Scrolls at the Beginning of the Second Temple Period: The Transition from Papyrus to Skins,” HUCA 54 (1983): 111–22. The argumentation is based on the assumed low literacy rate in early periods, the story of the discovery of a scroll in the temple during the reign of Josiah (2 Kgs 22:8; 23:2, 24; 2 Chr 34:15, 30), and the theoretical argument of a “production line” reflecting linear development based on a single copy.

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel

429

in the sixth or fifth century BCE. As a result, we do not know when the period of textual plurality began.

B. Textual Plurality and Communities in Israel The period of textual plurality was determinative for the subsequent development of the biblical text. Many Scripture books went through different stages of development, while others remained stable. In the case of maximum diversity, we notice differences between the LXX, proto-MT, several Qumran texts, and the pre-Samaritan texts, and different texts are also reflected in quotations in Second Temple compositions. In the case of minimum diversity, in a stable textual tradition, the mentioned textual witnesses differ little from one another. The focus of the present study is not textual plurality itself, but the reality behind it. We would like to find out whether each individual scroll formed an independent unit or whether there are at least some recognizable clusters of similar texts that possibly can be traced to specific communities. Indeed, some such clusters are visible in later centuries, starting in the second half of the second century BCE, namely some groups of Judean Desert texts. Among other things, we would like to find out whether these communities merely embraced these texts, or also shaped them. In this study we are thus interested in the practical aspects of textual plurality. The texts were copied at different locations; in the case of the Judean Desert communities, not only in situ but also elsewhere. We will try to establish a link, subjective as it may be, between some biblical scrolls and the communities in which they were found or used. When doing so, it is important to make a distinction between early and later periods. In early periods, probably until the beginning of the second century BCE, there were no distinct socioreligious groups, and therefore we should not expect group-linked texts; all the copies from those periods merely reflected the views of their authors and scribes. The first reference to different groups is that of Josephus, who commented on the existence of three different sects: the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes.7 That statement refers to the situation in the mid-second century BCE and probably that of a previous generation. There is no firm evidence that there were organized groups in Judaism prior to that time, and by implication there would not have been sectarian readings during that early period. The literature on the possible forerunners of the Pharisees is vast, and from it I quote the view of the revised edition of Emil Schürer’s History of the Jewish People, which states that “no peculiarity emerges from this characterization of Pharisaism which might distinguish it from Judaism 7 Josephus, Antiquities 13.171–73 (13.5.9). Thanks are due to my colleague Daniel Schwartz for advice.

430

Emanuel Tov

in general during the period of the Second Temple.”8 At a later stage, with the development of religious groups, a scribe could reflect the views of a religious group to which he may have belonged, such as the Pharisees (that is, the protorabbinic movement), Sadducees, Essenes, or Samaritans. However, as we will see below, the evidence for sectarian readings is very minimal in all periods.9 By implication, any reading that is described as Samaritan, Pharisaic, rabbinic, or Essene is by definition relatively late in the history of the text. The reading itself may be early, but when a sectarian scribe embraced that reading as suiting his views, that process must have occurred when religious groups existed in Israel. We now turn to the question of the very existence of sectarian readings. It is commonly assumed that almost all scribes tampered with the text, since even the careful sopherim supposedly inserted between eleven and eighteen changes in the text, that is, the so-called tiqqune sopherim.10 If this tradition contains any truth, it is possible that early scribes also inserted sectarian changes. However, the reality was different, as far as we can see. In spite of the likelihood that sectarian scribes could have tampered with the text, there is very little evidence in favor of such an assumption, as the following paragraphs demonstrate. It is remarkable that the Qumran manuscripts contain no sectarian readings.11 True, only some of the Qumran scrolls were copied by sectarian scribes, but no sectarian tampering with the text is recognizable in any Scripture text.12  8  Emil Schürer, “Pharisees and Sadducees,” The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 B. C.–A. D. 135), vol. 2, ed. Geza Vermes, Fergus Millar, and Matthew Black (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1979), 395. Likewise, Isaac Gafni: “The history of the Pharisees as a group remains clouded. As in so many other areas, the Persian period offers precious little information on what was involved in either developing or teaching extra-biblical traditions.” “The Historical Background,” in The Literature of the Sages, First Part: Oral Tora, Halakha, Mishna, Tosefta, Talmud, External Tractates, ed. Shmuel Safrai (Assen–Maastricht: Van Gorcum; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 8. For an extensive discussion of the literature on this issue, see Jacob Neusner, The Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees before 70, vol. 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1971), 320–68. Thanks are due to my colleague Israel Knohl, whom I consulted with regard to these issues.  9 In insightful studies, Alexander Rofé offers some examples. See “The Onset of Sects in Postexilic Judaism: Neglected Evidence from the Septuagint, Trito-Isaiah, Ben Sira, and Malachi,” in The Social World of Formative Christianity and Judaism: Essays in Tribute to Howard Clark Kee, ed. Jacob Neusner et al. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), 39–49; “Sectarian Corrections by Sadducees and Zealots in the Texts of the Hebrew Bible,” RivB 64 (2016): 337–47. In the latter study, Rofé mentions ten examples, and he doubts (347) whether more ever existed. 10 For a brief description, see Tov, TCHB, 59–61. 11 Thus George J. Brooke, “E Pluribus Unum: Textual Variety and Definitive Interpretation in the Qumran Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context, ed. Timothy H. Lim et al. (London: T&T Clark, 2000), 107–19; idem, “Deuteronomy 5–6 in the Phylacteries from Qumran Cave 4,” in Emanuel: Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov, ed. Shalom M. Paul et al., VTSup 9 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 57–70; Eugene Ulrich, “The Absence of ‘Sectarian Variants’ in the Jewish Scriptural Scrolls Found at Qumran,” in The Bible as Book: The Hebrew Bible and the Judaean Desert Discoveries, ed.

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel

431

The evidence for Pharisaic, Sadducean, and anti-Sadducean readings in MT and other sources is likewise questionable, in spite of the examples brought forward by several scholars, especially Abraham Geiger.13 Little is known about the Sadduceans and their views,14 and therefore it would be hard to make a convincing case for any Sadducean or anti-Sadducean reading. It is even more difficult to categorize an MT reading as Pharisaic since it is hard to define the features of such a reading. At some stage, the Pharisees embraced MT, but that development does not make the content of MT or any of its readings Pharisaic. In addition, at a later stage, the rabbis used MT, but that development did not render MT or its readings rabbinic. The only evidence of the existence of sectarian readings derives from the SP, but that, too, is very slim, and recent research tends to minimize the assumption of such readings, claiming that they were initially ancient nonsectarian variants that were embraced subsequently by the Samaritans.15 For example, “Mount Gerizim” appears in Deut 27:4 SP instead of “Mount Ebal,” as in most Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov (London: British Library and Oak Knoll Press, in association with The Scriptorium: Center for Christian Antiquities, 2002), 179–95. On the other hand, the following scholars believe that the scrolls do include sectarian readings: Arie van der Kooij, Die alten Textzeugen des Jesajabuches: Ein Beitrag zur Textgeschichte des Alten Testaments, OBO 35 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1981), 95–96; Paulson Pulikottil, Transmission of Biblical Texts in Qumran: The Case of the Large Isaiah Scroll 1QIsaa, JSOTSup 34 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001). To be sure, two or possibly three sectarian readings may be spotted in the Scripture text included in 1QpHab, but this evidence is negligible: 1QpHab VIII 3 ‫( הון‬MT-Hab 2:5 ‫ ;)היין‬1QpHab XI 3 ‫( מעוריהם‬MTHab 2:15 ‫)מועדיהם‬. See W. H. Brownlee, The Text of Habakkuk in the Ancient Commentary from Qumran, JBLMS 11 (Philadelphia: Society of Biblical Literature, 1959), 113–18. 12 For a different view, see the opinions of van der Kooij and Pulikottil quoted in the previous note. 13 For the evidence presented by Rofé, see n. 9 above. The following variant exemplifies an anti-Sadducean reading in MT according to Geiger: Prov 14:32 MT ‫ =( ברעתו ידחה רשע וחסה במותו צדיק‬V) The wicked man is felled by his own evil, while the righteous man finds security in his death. LXX ἐν κακίᾳ αὐτοῦ ἀπωσθήσεται ἀσεβής, ὁ δὲ πεποιθὼς τῇ ἑαυτοῦ ὁσιότητι δίκαιος (~ S) The impious will be driven away by his evil, but he who is secure in his own piety is just. Abraham Geiger, Urschrift und Übersetzungen der Bibel in ihrer Abhängigkeit von der innern Entwicklung des Judentums, 2nd ed. (Frankfurt am Main: Madda, 1928), 175. The reading of the LXX, which reflects ‫בתומו‬, represents a contextually correct and therefore original reading (thus Geiger and many others). According to this view, ‫ במותו‬of MT reflects an anti-Sadducean change, intended to present an idea (reward after death) that was not acceptable to the Sadducees. However, on the whole, possible evidence for Sadducean and anti-Sadducean changes is very minimal (see further Qoh 3:21 and Ps 49:12 as discussed by Geiger, 175–76). This criticism against Geiger was already voiced in detail by Julius Wellhausen, Der Text der Bücher Samuelis (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1871), 29–31. 14 For a summary, see Schürer, “Pharisees and Sadducees,” 404–14. 15 See Stefan Schorch, “The Samaritan Version of Deuteronomy and the Origin of Deuter-

432

Emanuel Tov

other witnesses, as the name of the place where the Israelites were commanded to erect an altar after the crossing of the Jordan.16 The main sectarian segment is the tenth Samaritan commandment.17 These Samaritan sectarian readings are attested in medieval sources, but they are probably ancient, and the Samaritan reading ‫ בהרגרזים‬in Deut 27:4 is also contained in a Judean Desert fragment that was discovered recently.18 The few Samaritan readings that are recognized were superimposed on earlier texts such as those found at Qumran and are now called pre-Samaritan on the assumption that one of those texts was adapted to suit the views of the Samaritans.19 The pre-Samaritan texts thus are not Samaritan documents,20 as they lack the specifically Samaritan readings21 but share with SP its major features. However, while virtually no sectarian readings are recognized in the ancient sources, we do not have to give up the idea of linking readings or texts to communities in the period for which the Dead Sea Scrolls provide evidence, that is, from approximately 250 BCE until the mid-second century CE. Such evidence is recognized in two types of texts: (1) proto-Masoretic texts; and (2) a group of texts that display the characteristic features of the so-called Qumran Scribal Practice (see n40 below). The types of arguments used in this context are based on (a) archaeological and textual evidence linking proto-Masoretic texts from the Judean Desert sites with rabbinic Judaism; (b) statistical evidence linking the Qumran Scribal Practice with the Qumran community; and (c) archaeological, textual, and halakhic arguments linking tefillin from the Judean Desert with either rabbinic Judaism or the Qumran community. For all these, see below. onomy,” in Samaria, Samarians, Samaritans: Studies on Bible, History and Linguistics, ed. Jozef Zsengellér, Studia Samaritana 6 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011), 23–37. 16 This reading is usually taken as tendentious, but since it is also found in the Vetus Latina it should probably be considered nonsectarian and possibly original. Thus Magnar Kartveit, The Origin of the Samaritans, VTSup 128 (Leiden: Brill, 2009), 300–305 (with literature), and Schorch, “Samaritan Version of Deuteronomy.” 17 See my study “The Tenth Commandment of the Samaritans,” in Fs. James Kugel, forthcoming (in Hebrew). 18 See James H. Charlesworth, “What is a Variant? Announcing a Dead Sea Scrolls Fragment of Deuteronomy,” Maarav 16 (2009): 201–12; Ursula Schattner-Rieser, “Garizim versus Ebal: Ein neues Qumranfragment Samaritanischer Tradition?,” Early Christianity 2 (2010): 277–81. 19 Chapter 7 of Kartveit, Origin of the Samaritans, is named “The Pentateuch that the Samaritans Chose” (pp. 259–312), but the acceptance of that text, the majority text in ancient Israel, was natural and no real choice was involved. 20 On the other hand, M. Baillet claimed that several Qumran texts actually witness SP itself. “Le texte samaritain de l’Exode dans les manuscrits de Qumrân,” in Hommages à André Dupont-Sommer, ed. A. Caquot and M. Philonenko (Paris: Adrien-Maisonneuve, 1971), 363–81. 21 The tenth commandment of SP is found neither in 4QpaleoExodm (see J. E. Sanderson, An Exodus Scroll from Qumran: 4QpaleoExodm and the Samaritan Tradition, HSS 30 [Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986], 13, 235; Patrick W. Skehan, Eugene Ulrich, and Judith E. Sanderson, Qumran Cave 4, IV: Palaeo-Hebrew and Greek Biblical Manuscripts, DJD 9 [Oxford: Clarendon, 1992], 101–12 [based on calculations of the available space]) nor in 4QRPa (4Q158) fragments 6–8.

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel

433

C. Archaeological, Textual, and Halakhic Evidence: Linking Proto-Masoretic Texts from the Judean Desert Sites with Rabbinic Judaism I. Terminology We first need to establish the terminology to be used. The precursors of the medieval Masoretic text are named proto-MT, differing from MT by no more than 2 percent in minute details. These ancient texts do not differ more from Codex L(eningrad) B19A (1009 CE) than Codex L differs from the other medieval sources. I classify other ancient scrolls slightly more distant from MT as “MTlike”; they differ from Codex L in very small details in no more than 10 percent of their words.22 II. Proto-MT Texts and Rabbinic Judaism The proto-MT texts known to us were found in the Judean Desert at both the earlier site of Masada (texts written between 50 BCE and 30 CE)23 and the later sites of Wadi Murabbaʿat, Wadi Sdeir, Naḥal Ḥever, Naḥal Arugot, and Naḥal Ṣeʾelim, dating to the period of the Bar Kokhba revolt in 132–135 CE (texts copied between 20 and 115 CE). The recently opened En-Gedi scroll should probably be dated to the first or second century CE. All these texts are almost identical to the medieval text of MT.24 The proto-MT 4QGenb, although classified as a Qumran text, probably derived from one of the Judean Desert sites, and needs to be added to that group. The proximity between L and the Judean Desert texts shows that the consonantal framework of MT changed very little over the course of one thousand years.25 It is fair to say that we have access to only a very small 22 For details and examples, see my “‘Proto-Masoretic,’ ‘Pre-Masoretic,’ ‘Semi-Masoretic,’ and ‘Masoretic’: A Study in Terminology and Textual Theory,” in Found in Translation: Essays on Jewish Biblical Translation in Honor of Leonard J. Greenspoon, ed. James W. Barker, Anthony Le Donne, and Joel N. Lohr, Shofar Supplements in Jewish Studies (West Lafayette, IN: Purdue University Press, 2018), 31–52; TCHB, 31–33. 23 Especially MasPsa and MasLevb (see the next note). 24 This identity can be examined easily in the well-preserved texts MasPsa (end of the first century BCE), MasLevb (30 BCE–30 CE), 5/6ḤevPs (50–68 CE), MurXII (ca. 115 CE), and the En-Gedi scroll, agreeing with Codex L in all of its details and ascribed to the first–second century CE, as shown by Ian Young, Armin Lange, and Michael Segal et al. Young, “The Stabilization of the Biblical Text in the Light of Qumran and Masada: A Challenge for Conventional Qumran Chronology?,” DSD 9 (2002): 364–90; Lange, “The Textual Plurality of Jewish Scriptures in the Second Temple Period in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Qumran and the Bible: Studying the Jewish and Christian Scriptures in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. Nora David and Armin Lange, CBET 57 (Leuven: Peeters, 2010), 43–96; Segal et al., “An Early Leviticus Scroll from En-Gedi: Preliminary Publication,” Textus 26 (2016): 29–58. 25 There has been some discussion as to which terminology best describes the consonantal framework of the proto-Masoretic texts of the last century BCE, but their almost complete

434

Emanuel Tov

percentage of the proto-MT, possibly 5 percent. However, since the early texts are virtually identical to the medieval MT, we believe that also in the other instances proto-MT would have been identical to the medieval text. The key to understanding the background of the different types of scrolls found in the Judean Desert lies in the correlation between their nature and the socioreligious background of the sites.26 What the earlier site of Masada and the Bar Kokhba sites have in common, in contradistinction to Qumran,27 is that the people who left the scrolls behind at these sites (the Masada rebels and the freedom fighters of Bar Kokhba) closely followed the guidance of the (proto)rabbinic spiritual centers in religious matters. Among other things, they used exclusively the proto-Masoretic text embraced by the spiritual leadership. Some scholars even stress the priestly influence on the leadership of the revolt.28 Furthermore, a close link between the rabbis and the proto-Masoretic text is reflected in the content of most Judean Desert tefillin, which are written in the MT orthography and reflect the instructions of the rabbis for the manufacture of tefillin, for which see § E below. As supporting evidence for the link between the proto-MT text and rabbinic Judaism, I point to the discoveries at Naḥal Ḥever where, in addition to proto-Masoretic texts, we found a Greek scroll that has close ties with rabbinic Judaism: 8ḤevXII gr, dated to the end of the first century BCE.29 The extreme literalism of this scroll,30 now named kaige-Theodotion, reflects the line of exegesis of Rabbi Akiva. Together with the translation of Aquila, this is the most literal Bible translation. In the Greek scroll we note in particular the writing of the divine name in paleo-Hebrew characters,31 a custom of reverence for internal identity is a fact. However, on the basis of his study of MasGen and MasLeva, Eugene Ulrich challenges the closeness of these scrolls to MT. Ulrich, “Two Perspectives on Two Pentateuchal Manuscripts from Masada,” in Emanuel: Studies in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint, and the Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov, ed. Shalom M. Paul et al., VTSup 94 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 456. 26 See my study “The Text of the Hebrew/Aramaic and Greek Bible Used in the Ancient Synagogues,” in Emanuel Tov, Hebrew Bible, Greek Bible, and Qumran: Collected Essays, TSAJ 121 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008). 27  The differences between the two sites are best visible from a comparison of texts from the same period. The Qumran texts copied from the beginning of the first century CE until 65 CE are of a varied nature (there is no Qumran evidence from later periods), with only very few MT-like texts, while the texts from the same period (until 115 CE) from Judean Desert sites other than Qumran exclusively reflect MT. See Tov, “Diffusion.” 28 See Tov, “Text of the Hebrew/Aramaic and Greek Bible,” 177. 29 The rabbinic orientation of this translation was first pointed out by Dominique Barthélemy, Les devanciers d’Aquila, VTSup 10 (Leiden: Brill, 1963). 30 See the analysis in Emanuel Tov, with the collaboration of Robert A. Kraft, The Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Naḥal Ḥever (8ḤevXIIgr) (The Seiyal Collection I), DJD 8 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990), 106–45. 31 The Naḥal Ḥever scroll is the earliest source to represent the Tetragrammaton in paleoHebrew letters; the earliest source to use the square Aramaic characters is P.Fouad 266b (Ra 848, mid-first century BCE). See my study “P. Vindob. G 39777 (Symmachus) and the Use of

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel

435

the name of God that reflects several of the regulations in rabbinic literature for the careful writing of the divine names in Hebrew texts.32 To explain the virtual lack of differences between the copies of MT in early times and through the centuries, I point to rabbinic traditions regarding precision in the copying of scrolls,33 the existence of a master copy of the Torah in the Temple Court,34 and the procedure for correcting scrolls according to this master copy.35 On the basis of these traditions, I postulate that the Judean Desert scrolls were in fact “corrected copies.” Such copies must have circulated in all of ancient Israel. The textual unity described above has to start somewhere, and the assumption of a master copy is therefore necessary.36 The archaeological evidence thus shows that several communities in the Judean Desert restricted their use of the Scripture text to the proto-MT text, while this text was not used by the Qumran community (with the exception of one the Divine Names in Greek Scripture Texts” (unpublished manuscript, 2019), http://orion mscc. huji.ac.il/symposiums/15th/papers/Tov.pdf. 32  See, for example, y. Megillah 1.71d (cf. Sopherim 4.1–8). 33 The meticulous care taken in the transmission of MT is reflected in the words of R. Ishmael: “My son, be careful, because your work is the work of heaven; should you omit (even) one letter or add (even) one letter, the whole world would be destroyed” (b. Soṭah 20a). This precision also pertained to matters of orthography, since various halakhot, “religious instructions,” were seemingly based on the precise spelling of words. For example, the number of walls of the sukkah (four) is determined according to the majority spelling of MT ‫( ֻסכֹּות‬b. Sukkah 6b), disregarding a spelling ‫ סוכות‬with five letters (cf. 1QIsaa in Isa 1:8) or ‫( סכת‬MT-Neh 8:15) with three letters. 34  Rabbinic sources deriving from a period later than the Judean Desert evidence provide descriptions of earlier textual procedures, which were identical to their own. In these descriptions, we read of a master copy of the Torah found in the Temple Court, and of scrolls copied from or revised according to that copy. The term sefer ha-ʿazarah (‫ )ספר העזרה‬probably referred only to the Torah, but it stands to reason that (the) other Scripture books were also found in the temple. 35 On several occasions, rabbinic literature mentions a “corrected scroll,” sefer muggah. The temple employed professional maggihim, “correctors,” whose task it was to safeguard precision in the copying of the text: ‫מגיהי ספרים בירושלים היו נוטלין שכרן מתרומת הלשכה‬, “maggihim of books in Jerusalem received their fees from the temple funds” (b. Ketubbot 106a). This description implies that the correcting procedure based on the master copy in the temple was financed from the temple resources, which thus provided an imprimatur. This was the only way to safeguard the proper distribution of precise copies of Scripture. These scrolls must have been used everywhere in Israel, for public reading as well as for instruction, public and private, as suggested by b. Pesaḥim 112a, where one of the five instructions of R. Akiva to his student R. Simeon reads, “and when you teach your son, teach him from a corrected scroll.” Another such precise copy was the “Scroll of the King,” which accompanied the king wherever he went. Both y. Sanhedrin 2.20c and Sifre Deuteronomy 160 (ed. Finkelstein, 211) tell us that this scroll was corrected to “the copy in the Temple Court in accordance with the court of seventy-one members.” 36 Such a suggestion was already voiced by Samuel Krauss, Saul Lieberman, and Moshe Greenberg. Krauss, Talmudische Archäologie, 3 vols. (Leipzig: G. Fock, 1912; repr., Hildesheim: Olms, 1966), 3:171; Lieberman, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine, 2nd ed. (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1962), 22; Greenberg, “The Use of the Ancient Versions for Interpreting the Hebrew Text: A Sampling from Ezechiel ii 1–iii 11,” in Congress Volume, Göttingen 1977, ed. John Emerton, VTSup 29 (Leiden: Brill, 1978), 141–42.

436

Emanuel Tov

tefillin, 8QPhyl I), which instead used a mixture of biblical texts. Among these biblical texts, the MT-like texts form a substantial group. On the other hand, the Judean Desert sites reflect exclusively the proto-MT, a text that is uniquely connected with rabbinic Judaism. All the exponents of rabbinic literature reflect only MT, and the deviations from it as recorded in such studies as Victor Aptowitzer’s emphasize unduly the few exceptions.37 Likewise, the targumim, the in-house commentaries of rabbinic Judaism, are based on MT, as are two Jewish revisions of the Old Greek, namely kaige-Theodotion, probably dating to the middle of the first century BCE, and Aquila, probably dating to 125 CE. The Vulgate is also based on MT. These data go hand in hand with the data from the tefillin, for which see § E below.

D. Statistical Evidence: Linking the Qumran Scribal Practice with the Qumran Community A second cluster of biblical texts connected with a community in ancient Israel is written in the style of the Qumran Scribal Practice (QSP). Within the Qumran corpus, a group of some 170 nonbiblical and biblical texts has been isolated as reflecting an idiosyncratic practice, the characteristics of which are visible in peculiarities in orthography, morphology, and scribal features,38 but not in a common textual typology. This group of texts is closely connected to the Qumran community, since it includes virtually all commonly agreed-upon sectarian writings.39 In short, this practice is characterized by the excessive use of matres lectionis, such as ‫כיא‬, a peculiar morphology exemplified by ‫ מאודה‬and ‫הואה‬, and special scribal features. The large Isaiah scroll (1QIsaa) is a good example of this practice. The texts written in the QSP could have been penned anywhere in Palestine, but they were probably written mainly at Qumran.40 Early scrolls, such as 37 Victor Aptowitzer, Das Schriftwort in der rabbinischen Literatur, 4 vols. (Vienna: Hölder, 1906–1915; repr., New York: Ktav, 1970). 38 See Emanuel Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 261–73; idem, “Dead Sea Scrolls: Orthography and Scribal Practices,” in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, ed. Geoffrey Khan et al. (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 1:669–73. Two similar texts were found at Masada (MasShirShabb [Mas 1k] and MasQumran-Type Fragment [Mas 1n]). These texts, as well as others, were probably taken to Masada by one of the fleeing Qumran covenanters. 39 Seven or eight sectarian writings do not display these characteristics. See Tov, Scribal Practices, 262. 40 It must be conceded that the term “Qumran Scribal Practice” used here may be misleading since the described practice was not invented by the Qumran scribes and may well have been used elsewhere in ancient Israel, but no better term suggests itself. In many aspects, this is a Palestinian scribal system, but it would be misleading to call these texts Palestinian, since the

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel

437

4QQoha (175–150 BCE), written in the QSP, must have been copied elsewhere by similarly oriented scribes, as this and a few other texts predate the settlement at Qumran. The QSP is not a system but rather a practice that was plagued by the inconsistency of individual scribes in orthography, because there was hardly any consistency in such matters in antiquity. This was a copying style that was applied to texts of varied textual background,41 including two pre-Samaritan texts (4QpaleoExodm, 4QRPb [4Q364]), a text with links to both SP and the LXX (4QNumb), and many texts of undetermined textual character. Some 35 biblical texts were written in the QSP (not all equally convincingly). They are often described as typical Qumran texts, comprising a sizable group among the 121 reasonably extensive biblical texts (29 percent). These texts thus may be linked to scribes of the Qumran community.

E. Linking tefillin from the Judean Desert with Either Rabbinic Judaism Or the Qumran Community The evidence of the many tefillin strengthens the links between texts and communities.42 A distinction is made between tefillin found at Qumran and those found at other sites in the Judean Desert (Murabbaʿat, Naḥal Ḥever, Naḥal Ṣeʾelim, etc.). For the sake of argument, the latter will be named “Judean Desert tefillin” even though Qumran is also found in the Judean Desert. The tefillin are linked to two different communities: the Judean Desert tefillin to the protorabbinic community, and most of the Qumran tefillin to the Qumran community, as indicated by their findspots as well as by halakic and textual evidence. The many tefillin found at Qumran and in the Judean Desert differ with regard to the following parameters:43 use of such terminology would imply that there are no other Palestinian texts. The name QSP merely indicates that as a scribal system it is known mainly from a large number of Qumran scrolls, without implying that this practice was used only at Qumran. 41 The following thirty-five biblical texts may be considered as having been written in the QSP: 1QDeuta, 1QIsaa, 2QExodb  (?), 2QNumb  (?), 2QDeutc  (?), 2QJer, 4QExodb, 4QNumb, 4QDeutj,k1,k2,m, 4QRPa,b,c  (4Q158, 364, 365), 4QSamc, 4QIsac, 4QXIIc,e,g, 4QPso(?), 4QLam, 4QQoha, 11QPsa,b,c(?),d(?), and 4QPhyl A, B, G–I (?), J–K, L–N, O (?), P (?), Q (?). With the exception of Deutero-Isaiah and Qohelet, all these books reflect the Classical Hebrew stage. 42 Tefillin are partial but regular biblical texts, since the textual data in the tefillin were copied from larger contexts that provide evidence of the Bible text that is as good as any other fragment from the Judean Desert. This assumption is supported by the fact that the different types of text contained in the tefillin correspond to the text types found in regular biblical manuscripts. 43 The data are provided in the tables and analysis in my study “The Tefillin from the Judean Desert and the Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible,” in Is There a Text in This Cave? Studies in the Textuality of the Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of George J. Brooke, ed. Ariel Feldman, Maria Cioată, and Charlotte Hempel, STDJ 119 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 277–92.

438

Emanuel Tov

i. Choice of passages (either the four required passages mentioned in the rabbinic literature or a mixture of required and nonrequired passages); ii. Spelling (either the conservative MT spelling or the spelling of the QSP); iii. Content (either the readings of MT or a variety of readings [SP-LXX]); iv. Practices used in the manufacture of the tefillin (either the practices prescribed by the halakha of the rabbis, or a different set of practices). Based on these parameters, two different profiles of tefillin are recognized, as the inclusion of passages in the tefillin usually coincides with their textual character and method of manufacture: a. Rabbinic-type tefillin from the Judean Desert contain the passages required by the rabbis together with the spelling and content of MT (both proto-MT and MT-like). They lack interlinear additions as a means of correction,44 they do not divide words at the ends of lines,45 they are written on neatly shaped pieces of leather, and they disallow writing on both sides of the leather and squeezing in letters at the end of a line. b. Qumran-type tefillin contain passages in addition to those required by the rabbis; they use a harmonizing Bible text, which is usually of the LXX-SP type that was current in Israel as a popular text for the Torah; and they are written in the spelling and morphology of the QSP type. Furthermore, the Qumran tefillin differ from the rabbinic tefillin in all the details described in the previous paragraph. The distinction between the two main types is not absolute, since one tefillin found at Qumran (8QPhyl I) is of the rabbinic type. Furthermore, some tefillin that were found at Qumran do not contain nonrequired passages, and are not written in the QSP (4QPhyl C, D–E–F, R, S, XQPhyl 4). This fact probably shows that the Qumranites not only produced new tefillin, but also brought tefillin from elsewhere. This is a logical surmise, since the content of the Qumran tefillin was probably adapted from tefillin that had been imported.

F. Diffusion of Texts The above analyses provide the main anchors for connections between texts and groups in ancient Israel. The general picture is one of textual plurality, but within that plurality we see two groups: MT texts and some tefillin connected with protorabbinic Judaism, and the QSP texts and some tefillin connected with the Qumran community. The Qumran texts and tefillin do not reflect the special Qumran ideology, but their orthography and the fact that they were found 44 These additions are forbidden according to y. Megillah 1.71c: “One may hang in scrolls, but one may not hang in tefillin or mezuzot.” 45 This practice was forbidden by Sopherim 2.1.

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel

439

exclusively at Qumran link them to Qumran. The proto-MT texts found in the Judean Desert are linked to protorabbinic Judaism, but as far as I know they do not contain sectarian readings. Both communities preserved Scripture texts and based their views on them, but did not insert their respective ideologies into the texts. We began with the aim of locating texts that are linked to known communities. However, we were able to link only some of the Judean Desert texts to specific communities. If we are correct in assuming that in early times only some of the texts were embraced by specific groups in Israel, I wonder whether the preserved corpora provide an indication of the numbers of the different types of texts in circulation. I realize that the real numbers will never be known because many texts have been lost. Furthermore, it is not known to what extent the Judean Desert corpora are representative of the situation throughout ancient Israel. Possibly the Qumran corpus is somewhat representative, because it includes texts that were imported from different places. The data from Qumran are used as possible indicators of wider trends, but caution is in order. The evidence for the Torah differs from that of the later books. Of the sixty-eight Torah texts (including twenty-two tefillin) that are sufficiently extensive for analysis, only a single one (8QPhyl I) represents the protoMT group (1.5 %).46 Exclusively MT-like texts are not identified as a group, but potentially they are found there, since we recognize a group of nineteen texts (28 %) that are equally close to SP and MT, when slight differences from MT render these texts as either MT-like or SP-like texts. Six texts exclusively reflect SP (9 %) and one reflects LXX (1.5 %). Twenty-one tefillin reflect the text of either LXX or SP or both of them in noncharacteristic readings and, in my view, these texts should be regarded as representing a single LXX-SP tradition block (31 %).47 The assumption that the LXX and SP derived from a common base text is supported by the fact that several Second Temple compositions (rewritten

46 This view differs slightly from that of Armin Lange, “‘They Confirmed the Reading’ (y. Taʿan. 4.68a): The Textual Standardization of Jewish Scriptures in the Second Temple Period,” in From Qumran to Aleppo: A Discussion with Emanuel Tov about the Textual History of Jewish Scriptures in Honor of His 65th Birthday, ed. Armin Lange, Matthias Weigold, and József Zsengellér, FRLANT 230 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2009), 29–80. Lange reckons with a group of proto-MT texts at Qumran: 4QXIIe (75–50 BCE); 4QEzeka (50 BCE); 4QDeute (50–25 BCE); 2QRutha (30–1 BCE); 4QDeutg (1–50 CE); 4QGenb (50–100 CE). In my view, these texts are not proto-MT or are too fragmentary to be included in the analysis. On the other hand, as mentioned above, 4QGenb is proto-MT, but did not derive from Qumran (note the late date, and see Eugene Ulrich and Frank M. Cross, eds., Qumran Cave 4, VII: Genesis to Numbers, DJD 12 [Oxford: Clarendon, 1994], 31). My present statistics differ from those in TCHB, 108, because I now have a different approach toward the texts that are equally close to MT and SP or MT and the LXX. 47 See my studies “Tefillin from the Judean Desert” and “The Development of the Text of the Torah in Two Major Text Blocks,” Textus 26 (2016): 1–27.

440

Emanuel Tov

Bible compositions) are closer to these texts than to MT.48 (In fact, there are no rewritten Bible compositions that are clearly based on MT.) When these figures are analyzed, we note that the combined LXX-SP popular texts (LXX + SP + LXX-SP) form a block comprising 41 percent of the surveyed texts. Some of the undetermined texts that are either MT or SP (28 %) will have belonged to that block, and therefore the largest block in the Torah is that of the combined text of LXX and SP. This is followed by the group of nonaligned texts (29 %) and an unknown number of MT-like texts. In the remainder of Hebrew-Aramaic Scripture, in the seventy-six texts that are sufficiently extensive for analysis, most texts (forty-one) are nonaligned (54 %). Thirteen texts are equally close to MT and LXX and therefore could be either MT-like or could reflect LXX (17 %). In addition, seventeen texts (22 %) are MT-like, and five reflect LXX (7 %). In the postpentateuchal books, the largest group thus is nonaligned, while the second-largest group consists of MT-like texts. As a result, for Qumran, the overall preponderance of the popular LXX-SP block in the Torah and of the nonaligned texts in the other books is evident, as is the absence of proto-MT texts. This situation differs completely from that at the other Judean Desert sites, which reflect only the proto-MT text. This pertains to both the texts found at Masada that date from the time of the settlement at Qumran and to those from the sites of the Bar Kokhba revolt that date to the first century CE. The diffusion of the texts provides some insights into the proportions of the different Bible texts that were circulating in Israel, and to some extent also their connections to ancient communities. There were no proto-MT texts at Qumran; in contrast, there were only proto-MT texts at the other sites. In my view, there are hardly any sectarian readings in the known biblical manuscripts, but there is evidence for two communities that created biblical scrolls, the (proto)rabbinic community and the Qumran community. This assumption is also supported by the proportions of the different Bible texts found in the Judean Desert. Within the textual plurality of the last three pre-Christian centuries and the first century CE, these two community-based text groups can be identified. My general conclusion is that most Bible manuscripts derived from individuals and theological streams in the Israelite and Jewish nation, not from sects or communities. As far as we know, sects and communities embraced texts but did not shape them, with the exception of a few tendentious Samaritan readings. 48 11QTa, 4Q252 (4QComm Gen A), Pseudo-Philo, Genesis Apocryphon, 4QTestimonia, and Jubilees in its Ethiopic version. See my study “The Textual Base of the Biblical Quotations in Second Temple Compositions,” in Ha-Ish Moshe: Studies in Scriptural Interpretation in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature in Honor of Moshe J. Bernstein, ed. Binyamin Goldstein, Michael Segal, and George Brooke (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 280–302.

The Use of Scripture Texts in Different Communities in Ancient Israel

441

G. Summary We discussed the textual plurality of the biblical texts in the last three pre-Christian centuries and the first century of the Common Era. In these four centuries, the Bible text was known in different forms in the land of Israel. We investigated whether each scroll was an independent unit or whether there were some clusters of similar texts that possibly can be traced to specific communities. In early periods, probably until the second century BCE, there were no socioreligious groups, and therefore we should not expect group-linked texts at that time; all the copies from those periods merely reflected the views of their authors and scribes. At a later stage, with the development of religious groups, a scribe could reflect the views of a religious group to which he may have belonged. Therefore, by implication, any reading that is described as Samaritan, Pharisaic, rabbinic, or Essene is by definition relatively late in the history of the text. However, there are virtually no sectarian readings in Bible manuscripts with the exception of a few Samaritan readings. If hardly any sectarian readings can be recognized in the ancient sources, we nevertheless do not have to give up the idea of linking readings or texts to communities in the period for which the Dead Sea Scrolls provide evidence, that is, from approximately 250 BCE until the mid-second century CE. Such evidence is recognized in two types of texts linked to local communities: (1) proto-Masoretic texts and tefillin that are linked to rabbinic Judaism and were found at Judean Desert sites; and (2) a group of texts and tefillin that display the characteristic features of the Qumran Scribal Practice found at Qumran. The statistics of the scrolls found at the various sites in the Judean Desert place this evidence in a certain light: the Qumran inhabitants used no proto-MT scrolls at all, while at the Judean Desert sites only proto-MT scrolls were found, that is, scrolls that are identical to the medieval text. These two community-based text groups can be identified within the textual plurality of the last three pre-Christian centuries and the first century CE, while probably most known scrolls found at Qumran cannot be linked to any community, at least not at the present stage of knowledge.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts Psalms as a Case Study Marcello Fidanzio This paper proceeds from a basic observation: among the Dead Sea Scrolls, the collection known as “Qumran” was discovered in eleven caves in an area whose northern and southern limits are less than two kilometers apart. The caves are the context that preserved the manuscripts, the heritage that drew the greater amount of scholarly interest. After initial attention and rapid publication of the archaeological investigations,1 the caves have generally remained in the background, as the contents of the scrolls and the archaeology of the settlement attracted the most studies. In the mid-1980s and 1990s, new explorations and excavations were carried out in the caves in the vicinity of Qumran.2 The chief aim of these investigations was to inquire into the possible presence of other manuscripts; nevertheless, the attention given to material culture allowed the documentation of new data and the resumption of some debates about the interpretation of the caves. Scholarly interest was reflected in a series of articles and a conference focused on the caves of the Qumran area.3 New projects on the caves have recently been initiated. 1 Gerald L. Harding et al., “The Archaeological Finds,” in Dominique Barthélemy and Jóseph T. Milik, Qumran Cave 1, DJD 1 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1955), 3–40; Roland de Vaux, “Archéologie,” in Maurice Baillet, Jóseph T. Milik, and Roland de Vaux, Les ‘petites grottes’ de Qumrân: Exploration de la falaise. Les grottes 2Q, 3Q, 5Q, 6Q, 7Q à 10Q. Le rouleau de cuivre, DJD 3 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1962), 3–36; Roland de Vaux, “Archéologie,” in Roland de Vaux and Jóseph T. Milik, Qumrân Grotte 4.II: I. Archéologie. II. Tefillin, Mezuzot et Targums (4Q128–4Q157), DJD 6 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1977), 3–22. The last cave to be published was 11Q; see Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Marcello Fidanzio, eds., Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q: Archeology and New Scroll Fragments, NTOA.SA 8a (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2019). 2 For the history of the explorations and excavations see Joan E. Taylor, “The Qumran Caves in Their Regional Context: A Chronological Review with a Focus on Bar Kokhba Assemblages,” in The Caves of Qumran: Proceedings of the International Conference, Lugano 2014, ed. Marcello Fidanzio, STDJ 118 (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 9–24; Jürgen K. Zangenberg, “The Functions of the Caves and the Settlement of Qumran: Reflections on a New Chapter of Qumran Research,” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 196–206. 3 For a review of the most important articles, see Florentino García Martínez, “The Contents of the Manuscripts from the Caves of Qumran,” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 67–69. See also the most recent articles: Sidnie White Crawford, “Qumran Cave 4: Its Archaeology and Its Manuscript Collection,” in Is There a Text in This Cave? Studies in the Textuality of the Dead

444

Marcello Fidanzio

The École biblique et archéologique française of Jerusalem and the Institute of Archaeology of the Faculty of Theology of Lugano have decided to complete the final report on the excavations at the caves conducted by Roland de Vaux (Qumran Caves Publication Project). After a new wave of manuscript fragments appeared on the antiquity market, the Israel Antiquities Authority promoted new explorations and excavations of the area (“New Operation Scrolls”). Finally, the network Dispersed Qumran Caves Artefacts and Archival Sources (Joan Taylor, Dennis Mizzi, and the present author) received a grant from the Leverhulme Trust to recover and study the materials and documentation related to the Qumran caves spread out in museums and private collections all over the world. New excavations associated with the New Operation Scrolls and the Qumran Caves Publication Project were carried out recently at the caves XII/53,4 53A, 52 (= GQ29), 11Q,5 3Q, and 6Q. The study of the material culture is entrusted to archaeology and complementary disciplines, whereas the contents of the texts are the domain of historians, philologists, and exegetes. It is interesting to observe how a consensus on some key points about the archaeological interpretation of the caves has been forming in recent years. All the more interesting is the fact that the study of the manuscripts, carried out independently and following its own methodological principles, draws a profile of the caves that parallels the one yielded by the study of the material culture, at least according to some leading scholars. I use the word “parallel” to emphasize how different disciplines, each following its own methods and without contamination, seem to have reached some agreement on the description of the profile of the caves. One criticism directed against de Vaux was that he relied on the contents of the texts when constructing his archaeological interpretation of Qumran – a practice similar to the “biblical archaeology” at that time.6 I do not mean to deal with this issue, which I leave to the historians of twentieth-century archaeology. What I am keen to highlight is that, on the basis of both material culture and texts, it appears to be possible Sea Scrolls in Honour of George J. Brooke, ed. Ariel Feldman, Maria Cioată, and Charlotte Hempel, STDJ 119 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 105–19; Joan E. Taylor, Dennis Mizzi, and Marcello Fidanzio, “Revisiting Qumran Cave 1Q and Its Archaeological Assemblage,” PEQ 149 (2017): 295–325. The proceedings of the conference were published in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. 4 Marcello Fidanzio, “De nouvelles découvertes dans la grotte XII/53 (12?) à Qumrân,” RevQ 29 (2017): 139–44. 5 Marcello Fidanzio et al., “Campagna di scavi ISCAB-FTL e USI alla grotta 11Q di Qumran, marzo 2017,” RTLu 22 (2017): 437–66. 6 Philip R. Davies, “How Not to Do Archaeology: The Story of Qumran,” BA 51 (1988): 203–7; Jean-Baptiste Humbert, “Introduction,” in Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha: Fouilles du P. Roland de Vaux, IIIA: L’archéologie de Qumrân. Reconsidération de l’interprétation. Les installations périphériques de Khirbet Qumrân. Qumran Terracotta Oil Lamps, by Jean-Baptiste Humbert, Alain Chambon, and Jolanta Młynarczyk, NTOA.SA 5A (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016), 15, 22.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

445

to provide a description of certain features conducive to an understanding of the Qumran phenomenon. In the conference on the caves, archaeologists and text scholars were invited to adopt a comparative approach on a regional scale: What can be learned by comparing the different caves of Qumran with each other? What new insights may result from comparing manuscripts and other archaeological materials found in the Qumran caves with the finds discovered elsewhere in the Judean Desert? I briefly lay out some key points of consensus because they directly relate to the topic pursued in this paper: 1) Comparisons among the Qumran caves themselves, setting aside some peculiarities, highlight a unitary phenomenon. 2) Comparison with the regional context highlights Qumran’s singularity within the Judean Desert discoveries. 3) Several elements link the Qumran settlement with the caves. 4) Various scholars have suggested that the settlement and the caves were not completely isolated, but were connected with a wider context.7 The following exposition is divided into two parts. In the first part, I will summarize some of the evidence and reasoning behind the summary just presented; in the second, I will address a specific case study, the Psalms.

A. The Profile of the Qumran Caves in Their Regional Context Before speaking about positive data, it is important to point out the limits of our investigation. A number of caves were found by Bedouins, who carried out clandestine excavations – lootings – in search of the valuable scrolls. In addition, several caves show clear signs of postdepositional processes, such as traces of visitors over different periods and natural phenomena, that have affected the context.8 We have to accept the limitations imposed by the data in our possession and take them into account in the interpretations we propose, which must be tentative. If we consider the materials found in the caves in the vicinity of Qumran dating from the first century BCE to 68 CE (when the Romans conquered Qumran), it is clear that the vast majority of the artifacts are linked to the deposition of the manuscripts. The assemblage includes the scrolls, few of which are in a very good state of preservation; linen textiles, mostly used as scroll wrappers; storage jars in which, according to the testimony of the Bedouin and other minor evidence, some scrolls were still contained; and bowl-shaped lids. Other pottery was also found: lamps, juglets, and cooking pots, albeit in limited quantities, 7 See 8 See

Marcello Fidanzio, “Introduction,” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 1–6. Zangenberg, “Functions of the Caves.”

446

Marcello Fidanzio

and a few small finds. No coins were recovered from the caves. The deposition of the manuscripts is the main event witnessed by the Qumran caves during the Roman period. The situation is very different for the other caves in the Judean Desert, where refugees settled down, even if for a short time, during the First or Second Jewish Revolt. Let us now examine the different categories of materials in light of the profile drawn above. Pottery. The discovery of a particular type of jar remains the main marker of the Qumran assemblage. Cylindrical jars (the so-called scroll jars) were found in several caves as well as in the settlement. However, they are virtually absent elsewhere.9 Despite the fact that parallels have been proposed from other sites (ceramologists discuss whether they belonged to the same type or to a similar one),10 they occur as isolated specimens, whereas at Qumran we have large quantities of cylindrical jars. Pottery at Qumran was produced for internal use. The discovery of cylindrical jars in several locations has linked the settlement with the caves, and several caves with each other. Archaeometric analyses, both chemical and petrographic, sparked a new discussion about the origins of the cylindrical jars, but eventually they established that “the pottery from the site of Qumran and the scroll caves is made of the same clays and pastes, confirming the connection suggested by typological and morphological similarities.”11 Besides the jars, Yolanta Młynarczyk noted the presence both in Cave 1Q and in the settlement of a particular type of oil lamp (the “Qumran lamp family”) that is hardly attested elsewhere.12 This lamp type confirms a link between Cave 1Q and the settlement and is another distinctive element of Qumran.

 9 Jodi Magness, Debating Qumran: Collected Essays on Its Archaeology, ISACR 4 (Leuven: Peeters, 1994), 151–56; Jodi Magness, “The Connection between the Site of Qumran and the Scroll Caves in Light of the Ceramic Evidence,” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 186–87; Dennis Mizzi, “Miscellaneous Artefacts from the Qumran Caves: An Exploration of their Significance,” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 148–49n77. 10 Rachel Bar-Nathan, “Qumran and the Hasmonean and Herodian Winter Palaces of Jericho: The Implication of the Pottery Finds on the Interpretation of the Settlement at Qumran,” in Qumran: The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Archaeological Interpretations and Debates. Proceedings of a Conference Held at Brown University, November 17–19, 2002, ed. Katharina Galor, Jean-Baptiste Humbert, and Jürgen Zangenberg, STDJ 57 (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 264–77; Rachel Bar-Nathan, Masada VII: The Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965. Final Reports: The Pottery of Masada (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and Hebrew University, 2006), 71–72, 375–77. But note the remarks by Jodi Magness, “Qumran: The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls: A Review Article,” RevQ 22 (2006): 662–63; Dennis Mizzi, “The Archaeology of Khirbet Qumran: A Comparative Approach” (PhD diss., University of Oxford, 2009), 120–24. 11 Magness, “Connection,” 187–94 (quotation at 194); Mizzi, “Miscellaneous Artefacts,” 149n77. 12 Jolanta Młynarczyk, “Qumran Terracotta Oil Lamps,” in Humbert, Chambon, and Mły­nar­ czyk, Khirbet Qumrân, 451–52; Jolanta Młynarczyk, “Terracotta Oil Lamps (Roland de Vaux’s Excavations of the Caves),” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 110–14.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

447

Textiles. If we exclude the postdepositional processes that have introduced later fabrics into the caves of Qumran, we have linen textiles only. Elsewhere in the Judean Desert linen textiles are always found along with wool ones. The linen textiles in the Qumran caves had three functions: as scroll wrappers,13 primarily, but also as jar covers and as packing material for the scrolls inside the jars. All these usages are connected to the deposition of the manuscripts. The majority of the textiles do not have any decoration. A few show decorative fringes, while a few others bear blue lines (bands or stripes) forming a geometric pattern. A larger number are bleached.14 Orit Shamir and Naama Sukenik observed that the majority of the textiles are in fact garments in secondary use, and they find in these linens hints about the clothing worn by the inhabitants of the settlement.15 In any case, there is no overlapping assemblage of textiles in the region of the Judean Desert.16 Miscellaneous artifacts. Their presence in the Qumran caves is very scarce both in quantity and in repertoire. This is particularly striking when compared to the situation at the other Judean Desert caves, where refugees lived, even if for a short time.17 Hence, the manuscripts found in the caves other than Qumran either belong to the goods these refugees brought with them, or were produced during the time of their residence. On the other hand, the Qumran caves are no longer considered to have been dwelling places, except for very short periods, and the deposition of manuscripts, whatever the reason, seems not to have been a consequence (at least in the natural caves) of a continuous human presence in the caves. The other artifacts found in the Qumran Caves are mostly leather objects linked to the scrolls: reinforcing tabs, leather thongs, and over twenty phylactery cases,18 which link several caves to each other and yield additional scrolls, although these tiny manuscripts were not intended to be unrolled and read. 13 A linen scroll wrapper with a decomposed scroll still inside was found during the excavation of Cave 1Q (DJD 1, pl. I: 8–10). 14 Grace M. Crowfoot, “The Linen Textiles,” in Barthélemy and Milik, Qumran Cave 1, 18– 38. See also Mireille Bélis, “Des textiles: Catalogue et commentaires,” in Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha II: Études d’anthropologie, de physique et de chimie, ed. Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Jan Gunneweg, NTOA.SA 3 (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003), 207–76; Orit Shamir and Naama Sukenik, “Qumran Textiles and the Garments of Qumran’s Inhabitants,” DSD 18 (2011): 206–25; Naama Sukenik, “The Temple Scroll Wrapper from Cave 11: MS 5095/2, MS 5095/4, MS 5095/1,” in Gleanings from the Caves: Dead Sea Scrolls and Artefacts from the Schøyen Collection, ed. Torleif Elgvin, Kipp Davis, and Michael Langlois (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016), 339–50; Naama Sukenik et al., “The Temple Textiles and Strings from Cave 11Q,” in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q, 97–117. 15 Shamir and Sukenik, “Qumran Textiles.” 16 Shamir and Sukenik, “Qumran Textiles.” 17 Mizzi, “Miscellaneous Artefacts,” 140–44. 18 Yonatan Adler, “The Distribution of Tefillin Finds among the Judean Desert Caves,” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 161–73.

448

Marcello Fidanzio

Manuscripts. If we consider the Qumran scrolls as artifacts, we may observe features that differentiate them from the manuscripts found elsewhere in the Judean Desert. For instance, at Qumran (and Masada) we found a high percentage of texts written on leather, and only 14 percent written on papyrus, contrary to what is seen elsewhere in the region, where papyri are in the majority.19 Paleography unifies several caves: according to Ada Yardeni20 the same scribe could have written between one-twentieth and one-tenth of the manuscripts. Other studies on scribal hands also link scrolls found in different caves.21 Emanuel Tov’s study on scribal practices led him to describe the profile of what he calls “Qumran Scribal Practice” on the basis of a series of manuscripts, found in several caves, that he deemed to have been produced at Qumran.22 Regarding the content of the texts, it is the case that among the manuscripts found elsewhere in the Judean Desert, we have a prevalence of documentary texts; conversely, the manuscripts at Qumran are essentially religious literature. Comparing the contents of the manuscripts, Florentino García Martínez has shown how in several caves we can find a cross-section of the Qumran collection as a whole.23 After analyzing the contents, Eibert Tigchelaar and García Martínez himself stated that “the corpus [i. e., Qumran] is not a random reflection of all kinds of available Jewish texts of the time, but is part of a specific current in Early Judaism.”24 Finally, as for the biblical texts, the manuscripts outside Qumran attest the proto-MT. However, Qumran witnesses a wide textual plurality. Tov sorted the textual evidence at Qumran into four categories: – MT-like texts; – Pre-Samaritan texts (lacking the ideological variant readings of the Samaritan Pentateuch); – Texts close to the presumed Hebrew source of the Septuagint; – Non-aligned texts: manuscripts that cannot be aligned with either the Masoretic Text, the Samaritan Pentateuch, or the Septuagint.25 19 Emanuel Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert, STDJ 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 45, table 2. This can be mainly explained in relation to the content of the texts (see below), since manuscripts found in the vicinity of Qumran are religious literature (with few exceptions), whereas elsewhere in the Judean Desert documents prevail. At Qumran, however, even the texts on papyrus are almost all religious literature. 20 Ada Yardeni, “A Note on a Qumran Scribe,” in New Seals and Inscriptions: Hebrew, Idumean and Cuneiform, ed. Meir Lubetski, HBM 8 (Sheffield: Phoenix Press, 2007), 287–98; Emile Puech, “La paléographie des manuscrits de la mer Morte,” in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran, 103–4. 21 Tov, Scribal Practices, 23, table 2. 22 Tov, Scribal Practices, 277–88. 23 García Martínez, “Contents of the Manuscripts,” 67–79. 24 Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, “The Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism, ed. John J. Collins and Daniel C. Harlow (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010), 179. 25 Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 3rd ed., rev. and exp. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012), 107–10.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

449

With respect to the proto-MT manuscripts, Tov introduces a distinction between the texts found at sites other than Qumran, on the one hand, which “belong to the same family as the Masoretic medieval texts” and which he describes as “the inner circle of the proto-MT family,” and on the other hand an outer circle of proto-MT scrolls, which are “texts from Qumran [that] deviate from the medieval tradition in some details.” The texts of the outer circle “are less precise, and they do not conform with the rabbinic instructions for writing Scripture scrolls in technical details.”26 Although other sources, such as the Septuagint, Josephus, and the quotations and allusions in the New Testament, show a textual plurality in the Second Temple period, the evidence from the Judean Desert, given the present state of our knowledge, displays a distinction: on the one hand, textual plurality along with the “outer circle” proto-MT manuscripts at Qumran, and on the other hand, “inner circle” proto-MT manuscripts elsewhere. A well-known explanation for this distribution is that texts found at Qumran were deposited before 70 CE, whereas other sites yielded manuscripts in use at the time of the Second Jewish Revolt. However, as we shall see in the case of Psalms, manuscripts dated prior to the First Jewish Revolt are not lacking outside Qumran. To conclude this first part, I would like to recall what I noted earlier, namely that according to the present state of our knowledge, as far as material culture and texts are concerned, we can assume that what was found at Qumran represents a unitary phenomenon, unique in its regional context.

B. Psalms as a Case Study Present in over forty Dead Sea Scrolls, the Psalms are usually referred to as the most frequently attested biblical book in the Judean Desert texts.27 Nevertheless, it is important to point out that the number of scrolls containing psalms does not coincide with the number of Psalms scrolls, and even fewer of those scrolls correspond to the Psalters as we know them. For example, we find Ps 122 in a 26 Emanuel Tov, “The Text of the Hebrew/Aramaic Bible and Greek Bible Used in the Ancient Synagogues,” in idem, Hebrew Bible, Greek Bible, and Qumran: Collected Essays, TSAJ 121 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 183. 27 The number of Psalms scrolls should have been greater, according to ancient sources speaking of early discoveries in the region. “In the Hexapla of the Psalms, after the four prominent translations, he [i. e., Origen] adds not only a fifth, but also a sixth and a seventh. He states of one of these that he found it in a jar in Jericho in the time of Antoninus, the son of Severus” (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 6.16.3); sometime around 800 CE, a letter (no. 47) from the Nestorian Patriarch Timotheus I of Seleucia to Sergius, Metropolitan of Elam, states that ten years earlier in a cave in the vicinity of Jericho were found Hebrew manuscripts and among those “more than two hundred psalms.” Oskar Braun, “Ein Brief des Katholikos Timotheos I über biblische Studien des 9. Jahrhunderts,” Oriens Christianus 1 (1901): 299–313.

450

Marcello Fidanzio

narrative text known as the Apocryphon of Joshua (4QapocrJoshc522), in which prayers are also included, or Ps 91 joined to two or three noncanonical compositions in a ritual of exorcism (11QPsAp). Furthermore, there are three scrolls that reproduce Ps 119 only (4QPsg, 4QPsh, 5QPs), indicating that this text was used also as an independent unit.28 Examining the scrolls that present a sequence of psalms, we often note unfamiliar arrangements: some psalms are in a different order, some are omitted, and sometimes other texts are present. This situation is unusual since the MT, Septuagint, and Peshitta commonly attest the same sequence of texts,29 while other texts are found only at the end of the sequence in the versions. Outside Qumran, fragments of two Psalms manuscripts were found at Masada (MasPsa, MasPsb) and another fragment was discovered at Naḥal Ḥever (5/6HevPs), all three dating back to the Second Temple period and each one fitting into the MT sequence. The main issue in dealing with psalms at Qumran is not the individual texts, which certainly offer interesting topics, but rather the book of Psalms. Since the earliest publications, the discussion has focused on the nature of the manuscripts found at Qumran and the contribution they may or may not make to our knowledge of the history of the formation of the Psalter. I. Description First of all, we must note that the state of preservation of the manuscripts limits our knowledge: for many scrolls we have only small fragments, and about half of the manuscripts contain no more than a single psalm and thus tell us nothing about the sequence of the Psalter. On the other hand, one scroll from cave 11Q is in a very good state of preservation and has been pivotal to research on the Psalter, in part due to its early publication in 1965.30 The scroll 11QPsa is 28 In scrolls 1QPsa, 11QPsa, and 11QPsb the text of Psalm 119 is written in a stichographic layout, whereas the other psalms are written as running text. See Tov, Scribal Practices, 168, table 8. 29 Psalms divisions are different, but we find differences even in the medieval Hebrew manuscripts. See William Yarchin, “Is There an Authoritative Shape for Sefer Tehillim? Profiling the Manuscripts of the Hebrew Psalter,” RB 122–23 (2015), 335–70. Could the LXX be a recensional text brought into conformity with the proto-MT sequence? For a summary of the discussion, see Jannes Smith, “Psalms, Primary Translations, 10.3.1. Septuagint,” in The Hebrew Bible: Writings, vol. 1C of Textual History of the Bible, ed. Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 83–84. 30 James A. Sanders, The Psalms Scroll of Qumrân Cave 11 (11QPsa), DJD 4 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1965). Additional fragments are published in Yigael Yadin, “Another Fragment (E) of the Psalms Scroll from Qumran Cave 11 (11QPsa),” Textus 5 (1966): 1–10; Florentino García Martínez, Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, and Adam S. Van der Woude, Qumran Cave 11, II: 11Q2–18, 11Q20–31, DJD 23 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998), 29–36; Oren Ableman, “Preliminary Publication of Cave 11 Fragments from Box 1023A,” in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q, 242–43.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

451

paleographically dated to the first half of the first century CE.31 It preserves forty-nine or fifty compositions: thirty-nine of its psalms are found in the last two books of the MT Psalter, but in a very different sequence; many of the other texts were already known because they appear elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible or in the ancient versions; and four texts, including a prose one, were previously unknown. 11QPsa  Psalms 101–103 → … → 109 → … → 118 → 104 → 147 → 10532→ 146 → 148 → … → 121–132 → 119 → 135 → 136 + 118:1, 15, 16, 8, 9, X, 29? → 145 → 154 → Plea for Deliverance → Psalms 139 → 137–138 → Sir 51:13–30 → Apostrophe to Zion → Psalms 93 → 141 → 133 → 144 → 155 → 142–143 → 149–150 → Hymn to the Creator → 2 Sam 23:[1–]7 → David’s Compositions → Psalms 140 → 134 → 151A → 151B.33

The publication of the manuscripts from the Judean Desert that contain psalms was completed in 2000.34 These manuscripts illustrate the variety in the sequencing of psalms at Qumran. Armin Lange has compiled a list, reproduced below, of seven groups that differ in sequence and repertoire.35 Group 1 (Psalms scrolls that follow the MT sequence) MasPsa MasPsb 5/6ḤevPs 4QPsc Group 2 11QPsa … Psalms 101–103 → … → 109 → … ( → 118 → 104 → 147 → )36105 → 146 → 148 → … → 121–132 → 119 → 135 → 136 + 118:1, 15, 16, 8, 9, X, 29? → 145 31 Sanders,

The Psalms, 9. sequence 118 → 104 → 147 → 105 is attested in fragment E, acquired by Yadin under special circumstances and considered as part of scroll 11QPsa. Recently Emile Puech claimed that there are several reasons why fragment E (and also fragment F) should be considered part of another scroll, 11Q5a = 11QPsf. Émile Puech, “Édition et reconstruction des manuscrits,” Hen 39 (2017): 113–14; idem, “Nouveaux menus fragments de la Grotte XI (boîte 1032a/1),” in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q, 247. 33 For a detailed reconstruction of the original contents of 11QPsa, see Peter W. Flint, The Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls and the Book of Psalms, STDJ 17 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 190, table 3. 34 Shemaryahu Talmon and Yigael Yadin, eds., Masada VI: The Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965. Final Reports: Hebrew Fragments from Masada (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and Hebrew University, 1999); Eugene Ulrich et al., eds., Qumran Cave 4, XI: Psalms to Chronicles, DJD 16 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000); James Charlesworth et al., in consultation with James VanderKam and Monica Brady, Miscellaneous Texts from the Judaean Desert, DJD 38 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000). 35 Armin Lange, “Psalms: 10.2.1. Ancient Manuscript Evidence,” in The Hebrew Bible: Writings, vol. 1C of Textual History of the Bible, ed. Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 24–42. 36 I have enclosed this part of the sequence in parentheses, for if Puech’s identification is correct (see n33 above), the sequence 118 → 104 → 147 → 105 is attested not on 11QPsa but on another scroll belonging to the same group. Consequently, the overlap between 11QPsa and 4QPse 32 The

452

Marcello Fidanzio

→  154 →  Plea for Deliverance →  Psalms 139 →  137–138 →  Sir 51:13–30 → Apostrophe to Zion → Psalms 93 → 141 → 133 → 144 → 155 → 142–143 → 149–150 → Hymn to the Creator → 2 Sam 23:[1–]7 → David’s Compositions → Psalms 140 → 134 → 151A → 151B … 11QPsb Psalms (77 → 78);37 119; 118:1, 15–16; Plea for Deliverance; Apostrophe to Zion; Psalms 141 → 133 → 144 4QPse Psalms 76 → 77:1; 78; 81; 86; 88; 89; 103 → 109; 114; 115 → 116; 118 → 104; 105 → 146; 120; 125 → 126; 129 → 130 Group 3 4QPsa Psalms 5 → 6; 25; 31 → 33; 34 → 35 → 36; 38 → 71; 47; 53 → 54; 56; 62 → 63; 66 → 67; 69 4QPsq Psalms 31 → 33[ → 34 → ]35 Group 4 4QPsb Psalms 91[ → ]92[ → ]93[ → ]94; 96; 98; 99[ → ]100; 102 → 103[ → ]112; 113; 115; 116; [117 → ]118 Group 5 4QPsd Psalms 106? → 147 → 104 Group 6 4QPsf Psalms 22; 107; 109 → Apostrophe to Zion; Eschatological Hymn[ → ]Apostrophe to Judah Group 7 4QPsk Psalms 135[ → ]99

The MT sequence, illustrated by the first group, is attested in the three manuscripts found outside Qumran. Relevant is MasPsb, dated to the second half of the first century BCE: two fragments contain Ps 147:18–19 and nearly all of Ps 150. The features of the last line, as well as the presence of a large margin to the left of Ps 150, indicate that the scroll ended with Ps 150. Since discussions about the psalms at Qumran focus mainly on the last two books of the Psalter, it is important that we have a manuscript of the first century BCE that allows us to plausibly reconstruct the sequence 147–150 and attests the conclusion of the Psalter as it appears in MT. As for Qumran manuscripts, only one is included in the first group, 4QPsc, and it preserves only a few junctions. Moreover, if we compare 4QPsc to the sequence attested in the third group, we see that the latter shows variations from the traditional sequence in two points, namely the absence of Ps would be reduced. (Note also that the editors of 4QPse proposed the sequence 105 → 146:1 – the latter represented only by the word ‫הללויה‬ – on the basis of the parallel to 11QPsa). 37 I have enclosed this part of the sequence in parentheses because Eibert Tigchelaar recently claimed that “given the multiple alternative possible assignments of 11Q6 frag. 1, its assignment in DJD 23 cannot be used as ground truth in discussions about the psalters.” “Revisiting the Manuscripts and Fragments from Qumran Cave 11,” in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q, 255. 11Q6 frag. 1 is the only fragment attributed to 11QPsb bearing psalms from the earlier parts of the Psalter.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

453

32 in the sequence Ps 31–33, as well as Ps 38 followed by Ps 71. Neither of these features is preserved in 4QPsc. Lange lists 4QPsc among the semi-Masoretic Qumran manuscripts.38 Peter Flint observes, “It was most surprising to find that no manuscript from Qumran unambiguously supports the arrangement found in Books IV–V of the MT–150 Psalter.”39 As for the other groups, the second, which includes three scrolls, is the most frequently attested at Qumran. By comparing sequences in different groups, we can observe how those sequences diverge not only from the traditional one, but also from each other: In 11QPsa and 4QPse (second group), Ps 103 is followed by Ps 109, but in 4QPsb (fourth group) by Ps 112. In both 11QPsa (second group) and 4QPsd (fifth group), Pss 104 and 147 are adjacent, but the order varies. In 11QPsa (second group), the Apostrophe to Zion is preceded by Sir 51:13–30, but in 4QPsf (sixth group) by Ps 109. There are also examples in which a sequence is attested or reconstructed, once in the traditional order, and elsewhere in a different order: In 11QPsa (second group), Ps 93 is followed by Ps 141, but in 4QPsb (fourth group) it is followed by Ps 94. In 4QPsk (seventh group), Ps 135 is followed by Ps 99, but in 11QPsa (second group) it is followed by Ps 136.40 II. Interpretation Starting from his work on 11QPsa, James Sanders developed an interpretation of the data, which Flint has summarized in the form of four main theses, under the title “Qumran Psalms Hypothesis”: (1) Concerning Gradual Stabilization: 11QPsa witnesses to a Psalter that was being gradually stabilized, from beginning to end. (2) Concerning Textual Affiliations: two or more Psalters are represented among the scrolls from the Judean Desert. (3) Concerning Provenance: 11QPsa was compiled at Qumran, and thus may be termed the “Qumran Psalter.” (4) Concerning Status: 11QPsa contains the latter part of a true scriptural Psalter. It is not a secondary collection that is dependent upon Pss 1–150, as found in the Received Text.41 I would like to focus on two points further developed by Gerald Wilson and Flint: first, the hypothesis that the book of Psalms was stabilized in two stages, and thus the first part of the Psalter was already stabilized at Qumran, whereas 38 Armin Lange, “Ancient and Late Ancient Hebrew and Aramaic Jewish Texts,” in The Hebrew Bible: Overview Articles, vol. 1A of Textual History of the Bible, ed. Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 124. See also Emanuel Tov, “The Development of the Text of the Torah in Two Major Text Blocks,” Textus 26 (2016): 11. 39 Flint, Dead Sea Psalms, 239. 40 Also note that in 4QPsn, Ps 135 is combined with Ps 136:22. 41 Flint, Dead Sea Psalms, 8.

454

Marcello Fidanzio

the final part was still fluid;42 second, the hypothesis that 11QPsa testifies to a different ending of a true scriptural Psalter. 1. Gradual Stabilization With regard to the hypothesis of a gradual stabilization of the Psalter, it is important to take into account that the psalms of the last two books of the MT Psalter are much more frequently attested at Qumran than those of the first three books. In statistical analyses of the psalm sequences attested in the Qumran scrolls, the single scroll 11QPsa, which departs from the sequence of the MT Psalter in books 4 and 5, statistically carries decisive weight because of its state of preservation. As noted, if we remove 11QPsa from the sample, statistics change in favor of the MT sequence after Ps 90.43 We have already observed some divergences from the MT sequence at Qumran, even in the first three books, although they are smaller in quantity. The theory of the gradual stabilization of the Psalter is complemented by Wilson’s observations on two different editorial strategies employed in the first three and the last two books of the Psalter.44 Nevertheless, as far as the Qumran scrolls are concerned, we should describe a phenomenon that can be traced throughout the entire Psalter, even if it affects different sections to different degrees (according to the available evidence). Moreover, it is necessary to note that when statistics on the agreements and disagreements between the sequences of psalms in the Dead Sea Scrolls and MT Psalter are compiled, they take into account all the joins attested in the Dead Sea Scrolls, given the impossibility of distinguishing the functions of individual scrolls.45 It cannot be assumed that all the scrolls bearing psalms were conceived as Scripture. For some of them, at least, we have to admit the possibility of a different function (see below). The limits to our knowledge do not allow us to clearly ascertain which scrolls are to be included and which excluded when conducting statistical analyses of psalms sequences at Qumran. This further reduces our ability to draw firm conclusions on the basis of such analyses.

42 Flint,

Dead Sea Psalms, 135–49. Fabry, “Der Psalter in Qumran,” in Der Psalter in Judentum und Christentum, ed. Erich Zenger, HBS 18 (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1998), 160. 44 Gerald H. Wilson, The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter, SBLDS 76 (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985). 45 David Willgren, The Formation of the ‘Book’ of Psalms: Reconsidering the Transmission and Canonization of Psalmody in Light of Material Culture and the Poetics of Anthologies, FAT II 88 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 117–18. 43 Heinz-Josef

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

455

2. The Status of Psalms Scrolls found at Qumran 2.1 Early discussions The recovery of 11QPsa, which differs greatly from previously known books of Psalms, led to wide discussion on the status of this scroll, and of the other scrolls bearing psalms found at Qumran.46 Sanders described 11QPsa as “canonical,” a true scriptural Psalter compiled when the Psalter was not stable yet. It should be regarded “not as a deviation from a rigidly fixed canon of the latter third of the Psalter but rather as a signpost in the multi-faceted history of the canonization of the Psalter.”47 “The Qumran Psalter, represented by 11QPsa, was ‘canonical’ at Qumran though by no means closed; on the contrary, it was, while authoritative, still open-ended.”48 This interpretation was supported by Wilson, who pointed out some editorial techniques in 11QPsa that are similar to those employed in the last two books of the MT Psalter.49 The status of true scriptural Psalter is the point also reached by Flint, after conducting the most detailed study on psalms found in the Dead Sea scrolls, and evaluating different interpretive hypotheses.50 Other scholars proposed alternatives to Sanders’s position; they interpreted 11QPsa as a secondary collection related to liturgy or devotion. Thus, in the first generation, Sanders was challenged by Shemaryahu Talmon,51 Moshe GoshenGottstein,52 and Patrick Skehan.53 The first two authors posited a different function for the scroll, considering it to be a liturgical text. Skehan, in addition to investigating the relation of the scroll to liturgy, argued that 11QPsa was dependent on the MT Psalter. 2.2 Canonical versus secondary, liturgical text In the first phase of the debate, a disagreement over the status of 11QPsa arose: “canonical” text versus “secondary,” “liturgical” text. These categories demand 46 For a thorough review of the debate among the first generation, see Wilson, Editing, 63– 92; see also Flint, Dead Sea Psalms, 202–26. 47 James A. Sanders, The Dead Sea Psalms Scroll (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1967), 13. 48 James A. Sanders, “The Qumran Psalms Scroll (11QPsa) Reviewed,” in On Language, Culture, and Religion: In Honor of Eugene A. Nida, ed. Matthew Black and William A. Smalley (The Hague: Mouton, 1974), 98. 49 Gerald H. Wilson, “The Qumran Psalms Scroll (11QPsa) and the Canonical Psalter: Comparison of Editorial Shaping,” CBQ 59 (1997): 448–64. 50 Flint, Dead Sea Psalms. 51 Shemaryahu Talmon, “Pisqah Be’emṣa‘ Pasuq and 11QPsa,” Textus 5 (1966): 11–21. 52 Moshe H. Goshen-Gottstein, “The Psalms Scroll (11QPsa): A Problem of Canon and Text,” Textus 5 (1966): 22–33. 53 Patrick W. Skehan, “A Liturgical Complex in 11QPsa,” CBQ 34 (1973): 195–205; idem, “Qumran and Old Testament Criticism,” in Qumrân: Sa piété, sa théologie et son milieu, ed. Mathias Delcor, BETL 46 (Gembloux: Duculot; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1978), 163–82.

456

Marcello Fidanzio

to be discussed. First of all, the notion of “canon” is considered anachronistic with respect to the texts found at Qumran. Since 11QPsa belongs to a stage prior to the closure of the canon, also the notions of secondary and liturgical, referring to the status of the Psalm scrolls retrieved at Qumran, need to be reviewed. Before the canon was closed, a text that depended on an earlier one was not considered any less authoritative, the canon being the yardstick. Michael Segal has discussed some examples in a valuable paper on the rewriting of biblical texts.54 He points out that if Jeremiah MT is in fact a rewriting of the Hebrew Vorlage of Jeremiah LXX, this did not prevent it from becoming the canonical form of Jeremiah in the Hebrew Bible. Similarly, the Samaritan Pentateuch is an expansion of the proto-MT. Another frequently cited example is the case of Chronicles, which rewrites the books of Samuel and Kings, but is nonetheless a canonical text. With respect to the topic of this study, research on the genealogical relationship between 11QPsa and MT Psalms, even if it eventually succeeded in demonstrating a dependence of the former on the latter,55 would not be sufficient reason to declare that 11QPsa was not a canonical text in its day. Taking into account the liturgical or devotional uses of a text, we have to consider, that prior to the fixation of the canon, they could have influenced the redactional history of the biblical text. Determining that a scroll had a liturgical function does not exclude the possibility that its contents were regarded, or came to be regarded, as Scripture. In fact, we are not able to definitively state whether the Qumran Psalms scrolls in our possession represent stages in the redactional process of the biblical text or in the history of its reception. On the other hand, assigning a liturgical function to a scroll may help to explain some features encountered in the Qumran scrolls containing psalms, such as the variety of sequences or the inclusion of other texts, even texts that are not psalms at all.56 Some Qumran scrolls are more plausibly described as liturgical texts into which psalms have been inserted, as in the case of the aforementioned 11QPsAp, interpreted as a ritual of exorcism, which includes Ps 91. The same may be true of 1QPsa, if it is linked to the liturgical text 1Q30 (as has been proposed,57 although 54 Michael Segal, “Between Bible and Rewritten Bible,” in Biblical Interpretation at Qumran, ed. Matthias Henze (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005), 10–28. 55 See the discussion between Sanders and Skehan referred to in Skehan, “Qumran.” For further discussion, see Gerald H. Wilson “The Qumran Psalms Manuscripts and the Consecutive Arrangement of Psalms in the Hebrew Psalter,” CBQ 45 (1983): 377–88; Flint, Dead Sea Psalms, 214–15; Ulrich Dahmen, Psalmen‑ und Psalter-Rezeption im Frühjudentum: Rekonstruktion, Textbestand, Struktur und Pragmatik der Psalmenrolle 11QPsa aus Qumran, STDJ 49 (Leiden: Brill, 2003), 231. 56 Interactions between liturgy and Scripture are a complex phenomenon. William Yarchin has shown how liturgical practices affected the writing of codices understood as true Psalters even in the medieval period, although this was not a frequent phenomenon. “Were the Psalms Collections at Qumran True Psalters?,” JBL 134 (2015): 775–89. 57 Dominique Barthélemy, “Textes bibliques,” in Barthélemy and Milik, Qumran Cave 1, 71; Jóseph T. Milik, “Textes non bibliques,” in Barthélemy and Milik, Qumran Cave 1, 132.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

457

without conclusive arguments). There are also excerpt texts, like the three scrolls mentioned earlier that contain only Ps 119, or the scroll 4QPsl, which begins with Ps 104, perhaps followed by a few more texts. The existence of excerpt texts indicates that some manuscripts were written for a different function.58 As for 11QPsa and the other scrolls included in the above list showing various sequences and repertoires, the discussion has broadened without reaching firm conclusions about their liturgical function. It should also be noted that when dealing with anthologies of prayers, the temptation to explain texts that are otherwise difficult to understand in relation to liturgy is strong. In such cases the lectio facilior requires some caution. I think that research on the relationship between Qumran psalms scrolls and liturgy may be useful in explaining some evidence and in differentiating some scrolls, but I am uncertain whether this approach can cover the entire range of phenomena seen at Qumran. 2.3 Transmission of collections of poetical texts: random versus deliberate choice Another explanation for the great variety of sequences attested at Qumran has recently been suggested. Armin Lange draws an analogy between the Psalms and the Hodayot found at Qumran. He suggests that the textual evidence at Qumran “points to a characteristic of the textual transmission of poetic texts in antiquity. Each psalm or hodayah was considered as an independent text that could be combined more or less randomly in the various psalm and hodayot collections.”59 Lange’s interpretation has the advantage of proposing a parallel within Qumran itself, that is, in the same context where we come across the phenomenon we are investigating. Focusing on psalms as individual units, his explanation stands apart from the discussions referred to in the previous paragraphs. Nevertheless, I agree with the observations made by Eva Mroczek; although her doctoral dissertation questions the concept of “book” itself, she shows how the arrangement of the non-Masoretic texts in 11QPsa “was not random, but based on thematic, aesthetic, and/or interpretive logic.”60 The same point can be made, in my opinion, regarding the MT psalms that are found in a different order in 11QPsa. If it is so, the different sequences of psalms found at Qumran may be regarded as case studies for investigating the techniques of shaping psalms collections in the late Second Temple period. 58 Brent A. Strawn, “Textual History of Psalms,” in Textual History of the Bible, vol. 1C, ed. Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 9. 59 Armin Lange, “Collecting Psalms in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam, ed. Erich F. Mason et al., 2 vols., JSJSup153 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 1:307. 60 Eva Mroczek, “Psalms Unbound: Ancient Concepts of Textual Tradition in 11QPsalmsa and Related Texts” (Ph.D. diss., University of Toronto, 2012), 73–104, esp. 73.

458

Marcello Fidanzio

2.4 Variant literary editions Having critically assessed, albeit briefly, some stages of the debate, we finally have to inquire into the possibility that the psalms scrolls found at Qumran (or at least some of them) are variant literary editions of the book of Psalms. The topic is broad, and here I shall focus on how the scrolls found at Qumran, if they indeed constitute variant literary editions, may be representative of the general situation at the time. In analyzing the possible scenarios, it is useful to distinguish the phenomenon illustrated by Qumran psalms scrolls (fluidity in textual sequence and repertoire) from its available witnesses. I suggest some possible categories: – local texts, limited to Qumran61 – widespread texts, retrieved at Qumran – peculiar instantiations (local?) of a wider phenomenon. The first two categories oppose each other, and only concern the available texts, while the latter broadens the perspective to other possible texts, no longer available, characterized by fluidity in textual sequence and repertoire, of which the psalms scrolls retrieved at Qumran may be peculiar instantiations with or without local character. Let us briefly evaluate the evidence from Qumran and compare it with texts discovered elsewhere in the Judean Desert and with the data provided by the ancient versions and later Hebrew manuscripts. Among the Qumran psalms scrolls, 11QPsa is the best preserved, and its content is attested by fragments from two more scrolls. This composition is the most frequently attested at Qumran, although the quantity of scrolls is not overwhelming. Lange’s list (see above) contains seven different psalms sequences found at Qumran. Let us leave aside the first one (which corresponds to Psalms MT), for out of the four scrolls that attest that sequence, three were found outside Qumran; they will be taken into account below, when the evidence from Qumran will be compared to the regional context. The sequence attested in 11QPsa (the second of the seven sequences) is found in three scrolls, but another sequence (the third) is attested in two. Considering the number of psalms manuscripts whose fragmentary preservation does not allow us to reconstruct their sequence,62 the balance can easily swing.63 Focusing on the content of 11QPsa, it may be noticed that David’s Compositions, a nonbiblical text included in the sequence, refers 61 Given the debate on the origin of texts found in the vicinity of Qumran, here I include under the heading “Qumran” texts that were shaped at Qumran or that belonged to the specific entity that was connected in some way to Khirbet Qumran (the extent of which is hard to determine) and to the collection and/or the deposition of the manuscripts in the caves. 62 More than twenty are listed by Lange. “Ancient Manuscript Evidence,” 37–40. 63 Furthermore, aside from 11QPsa itself, there is nothing to suggest that 11QPsb and 4QPse belong to scrolls identical to 11QPsa. In cave 4Q, the richest in psalms manuscripts, 11QPsa content is found in one manuscript only.

Biblical Scrolls in Their Depositional Contexts

459

to a solar calendar. This suggests that the use of this scroll may have been limited to people who adopted that calendar. The manuscripts 11QPsa, 11QPsb, and 4QPse (the second group listed above) were all copied at Qumran; on the one hand, this datum does not provide any information on the text’s composition, but on the other hand it is a reminder that there is no evidence for its presence outside Qumran. The scroll 4QPsc is the only one at Qumran that attests a sequence of psalms corresponding to MT and thus qualified as an “outer circle” or “semi-Masoretic” text. Among the scrolls found elsewhere in the Judean Desert are three psalms scrolls, all written before 70 CE, namely MasPsa, MasPsb, and 5/6ḤevPs, that attest the MT sequence and an “inner circle” text. The same sequence is found both in the Septuagint and in the Peshitta. The versions and the later Hebrew manuscript tradition up to the Middle Ages show a different kind of fluidity, in which the numbering of the psalms varies, depending on whether certain psalms are divided or combined, but the actual sequence of the texts is unaltered. The inclusion of other texts occurs only at the end of the sequence in the versions. We are facing again what was introduced in the first part of this paper. The psalms scrolls fit the overall profile outlined for Qumran, singular in the context, and unitary in itself; they are united by a characteristic feature, namely fluidity in textual sequence, and they are unique when considered in the context of the Judean Desert scrolls as a whole.

C. Conclusions Building upon the preceding arguments, let us make some concluding remarks. First, the analysis of the situation demands that we take care not to overemphasize the importance of 11QPsa because of its state of preservation. 11QPsa is a valuable witness, but if we treat it as a variant literary edition of the latter parts of the Psalter, we need to investigate its place in and possible influence on the history of the book of Psalms. Even within Qumran psalms scrolls, it is necessary to maintain some distance between the phenomenon of fluidity of sequence and repertoire and its best witness. An emphasis on 11QPsa shifts our attention from the peculiar feature at Qumran, namely fluidity, to a single exemplar. Second, as for the diffusion of the texts attested in Qumran psalms manuscripts, the available evidence does not provide positive data to support a wide spread; they are, on the contrary, limited to Qumran, and in the case of 11QPsa the reference to the solar calendar could define the identity of its users. Of course, when dealing with material witnesses, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence; this is even more true for the manuscripts we are dealing with, as their availability outside Qumran is extremely limited. But analysis of features internal to the Qumran manuscripts and comparison to the regional context, to the

460

Marcello Fidanzio

versions, and to later Hebrew manuscripts provides a coherent framework for discussion. Finally, to maintain that fluidity in the psalms sequences attested at Qumran represents a wider phenomenon, it is necessary to evaluate the overall textual fluidity in early Jewish literature, and how the textual evidence from Qumran relates to it, before confronting the data concerning Psalms. This exceeds the aims of the present contribution, which set out to draw a profile of Qumran that pools the material culture from the caves together with the texts they contained, a profile that is mirrored in the Psalms situation.

The Reception of Genesis 6:1–4 in 1 Enoch 6–7 Henryk Drawnel A. Two Similar Accounts of Sexual Intermingling Since the beginning of the critical study of the primeval history in Gen 1–11, Gen 6:1–4 has been considered to be a difficult text containing a plethora of exegetical problems, the foremost of which is the origin and meaning of the sexual encounter of the sons of God with the daughters of men (Gen 6:1–2). The children born from this union are called “mighty men (gibbōrîm) who were of old, the men of the name” (Gen 6:4b). The parenthetical remarks about the limitation of the length of human life by YHWH and the presence of the Nephilim on the earth in those mythical times (Gen 6:3–4a) complete the information given in the short account. While the text seems to etiologically explain the origin of the gibbōrîm, with a possible negative connotation introduced by the imposition of a maximum lifespan for humans, its present literary position between the Sethite genealogies (Gen 5) and the flood account (Gen 6:5–8:22) hardly finds an unequivocal explanation.1

1  The National Science Centre, Poland, has funded this project (Dec-2013/09/B/HS1/00728). Biblical translations follow the RSV, with occasional adjustments. For the exposition of exegetical problems contained in these four verses, see, for example, Hermann Gunkel, Genesis, 4th ed., HThKAT I/1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1917), 56–59; Gustav Engelbert Closen, Die Sünde der “Söhne Gottes,” Gen. 6,1–4: Ein Beitrag zur Theologie der Genesis, Scripta Pontificii Instituti Biblici (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1937), 75–216; Brevard Childs, Myth and Reality in the Old Testament, SBT 27 (London: SCM, 1960), 49–57; Rüdiger Bartelmus, Heroentum in Israel und seiner Umwelt: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zu Gen 6,1–4 und verwandten Texten im Alten Testament und der altorientalischen Literatur, AThANT 65 (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1979); David L. Petersen, “Genesis 6:1–4, Yahweh and the Organization of the Cosmos,” JSOT 4 (1979): 47–64; David J. A. Clines, “The Significance of the ‘Sons of God’ Episode (Genesis 6:1–4) in the Context of the ‘Primeval History’ (Genesis 1–11),” JSOT 4 (1979): 33–46; Roland Hendel, “Of Demigods and the Deluge: Toward an Interpretation of Gen 6:1–4,” JBL 106 (1987): 13–26; Claus Westermann, Genesis 1–11: A Continental Commentary, trans. John J. Scullion (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 363–83; Horst Seebass, Genesis I: Urgeschichte 1,1–11,26 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1996), 187–99; Roland Hendel, “The Nephilim Were on the Earth: Genesis 6:1–4 and Its Ancient Near Eastern Context,” in The Fall of the Angels, ed. Christoph Auffarth and Loren T. Stuckenbruck, TBN 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 11–34; Horst Seebass, “Die Gottessöhne und das menschliche Maβ: Gen 6,1–4,” BN 134 (2007): 5–22.

462

Henryk Drawnel

The text of Gen 6:1–4 is reflected in a strikingly similar Jewish myth that constitutes the backbone of Enochic apocalyptic tradition. In the Book of the Watchers (1 En. 1–36), a composite text dated on the basis of its Qumran manuscripts to the third century BCE,2 chapters 6–11 constitute a separate literary unit in which the Watchers, heavenly beings of a supernatural character, descend on the earth, mate with the daughters of men, engender sons of enormous size, and teach women different types of knowledge (1 En. 6:1–7:2). The γίγαντες – “giants” in Greek, or most probably gibbārîn in Aramaic – exercise violence against humanity, against the produce of human work, and against the animals of the earth (1 En. 7:3–5). The Watchers’ sinful relations with the women and the ravaging of the earth by the giants, together with the knowledge considered harmful (ch. 8), lead to the Watchers’ punishment and the giants’ extermination, decreed by God (9:1–10:16a) so that the period of paradisiac fertility and blessedness may begin (10:16b–11:2). On the basis of literary dependence and thematic similarity, scholars consider Gen 6:1–2, 4 as the source text especially for 1 En. 6:1–2 and 7:1–2, where the only major departure from the biblical text is the presentation of sexual intercourse between the sons of God and mortal women as sinful. Then, it is claimed, creative reinterpretation of the primeval story attested in Gen 6–11 generated the rest of 1 En. 6–11. Through the lens of its relationship to the biblical primeval story, the myth is understood as an etiological explanation of evil and violence on the earth caused by the rebellion of the angelic beings, who by mating with the women transgressed the divinely established order inherent in the created world.3 Józef T. Milik, the editor of the Aramaic fragments of 1 Enoch from Qumran, reverses the direction of dependence between the two texts and claims that the Genesis mythological account, which literally repeats two or three phrases from

2 Józef T. Milik paleographically dates 4Q201, a fragmentary Aramaic manuscript containing portions of 1 En. 5–9, to the second half of the second century. The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1976), 140. Consequently, the date of composition of the whole book has been pushed back to the third century BCE. 3 See, e. g., Mathias Delcor, “Le mythe de la chute des anges et de l’origine des géants comme explication du mal dans le monde dans l’apocalyptique juive: Histoire des traditions,” RHR 190 (1976): 3–53, esp. 25–31; Paul D. Hanson, “Rebellion in Heaven, Azazel, and Euhemeristic Heroes in 1 Enoch 6–11,” JBL 96 (1977): 195–233, esp. 197; George W. E. Nickelsburg, “Apocalyptic and Myth in 1 Enoch 6–11,” JBL 96 (1977): 383–405, esp. 386–389; idem, 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1–36; 81–108, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001), 166–68; Helge S. Kvanvig, Primeval History: Babylonian, Biblical, and Enochic: An Intertextual Reading, JSJSup 149 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 405–13. In 1 En. 12–16, which constitute a later redactional elaboration of the myth as codified in chs. 6–11, Enoch, absent in the original story, takes pride of place as an intermediary between God and the Watchers and the recipient of the heavenly visions. Since these chapters are evidently later than the myth itself, they are of no concern for us in this study. Additionally, they do not have any direct relationship to Gen 6:1–4.

The Reception of Genesis 6

463

4Q201 and 4Q202, abbreviates chapters 6–7 of 1 Enoch.4 Thus the abridged and allusive formulation of Gen 6:1–4 deliberately refers back to the Enochic document. Some scholars have accepted Milik’s proposal but stress the possibility that the relationship stems from a common source.5 Since in recent research the inclusion of Gen 6:1–4 in the structure of the biblical book has been attributed to the latest stage of redaction, the temporal interval between the two traditions has considerably diminished. In his study of the redaction and theology of Gen 1–11, Marcus Witte builds on Milik’s interpretation.6 In his opinion, the dependence of the biblical text on the Enochic myth explains the overlapping of some parts of 4Q201 and 4Q202 with Gen 6:1aα–2, 4, and the mosaic-like character of the latter text. The Genesis text with its allusive citation-like form refers back to the longer and fuller narrative contained in the Aramaic texts from Qumran, therefore the priority of the Enochic myth, or rather the priority of the archetype of the Aramaic composition, must be assumed. The post-Priestly redactor of Gen 1–11 is responsible for the derivation of Gen 6:1–2, 4 from the archetype of 1 En. 6–19, its redactional elaboration, and its present location in the biblical text. In Witte’s opinion, the assumed dependence of the Enochic myth on Gen 6:1–4 claimed by most scholars builds on the improper ascription of the Genesis text to the pre-Priestly redactor and on the assumption of the priority of the literary history of the biblical texts. Additionally, the Qumran discoveries of the Aramaic fragments of 1 Enoch have shown that the underlying tradition might have its roots in the fourth century BCE, that is, in the Persian period. Thus, the study of the literary motifs in Gen 6:1–4 should focus on the traditions and sources that stood behind both the biblical text and 1 En. 6–19. In keeping with Witte’s emphasis on literary criticism, the following notes analyze the literary and thematic relationship between the two similar accounts in order to elucidate the interpretive and redactional process in the complex structure of the Enochic text. The study focuses on the first literary section of the myth (1 En. 6–7), where the relationship with the Genesis text is evident. A closer look at the integration of the biblical myth into the Enochic narrative reveals the creative process of writing a new story that has its own dynamics and its own purpose different from that of Gen 6:1–4. 4 See

Milik, Books of Enoch, 31. Black accepts Milik’s proposal and sees the relationship between the two texts as stemming from a common archetype. The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch: A New English Edition with Commentary and Textual Notes, SVTP 7 (Leiden: Brill, 1985), 14, 124–125. Philip R. Davies accepts the same perspective. “Women, Men, Gods, Sex and Power: The Birth of a Biblical Myth,” in A Feminist Companion to Genesis, ed. Athalya Brenner, FCB 2 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 194–201, esp. 198–99. Kvanvig presents an elaborate argument for the dependence of Gen 6:1–4 on 1 En. 6–7. Primeval History, 382–95, 6 Markus Witte, Die biblische Urgeschichte: Redaktions‑ und theologiegeschichtliche Beobachtungen zu Genesis 1,1–11,26, BZAW 265 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998), 293–97. 5 Matthew

464

Henryk Drawnel

B. 1 Enoch 6–11 and Its Manuscripts Since the full account of the Book of the Watchers, originally written in Aramaic, has been preserved only in the later versions, the comparison of the Enochic text with the Genesis fragment is a complex undertaking. Before proceeding to the text analysis a short presentation of the manuscript evidence is in order. 4Q201, paleographically dated to the first half of the second century BCE, contains a fragmentary text of chapters 1–2 and 6–9 of the Book of the Watchers (BW). 4Q202 preserves some parts of chapters 5–10 and 14; it has been dated to the middle or the second half of the second century BCE.7 The Byzantine monk Syncellos, writing his Chronography in the eighth century CE, transmitted to us two Greek excerpts of the BW8 that are commonly held to be copies extracted from the works of Annianos and Panodoros, two Greek historians writing at the beginning of the fifth century CE.9 The Greek manuscript from Panopolis transcribed by two scribes in upper Egypt contains most of the BW.10 Its text is very close to the Greek Vorlage of the older Ethiopic recension (Eth. I).11 The Syriac fragment containing 1 En. 6:1–6, 8 has evidently been translated from a Greek manuscript.12 The available manuscript evidence shows that the myth became subject to editorial reworking already on the level of the Aramaic text, a process that is reflected in the versions and the Qumran manuscripts. In the following discussion, the differences between the readings have been noted and commented upon wherever possible, with precedence given to the Aramaic text. It remains beyond  7 In this research, the paleographic dating of the Aramaic texts of 1 Enoch and the Aramaic text itself is cited according to the edition by Henryk Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4: The Aramaic Books of Enoch: 4Q201, 4Q202, 4Q204, 4Q205, 4Q206, 4Q207, 4Q212 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019).  8 Cited as GS-1 and GS-2; the beginning of the myth in 1 En. 6–7 is attested only in the first insertion.  9 For the Greek text of the first insertion in the Chronicle, see Alden A. Mosshammer, Georgii Syncelli Ecloga chronographica, BSGRT (Leipzig: Teubner, 1984), 11–13 (§§ 20–23). In some cases, the present study cites the Chester Beatty–Michigan papyrus (1 En. 97:6 – 104:13; 106:1–107:3), abbreviated GCM. See Campbell Bonner, The Last Chapters of Enoch in Greek, SD 8 (London: Christophers, 1937). 10 Cited as GC-1 and GC-2; the beginning of the Enochic myth is attested only in GC-1. For the Greek text of the manuscript, see Matthew Black and Albert-Marie Denis, Apocalypsis Henochi graece – Fragmenta pseudepigraphorum quae supersunt graeca: Una cum historicorum et auctorum judaeorum hellenistarum fragmentis, PVTG 3 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1970), 1–36. 11 Here the siglum for the Ethiopic version is E. For the eclectic edition based on the older recension Eth. I, see Robert Henry Charles, The Ethiopic Version of the Book of Enoch: Edited from Twenty-Three Mss. together with the Fragmentary Greek and Latin Versions, AO.SS 11 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906). An alternative edition is based on one manuscript of the Eth. II recension and on ms. Tana 9; see Michael A. Knibb, The Ethiopic Book of Enoch (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978). 12 Ms. SOAA 0250(S) f. 5r–v (siglum S); for a new edition of the text, see Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4, § 1.3.3.

The Reception of Genesis 6

465

doubt that 1 En. 6–11 was composed in Aramaic and, on the whole, is not a translation of a Hebrew Vorlage.13 Since we do not possess the whole Aramaic text of 1 En. 6–7, it is difficult to establish to what extent it constitutes a translation from Hebrew in the places where it overlaps with Gen 6:1–2, 4b–d, although in two cases a literal translation can perhaps be assumed.14 When the differences between the manuscripts of 1 Enoch are compared, a redactional process is detectable in the whole work. Since evidently 1 En. 6–7 is also a composite text, the reworking of the Aramaic version of the tradition present in Gen 6:1–2, 4b–d is part of a larger compositional strategy of the Aramaic scribes, which must be taken into consideration.

C. Gen 6:1–4 in the Literary Structure and Content of 1 Enoch 6–7 First Enoch 6–11 is considered to be the oldest part of the BW and later Enochic compositions. Like the Aramaic Astronomical Book (4Q208–4Q211), 1 En. 6–11 does not mention Enoch by name, and the biblical patriarch appears only in the reinterpretation of the myth in 1 En. 12–16.15 Thus the textual relationship between 1 En. 6–7 and the short account in Genesis, or perhaps between 1 En. 6–7 and an Aramaic version of the Genesis passage, must be dated to the formative period of this Jewish apocalyptic tradition, before it was associated with the name of the prediluvian patriarch. While the divine-human intercourse in Gen 6:1–4 has exerted little, if any, impact on the primeval history in Gen 1–11, the Aramaic version of the myth has been considered fundamental to the development of the Enochic apocalyptic literature. The textual relationship between 1 En. 6–7 and Gen 6:1–4 is restricted to 1 En. 6:1–2 and 7:1–2, which are embedded in a larger literary unit (Table 1). Since 1 En. 6–7 introduces the theme of the descent of defiled and violent spirits to the earth, and the rest of the myth relates the divine reaction to this event, it is precisely the material common to 1 En. 6–7 and Gen 6:1–4 that establishes the main problem that 1 En. 6–11 seeks to resolve.

13 Against Devorah Dimant, who claims that the source underlying the Enochic myth (1 En. 6–11) was a Hebrew parabiblical work akin to 1Q19, a fragmentary Hebrew text that is related to the description of the fall of the Watchers. “1 Enoch 6–11: A Fragment of a Parabiblical Work,” JJS 53 (2002): 223–37. Dimant apparently oversteps the available evidence. The Enochic myth was composed in Aramaic and its use of Gen 6:1–4 in 1 En. 6–7 is not proof of the existence of a putative Hebrew source for the whole myth. 14 See the comments on 1 En. 6:1a in § C.I below. 15 For an analysis of the development of 1 En. 6–19, see Milik, Books of Enoch, 25–41. Carol A. Newsom notes the artificiality of the introduction in 12:1–2 and the summary of the tale of the sinful Watchers in 12:4–13:2. “The Development of 1 Enoch 6–19: Cosmology and Judgment,” CBQ 42 (1980): 310–29, esp. 315.

466

Henryk Drawnel

Table 1. Literary Structure and Content of 1 Enoch 6–7 1 Enoch 6–7

6:2a 6:2b

I. Introduction Multiplication of humankind and giving birth to women The Watchers see the daughters of men Watchers’ desires to choose wives for themselves

6:2c 6:2d 6:3a 6:3b 6:4a 6:4b 6:5

II. Arriving at the Common Decision and the Oath Introduction of direct speech Reciprocal exhortation to marry and beget children Introduction of direct speech Reservations of Shemiḥazah Introduction of direct speech Exhortation to bind themselves with an oath Execution of the oath

6:1a–b

6:6

6:7 6:8 7:1a 7:1b 7:1c 7:1d 7:1e

Gen 6:1a–b ———; cf. Gen 6:2a ———; redactional ——— a distinct tradition cf. Gen 6:2b; 1 En. 7:1b ——— ——— ——— ——— ———

III. The Descent on Mount Hermon The descent of two hundred Watchers on Mount ­Hermon in the days of Yared

a distinct tradition ———; cf. Gen 5:18–20

IV. The List of the Leaders of Tens The list with the names of twenty Watchers, leaders of tens Conclusion

a distinct tradition ———

V. The Watchers and the Women Redactional opening Taking women as wives ——— Sexual intercourse Defilement of the Watchers Teaching of witchcraft, incantations, roots, plants

VI. Conception, Birth, and Violence Conception of the demonic warriors Birth of the demonic warriors ——— 7:2bβ–5 Unusual height and violence of the warriors 7:2a 7:2bα

7:6

Relation to Gen 6:1–4

VII. Conclusion Accusation brought by the earth against the lawless

redactional redactional Gen 6:2b Gen 6:3–4a Gen 6:4b a distinct tradition a distinct tradition redactional Gen 6:4c Gen 6:4d a distinct tradition a distinct tradition

Although 1 En. 6–7 constitutes a composite text, it is part of the Shemiḥazah literary stratum of 1 En. 6–11. The second stratum, with Asael as the main protagonist, concentrates on the teaching transmitted to the women. According to the opinio communis, at one point in time the two strata were interwoven into

The Reception of Genesis 6

467

one narrative and complemented by several redactional additions related to the transmission of knowledge.16 The first two chapters of the Enochic myth draw not exclusively on Gen 6:1–4 but also on a tradition concerning the Watchers whose origin is not entirely clear. First Enoch 6:1–2a provides the reader with information about the multiplication of humanity and the birth of women that is related to Gen 6:1–2a. The section serves as background information for 1 En. 6–7. The discourse and narrative in 1 En. 6:2c–5 are part of a Watchers tradition concerning marriage with women. The exhortation in 1 En. 6:2d to take women for wives and to father children builds on Gen 6:2a–b and Gen 6:4c, two events that underlie the development of the story in the first part of the myth. Yet, the following text about the common decision of the Watchers to marry and the oath-taking in 1 En. 6:3–5 includes new information not provided by the biblical story. In the case of 1 En. 6:6, the Jewish redactor writing in Aramaic hints at the tradition about Jared (Gen 5:18–20) and Mount Hermon (cf. Deut 3:8; Josh 11:7; Ps 42:7, etc.), applying the paronomastic exegesis of these two proper names to the time and place of the Watchers’ descent. The verse as such, however, does not show any formal contact with the text of the Hebrew Bible. The list of the names of the chiefs of tens in 1 En. 6:7 evidently comes from a different source closely linked with Aramaic astronomy/astrology.17 The differences in this verse between the Panopolitanus Codex (+ E), the Syncellos version, and the Qumran manuscripts (4Q201 frgs. 3 ii+5–6; 4Q202 frgs. 4+6; 4Q204 frg. 3 ii) call for the assumption of more than one recension of this source.18 A similar case occurs in 1 En. 7:3–5 (GC-1; E), which develops the theme 16 For

a detailed literary analysis of the two strata, see Nickelsburg, “Apocalyptic and Myth,” 384–89. John J. Collins raises several reasonable arguments against the division of 1 En. 6–11 into two separate although similar stories. “Methodological Issues in the Study of 1 Enoch: Reflections on the Articles of P. D. Hanson and G. W. Nickelsburg,” in Society of Biblical Literature 1978 Seminar Papers, ed. Paul J. Achtemeier, SBLSP 13 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1978), 315–22. An alternative to the division into literary strata by Nickelsburg and others would be the assumption of the reinterpretation of the first, shorter version of the myth in view of the addition of 1 En. 8:1–3 within the structure of the myth. The adoption of the Genesis tradition and the inclusion of sections dedicated to the Watchers in 1 En. 6–7 leads the narrative to focus on the Watchers instead of the gabbārîn, with evident consequences in 1 En. 9:1–10:14. Cf. Henryk Drawnel, “1 Enoch 6–11 Interpreted in Light of Mesopotamian Incantation Literature,” in 1 Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels: Reminiscences, Allusions, Intertextuality, ed. Loren T. Stuckenbruck and Gabriele Boccaccini, EJL 44 (Atlanta, GA: SBL, 2016), 245–84, esp. 250–67. 17 For the editio princeps of the Aramaic list and the explanation of the meaning of the proper names, see Milik, Books of Enoch, 152–56; for some corrective notes, cf. Michael Sokoloff, “Notes on the Aramaic Fragments of Enoch from Qumran Cave 4,” Maarav 1 (1979): 197–224, esp. 207; for a detailed discussion of the list in relation to the existing versions, see Matthew Black, “The Twenty Angel Dekadarchs at 1 Enoch 6.7 and 69.2,” JJS 33 (1982): 227–35. 18 A copy of the list has been inserted in the Similitudes of Enoch in 1 En. 69:2; for a comparison of the available evidence, see table 2.5 (“Greek and Ethiopic Names of the Sons of Heaven”) in Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4, ch. 2.1.

468

Henryk Drawnel

of violence perpetrated on the earth by the gabbārîn. 4Q201 frgs. 3 ii+5–8 17–21 confirms the position of 1 En. 7:3–5 in the literary structure attested in GC-1 and E, but the Aramaic text bears witness to a longer, expanded text of this section. While 1 En. 7:3–5 is absent in Syncellos after 7:2, its content is summarized in a one-sentence statement at the end of 8:3 in the same Greek version. The reason for the change is a different depiction of the “giants” in the composite 7:2 (GS-1), with an accent on the three generations of the Watchers’ descendants. After a section dedicated to the Watchers (1 En. 6:2c–8), the Enochic redactor returns to the tradition contained in Gen 6:1–4. While Gen 6:1–2a has been incorporated at the beginning of the whole Enochic narrative as one unit, Gen 6:2b, 4b–4c has been divided in 1 En. 7:1–2 into two parts: Gen 6:2b, 4b (marriage and intercourse in 1 En. 7:1b–c) and Gen 6:4c (birth of the giants in 1 En. 7:2bα); Gen 6:4d (“who were of old, men of the name”) has been omitted. The division into smaller units results from their inclusion into an intensely redacted section, 1 En. 7:1–2 that conjoins the tradition about the Watchers (1 En. 6:2c–8) with that dedicated to the Enochic heroes or warriors in 1 En. 7:2bβ–5. The inclusion of the Genesis form of the text translated into Aramaic has led to the redactional reworking of the original. Since the redactors focused on the story of the Watchers and their descendants, they omitted (or perhaps were not aware of) the text of Gen 6:3–4a (limitation set on human life by YHWH; the Nephilim).19 The omission of Gen 6:4d (“who were of old, men of the name”) results from a different understanding of the heroes as demonic warriors in 1 En. 7:2bβ–5. The absence of any reflex of Gen 6:3–4a – concerning God’s limitation of the length of human life and the presence of the Nephilim on the earth – in 1 En. 7 means that marriage (Gen 6:2b; 1 En. 7:1b) immediately precedes intercourse (Gen 6:4b; 1 En. 7:1c), creating a smoothly flowing narrative. The accusation brought by the earth against the lawless in 1 En. 7:6 concludes the section. The notes that follow explicate in detail the complex redactional process that wove the tradition attested in the Genesis text into a literary composition in which the sons of heaven become the main characters of the story; the results of the process are summarized in Table 2.

19 In 1 En. 10:9–10, the Enochic redactor debates the length of life of the Watchers’ sons who are already destined to die. Nickelsburg (1 Enoch, 224) and other students of 1 Enoch claim that the Aramaic myth is here dependent on Gen 6:3, where the length of human life is limited. Yet, the non-presence of the text of Gen 6:3–4a in the literary structure of 1 En. 6–7 is incontestable.

469

The Reception of Genesis 6

Table 2. Reception of Genesis 6:1–2, 4 in 1 Enoch 6:1–2 and 7:1–2. Content

Gen 6:1–2, 4

1 En. 6:1–2 and 7:1–220

Multiplication of humanity on the earth Birth of the human daughters Reaction of the supernatural beings to their beauty Taking wives Intercourse Birth of the heroes

6:1a

6:1a (redacted)

6:1b 6:2a

6:1b (redacted) 6:2a (redacted)

6:2b 6:4b 6:4c

7:1b (redacted) 7:1c (redacted) 7:2bα (redacted)

I. Multiplication of Humanity (Gen 6:1a in 1 En. 6:1a) As in the case of Gen 6:1a, the Enochic line that mentions the multiplication of the sons of men opens up a new narrative. There are, however, changes in syntax and vocabulary that distance the Enochic myth from the short biblical story. The Hebrew temporal clause concerning the multiplication of humanity in Gen 6:1a is followed by the disjunctive circumstantial clause about the birth of the women (6:1b). The main clause in Gen 6:2a concerns the perception of the women’s beauty by the sons of God. The Enochic version (1 En. 6:1a) first attempts to render literally in Aramaic the syntactic marker of the Hebrew temporal clause (‫)ויהי‬, but differently from Gen 6:1–2a, the statement about the birth of the beautiful women in 1 En. 6:1b becomes the main clause. Then 1 En 6:2a begins a series of three short paratactic clauses in which the Watchers’ perception of the women (6:2a) does not concentrate on their beauty, as in Gen 6:2a, but leads to the expression of the Watchers’ desire (6:2b); an addition in Syncellos defines their desire as an error. The change in syntax and vocabulary leads to a new perspective in the rest of the narrative, which focuses on the Watchers and the negative evaluation of their sexual propensity (6:3–8; 7:1d). The beginning of 1 En. 6:1a is preserved in 4Q202 frg. 1 2, which attests a Gstem perfect verb in the phrase ‫“ והווא כדי‬and it became when.” Milik notes that the perfect form ‫והווא‬21 imitates the syntactic function of the Hebrew converted imperfect ‫ ויהי‬in Gen 6:1a, which introduces a narrative sequence that belongs to the past.22 This Aramaic rendering of the Hebrew form appears elsewhere in the Targums and is especially frequent in Targum Neofiti.23 The Aramaic syntagm is rendered literally in the Greek (GS-1, GC-1 καὶ ἐγένετο), Ethiopic (wakōna), and Syriac (whwʾ) versions. 20 As

found in MSS 4Q201, 4Q202, GC-1, E, GS-1, S. form is parsed as a 3ms perfect; see the discussion in the “Orthography and Grammar” section of 4Q202 in Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4, ch. 2.2, comments on 4Q202 frg. 1 2. 22 Milik, Books of Enoch, 168. 23 See Tg. Neof. Gen 12:11; 19:29; 24:30; 29:13; 35:17, etc. 21 The

470

Henryk Drawnel

Instead of using the conjunction ὅτε (GS-1 = E ’ǝmza; S dkd) that renders the Aramaic ‫כדי‬, the Panopolitanus Codex diverges from the Hebrew text. In the clause καὶ ἐγένετο οὗ ἂν (GC-1) the temporal use of the adverb οὗ “where” is unusual.24 The particle might be interpreted as indicating a set of circumstances (“[in the situation] where … ,” cf. Rom 4:15) in 6:1a that precede the birth of the women in 6:1b, but it can hardly render the Aramaic temporal ‫כדי‬. The archetype of GC-1 might have read ‫ די‬alone (cf. Ezra 6:1 LXX ὅπου, “where”), but its Greek rendering would still be unusual. The Greek particle evidently supposes an archetype different from the Genesis text, and as a lectio difficilior is preferable to 4Q202 frg. 1 2 and to the versions that render the Aramaic conjunction. Other changes in the vocabulary and wording of the sentence confirm the presence of a different text archetype. The Genesis hiphil verb ‫“ החל‬began” (LXX ἤρξαντο; note the change to plural) was absent from the Aramaic version of the biblical text available to the redactors of the myth.25 Instead of the infinitive ‫“ לרב‬to be many” (LXX πολλοὶ γίνεσθαι), they used the finite form ἐπληθύνθησαν (GC-1, GS-126 = E), a reformulation resulting from a different underlying text. The third confirmation of the different text archetype is the absence of “on the face of the earth” in 1 En. 6:1a.27 The subject of the clause, οἱ υἱοὶ τῶν ἀνθρώπων “sons of men” (GC-1, GS-1, cf. E), assumes the Aramaic plural ‫ =( בני *אאנש‬S),28 which is equivalent to the collective ‫“ האדם‬humanity” in the Genesis account. Differently from the Genesis story, however, the whole clause speaks about the multiplication of humanity without an explicit reference to the beginning of this process. The versions add the temporal syntagm ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις “in those days” (GC-1, S; E; om. GS-1), which may be connected with the preceding (6:1a) or the following (6:1b) context. Although GS-1 omits the phrase, the lacuna in 4Q202 frg. 1 2 is large enough to contain it as well.29 In Gen 6:4a, the semantically 24 See Adolphe Lods, Le livre d’Hénoch: Fragments grecs découverts à Akhmîm (HauteÉgypte) publiés avec les variantes du texte éthiopien (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1892), 104. 25 It is not clear to what extent one may consider the transposition of this verb to a new context in 1 En. 7:1c to be redactional: “and they began to go in to them.” This clause reformulates Gen 6:4b, immediately preceded by the choice of the wives by the Watchers in 7:1b (Gen 6:2b). The verb “began” evidently forms part of the redactional process that introduces not only the intercourse but also the defilement of the Watchers (7:1d) and their teaching activity (7:1e). Hence, it is more likely that the choice of verb in 1 En. 7:1c results from the interpretive strategies there; see the comment on 7:1b in § C.V below. Siam Bhayro opts for the non-presence of the verb “began” in the text archetype used by the Enochic redactors in 1 En. 6:1a. The Shemihazah and Asael Narrative of 1 Enoch 6–11: Introduction, Text, Translation and Commentary with Reference to Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical Antecedents, AOAT 322 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005), 120. 26 In 4Q201 frg. 3 and 15 (1 En. 5:5, GC-1), the Greek verb translates the Aramaic G-stem verb ‫“ סגי‬to become many.” S here uses the same Aramaic verb. 27 S alone reads ʿl ʾrʿʾ “upon the earth,” a reading more in line with Gen 6:1a. 28 For the Aramaic syntagm, see 4Q201 frg. 3 II, 18 (1 En. 7:3); 4Q206 frg. 2 II, 1 (1 En. 22:3). 29 See comment on 4Q202 frg. 2 in Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4, § 2.2.

The Reception of Genesis 6

471

corresponding expression (MT ‫בימים ההם‬ / LXX ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις) introduces background information concerning the earlier presence of the Nephilim on the earth. It is subsequently qualified by ‫( וגם אחרי כן‬MT/LXX) “and also afterwards,” which extends that presence into an unspecified future.30 Any influence of Gen 6:4a on the Enochic text in this case is unlikely, and the perspective is different. Thus, the birth of the women is located in a hoary past at the beginning of human existence on earth. This temporal perspective sets the stage for the rest of the narrative. II. Birth of the Women (Gen 6:1b in 1 En. 6:1b) Here the contact with the Genesis tradition is palpable, although several modifications are also apparent. The disjunctive circumstantial clause in Gen 6:1b uses the G passive verb ‫( ילדו‬LXX ἐγενήθησαν) “were born,” with “daughters” as its subject. In 1 En. 6:1b, the Greek verb ἐγεννήθησαν (GC-1, GS-1; E) “were brought forth”31 may render the Aramaic G passive verb from the same Semitic root; compare the correspondence in 4Q204 frg. 20 2 ‫ = די יליד‬τὸ γεννηθέν (106:16, GCM).32 GS-1 and E include the pronoun αὐτοῖς “to them,” in accordance with the MT and the LXX. Syncellos followed by S evidently makes the reference explicit: “to the sons of men.” GC-1, which usually agrees with E, omits the Greek pronoun, thus preserving a shorter and apparently original reading. Another modification of the Genesis text is the transposition of the adjective ‫“ תבת‬beautiful” attested in Gen 6:2a to a new context in 1 En. 6:1b. At the end of the clause, 4Q202 frg. 1 3 (1 En. 6:1b) reads ‫“ שפירן‬beautiful,” a reading confirmed by the versions.33 The corresponding Hebrew adjective is absent in Gen 6:1b (MT/LXX),34 but present in Gen 6:2a (‫)כי טבת הנה‬, where the beauty of the women becomes the reason for the sons of God to marry them in 6:2b. The fragmentary line in the Aramaic text does not preserve the short Hebrew clause from Gen 6:2a, but the Aramaic ‫( שפירן‬cf. S špyrtʾ) “beautiful” evidently interprets the Hebrew adjective ‫טבת‬, lit. “good” (Gen 6:2a; LXX καλαί). The Panopolitanus Codex, followed by E, expands the text by adding a second adjective: καὶ καλαί (GC-1; E walāḥǝyāt) “and comely,” a reading confirmed by 4Q202 frg. 1 3 ‫וי[אין‬.35 Syncellos and the Syriac version preserve a shorter reading (GS-1 ὡραῖαι; S špyrtʾ) that reflects the Genesis text. The omission of the short Hebrew clause 30 See

the comment on 7:2 in § C.VI below. William Wevers observes that the verb ἐγεννήθησαν is a popular variant for ἐγενήθησαν in the LXX, and its presence here with the meaning “were born” appears to reflect this tendency. Notes on the Greek Text of Genesis, SCS 35 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars, 1993), 74. 32 S uses a tG form, ʾtyldyn. 33 GC-1, GS-1 ὡραῖαι; S špyrtʾ; E śannāyāt. 34 Four LXX minuscules (58, 76, 346, 319) include ὡραῖαι καὶ καλαί at the end of the verse. 35 The choice of καλαί to render the Aramaic adjective in GC-1 is not conditioned by the LXX rendering of ‫ טבת‬in Gen 6:2a. 31 John

472

Henryk Drawnel

in 1 En. 6:2a and the transposition of the reading “beautiful” to 1 En. 6:1b introduce a different perspective expressly formulated in 1 En. 6:2b, where it is not so much the perception of the women’s beauty, but rather the Watchers’ desire that constitutes an explicit motive for marriage. III. The Watchers Observe the Women (Gen 6:2a in 1 En. 6:2a) In the Hebrew text the sons of God see the beauty of the daughters of men (Gen 6:2a) and they take wives from those whom they choose (6:2b); there is no indication of a negative judgment on these liaisons. In 1 En. 6:2a, the expression “the sons of God” is omitted, and the redactors introduce new protagonists called either “the Watchers” (GS-1 οἱ ἐγρήγοροι) or “the angels, sons of heaven” (GC-1 οἱ ἄγγελοι υἱοὶ οὐρανοῦ = E). Syncellos’s reading, which agrees with the rest of the BW and the evidence of the Aramaic manuscripts, is preferable, while the Panopolitanus Codex’s οἱ ἄγγελοι results from GC-1’s preference for translating the Aramaic term for “Watchers” with the Greek word for “angels.”36 The syntagm “sons of heaven” is a supplementary definition of the Watchers attested elsewhere in Enochic literature.37 The Panopolitanus Codex followed by E reads the syntagm καὶ ἐθεάσαντο “they saw,” which semantically corresponds to the Hebrew ‫( ויראו‬cf. LXX ἰδόντες δέ),38 and replaces the direct object ‫“ בנות האדם‬the daughters of men” with the pronoun αὐτὰς (GC-1, E), which anaphorically refers to the preceding context. The Hebrew object clause “that they were beautiful” (Gen 6:2a) is absent from the Enochic myth, but the adjective “beautiful,” lit. “good,” is reflected by the corresponding Aramaic form at the end of 1 En. 6:1b.39 In Syncellos and the Syriac version, the omission of the phrase καὶ ἐθεάσαντο does not leave any trace of the biblical vocabulary. Thus, in the case of these two witnesses, the relationship with the Hebrew source text effectively ends earlier in 1 En. 6:1b. Beginning with 1 En. 6:2b, the narrative introduces a new tradition concentrated on the Watchers, returning to the source text in Gen 6:2b (taking women for wives) only later in 1 En. 7:1b.40 Just as in the case of the use of Gen 6:2b, 4b–c in 1 En. 7:1–2,41 here there is no formal distinction marking the transition from the Hebrew source to the insertion of new material that diverts the flow of the narrative in a new direction and creates in 1 En. 6–7 a story markedly different in form and content from the Genesis narrative.

36 See

§ C.IV below. § C.IV below. 38 The underlying verbal form must have been different, ‫*וחזו‬. 39 See § C.II above. 40 See § C.V below. 41 See §§ C.V–VI below. 37 See

The Reception of Genesis 6

473

The Watchers in 1 En. 6:2b “covet” or “desire” (GC-1, GS-1 ἐπεθύμησαν [= E]; S ʾtrgrgw) the women, which evidently connotes sexual attraction. The inclusion of this verb supplements the Genesis text, which does not explicitly speak about the sexual appetite of the sons of God. Syncellos, followed by the Syriac fragment, goes further, adding a clearly negative appraisal of the deed: ἀπεπλανήθησαν ὀπίσω αὐτῶν “and they strayed after them.”42 This comment adds a negative connotation to the verb “they desired,” in line with 1 En. 6:3 and 7:1d where the decision to marry and the act itself are called sinful and defiling. Hence the Syncellos expansion is secondary, influenced by the context. First Enoch 6:2c introduces direct discourse,43 thus opening up a new literary section (vv. 2d–5). The proposal to take human daughters for wives in 1 En. 6:2d sets the stage for the events narrated in 6:3–5. The sentence contains phrases that show dependence on Gen 6:2b (choosing women for wives) and Gen 6:2a (daughters of men).44 Syncellos ends the clause with the phrase τῶν θυγατέρων τῶν ἀνθρώπων τῆς γῆς “the daughters of men of the earth,”45 where the genitive τῆς γῆς “of the earth” stresses a poignant difference between the realm of the Watchers, or the sons of heaven (GC-1), and that of the earthly women. The Panopolitanus Codex followed by E adds a second clause: καὶ γεννήσομεν ἑαυτοῖς τέκνα “and let us beget for ourselves children.” The clause is derived from Gen 6:4c LXX, καὶ ἐγεννῶσαν ἑαυτοῖς “and they begot for themselves,” with the addition of the direct object τέκνα “children,” a more generic term than οἱ γίγαντες “the giants” in the LXX.46 The Panopolitanus reading is apparently a redactional addition that anticipates the birth of the giants in 1 En. 7:2.47 The reference to the Genesis text contained in the direct discourse at the beginning of the redactional section 1 En. 6:2d–5 indicates an intentional evocation of the tradition contained in Gen 6:1–2, 4b–c. The Genesis account of the sexual intercourse of the sons of God with human women and the subsequent birth of the mighty men forms a thematic and literary paradigm applied to the story of the Watchers.

42 GS-1;

S wṭʿw, om. “after them.” ‫ ]ואתמ[ללו‬4Q202 frg. 1 4, GC-1, E, GS-1, S; for commentary, see Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4, ch. 2.2. 44 GS-1 Ἐκλεξώμεθα ἑαυτοῖς γυναῖκας ἀπὸ τῶν θυγατέρων τῶν ἀνθρώπων τῆς γῆς. 45 GC-1 has an inferior, apparently abbreviated reading: ἀπὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων. 46 Supposing the line is related to Gen 6:4c, the aorist subjunctive γεννήσομεν interprets the MT ‫“ וילדו‬and they bore” causatively. Alternatively, the Greek text follows here the Samaritan Pentateuch reading ‫ =( ויולידו‬LXX καὶ ἐγεννῶσαν); see Dimant, “1 Enoch 6–11,” 233. 47 Note that Shemiḥazah in 1 En. 7:3 speaks about the “great sin” of “this deed,” which refers to the intercourse with the women. 43 See

474

Henryk Drawnel

IV. The Watchers as the Protagonists of the Myth The Aramaic term “watcher” denotes a supernatural being whose origin is in heaven but who is inferior to God, as the rest of the myth indicates. The BW contains the earliest attestation of the Aramaic noun ‫ עיר‬in Jewish literature of the Second Temple period. The meaning and the etymology of the noun ‫ עיר‬are not clear.48 The Aramaic lexeme is usually explained as stemming from the root √ʿwr “to be awake,” that is, those who keep watch (1 En. 20:1) and do not sleep (1 En. 39:12, 13; 61:12; 71:7). In 1 En. 20:1 (E), the clause “These are the names of the holy angels who watch” heads a list of the seven supernatural beings who supervise different elements of the working of the universe, that is, they are on night and day duty overseeing the proper functioning of creation. Likewise, 1 En. 82:10 refers to the leaders who keep watch over (Eth. ʿaqaba) the functions of the celestial beings in charge of the seasons. The relationship of the Watchers to the functioning of the heavenly world is implied by the cosmological elements in the composite names of the individual Watchers listed in 6:7 as well. The Enochic redactors do not adopt the Hebrew expression “sons of God” or “sons of the gods”49 (Gen 6:2a, 4b), but 1 En. 6:2a speaks about “Watchers” (GS-1) or “angels, sons of heaven” (GC-1) instead. There is no indication in the Enochic text that these terms for the protagonists of the narrative interpret the biblical expression, or that they are semantically equivalent to it.50 The Enochic redactors introduce here their own terminology for the supernatural beings, who were evidently still in heaven before their descent on Mount Hermon.51 The terminology designating the Watchers is not a mere textual variant, but part of the literary strategy of the redactors, who explain their mind by adding a new section 48 For an attempt to link the origin of the Watchers with Mesopotamian literature, see Robert Murray, “The Origin of Aramaic ʿîr, Angel,” Or 53 (1984): 303–17; cf. also Ida Fröhlich, “Giants and Demons,” Ancient Tales of Giants from Qumran and Turfan: Contexts, Traditions, and Influences, ed. Matthew J. Goff, Loren T. Stuckenbruck, and Enrico Morano, WUNT 360 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 97–114. 49 The expression has elicited a number of different interpretations, especially with reference to the mythological background of the supernatural beings of divine origin, “the gods”; see, e. g., Hendel, “Nephilim,” 23–33. Its absence in the Enochic myth guides the flow of the narrative in a different direction. 50 Somewhat misleadingly, in his comment on the nature of the Watchers’ wickedness, Nickelsburg speaks about the sons of God from Gen 6:1–4 as if they were the main actors in 1 En. 6–7. He states that “the intercourse between the sons of God and the daughters of men – described in Gen 6:1–2, 4 without comment and with no explicit connection to what follows – is a deliberate act of rebellion against God, stemming from lust and resulting in the procreation of ‘bastards’ (1 Enoch 10:9).” 1 Enoch, 167. Archie T. Wright affirms that “the author of BW has expanded the concept of bene haelohim as angels in Genesis by describing them as Watchers.” The Origin of Evil Spirits: The Reception of Genesis 6,1–4 in Early Jewish Literature, 2nd ed., WUNT 2/198 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 100. In the rest of his discussion of the Watchers in the Enochic books (pp. 100–105), Wright applies the label bene haelohim to the Watchers. 51 Cf. 1 En. 6:6.

The Reception of Genesis 6

475

(6:2c–8) that gives additional information about the protagonists of the story.52 By replacing the biblical protagonists with the Watchers, the Enochic redactors are creating a new narrative to be interpreted on its own terms; they are not interpreting the excised characters. The Greek οἱ ἐγρήγοροι attested in the first Syncellos excerpt (GS-1) and in other places in the Panopolitanus manuscript renders the Aramaic ‫“ עירין‬those who keep watch, who do not sleep” found in the Aramaic portions of 1 Enoch.53 The “Watchers” ‫עירין‬54 are those who enter into sinful relationships with the women, while those who did not sin with the daughters of men are called ‫עירין‬ ‫“ וקדישין‬watchers and holy ones”55 or “the watchers of the Great Holy One.”56 Consequently, the Enochic tradition introduces a distinction in the world of the supernatural beings based on the sinful behavior of certain Watchers, who as a result are no longer called ‫“ קדיש‬holy.” Instead of the “Watchers,” the Panopolitanus manuscript in 6:2a speaks about “the angels, sons of heaven” οἱ ἄγγελοι υἱοὶ οὐρανοῦ (GC-1 = E). According to the available evidence, the term οἱ ἄγγελοι57 results from the translational technique of the Greek scribe in the Panopolitanus Codex.58 As in the manuscript here, Syncellos’s version (GS-2) in 1 En. 10:7 reads οἱ ἐγρήγοροι, where the Panopolitanus Codex (GC-1) has οἱ ἄγγελοι. Additionally, the Aramaic fragments of 1 Enoch never call the Watchers “angels.” It is highly probable that the Greek οἱ ἄγγελοι translates here the two nouns ‫עירין וקדישין‬, just as in 4Q206 frg. 2 ii 5 (1 En. 22:6, GC-2) and in the LXX of Daniel.59 Alternatively, the underlying Aramaic text might use here only ‫“ עירין‬Watchers” in order to denote those who intend to commit the sin with the women. 52 By adopting the material attested in Gen 6:1–2, 4b–c, the redactors of 1 En. 6–7 do not intend to exegete the text of the myth in the form attested in the biblical book; in fact, the textual form of the Hebrew (?) source text at their disposal is significantly shorter than the Genesis account. The assumption that they use Gen 6:1–4 to make it somehow more intelligible can hardly be justified by a detailed exegesis of 1 En. 6–7. 53 For οἱ ἐγρήγοροι in the Greek translation of the Book of the Watchers, see also 1 En. 1:5; 10:7, 9, 15; 12:2, 3, 4; 13:10; 14:1, 3; 15:9 (GC-2 + GS-2). All of these cases are found in the Panopolitanus manuscript, with one common attestation in Syncellus’s second excerpt in 15:9. 54 Cf. 4Q202 frg. 21 2 (1 En. 10:9); once in 1 En. 15:9 (GC-2 ) the adjective “holy” qualifies the fallen Watchers. 55 4Q201 frg. 1 3 (1 En. 1:2); 4Q206 frg. 2 ii 5 (1 En. 22:6); 4Q212 frg. 3 i 11 (1 En. 93:2); but cf. 4Q206 frg. 7 2 (1 En. 33:3) ‫ עירין‬alone. 56 4Q204 9 i 1 (1 En. 12:3). 57 For the Greek term denoting the Watchers in GC-1 and GC-2, see also 1 En. 8:1; 10:7; 14:4, 21, 23; 18:14; 19:1, 2; 20:1, 2 (bis, GC-1+2), 3 (bis, GC-1+2), 4 (bis, GC-1+2), 5 (bis, GC-1+2), 6 (bis, GC-1+2), 7 (bis, GC-1+2); 21:5 (bis, GC-1+2), 9, 10; 22:3, 6; 23:4; 24:6; 32:6. In most cases the Greek manuscript reads “the holy angels,” which assumes the Aramaic ‫ *עיריא וקדישיא‬with ‫קדישיא‬ interpreted as an adjective qualifying ‫עיריא‬. 58 See ‫ עיריא‬4Q202 frg. 21 2 (1 En. 10:9) = οἱ ἐγρήγοροι (GC-1, GS-2); for the same equivalence, see 4Q204 frg. 7 ii 8 (1 En. 13:10, GC-1); 4Q204 frg. 9 i 1 (1 En. 12:3, GC-1). 59 In Dan 4:10, 14, 20, the “watcher and holy one” is translated in Greek with ἐγρήγορος (Aquila, Symmachus), ἄγγελος “angel” (Dan 4:13, 17, 24 LXX), or simply transliterated ιρ.

476

Henryk Drawnel

The second expression in the Panopolitanus Codex, υἱοὶ οὐρανοῦ “sons of heaven,” stands in opposition to the “angels.” It can hardly be considered as a semantically equivalent replacement of the “sons of God” from the Genesis verse.60 The noun “heaven” indicates the place of the Watchers’ origin just as in 1 En. 14:3, where the expression “Watchers, sons of heaven” denotes the heavenly beings reprimanded by Enoch.61 In 4Q204 frg. 7 ii 8 (1 En. 13:10 [GC-1]), the term “sons” is omitted, but the resulting phrase “Watchers of heaven” denotes the same heavenly beings rebuked by Enoch.62 1 En. 16:2 identifies the fallen Watchers as those “who formerly were in heaven.”63 V. Selection of Wives and Sexual Intercourse (Gen 6:2b and 4b in 1 En. 7:1) The end of 1 En. 6 and the beginning of 1 En. 7 evince elements of redactional work that evidently served to link in two different ways the list of the Watchers’ names (6:7) and, consequently, all of 6:2c–7 with the following episode. First, the Panopolitanus Codex adds in 6:8 a short and partially corrupt note about the leaders of the Watchers, attested in a longer form in 4Q201 frg. 3 II + 5–6 13 (+ E and S).64 Secondly, Syncellos does not know 6:8, but introduces in 7:1a a short redactional phrase οὗτοι καὶ οἱ λοιποὶ πάντες65 “those and all the others” that is partly confirmed by 4Q201 frgs. 3 II 5–6, 13, ]‫“ אנ[ון ור]בניה[ן כלהן‬those and [all their lea]ders.”66 Then, the same Greek manuscript includes another addition that contains a chronological note (“in the year 1170 of the world”), a synchronism characteristic of Syncellos’s Chronography.67 The Panopolitanus Codex does not include the redactional additions attested in Syncellos and the Qumran line. It begins the next verse (1 En. 7:1) with 60 Against Nickelsburg , who argues that in the expression “sons of heaven” the term “heaven” is a typical circumlocution for “God” both at Qumran and in 1 Maccabees and the synoptic Gospels. 1 Enoch, 176 and n1. The immediate context of the Aramaic text here and in other places of 1 Enoch makes such an interpretation unlikely. 61 See 1 En. 14:3: ἐγρηγόρους τοὺς υἱοὺς τοῦ οὐρανοῦ (GC-1 = E); cf. ]‫“ עירי שמ[יא‬the Watchers of heaven” 4Q204 frg. 7 ii 8 (1 En. 13:10); 1 En. 12:4 (E); 15:2 (E); in Qumran Hebrew, see CD ii 17–18: “the spirits of heaven.” 62 The same expression is found in 1 En. 15:2, but only in the Ethiopic version. 63 οἵτινες ἐν οὐρανῷ ἦσαν (GC-2). 64 See the comment on 4Q201 frg. 3 II + 5–6 13 (1 En. 6:8) in Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4, § 2.1. The list containing the names of the Watchers (1 En. 6:7) is absent in the Syriac version. The Syriac text of 6:8 contains an interesting gloss, not attested elsewhere, about the medical character of the Watchers’ teachings (ibid.). 65 Om. οὗτοι GC-1, E; + mǝslehomu “with them” E. 66 For the similar wording in 1 En. 6:8, see the beginning of the line in 4Q201 frgs. 3 II 5–6, 13 and 4Q202 frgs. 4–7 3a. 67 See William Adler, Time Immemorial: Archaic History and Its Sources in Christian Chronography from Julius Africanus to George Syncellus, DOS 26 (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1989), 179–80.

The Reception of Genesis 6

477

the short clause καὶ ἔλαβον ἑαυτοῖς γυναῖκας “and they took68 for themselves wives,” which literally corresponds to Gen 6:2bα LXX.69 Yet, the second part of the Genesis verse (‫“ מכל אשר בחרו‬from among all those whom they chose,” Gen 6:2bβ) is absent in Syncellos, while the Panopolitanus Codex rephrases it as an independent clause (“each one of them chose for himself a wife”70), so that it essentially repeats the content of the preceding clause but stresses the distributive character of the process, evidently taking into consideration the list of the names of the leaders of the Watchers in 1 En. 6:7. The phrase ἐξελέξαντο ἑαυτοῖς γυναῖκας does not depend directly on Gen 6:2bβ but on 1 En. 6:2d, where the project to take women for wives was introduced. The Aramaic text of 4Q201 frg. 3 II, 14 is the only witness that renders Gen 6:2bβ faithfully: ‫נשין מן כל די בחרו‬ “women from among all those whom they chose.” The Qumran line evidently attempts to bring its text closer to the Genesis formulation of the text. After the short clause about the selection of women as wives (1 En 7:1b), based in various degrees on Gen 6:2b, there follows the account of intercourse in 1 En. 7:1c, which rephrases Gen 6:4b. The Panopolitanus Codex and the Ethiopic version read here καὶ ἤρξαντο71 εἰσπορεύεσθαι πρὸς αὐτὰς “and they began to go in to them.” The Hebrew particle ‫( אשר‬ὡς ἂν LXX) that subordinates the clause to the parenthetical statement about the Nephilim in Gen 6:4a has been replaced by the coordinating καί.72 The omission of the Hebrew relative in the Enochic manuscript is evidently related to the absence of Gen 6:3–4a in the Enochic manuscripts. The phrases “the sons of God” and “the daughters of men” (Gen 6:4b) are omitted, the latter being replaced by the pronoun αὐτάς. The versions (GC-1; GS-1; = E) add the aorist ἤρξαντο “they began” while the Hebrew imperfect ‫( יבאו‬LXX εἰσεπορεύοντο) has been changed in the underlying Aramaic text to an infinitive (GC-1 εἰσπορεύεσθαι = E). Thus, while the imperfective aspect of the verb in the MT indicates the repetitive character of the sexual contact, the aorist finite form merely expresses the inchoative aspect of the action. The Aramaic redactors expressed the frequentative character of the whole process of giving birth to the 68  The Ethiopic version, which usually agrees closely with GC-1, adds a phrase at the beginning of the verse: wa-bāʿǝdān kwǝllu mǝslehomu wa-nasʾu “and all the others with them and they took.” At the beginning of the line, the reading omits the pronoun “those” attested in GS-1 and 4Q201 frgs. 3 II 5–6, 13. The Ethiopic text expands GC-1 in agreement with Syncellos and the Qumran line, hence the conjunction wa‑ in wa-nasʾu “and they took” is original, in agreement with GC-1. Holding the Syncellos version to be original, Charles explains the conjunction wa‑ in E and GC-1 as a syntactically difficult intrusion. Ethiopic Version, 15n5. 69 The same clause appears in the Ethiopic versions in Jub. 5:1. Since the original language of Jubilees is Hebrew, the original text might have sounded exactly the same as in Genesis. 70 ἕκαστος αὐτῶν ἐξελέξαντο ἑαυτοῖς γυναῖκας, cf. “each one chose for himself one” E. 71 4Q202 frgs. 4–7 4 ‫ ;ושריו‬CS-1. 72 The unusual position of the Hebrew particle has long been noted by commentators, e. g., John Skinner, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Genesis, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1910), 147.

478

Henryk Drawnel

giants in the following verse (1 En. 7:2) by making recourse to the periphrastic conjugation: ‫(“ הויה בטנן‬the women) were conceiving” (4Q201 frg. 3 ii 16); ‫הוו‬ ‫(“ מתילדין‬the warriors) were being born” (4Q201 frg. 3 ii 17). Changes made to Gen 6:4b in the Panopolitanus Codex and E reduce the dependency on the Genesis text to one verb (“to go in”) only. This slight dependency, however, is sufficient to ensure the thematic continuity of the narrative, which in both cases deals with the intercourse between the women and the supernatural beings. Syncellos does not know εἰσπορεύεσθαι πρὸς αὐτὰς, so that any connection with the biblical text is here lost. The remainder of 1 En. 7:1, which separates Gen 6:4b from 6:4c, introduces the theme of the Watchers’ defilement (7:1d) and their teaching of witchcraft, incantations, and medicine (7:1e),73 topics that are both developed by the Enochic redactors. The defilement of the Watchers caused by their sexual union with the women results from the definition of that union as a “great sin” (1 En. 6:3), a perspective foreign to Gen 6:1–4 in relation to the sons of God.74 In this way, the two hundred Watchers become sinful and defiled75 spirits, a new and negative category of spiritual beings in the supernatural world. The reference to the Watchers’ teaching is well attested76 but omitted by Syncellos.77 Since the Watchers’ teaching is expounded later in 1 En. 8, a section inserted between chapters 7 and 9, the redactional character of 1 En. 7:1e is rather evident. Hence its absence from Syncellos appears to be original. VI. The Birth of the gabbārîn (Gen 6:4c in 1 En. 7:2) The redactors of 1 En. 7:2 link the marriage and sexual union in 7:1 with the description of the violent character of the warriors in 7:3–5. They expand the short clause of Gen 6:4c, and different readings attested in the witnesses show different lines of thematic development. First Enoch 7:2a mentions the conception of 73 The Aramaic manuscripts depict the Watchers’ knowledge as witchcraft (‫ [חר]שתא‬4Q202 frg. 4 4; ‫ חרשה‬4Q201 frg. 3 ii 15; 1 En 7:1e) and incantations (]‫ ש[פתא‬4Q202 frg. 4 4; 1 En. 7:1e). The Aramaic list of the Watchers’ teachings in 8:3 includes medicine, various types of divination, incantations, witchcraft, and magic. For a discussion of the different types of the Watchers’ knowledge and their relationship to Mesopotamian ašipūtu, see Henryk Drawnel, “Between Akkadian ṭupšarrūtu and Aramaic ‫ספר‬: Some Notes on the Social Context of the Early Enochic Literature,” RevQ 24 (2010): 373–403. 74 Instead of the verb μιαίνεσθαι ἐν αὐταῖς “to be defiled by them” attested in the two Greek versions (GC-1; GS-1), the Ethiopic reads tadammaru mǝslehon “united themselves with them.” The reading seems to precede the equation of the Watchers’ sexual union with their defilement, but in view of the sinful character of the deed expounded in 1 En. 6:3, the negative perspective remains. The two verbs “to be defiled” and “to be united” with “Watchers” as subject are found together in the Greek and Ethiopic versions in 1 En. 10:11 and confirmed by 4Q202 frg. 26 1]‫ ; אתחב[רו‬4Q202 frg. 27 1 ‫[אתח]ברו‬. 75 Cf. 1 En. 10:11. 76 Attested in GC-1, E; 4Q201 frg. 3 II, 15; 4Q202 frg. 4 5. 77 The gloss ἕως τοῦ κατακλυσμοῦ at the end of 7:1d in GS-1 is secondary.

The Reception of Genesis 6

479

the warriors by the women (GC-1 αἱ δὲ ἐν γαστρὶ λαβοῦσαι), a thematic preparation for the statement about the birth of the Watchers’ descendants mentioned in 7:2bα.78 The Greek participial clause in the Panopolitanus Codex renders a finite clause introduced by waw, as witnessed by the Qumran manuscript: ‫והויה בטנן‬ ‫“ מנהן‬and they conceived from them” (4Q201 frg. 3 II, 16; E). The pronominal suffix in the syntagm ‫ מנהן‬omitted by the versions evidently refers to the Watchers. Syncellos omits the whole clause, which suggests its redactional character as the last one in 1 En. 7:1c–7:2a, which separates Gen 6:4b (7:1c) from 6:4c (7:2b). The same Aramaic manuscript continues with ‫“ ויל[דה‬and they bore” (1 En. 7:2bα),79 with “women” as the implied subject, thus closely agreeing with ‫וילדו‬ in Gen 6:4c. The Aramaic verb is a G-stem form, in line with the qal verb in the MT but against the LXX and the Samaritan Pentateuch, which both read a causal form here.80 Syncellos brings his text closer to the Genesis myth by adding αὐτοῖς “to them,” a reflection of ‫ להם‬in Gen 6:4c. The aorist ἐτέκοσαν “gave birth” in the Panopolitanus Codex is followed by the direct object γίγαντας μεγάλους “great giants,”81 with the rather evident assumption of *gabbārîn as the underlying Aramaic noun. The short Enochic clause (“they bore giants [to them]”) supposes here a text different from the MT, which reads: ‫“ וילדו להם המה הגברים‬and they bore to them (children); these were the heroes.” The Greek version evidently omits the Hebrew pronoun ‫“ המה‬they,” which in Gen 6:4c serves as the subject of the nominal clause. The pronoun in the Hebrew text may refer to the Nephilim in Gen 6:4a,82 while its absence in the text witnesses of the Enochic myth should perhaps be linked with the nonattestation of Gen 6:3–4a. It is more likely, however, that the Greek manuscript reflects a shorter source text in which the gibbōrîm were the direct object of the verb ‫“ ילדו‬they bore.” By adding in 1 En. 7:2 new material not attested in other text witnesses, Syncellos shows the composite, redactional character of the verse. First of all, it inserts the gloss γένη τρία· α´ “three kinds, first” before γίγαντας μεγάλους “great giants.” Additionally, it reverses the order of events by placing the births of the giants before the teaching imparted by the Watchers, the latter event being attested before the birth of the giants in 1 En. 7:1e.83 Then it inserts another redactional 78 The addition follows the literary pattern frequent in birth accounts, namely, conception followed by birth; see, e. g., Gen 29:33, 34, 35; 30:5, 7, 17, etc. 79 Rendered in the versions by GS-1 καὶ ἔτεκον (= E); GC-1 ἐτέκοσαν, om. καὶ “and.” 80 See comment on 1 En. 6:2d in § C.III above. 81 Syncellus has the same reading attested also in E. He, however, inserts γένη τρία· α´ “three kinds, first” that introduces his long gloss about the three generations of the giants. 82 See, e. g., Skinner, Genesis, 147; David Wenham, Genesis 1–15, WBC 1 (Waco, TX: Word, 1987), 143. Ezek 32:27 speaks about ‫“ גבורים נפלים‬fallen warriors,” which may constitute a link with Gen 6:4c, but the gibbōrîm here do not play any military role and there is no hint as to their violent death or about their future in general. 83 Attested in GC-1, E, and partially in 4Q201 frg. 3 ii 16–17.

480

Henryk Drawnel

addition, absent in 4Q201 frg. 3 ii 17 (1 En. 7:2) and other versions (GC-1, E), but evidently anticipated by the first expansion (γένη τρία· α´). The giants beget Ναφηλείμ to whom in turn “Elioud” are born.84 The genealogical development is difficult to explain, and it is not certain to what extent it depends on Gen 6:4a–b, where the Nephilim may be identified with the gibbōrîm.85 Since the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 86:4; 88:2) and Jubilees (7:21–22) presuppose the three classes of the Watcher’s descendants as well, Syncellos’s tradition may predate the middle of the second century BCE, to which period these two compositions are usually dated. Hence the three generations of giants listed in Syncellos’s version are attested in the two compositions around the middle of the second century BCE but remain secondary in relation to 1 En. 6:1–7:2 and to the whole myth in 1 En. 6–11 in general, which does not mention them in the later development of the narrative.86 The relationship between the Nephilim and Gen 6:4 is established later in Syncellos’s second insertion. After τῶν γιγάντων “of the giants” in 1 En 16:1, the Greek version appends a gloss: Ναφηλείμ, οἱ ἰσχυροὶ τῆς γῆς, οἱ μεγάλοι ὀνομαστοί (GS-2); consequently, the term “Nephilim” becomes an alternative name for the giants. The gloss depends on Gen 6:4a LXX for the proper name, and on Gen 6:4d LXX for the reference to “the famous ones,”87 while “the mighty ones” (οἱ ἰσχυροὶ) literally renders gabbārîn, an evident stylistic variant in view of the preceding τῶν γιγάντων. Since the gloss applies the vocabulary of Gen 6:4a and 6:4d to the Nephilim, it evidently interprets the Genesis text as speaking about the origin of the Nephilim. It is further evidence of an interpretive process already demonstrated in 1 En. 6–7 that aims to bring the text of the Enochic myth closer to the Genesis account. Finally, Syncellos’s version confirms its expansionistic character by adding a clause after the addition concerning three generations of the women’s descendants: καὶ ἦσαν αὐξανόμενοι κατὰ τὴν μεγαλειότητα αὐτῶν “and they were 84 Instead of the evidently corrupt term “Elioud” (“Elyo” in Jub. 7:22), the allegorical language of the Animal Apocalypse (1 En. 86:4 = Gen 6:4) equates the third generation of the giants with wild asses (Eth. aʾaʾduga), in Aramaic ‫ ;ערד‬see 4Q205 frg. 6 3 (1 En. 89:11), 6 (1 En. 89:13); 4Q206 frg. 9 II, 5 (89:11). See Patrick A. Tiller, A Commentary on the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch, EJL 4 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars, 1993), 240. 85 This is not the case in Syncellos’s redactional development, where the Nephilim are descendants of the giants. Note that in 1 En. 16:1 Syncellos adds a gloss that evidently identifies the giants with the Nephilim – a gloss that reflects the vocabulary of Gen 6:4. Such an approach is absent here. Charles claims that Syncellos’s text depends on Gen 6:4 but does not support his claim with an argument. Ethiopic Version, 17n7. 86 Charles arrives at the contrary conclusion, claiming that Syncellos’s text preserves a reading that goes back to the original. Ethiopic Version, 17n7. Yet, Syncellos’s omission of 1 En. 7:2bβ–5 (4Q201 frg. 3 II 5–8, 17–21; GC-1, E), in which the theme of the warriors’ destructive behavior has been developed, makes the spread of violence and bloodshed in 1 En. 8:4–9:3 and the destruction of the warriors in 10:9–10 meaningless. 87 The LXX ὀνομαστοί (Gen 6:4d) is an adjectival rendering of the MT nomen rectum, ‫השם‬.

The Reception of Genesis 6

481

growing according to their greatness.” That 1 En. 7:2 was undergoing some redactional elaboration already on the level of the Aramaic text is plainly attested by 4Q201 frg. 3 ii 17, which adds ‫[“ הוו מתילדין על ארעא‬who] were born on the earth,” absent in the later versions. The lacuna that follows must have contained an additional text but it is too short to contain the three generations of the giants present in Syncellos’s version.88 VII. From “Heroes” or “Mighty Ones” (Gen 6:4d) to Demonic “Warriors” (1 En. 7:2bβ–5) The last two expressions in Gen 6:4 qualify gibbōrîm, the “heroes” or “mighty ones,”89 in positive terms as those “who were of old, the men of the name” (Gen 6:4d). The term is not set in a military context, and no evidence of their supposed mighty exploits is given. The relative clause ‫“ אשר מעלם‬who were of old” (v. 4d) denotes a remote antiquity, not eternity (see, e. g. Josh 24:2; 1 Sam 27:8; Isa 63:16; Jer 31:3; Ezek 35:5), and the expression “men of renown,” lit. “men of the name,” has a positive connotation denoting famous heroes of the past (cf. Num 16:2; 1 Chr 5:24). Although the gibbōrîm are born of divine-human unions, no indication of their nonhuman nature is given. The syntagm “men of renown” sets them firmly within the realm of human existence. The negative depiction of the warriors in 1 En. 7:2bβ–5 (4Q201 frg. 3 II 5–8, 17–21; GC-1, E) is part of the distinct Enochic tradition and is neither based on, nor present in, Gen 6:4d’s positive presentation of the human gibbōrîm. The unusual height of the warriors (1 En. 7:2bβ) and their violence (7:3–5) cannot be deduced from the Genesis depiction of the corruption of humankind before the flood either.90 The gabbārîn are understood as violent and demonic spiritual beings who ravage humanity, the earth, and the animals of the earth. In this context, the translation of the term as “giants” on the basis of the Greek versions is 88 For

the Aramaic text and its analysis, see Drawnel, Qumran Cave 4, ch. 2.1. nominalized adjective ‫ גבור‬in Biblical Hebrew denotes a strong and mighty person who can carry out mighty deeds and surpasses others in doing so. Therefore, it often denotes a “strong man” or “mighty one,” such as Nimrod the hunter in Gen 10:8; for the mythological context, see Ezek 32:21, 27; 32:27, ‫“ גבורים נפלים‬fallen warriors.” The most frequent use of gibbōr occurs in military contexts, e. g., 1 Sam 2:4; Jer 46:12; 51:30; Hos 10:13; Amos 2:14; Zeph 1:14; for the expression “the heroes of David” denoting a special military force at the disposition of the king, see 2 Sam 8:18; cf. 15:18; 23:23. Angels can be called gibbōrê kōaḥ “heroes of power,” as they are the ones who do God’s word (Ps 103:20, parallel with malʾākāyw; cf. 1QH 8:11; 10:33). Finally, in Ps 24:8, Yahweh is proclaimed to be ʿizzuz wegibbōr “strong and mighty,” and gibbor milḥāmāh “mighty in battle.” In Dan 3:20, the corresponding Aramaic noun gibbār in the expression gibbārê ḥayil “strong men” designates the military personnel at Nebuchadnezzar’s court. 90 The generic term ‫“ חמס‬violence” used in Gen 6:11 in relation to the corruption of the earth is absent from 1 En. 7:2b–5, which shows neither thematic nor lexical contact with Gen 6:5. Its attestation in 4Q201 frg. 12 1 (1 En. 9:1) and 4Q201 frg. 16 2 (1 En. 9:9) refers to the behavior of the Watchers and of their sons. 89 The

482

Henryk Drawnel

an oversimplification. The height of the “heroes,” or rather “warriors,” together with the kinds of violence they practice has its closest counterpart in the tall stature and violent deeds of the evil utukkū from the Mesopotamian cuneiform tradition.91 It seems, therefore, that the recurrence to the literary motif of sexual intermingling was borrowed in order to etiologically explain the birth and irruption of the demonic world into the realm of earthly existence.

D. Conclusion The redactors of 1 En. 6–7 reworked and reformulated the Aramaic version of Gen 6:1–2, 4b–c, setting it in a new context and diverting its meaning in a different direction. There are no formal indicators to suggest that the presence of the Genesis text in the pseudepigraphic myth constitutes a formal quotation. The inclusion of the Nephilim in 1 En. 7:2 and the gloss in 1 En. 16:1 that equates the Nephilim with the “giants” show a tendency in Syncellos’s version to incorporate Gen 6:4a and 6:4d, respectively, into the Enochic interpretive tradition. The oftassumed influence of Gen 6:3 on 1 En. 10:9–10, where the length of the giants’ lives has been debated, is not decisive evidence that the myth of the Watchers referred to the text of Gen 6:3 in any form. First Enoch 6–7 does not cite the text of Gen 6:3–4a, d, and its contacts with Gen 6:1–2, 4b–c show a text subject to redactional reworking, sometimes to such an extent that direct contact with the Genesis myth is dubious. At the very beginning of the passage, 1 En. 6:1a, where it overlaps with Gen 6:1a, betrays traces of being a translation from Hebrew. Hence it is plausible to assume that a tradition about intermarriage between divine beings and humans was first formulated in written form in Hebrew, and that this text is the common source of the traditions in 1 En. 6–7 and Genesis. The shorter Enochic account of the divine-human unions culled out of 1 En. 6–7 (1 En. 6:1–2a; 7:1–2bα) may reflect a text closer to the putative common source than the one preserved in Genesis. The tradition about intermarriage between human women and the sons of God that is fossilized in Gen 6:1–4 underlines the human dimension of the story. The limitation placed on the human lifespan in Gen 6:3 clearly imbues the whole story with negative overtones, but no aspersions are cast on the gibbōrîm, who according to Gen 6:4c are men of good repute anchored in the hoary past. The parenthetic Gen 6:4a introduces the Nephilim into the picture and attempts to associate them with the descendants of the sons of God. 91 See Ida Fröhlich, “Theology and Demonology in Qumran Texts,” Henoch 32 (2010): 101– 29; Henryk Drawnel, “The Mesopotamian Background of the Enochic Giants and Evil Spirits,” DSD 21 (2014): 14–38; Ida Fröhlich, “Mesopotamian Elements and the Watchers Traditions,” in The Watchers in Jewish and Christian Traditions, ed. Angela Kim Harkins, Kelley Coblentz Bautch, and John C. Endres (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 11–24.

The Reception of Genesis 6

483

The redactors of 1 En. 6–7 dissociated their narrative from the sons of God, or “sons of the gods,” tradition by replacing them with a new set of protagonists, the Watchers. They also eliminated the human dimension of the story and reinterpreted the giants, or rather gabbārîn, as a category of aggressive evil spirits. Since the literary structure of 1 En. 6–11 shows contacts with the Marduk–Ea incantation type abundantly attested in Mesopotamian exorcistic literature, the tradition about the unions between heavenly and earthly beings attested in Gen 6:1–4 and 1 En. 6–7 is perhaps related to the etiology of evil spirits in the Mesopotamian sources, in which sexual intercourse played an important role.92 As a myth that etiologically explains the origin of supernatural demonic beings on the earth and proposes ways to eliminate them, 1 En. 6–11 set the stage for the development of demonology and of literature related to exorcism in late Second Temple Judaism. The text of Gen 6:1–4, however, which emphasizes human involvement in the whole story, appears determined to shield the content of the “sons of God” tradition from a possible demonic interpretation. This proposed understanding of the Genesis myth as a reinterpretation of an earlier tradition is consonant with the general theological perspective of the Hebrew Bible, in which references to demonic beings are identifiable only through comparison of the biblical text with Mesopotamian sources.93

92 See

Drawnel, “1 Enoch 6–11,” 268–74. Karel van der Toorn, “The Theology of Demons in Mesopotamia and Israel: Popular Belief and Scholarly Speculation,” in Die Dämonen: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlischen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt, ed. Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard Römheld (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 61–83; Judit M. Blair, De-Demonising the Old Testament: An Investigation of Azazel, Lilith, Deber, Qeteb and Reshef in the Hebrew Bible, FAT 2/37 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). 93 Cf.

Bibliography Ableman, Oren. “Preliminary Publication of Cave 11 Fragments from Box 1023A.” Pages 231–44 in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q. Abusch, Tzvi. “The Development and Meaning of the Epic of Gilgamesh: An Interpretative Essay.” JAOS 121 (2001): 614–22. Achenbach, Reinhard. “Grundlinien redaktioneller Arbeit in der Sinai-Perikope.” Pages 56–80 in Das Deuteronomium zwischen Pentateuch und deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk. Edited by Eckart Otto and Reinhard Achenbach. FRLANT 206. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004. Acker Gruseke, Alison. “Moses the Mesopotamian: Sargon of Akkad, Moses, and the Production of Geographical Identities in Ancient Israel.” Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 2017. Ackerman, Susan. “Assyria in the Bible.” Pages 124–42 in Assyrian Reliefs from the Palace of Ashurnasirpal II: A Cultural Biography. Edited by Ada Cohen and Steven E. Kangas. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2010. Ackermann, Dirck. August Klostermann und der Pentateuch: Ein forschungsgeschichtlicher Beitrag zum Pentateuchproblem. Neukirchener theologische Dissertationen und Habilitationen. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1997. Ackroyd, Peter R. Exile and Restoration: A Study of Hebrew Thought of the Sixth Century B. C.  Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968. Adler, Michael. “Was Homer Acquainted with the Bible?” JQR 5 (1892): 170–74. Adler, William. Time Immemorial: Archaic History and Its Sources in Christian Chrono­ graphy from Julius Africanus to George Syncellus. DOS 26. Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, 1989. Adler, Yonatan. “The Distribution of Tefillin Finds among the Judean Desert Caves.” Pages 161–73 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. Ahituv, Shmuel. Echoes from the Past: Hebrew and Cognate Inscriptions from the Biblical Period. Jerusalem: Carta, 2008. Ahituv, Shmuel, and Amihai Mazar. “The Inscriptions from Tel Rehov and Their Contribution to the Study of Script and Writing during Iron Age IIA.” Pages 39–68 in “See, I will bring a scroll recounting what befell me” (Ps 40:8): Epigraphy and Daily Life from the Bible to the Talmud Dedicated to the Memory of Professor Hanan Eshel. Edited by Esther Eshel and Yigal Levin. JAJSup 12. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014. Ahlström, Gösta W. The History of Ancient Palestine from the Palaeolithic Period to Alexander’s Conquest. JSOTSup 146. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993. Albertz, Rainer. “Ex 33,7–11, ein Schlüsseltext für die Rekonstruktion der Redaktionsgeschichte des Pentateuch.” BN 149 (2011): 13–43. –. “Exodus: Liberation History against Charter Myths.” Pages 128–43 in Religious Identity and the Invention of Tradition: Papers Read at a NOSTER Conference in Soesterberg, January 4–6, 1999. Edited by Jan Willem van Henten and Anton Hautepen. Assen: Van Gorcum, 2001. –. A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period. OTL. Louisville: West­ minster/John Knox, 1994.

486

Bibliography

–. Israel in Exile: The History and Literature of the Sixth Century B. C. E. Translated by David Green. SBLStBL 3. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. Alexander, Philip S., and Leonard V. Rutgers. “‘Homer the Prophet of All’ and ‘Moses Our Teacher.’ Late Antique Exegesis of the Homeric Epics and the Torah of Moses.” Pages 127–42 in The Use of Sacred Books in the Ancient World. Edited by Leonard V. Rutgers, Pieter W. van der Horst, Henriëtte W. Havelaar, and Lieve Teugels. CBET 22. Leuven: Peeters, 1998. Allen, Lindsay. The Persian Empire: A History. London: British Museum Press, 2005. Allen, Thomas W. The Homeric Catalogue of Ships. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921. Repr., Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 2005. Alt, Albrecht. “Die Rolle Samarias bei der Entstehung des Judentums.” Pages 315–37 in Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel, vol. 2. Munich: Beck, 1953. –. Die Ursprünge des israelitischen Rechts. BVSAW 86. Leipzig: Hirzel, 1934. Reprinted as pages 278–332 in Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel, vol. 1. Munich: Kaiser, 1953. ET: “The Origins of Israelite Law.” Pages 81–132 in Essays on Old Testament History and Religion. Translated by R. A. Wilson. Oxford: Blackwell, 1966. Repr., Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1989. Ambos, Claus. Der König im Gefängnis und das Neujahrsfest im Herbst: Mechanismen der Legitimation des babylonischen Herrschers im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. und ihre Geschichte. Dresden: Islet, 2013. –. Mesopotamische Baurituale aus dem 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Dresden: Islet, 2004. Amit, Yairah. “The Jubilee Law – An Attempt at Instituting Social Justice.” Pages 37–59 in Justice and Righteousness: Biblical Themes and Their Influence. Edited by Henning Graf Reventlow and Yair Hoffman. JSOTSup 137. Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992. Anderson, Graham. Ancient Fiction: The Novel in the Graeco-Roman World. London: Croom Helm, 1984. Anderson, John K. “The Geometric Catalogue of Ships.” Pages 181–91 in The Ages of Homer: A Tribute to Emily Townsend Vermeule. Edited by Jane B. Carter and Sarah P. Morris. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995. Aptowitzer, Victor. Das Schriftwort in der rabbinischen Literatur. 4 vols. Vienna: Hölder, 1906–1915. Repr., New York: Ktav, 1970. Arie, Eran. “Reconsidering the Iron Age II Strata at Tel Dan: Archaeological and Historical Implications.” TA 35 (2008): 6–64. Askari Chaverdi, Alireza, and Pierfrancesco Callieri. Persepolis West (Fars, Iran): Report on the Field Work Carried Out by the Iranian-Italian Joint Archaeological Mission in 2008–2009. BAR.I 2870. Oxford: BAR, 2017. Assmann, Aleida. “Impact and Resonance – Towards a Theory of Emotions in Cultural Memory.” Pages 41–69 in The Formative Past and the Formation of the Future: Collective Remembering and Identity Formation. Edited by Saphinaz-Amal Naguib and Terje Stordalen. Institute of Comparative Research in Human Culture Series B 153. Oslo: Novus, 2015. Aster, Shawn Zelig. Reflections of Empire in Isaiah 1–39: Responses to Assyrian Ideology. ANEM 19. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017. –. “Transmission of Neo-Assyrian Claims of Empire to Judah in the Late Eighth Century B. C. E.” HUCA 78 (2007): 1–44. Aster, S. Z., and A. Faust. “Administrative Texts, Royal Inscriptions and Neo-Assyrian Administration in the Southern Levant: The View from the Aphek-Gezer Region.” Or 84 (2015): 292–308.

Bibliography

487

Astour, Michael C. “841 B. C.: The First Assyrian Invasion of Israel.” JAOS 91 (1971): 383–89. Avigad, Nahman. Discovering Jerusalem. Jerusalem: Shikmona, 1980. Bach, Johannes. “Berossos, Antiochus und die Babyloniaka.” Ancient West and East 12 (2013): 157–80. Bagg, Ariel M. Die Assyrer und das Westland. OLA 216. Leuven: Peeters, 2011. –. Die Orts‑ und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit, Teil 1: Die Levante. RGTC 7.1. Wiesbaden: Reichert, 2007. Baiche, André. Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas: La Judit. Toulouse: Assoc. des Publ. de la Fac. des Lettres et Sciences Humaines, 1971. Baillet, M. “Le texte samaritain de l’Exode dans les manuscrits de Qumrân.” Pages 363– 81 in Hommages à André Dupont-Sommer. Edited by A. Caquot and M. Philonenko. Paris: Adrien-Maisonneuve, 1971. Baltzer, Klaus. “Jerusalem in den Erzvätergeschichten der Genesis? Traditionsgeschichtliche Erwägungen zu Gen 14 und 22.” Pages 3–12 in Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift für Rolf Rendtorff zum 65. Geburtstag. Edited by Erhard Blum, Christian Macholz, and Ekkehard W. Stegemann. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990. Bar-Nathan, Rachel. Masada VII: The Yigael Yadin Excavations, 1963–1965. Final Reports: The Pottery of Masada. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and Hebrew University, 2006. –. “Qumran and the Hasmonean and Herodian Winter Palaces of Jericho: The Implication of the Pottery Finds on the Interpretation of the Settlement at Qumran.” Pages 264–77 in Qumran: The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Archaeological Interpretations and Debates. Proceedings of a Conference Held at Brown University, November 17–19, 2002. Edited by Katharina Galor, Jean-Baptiste Humbert, and Jürgen Zangenberg. STDJ 57. Leiden: Brill, 2006. Barclay, John M. G. Jews in the Mediterranean Diaspora: From Alexander to Trajan (323 BCE–117 CE). HCS 31. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. Barkay, Gabriel. “Excavations at Ketef Hinnom in Jerusalem.” Pages 85–106 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed. Edited by Hillel Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1994. Barrick, W. Boyd. “Another Shaking of Jehoshaphat’s Family Tree: Jehoram and Ahaziah Once Again.” VT 51 (2001): 9–25. Bartelmus, Rüdiger. Heroentum in Israel und seiner Umwelt: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zu Gen 6,1–4 und verwandten Texten im Alten Testament und der altorientalischen Literatur. AThANT 65. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1979. Barthélemy, Dominique. Ezéchiel, Daniel et les 12 Prophètes. Vol. 3 of Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament. OBO 50.3. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag, 1992. –. Les devanciers d’Aquila. VTSup 10. Leiden: Brill, 1963. Beattie, D. G. R. “Redemption in Ruth, and Related Matters: A Response to Jack M. Sasson.” JSOT 5 (1978): 65–68. Beaudry, Mary C., Lauren J. Cook, and Stephen A. Mrozowski. “Artifacts and Active Voices: Material Culture as Social Discourse.” Pages 150–91 in The Archaeology of Inequality. Edited by Randall H. McGuire and Robert Paynter. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1991. Beaulieu, Paul-Alain. “The Afterlife of Assyrian Scholarship in Hellenistic Babylonia.” Pages 1–18 in Gazing on the Deep: Ancient Near Eastern and Other Studies in Honor

488

Bibliography

of Tzvi Abusch. Edited by Jeffrey Stackert, Barbara N. Porter, and David P. Wright. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2010. –. “Antiquarian Theology in Seleucid Uruk.” ASJ 14 (1992): 47–75. –. “Berossus on Neo-Babylonian History.” Oriental Studies 2006: 116–49. –. “The Descendants of Sîn-Lēqi-unninni.” Pages 1–16 in Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner. Edited by Joachim Marzahn and Hans Neumann. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2000. –. “The Historical Background of the Uruk Prophecy.” Pages 41–52 in The Tablet and the Scroll: Near Eastern Studies in Honor of William W. Hallo. Edited by Mark E. Cohen, Daniel C. Snell, and David B. Weisberg. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 1993. –. “Nebuchadnezzar’s Babylon as World Capital.” CSMSJ 3 (2008): 5–12. Becking, Bob. The Fall of Samaria: An Historical and Archaeological Study. SHCANE 2. Leiden: Brill, 1992. Beek, G. W. van. “Assyrian Vaulted Buildings at Tel Jemmeh.” Qad 6 (1973): 23–26. In Hebrew. Bélis, Mireille. “Des textiles: Catalogue et commentaires.” Pages 207–76 in Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha II: Études d’anthropologie, de physique et de chimie. Edited by Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Jan Gunneweg. NTOA.SA 3. Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003. Beloch, Karl J. Die Zeit vor den Perserkriegen. Vol. 1 of Griechische Geschichte. Strassburg: K. J. Trübner, 1912. Repr., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Ben Zvi, Ehud. “The Concept of Prophetic Books and Its Historical Setting.” Pages 73–95 in The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud. Edited by Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi. London: Equinox, 2009. –. “Exploring Jerusalem as a Site of Memory in the Late Persian and Early Hellenistic Period.” Pages 197–217 in Memory and the City in Ancient Israel. Edited by Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014. –. “‘The Prophets’ – References to Generic Prophets and Their Role in the Construction of the Image of the ‘Prophets of Old’ within the Postmonarchic Readership/s of the Book of Kings.” ZAW 116 (2004): 555–67. –. Signs of Jonah: Reading and Rereading in Ancient Yehud. JSOTSup 367. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003. –. “The Urban Center of Jerusalem and the Development of the Literature of the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 194–209 in Aspects of Urbanism in Antiquity. Edited by Walter G. Aufrecht, Neil A. Mirau, and Steven W. Gauley. JSOTSup 244. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. Ben-Ami, Doron. Jerusalem: Excavations in the Tyropoeon Valley (Giv‘ati Parking Lot). IAA Reports. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2013. Benzinger, Immanuel. Die Bücher der Könige. KHC 9. Freiburg im Breisgau: J. C. B. Mohr, 1899. Berges, Ulrich. Jesaja 49–54. HThKAT. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2015. Bergman, J. “Derekh II.1.” TDOT 3:273–74. Berlejung, Angelika. “The Assyrians in the West: Assyrianization, Colonialism, Indifference, or Development Policy?” Pages 21–60 in Congress Volume, Helsinki 2010. Edited by Martti Nissinen. VTSup 148. Leiden: Brill, 2012. –. “Erinnerungen an Assyrien in Nahum 2,4–3,19.” Pages 323–56 in Die unwiderstehliche Wahrheit: Studien zur alttestamentlichen Prophetie. Edited by Rüdiger Lux and ErnstJoachim Waschke. ABIG 23. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2006.

Bibliography

489

–. “Living in the Land of Shinar: Reflections on Exile in Genesis 11:1–9.” Pages 89–111 in The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of Torah. Edited by Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl, and Jean-Pierre Sonnet. FAT 107. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. –. “Twisting Traditions: Programmatic Absence-Theology for the Northern Kingdom in 1 Kgs 12:26–33* (the ‘Sin of Jeroboam’).” JNSL 35 (2009): 1–42. Berman, Joshua. “The History of Legal Theory and the Study of Biblical Law.” CBQ 76 (2014): 19–39. Berner, Christoph. “Abraham amidst Kings, Coalitions and Military Campaigns. Reflections on the Redaction History of Gen 14 and Its Early Rewritings.” Pages 23–60 in The Reception of Biblical War Legislation in Narrative Contexts: Studies in Law and Narrative. Edited by Christoph Berner and Harald Samuel. BZAW 460. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Berthelot, Katell. “Philo of Alexandria and the Conquest of Canaan.” JSJ 38 (2007): 39–56. Bhayro, Siam. The Shemihazah and Asael Narrative of 1 Enoch 6–11: Introduction, Text, Translation and Commentary with Reference to Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical Antecedents. AOAT 322. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2005. Bickerman, Elias J. The Jews in the Greek Age. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988. Bidez, Joseph, and Franz Cumont, eds. Iuliani Imperatoris: Epistulae, leges, poematia, fragmenta varia. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1922. Bidmead, Julye. The Akītu Festival: Religious Continuity and Royal Legitimation in Mesopotamia. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2002. Bienkowski, Piotr A., ed. Early Edom and Moab: The Beginning of the Iron Age in Southern Jordan. Sheffield Archaeological Monographs. Sheffield: Collins, 1992. –, ed. Studies on Iron Age Moab and Neighbouring Areas in Honour of Michèle Daviau. ANESSup 29. Leuven: Peeters, 2009. –. “‘Tribalism’ and ‘Segmentary Society’ in Iron Age Transjordan.” Pages 7–26 in Studies on Iron Age Moab and Neighbouring Areas in Honour of Michèle Daviau. Edited by Piotr A. Bienkowski. ANESSup 29. Leuven: Peeters, 2009. Binsbergen, Wim M. J. van, and Fred C. Woudhuizen. Ethnicity in Mediterranean Protohistory. BAR.I 2256. Oxford: Archaeopress, 2011. Biran, Avraham. “‘To the God Who is in Dan.’” Pages 142–53 in Temples and High Places in Biblical Times: Proceedings of the Colloquium in Honor of the Centennial of Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion. Edited by Avraham Biran. Jerusalem: Nelson Glueck School of Biblical Archaeology of Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, 1981. Black, Matthew. The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch: A New English Edition with Commentary and Textual Notes. SVTP 7. Leiden: Brill, 1985. –. “The Twenty Angel Dekadarchs at 1 Enoch 6.7 and 69.2.” JJS 33 (1982): 227–35. Black, Matthew, and Albert-Marie Denis. Apocalypsis Henochi graece  – Fragmenta pseudepigraphorum quae supersunt graeca: Una cum historicorum et auctorum judaeorum hellenistarum fragmentis. PVTG 3. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1970. Blair, Judit M. De-Demonising the Old Testament: An Investigation of Azazel, Lilith, Deber, Qeteb and Reshef in the Hebrew Bible. FAT II 37. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009. Bleibtreu, Erika. “Grisly Assyrian Record of Torture and Death.” BAR 17 (1991): 52–61, 75.

490

Bibliography

Blenkinsopp, Joseph. “Benjamin Traditions Read in the Early Persian Period.” Pages 629–45 in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. –. “Bethel in the Neo-Babylonian Period.” Pages 93–107 in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003. –. Ezra-Nehemiah: A Commentary. OTL. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988. Blum, Erhard. “Das exilische deuteronomistische Geschichtswerk.” Pages 269–95 in Das deuteronomistische Geschichtswerk. Edited by Hermann-Josef Stipp. ÖBS 39. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2011. –. “Das sog. ‘Privilegrecht’ in Exodus 34,11–26: Ein Fixpunkt der Komposition des Exodusbuches?” Pages 157–76 in Blum, Textgestalt und Komposition. –. Die Komposition der Vätergeschichte. WMANT 57. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1984. –. “Die literarische Verbindung von Erzvätern und Exodus: Ein Gespräch mit neueren Endredaktionshypothesen.” Pages 85–121 in Blum, Textgestalt und Komposition. –. “Esra, die Mosetora und die persische Politik.” Pages 177–205 in Blum, Textgestalt und Komposition. –. “Gibt es die Endgestalt des Pentateuch?” Pages 46–57 in Congress Volume: Leuven, 1989. Edited by John A. Emerton. VTSup 43. Leiden: Brill, 1991. –. “Hosea 12 und die Pentateuchüberlieferungen.” Pages 291–321 in Die Erzväter in der biblischen Tradition: Festschrift für Matthias Köckert. Edited by Anselm C. Hagedorn and Henrik Pfeiffer. BZAW 400. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009. –. “The Jacob Tradition.” Pages 181–211 in The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation. Edited by Craig A. Evans, Joel N. Lohr, and David L. Petersen. VTSup 152. Leiden: Brill, 2012. –. “Noch einmal: Jakobs Traum in Bethel – Genesis 28,10–22.” Pages 33–54 in Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible. Essays in Honour of John Van Seters. Edited by Steven L. McKenzie and Thomas Römer. BZAW 294. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2000. –. “Once Again: The Compositional Knot at the Transition between Joshua and Judges.” Pages 221–40 in Book-Seams in the Hexateuch I: The Literary Transitions between the Books of Genesis/Exodus and Joshua/Judges. Edited by Christoph Berner and Harald Samuel. FAT 120. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018. –. “Pentateuch  – Hexateuch  – Enneateuch? oder: Woran erkennt man ein literarisches Werk in der hebräischen Bibel?” (2007). Pages 375–404 in Blum, Textgestalt und Komposition. –. Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch. BZAW 189. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1990. –. Textgestalt und Komposition: Exegetische Beiträge zu Tora und Vordere Propheten. Edited by Wolfgang Oswald. FAT 69. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010. –. “Überlegungen zur Kompositionsgeschichte des Josuabuches.” Pages 137–57 in The Book of Joshua. Edited by Edward Noort. BETL 250. Leuven: Peeters, 2012. Boecker, Hans Jochen. Recht und Gesetz im Alten Testament und im Alten Orient. Neukirchener Studienbücher 10. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1976. ET: Law and the Administration of Justice in the Old Testament and Ancient East. Translated by Jeremy Moiser. Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1980. Bogan, Zachary. Homerus Ἑβραιζων, sive, comparatio Homeri cum Scriptoribus Sacris quoad normam loquendi subnectitur Hesiodus Ὁμηριζων. Oxford, 1658.

Bibliography

491

Böhler, Dieter. Die heilige Stadt in Esdras A und Esra-Nehemia: Zwei Konzeptionen der Wiederherstellung Israels. OBO 158. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag, 1997. Bolin, Thomas M. Freedom beyond Forgiveness: The Book of Jonah Re-examined. JSOTSup 236, Copenhagen International Seminar 3. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997. –. “Out of the Wilderness? Some Suggestions for the Future of Pentateuchal Research.” Pages 47–59 in History, Archaeology and the Bible Forty Years after “Historicity.” Edited by Ingrid Hjelm and Thomas L. Thompson. Copenhagen International Seminar, Changing Perspectives 6. London: Routledge, 2016. Bonner, Campbell. The Last Chapters of Enoch in Greek. SD 8. London: Christophers, 1937. Booth, Wayne C. The Rhetoric of Fiction. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961. Bosworth, David A. “Weeping in Recognition Scenes in Genesis and the Odyssey.” CBQ 77 (2015): 619–39. Bothmer, Dietrich von. “The Greek Pottery.” Pages 175–78 in Archaeological and Historical Results, vol. 1 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè. Edited by Chester C. McCown. Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947. Boucharlat, Rémy. “Southwestern Iran in the Achaemenid Period.” Pages 503–27 in The Oxford Handbook of Ancient Iran. Edited by D. T. Potts. New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Bovati, Pietro. Re-Establishing Justice: Legal Terms, Concepts and Procedures in the Hebrew Bible. Translated by Michael J. Smith. JSOTSup 105. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994. Bowie, Ewen Lyall. “The Greek Novel.” Pages 683–99 in Greek Literature, vol. 1 of The Cambridge History of Classical Literature. Edited by Patricia Easterling and Bernard Knox. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Braudel, Fernand. La Méditerranée et le Monde méditerranéen à l’epoque de Philippe II. 3 vols. Paris: A. Colin, 1949. Braun, Oskar. “Ein Brief des Katholikos Timotheos I über biblische Studien des 9. Jahrhunderts.” Oriens Christianus 1 (1901): 299–313. Brettler, Marc Zvi. The Creation of History in Ancient Israel. London: Routledge, 1995. Briant, Pierre. From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire. Translated by Peter T. Daniels. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2002. –. Histoire de l’empire perse: De Cyrus à Alexandre. Paris: Fayard, 1996. Briant, Pierre, Wouter F. M. Henkelman, and Matthew Stolper, eds. L’archive des Fortifications de Persépolis: État des questions et perspectives de recherches. Persika 12. Paris: Éditions de Boccard, 2008. Briend, Jacques. “Jéroboam II, sauveur d’Israël.” Pages 41–49 in Mélanges bibliques et orientaux en l’honneur de M. Henri Cazelles. Edited by André Caquot and Mathias Delcor. AOAT 212. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981. Brinkman, J. A. A Political History of Post-Kassite Babylonia, 1158–722 B. C. AnOr 43. Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum, 1968. Brooke, George J. “Deuteronomy 5–6 in the Phylacteries from Qumran Cave 4.” Pages 57–70 in Emanuel: Studies in Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov. Edited by Shalom M. Paul, Robert A. Kraft, Lawrence H. Schiffman, and Weston W. Fields. VTSup 9. Leiden: Brill, 2003.

492

Bibliography

–. “E Pluribus Unum: Textual Variety and Definitive Interpretation in the Qumran Scrolls.” Pages 107–19 in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context. Edited by Timothy H. Lim, A. Graeme Auld, Larry W. Hurtado, and Alison Jack. London: T&T Clark, 2000. Brownlee, W. H. The Text of Habakkuk in the Ancient Commentary from Qumran. JBLMS 11. Philadelphia: SBL, 1959. Brueggemann, Walter. 1 & 2 Kings. Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys, 2000. Brunnsåker, Sture. The Tyrant-Slayers of Kritios and Nesiotes: A Critical Study of the Sources and Restoration. 2nd ed. Stockholm: Svenska Institutet i Athen, 1971. Buber, Martin. “Das Leitwort und der Formtypus der Rede: Ein Beispiel.” Pages 262–75 in Die Schrift und ihre Verdeutschung, by Martin Buber and Franz Rosenzweig. Berlin: Schocken, 1936. Bunimovitz, Shelomoh, and Zvi Lederman. Tel Beth-Shemesh: A Border Community in Judah. Renewed Excavations, 1990–2000: The Iron Age. 2 vols. SMNIA 34. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016. Burgess, Richard W. “Another Look at Sosates, the ‘Jewish Homer.’” JSJ 44 (2013): 195–217. Burr, Viktor. ΝΕΩΝ ΚΑΤΑΛΟΓΟΣ: Untersuchungen zum homerischen Schiffskatalog. Klio 49. Leipzig: Dieterich Verlag, 1944; repr., Aalen: Scientia Verlag, 1961. Burstein, Stanley Mayer. The “Babyloniaca” of Berossus. Malibu, CA: Undena, 1978. Burt, Sean. The Courtier and the Governor: Transformations of Genre in the Nehemiah Memoir. JSJSup 17. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014. Buschor, Ernst. “Die Tyrannen-Mörder.” Sitzungsberichte der Bayrischen Akademie der Wissenschaften: Philosophisch-historische Abteilung 5 (1940): 3–31. Byock, Jesse. Medieval Iceland: Society, Sagas, and Power. Oakland: University of California Press, 1988. Çağirgan, Galip. “Babylonian Festivals.” Ph.D. diss., University of Birmingham, 1976. Çağirgan, Galip, and Wilfred G. Lambert. “The Late Babylonian Kislīmu Ritual for Esagil.” JCS 43–45 (1991): 89–106. Callieri, Pierfrancesco. “Achaemenid ‘Ritual Architecture’ vs. ‘Religious Architecture’: Reflections on the Elusive Archaeological Evidence of the Religion of the Achaemenids.” Pages 385–415 in Persian Religion in the Achaemenid Period / La religion perse à l’époque achéménide. Edited by Wouter F. M. Henkelman and Céline Redard. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017. –. “Terra e pietra nell’architettura dell’Iran degli imperi preislamici.” Pages 87–98 in Civiltà dell’Iran: Passato Presente Futuro. Atti del Convegno Internazionale, Roma 22–23 febbraio 2018. Edited by Pierfrancesco Callieri and Adriano V. Rossi. Il Novissimo Ramusio 6. Rome: Istituto Culturale della Repubblica Islamica dell’Iran-ISMEO, 2018. Calmeyer, Peter. “Persepoli.” Pages 328–31 in Enciclopedia dell’Arte antica, classica ed orientale: Secondo Supplemento, 1971–1994, vol. 4. Rome: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1996. Cantrell, Deborah O., and Israel Finkelstein. “A Kingdom for a Horse: The Megiddo Stables and Eighth Century Israel.” Pages 643–65 in Megiddo IV: The 1998–2002 Seasons. Edited by Israel Finkelstein, David Ussishkin, and Baruch Halpern. SMNIA 24. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 2006. Caponigro, Mark Stephen. “Judith, Holding the Tale of Herodotus.” Pages 31–46 in No One Spoke Ill of Her: Essays on Judith. Edited by James C. VanderKam. SBL Early

Bibliography

493

Judaism and Its Literature 2. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992. Reprinted as pages 377–86 in Women in the Hebrew Bible: A Reader. Edited by Alice Bach. New York: Routledge, 1999. Cardellini, Innocenzo. Die biblischen “Sklaven”-Gesetze im Lichte des keilschriftlichen Sklavenrechts: Ein Beitrag zur Tradition, Überlieferung und Redaktion der alttestamentlichen Rechtstexte. BBB 55. Königstein: Peter Hanstein, 1981. Carr, David M. The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. –. “The Rise of Torah.” Pages 39–56 in The Pentateuch as Torah: New Models for Understanding Its Promulgation and Acceptance. Edited by Gary N. Knoppers and Bernard M. Levinson. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007. –. Writing on the Tablet of the Heart: Origins of Scripture and Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Carter, Charles E. The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period: A Social and Demographic Study. JSOTSup 294. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999. –. “(Re)Defining ‘Israel’: The Legacy of the Neo-Babylonian and Persian Periods.” Pages 215–40 in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Ancient Israel. Edited by Susan Niditch. Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell, 2016. Cavigneaux, Antoine, and Bahija K. Ismail. “Die Statthalter von Suḫu und Mari im 8. Jh. v. Chr.” BaghM 21 (1990): 321–456. Chambers, Mortimer. Aristoteles: Athenaion Politeia. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1990. Chambon, Grégory. “Numeracy and Metrology.” Pages 51–67 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by Karen Radner and Eleanor Robson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. Charles, Robert Henry. The Ethiopic Version of the Book of Enoch: Edited from TwentyThree Mss. together with the Fragmentary Greek and Latin Versions. AO.SS 11. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906. Charlesworth, James H. “Prayer of Manasseh.” Pages 625–37 in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2. Edited by James H. Charlesworth. ABRL. New York: Doubleday, 1985. –. “What is a Variant? Announcing a Dead Sea Scrolls Fragment of Deuteronomy.” Maarav 16 (2009): 201–12. Charlesworth, James, et al., in consultation with James VanderKam and Monica Brady. Miscellaneous Texts from the Judaean Desert. DJD 38. Oxford: Clarendon, 2000. Charpin, Dominique. “La ‘toponimie en miroir’ dans le Proche-Orient amorrite.” RA 97 (2003): 3–34. Chavel, Simeon. “‘Let My People Go!’ Emancipation, Revelation, and Scribal Activity in Jeremiah 34.8–14,” JSOT 76 (1997): 71–95. Childs, Brevard. Myth and Reality in the Old Testament. SBT 27. London: SCM, 1960. Chirichigno, Gregory C. Debt-Slavery in Israel and the Ancient Near East. JSOTSup 141. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993. Clanchy, Michael T. From Memory to Written Record: England, 1066–1307. 3rd ed. London: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013. Clancier, Philippe. Les bibliothèques en Babylonie dans la deuxième moitié du I er millénaire av. J.-C. AOAT 363. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2009. Clendenen, E. Ray. “Discourse Strategies in Jeremiah 10:1–16.” JBL 106 (1987): 401–8.

494

Bibliography

Clines, David J. A. “The Significance of the ‘Sons of God’ Episode (Genesis 6:1–4) in the Context of the ‘Primeval History’ (Genesis 1–11).” JSOT 4 (1979): 33–46. Closen, Gustav Engelbert. Die Sünde der “Söhne Gottes,” Gen. 6,1–4: Ein Beitrag zur Theologie der Genesis. Scripta Pontificii Instituti Biblici. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1937. Cogan, Mordechai. Bound for Exile: Israelites and Judeans under Imperial Yoke: Documents from Assyria and Babylonia. Carta Handbook. Jerusalem: Carta, 2013. –. Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Israel, and Judah in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B. C. E. SBLMS 19. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1974. –. “Judah under Assyrian Hegemony: A Re-examination of Imperialism and Religion.” JBL 112 (1993): 403–14. –. The Raging Torrent: Historical Inscriptions from Assyria and Babylonia Related to Ancient Israel. 2nd ed. Carta Handbook. Jerusalem: Carta, 2015. Cogan, Mordechai, and Hayim Tadmor. II Kings: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 11. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1988. Cohen, Mark E. The Cultic Calendars of the Ancient Near East. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 1993. –. Festivals and Calendars of the Ancient Near East. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2015. Colasuonno, Maria Maddalena. “Some Considerations on the Problem of Diglossia in Biblical Hebrew.” Annali, Sezione Orientale 76 (2016): 124–45. Cole, Steven W. “The Crimes and Sacrileges of Nabû-šuma-iškun.” ZA 84 (1994): 220–52. Colin, Gaston. “La deformation d’un document historique dans une argumentation d’orateur.” RevPhil 7 (1933): 237–60. Collins, John J. “Methodological Issues in the Study of 1 Enoch: Reflections on the Articles of P. D. Hanson and G. W. Nickelsburg.” Pages 315–22 in Society of Biblical Literature 1978 Seminar Papers. Edited by Paul J. Achtemeier. SBLSP 13. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1978. Coogan, Michael D. West Semitic Names in the Murašu Documents. HSM 7. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1976. Cook, Robert M. “A List of Clazomenian Pottery.” ABSA 47 (1952): 123–52. Cooke, George A. A Text-Book of North-Semitic Inscriptions: Moabite, Hebrew, Phoenician, Aramaic, Nabataean, Palmyrene, Jewish. Oxford: Clarendon, 1903. Cooper, Jerrold. “Assyrian Prophecies, the Assyrian Tree, and the Mesopotamian Origins of Jewish Monotheism, Greek Philosophy, Christian Theology, Gnosticism, and Much More.” JAOS 120 (2000): 430–44. Corley, Jeremy. “Imitation of Septuagintal Narrative and Greek Historiography in the Portrait of Holofernes.” Pages 22–54 in A Pious Seductress: Studies in the Book of Judith. Edited by Géza G. Xeravits. DCLS 14. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012. Cotton, Hannah M. “Ḥever, Naḥal: Written Material.” EDSS 1:359–61. –. “Ṣe’elim, Naḥal: Written Material.” EDSS 2:860–61. Crawford, Sidnie White. “Qumran Cave 4: Its Archaeology and Its Manuscript Collection.” Pages 105–19 in Is There a Text in This Cave? Studies in the Textuality of the Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of George J. Brooke. Edited by Ariel Feldman, Maria Cioată, and Charlotte Hempel. STDJ 119. Leiden: Brill 2017. Crosby, Alfred W. Ecological Imperialism: The Biological Expansion of Europe, 900– 1900. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.

Bibliography

495

Cross, Frank M. “The Development of the Jewish Scripts.” Pages 133–202 in The Bible and the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of William F. Albright. Edited by George E. Wright. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1961. –. “The Evolution of a Theory of Local Texts.” Pages 306–20 in Qumran and the History of the Biblical Text. Edited by Frank M. Cross and Shemaryahu Talmon. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1975. –. “The Fixation of the Text of the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 205–18 in From Epic to Canon: History and Literature in Ancient Israel. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998. –. “The History of the Biblical Text in Light of the Discoveries in the Judaean Desert.” HTR 57 (1964): 281–99. –. “The Themes of the Book of Kings and the Structure of the Deuteronomic History.” Pages 274–89 in Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic: Essays in the History of the Religion of Israel. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973. Crouch, Carly L. Israel and the Assyrians: Deuteronomy, the Succession Treaty of Esarhaddon, and the Nature of Subversion. ANEM 8. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014. Crowfoot, Grace M. “The Linen Textiles.” Pages 18–38 in Qumran Cave 1. Edited by Dominique Barthélemy and Jóseph T. Milik. DJD 1. Oxford: Clarendon, 1955. Crown, Alan D. Samaritan Scribes and Manuscripts. TSAJ 80. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001. Crüsemann, Frank. “Kritik an Amos im deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk. Erwä­gun­ gen zu 2. Könige 14,27.” Pages 57–63 in Probleme biblischer Theologie: Gerhard von Rad zum 70. Geburtstag. Edited by Hans Walter Wolff. Munich: Kaiser, 1971. Culley, Robert C. “Oral Tradition and Biblical Studies.” Oral Tradition 1 (1986): 30–65. Cummings, Robert. “The Aestheticization of Tyrannicide: Du Bartas’s La Judit.” Pages 227–38 in The Sword of Judith: Judith Studies across the Disciplines. Edited by Kevin R. Brine, Elena Ciletti, and Henrike Lähnemann. Cambridge: OpenBook, 2010. Da Riva, Rocío. “The Figure of Nabopolassar in Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Historiographic Tradition: BM 34793 and CUA 90.” JNES 76 (2017): 75–92. Da Riva, Rocío, and Gianluca Galetti. “Two Temple Rituals from Babylon.” JCS 70 (2018): 189–227. Da Riva, Rocío, and Nathan Wasserman. “Love Lyrics.” Oracc. http://oracc.museum. upenn.edu/lovelyrics/ (accessed August 28, 2018). Dafni, Evangelia D. “βροτός. A Favourite Word of Homer in the Septuagint Version of Job.” VeEc 28 (2007): 35–65. –. “ΝΟΥΣ in der Septuaginta des Hiobbuches. Zur Frage nach der Rezeption der Homerepik im hellenistischen Judentum.” JSJ 37 (2006): 35–54. Dahmen, Ulrich. Psalmen‑ und Psalter-Rezeption im Frühjudentum: Rekonstruktion, Textbestand, Struktur und Pragmatik der Psalmenrolle 11QPsa aus Qumran. STDJ 49. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Dalley, Stephanie. Esther’s Revenge at Susa: From Sennacherib to Ahasuerus. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. –. “Foreign Chariotry and Cavalry in the Armies of Tiglath-Pileser III and Sargon II.” Iraq 47 (1985): 31–48. –. “Gods from North-eastern and North-western Arabia in Cuneiform Texts from the First Sealand Dynasty, and a Cuneiform Inscription from Tell en-Naṣbeh, c. 1500 BC.” Arabian Archaeology and Epigraphy 24 (2013): 177–85.

496

Bibliography

–. “Yabâ, Atalyā and the Foreign Policy of Late Assyrian Kings.” SAAB 12.1 (1998): 83– 98. Darshan, Guy. “The Twenty-four Books of the Hebrew Bible and Alexandrian Scribal Methods.” Pages 221–44 in Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters. Edited by Maren R. Niehoff. JSRC 16. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Daryaee, Touraj, ed. Cyrus the Great: An Ancient Iranian King. Santa Monica: Afshar, 2013. Davies, Philip R. “Building a Nation: The Jeroboams and the Creation of Israels.” Forthcoming. –. “The Hebrew Canon and the Origins of Judaism.” Pages 194–206 in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honour of Lester L. Grabbe. Edited by Philip R. Davies and Diana V. Edelman. JSOTSup 530. New York: T&T Clark, 2010. –. “How Not to Do Archaeology: The Story of Qumran.” BA 51 (1988): 203–7. –. The Origins of Biblical Israel. LHBOTS 485. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. –. Scribes and Schools: The Canonization of the Hebrew Scriptures. LAI. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998. –. “Women, Men, Gods, Sex and Power: The Birth of a Biblical Myth.” Pages 194–201 in A Feminist Companion to Genesis. Edited by Athalya Brenner. FCB 2. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993. Davis, Andrew R. “Area T, Stratum II: An Eighth-Century B. C. E. Cult Site.” Pages 67– 108 in Tel Dan in Its Northern Cultic Context. Edited by Andrew R. Davis. SBLABSt 20. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. –. Reconstructing the Temple: The Royal Rhetoric of Temple Renovation in the Ancient Near East and Israel. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019. De Breucker, Geert. “De Babyloniaca van Berossos van Babylon: Inleiding, editie en commentaar.” Ph.D. diss., University of Groningen, 2012. –. “Heroes and Sinners: Babylonian Kings in Cuneiform Historiography of the Persian and Hellenistic Periods.” Pages 75–94 in Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire. Edited by Jason M. Silverman and Caroline Waerzeggers. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2015. Dearman, John A. “Historical Reconstruction and the Meshaʿ Inscription.” Pages 155–210 in Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab. Edited by John A. Dearman. SBLABSt 2. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989. –. “Moab and Ammon: Some Observations on Their Relationship in Light of a New Moabite Inscription.” Pages 97–116 in Studies on Iron Age Moab and Neighbouring Areas in Honour of Michèle Daviau. Edited by Piotr A. Bienkowski. ANESSup 29. Leuven: Peeters, 2009. Debourse, Céline. “A New Hope: The New Year’s Festival Texts as a Cultural Reaction to Defeat.” In Proceedings of the Symposium “Culture of Defeat – Submission in Written Sources and the Archaeological Record of the Ancient Near East” (Jerusalem, 22–23 October 2017). Edited by K. Streit. Forthcoming. Del Monte, Giuseppe. Testi cronografici. Vol. 1 of Testi dalla Babilonia ellenistica. Pisa: Ist. Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionali, 1997. Delcor, Mathias. “Le mythe de la chute des anges et de l’origine des géants comme explication du mal dans le monde dans l’apocalyptique juive: Histoire des traditions.” RHR 190 (1976): 3–53. Denneler, Iris. Friedrich Karl von Savigny. Berlin: Stapp, 1985.

Bibliography

497

Dennis, Andrew, Peter Godfrey Foote, and Richard Perkins. Laws of Early Iceland: Grágás: The Codex Regius of Grágás with Material from Other Manuscripts. 2 vols. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1980–2000. Dever, William G. “Archaeological Methods and Results: A Review of Two Recent Publications.” Or 40 (1971): 459–71. –. Beyond the Texts: An Archaeological Portrait of Ancient Israel and Judah. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2017. Dicou, Bert. Edom, Israel’s Brother and Antagonist: The Role of Edom in Biblical Prophecy and Story. JSOTSup 169. Sheffield: Academic Press, 1994. –. Jakob en Esau, Israël en Edom: Israël tegenover de volken in de verhalen over Jakob en Esau in Genesis en in de grote profetieën over Edom. The Hague: Publivorm Voorburg, 1990. Dietler, Michael. “Consumption, Agency, and Cultural Entanglement: Theoretical Implications of a Mediterranean Colonial Encounter.” Pages 288–315 in Studies in Cultural Contact, Interaction, Culture Change, and Archaeology. Edited by James G. Cusick. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University, 1998. Dietrich, Walter. The Early Monarchy in Israel: The Tenth Century B. C. E. SBLBibEnc 3. Atlanta: SBL, 2007. –. “Ninive in der Bibel.” Pages 115–31 in Ex Mesopotamia et Syria Lux: Festschrift für Manfried Dietrich. AOAT 281. Edited by Oswald Loretz, Kai A. Metzler, and Hanspeter Schaudig. Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 2002. –. Prophetie und Geschichte: Eine Redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zum deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerk. FRLANT 108. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1972. Dijk, Jan van, and Werner R. Mayer. Texte aus dem Rēs-Heiligtum in Uruk-Warka. BaghMB 2. Berlin: Mann, 1980. Dillery, John. Clio’s Other Sons: Berossus and Manetho. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2015. Dillmann, August. Die Bücher Numeri, Deuteronomium und Josua. 2nd ed. KEHAT 13. Leipzig: Hirzel, 1886. Dimant, Devorah. “1 Enoch 6–11: A Fragment of a Parabiblical Work.” JJS 53 (2002): 223–37. Dittenberger, Wilhelm, ed. Sylloge inscriptionum graecorum. 3rd ed. Leipzig: S. Hirzelium, 1915; repr., Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1960. Dohmen, Christoph. “Das Zelt außerhalb des Lagers: Exodus 33,7–11 zwischen Synchronie und Diachronie.” Pages 157–69 in Textarbeit: Studien zu Texten und ihrer Rezeption aus dem Alten Testament und der Umwelt Israels. Festschrift für Peter Weimar zur Vollendung seines 60. Lebensjahres mit Beiträgen von Freunden, Schülern und Kollegen. Edited by Klaus Kiesow and Thomas Meurer. AOAT 294. Münster: UgaritVerlag, 2003. Dommelen, Peter van. On Colonial Grounds: A Comparative Study of Colonialism and Rural Settlement in First Millennium BC West Central Sardinia. Leiden: University of Leiden, 1998. Doudna, Gregory L. 4QPesher Nahum: A Critical Edition. JSPSup 35. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002. –. “Redating the Dead Sea Scrolls Found at Qumran: The Case for 63 BCE.” QC 8.4 (1999): 1–96.

498

Bibliography

Drawnel, Henryk. “1 Enoch 6–11 Interpreted in Light of Mesopotamian Incantation Literature.” Pages 245–84 in 1 Enoch and the Synoptic Gospels: Reminiscences, Allusions, Intertextuality. Edited by Loren T. Stuckenbruck and Gabriele Boccaccini. EJL 44. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016. –. “Between Akkadian ṭupšarrūtu and Aramaic ‫ספר‬: Some Notes on the Social Context of the Early Enochic Literature.” RevQ 24 (2010): 373–403. –. “The Mesopotamian Background of the Enochic Giants and Evil Spirits.” DSD 21 (2014): 14–38. –. Qumran Cave 4: The Aramaic Books of Enoch: 4Q201, 4Q202, 4Q204, 4Q205, 4Q206, 4Q207, 4Q212. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019. Drinkard, Joel. “The Literary Genre of the Meshaʿ Inscription.” Pages 131–54 in Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab. Edited by John A. Dearman. SBLABSt 2. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989. Driver, G. R. Semitic Writing: From Pictograph to Alphabet. 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976. Dubovský, Peter. “Assyrian Downfall through Isaiah’s Eyes (2 Kings 15–23): The Historiography of Representation.” Bib 89 (2008): 1–16. –. “Boží hnev v mezopotámskych kráľovských nápisoch a v Knihe Exodus.” StBiSl 2.2 (2010): 112–22. –. The Building of the First Temple: A Study in Redactional, Text-Critical and Historical Perspective. FAT 103. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. –. “From a Textual History to a History of Israelite Divinity: The Oppression-liberation Pattern in 2 Kings 13:1–9.” Forthcoming. –. Hezekiah and the Assyrian Spies: Reconstruction of the Neo-Assyrian Intelligence Services and Its Significance for 2 Kings 18–19. BibOr 49. Rome: Pontifical Institute, 2006. –. “Tiglath-Pileser III’s Campaigns in 734–732 B. C.: Historical Background of Isa 7, 2 Kgs 15–16 and 2 Chr 27–28.” Bib 87 (2006): 153–70. –. “‘Typical’ and ‘Atypical’ Concluding Formulas in 2 Kgs 13–14: A Reconstruction of the Old Greek and Its Implication.” Forthcoming in Biblica. Durand, Jean-Marie, and Lionel Marti. “Chronique du Moyen-Euphrate: Une attaque de Qaṭna par le Sûhum et la question du ‘pays de Mari.’” RA 99 (2005): 123–32. Durham, John I. Exodus. WBC 3. Waco, TX: Word, 1987. Durkin-Meisterernst, D. “Huzwāreš.” Encyclopaedia Iranica 12.6 (2004): 585–88. Dušek, Jan. “Aramaic in the Persian Period.” HeBAI 2 (2013): 243–64. Edelman, Diana V. “Adjusting Social Memory in the Hebrew Bible: The Teraphim.” Pages 115–42 in Congress Volume, Stellenbosch 2016. Edited by Louis C. Jonker, Gideon R. Kotzé, and Christl M. Maier. VTSup 177. Leiden: Brill, 2017. –. “The ‘Ashurites’ of Eshbaal’s State (2 Sam. 2.9).” PEQ 117 (1985): 85–91. –. “The ‘Empty Land’ as a Motif in City Laments.” Pages 127–49 in Ancient and Modern Historiography / L’historiographie biblique, ancienne et modern. Edited by George J. Brooke and Thomas Römer. BETL 207. Leuven: Leuven University, 2007. –. “Identities within a Central and Peripheral Perspective: The Use of Aramaic in the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 109–32 in Centres and Peripheries in the Early Second Temple Period. Edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin. Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 2016. –. The Origins of the ‘Second’ Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem. BibleWorld. London: Equinox, 2005.

Bibliography

499

–. “What is Persian about Genesis?” Pages 149–81 in Assessing Biblical and Classical Sources for the Reconstruction of Persian Influence, History and Culture. Edited by Anne Fitzpatrick-McKinley. Classica et Orientalia 10. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2015. Edelman, Diana V., Philip R. Davies, Christophe Nihan, and Thomas Römer. Opening the Books of Moses. Sheffield: Equinox, 2011. Edenburg, Cynthia, and Reinhard Müller. “A Northern Provenance for Deuteronomy? A Critical Review.” HeBAI 4 (2015): 148–61. Edzard, Dietz O. “Zur Ritualtafel der sog. ‘Love Lyrics.’” Pages 57–69 in Language, Literature and History: Philological and Historical Studies Presented to Erica Reiner. Edited by Francesca Rochberg-Halton. New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1987. Ego, Beate. “Abraham als Urbild der Toratreue Israels: Traditionsgeschichtliche Überlegungen zu einem Aspekt der biblischen Abrahamsbildes.” Pages 25–40 in Bund und Tora: Zur theologischen Begriffsgeschichte in alttestamentlicher, frühjüdischer und urchristlicher Tradition. Edited by Friedrich Avemarie and Hermann Lichtenberger. WUNT 92. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996. Ehrenberg, Victor. “Das Harmodioslied.” Wiener Studien 69 (1956): 57–69. Elayi, Josette. Sargon II, King of Assyria. SBLABSt 22. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2017. –. Sennacherib, King of Assyria. SBLABSt 24. Atlanta: SBL Press, 2018. Ellis, Richard S. Foundation Deposits in Ancient Mesopotamia. YNER 2. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968. Emerton, John A. “The Site of Salem, the City of Melchizedek (Gen xiv 18).” Pages 45–71 in Studies in the Pentateuch. Edited by John A. Emerton. VTSup 41. Leiden: Brill, 1990. Eph’al, Israel. “Assyrian Dominion in Palestine.” Pages 276–89, 364–68 in The Age of the Monarchies: Political History, vol. 4.1 of The World History of the Jewish People. Edited by A. Malamat. Jerusalem: Massada, 1979. Eshel, Hanan. “Murabba‘at, Wadi: Written Material.” EDSS 1:583–86. –. “Sdeir (Wadi).” EDSS 2:851–52. Eskenazi, Tamara Cohn. “The Flowering of Literature in the Persian Period: The Writings/ Ketuvim.” Pages 476–92 in The Wiley Blackwell Companion to Ancient Israel. Edited by Susan Niditch. Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell, 2016. –. In an Age of Prose: A Literary Approach to Ezra–Nehemiah. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988. Etz, Donald V. “The Genealogical Relationships of Jehoram and Ahaziah, and of Ahaz and Hezekiah, Kings of Judah.” JSOT 71 (1996): 39–53. Evans, Trevor V. “The Comparative Optative: A Homeric Reminiscence in the Greek Pentateuch?” VT 49 (1999): 487–504. Eynikel, E. “The Portrait of Manasseh and the Deuteronomic History.” Pages 233–61 in Deuteronomy and Deuteronomic Literature: Festschrift C. H. W. Brekelmans. Edited by M. Vervenne and J. Lust. BETL 133. Leuven: Leuven University Press / Uitgeverij Peeters, 1997. Fabry, Heinz-Josef. “Der Psalter in Qumran.” Pages 137–63 in Der Psalter in Judentum und Christentum. Edited by Erich Zenger. HBS 18. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1998. Fales, Frederick Mario. “After Ta‛yinat: The New Status of Esarhaddon’s Adê for Assyrian Political History.” RA 106 (2012): 133–58. –. “A Fresh Look at the Nimrud Wine Lists.” Pages 361–80 in Drinking in Ancient Societies: History and Culture of Drinks in the Ancient Near East. Papers of a

500

Bibliography

Symposium Held in Rome, May 17–19, 1990. Edited by Lucio Milano. HANE/S 6. Padua: S. A. R. G. O.N, 1994. –. “On Pax Assyriaca in the Eighth–Seventh Centuries BCE and Its Implications.” Pages 17–35 in Isaiah’s Vision of Peace in Biblical and Modern International Relations: Swords into Plowshares. Edited by Raymond Cohen and Raymond Westbrook. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008. Fales, Frederick Mario, and Giulia F. Grassi. L’aramaico antico: Storia, grammatica, testi commentati. Fonti e Testi. Udine: Forum, 2016. Falk, Ze’ev Wilhelm. Hebrew Law in Biblical Times. 2nd ed. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2001. Falkenstein, Adam, ed. Literarische Keilschrifttexte aus Uruk. Berlin: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, 1931. Fantalkin, Alexander. “The Final Destruction of Beth Shemesh and the Pax Assyriaca in the Judahite Shephelah: An Alternative View.” TA 31 (2004): 245–61. Faust, Avraham. “The Assyrian Century in the Southern Levant: An Overview of the Reality on the Ground.” Pages 20–55 in The Southern Levant under Assyrian Domination. Edited by Shawn Zelig Aster and Avraham Faust. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns, 2018. –. Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period: The Archaeology of Desolation. SBLABSt 18. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012. –. “Judah in the Sixth Century B. C. E.: A Rural Perspective.” PEQ 135 (2003): 37–53. –. “Settlement and Demography in Seventh-Century Judah and the Extent and Intensity of Sennacherib’s Campaign.” PEQ 140 (2008): 168–94. –. “Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations in Judah from the Late Iron Age to the Hellenistic Period and the Archaeology of Persian-Period Yehud.” Pages 23–51 in A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbours during the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods. Edited by Yigal Levin. LSTS 65. London: T&T Clark, 2007. –. “The Southern Levant under the Neo-Assyrian Empire. A Comparative Perspective.” Pages 97–127 in Imperial Peripheries in the Neo-Assyrian Period. Edited by Craig W. Tyson and Virginia R. Herrmann. Louisville: University Press of Colorado, 2018. Fehr, Burkhard. Der Tyrannentöter, oder: Kann man der Demokratie ein Denkmal setzen? Frankfurt am Main: Fischer, 1984. Feldman, Louis H. “Homer and the Near East: The Rise of the Greek Genius.” BA 59 (1996): 13–21. Reprinted as pages 37–51 in Louis H. Feldman, Judaism and Hellenism Reconsidered. JSJSup 107. Leiden: Brill, 2006. –. Studies in Josephus’ Rewritten Bible. JSJSup 58. Leiden: Brill, 1998. Ferguson, Charles A. “Diglossia.” Word 15 (1959): 325–40. –. “Diglossia Revisited.” Southwest Journal of Linguistics 10 (1991): 214–43. Fidanzio, Marcello, ed. The Caves of Qumran: Proceedings of the International Conference, Lugano 2014. STDJ 118. Leiden: Brill, 2016. –. “De nouvelles découvertes dans la grotte XII/53 (12?) à Qumrân.” RevQ 29.1 (2017): 139–44. –. “Introduction.” Pages 1–6 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. Fidanzio, Marcello, M. De Pietri, A. Maifredi, and B. Torrini. “Campagna di scavi ISCAB-FTL e USI alla grotta 11Q di Qumran, marzo 2017.” RTLu 22.2 (2017): 437–66. Finegan, Jack. Handbook of Biblical Chronology. 2nd ed. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1998.

Bibliography

501

Finkel, Irving. “The Lament of Nabû-šuma-ukīn.” Pages 323–42 in Babylon: Focus mesopotamischer Geschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit, Mythos in der Moderne. Edited by J. Renger. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker, 1991. Finkel, Irving, and Robartus J. van der Spek. “Babylonian Chronicles from the Hellenistic Period.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/sources/about/mesopotamian-chronicles/ (accessed July 27, 2018). –. “Chronicle 13b.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchp-seleucus_iii/s​e​l​ e​u​c​u​s​_​i​i​i​_​0​1​html (accessed August 29, 2018). –. “Kings of Ur.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/sources/content/mesopotamian-chroniclesc​o​n​t​e​n​t​/​c​m​-​4​8-kings-of-ur/ (accessed August 27, 2018). –. “Mesopotamian Chronicles.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/sources/about/m​e​s​o​p​o​t​a​m​i​ a​n-chronicles/ (accessed July 27, 2018). –. “Nabonidus Chronicle.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/sources/content/mesopotamianchronicles-content/abc-7-nabonidus-chronicle/ (accessed August 28, 2018). –. “Uruk King List.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/sources/content/uruk-king-list/ (accessed August 27, 2018). Finkelberg, Margalit. “Ajax’s Entry in the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women.” ClQ 38 (1988): 31–41. –. The Birth of Literary Fiction in Ancient Greece. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. –. “The Cypria, the Iliad, and the Problem of Multiformity in Oral and Written Tradition.” CP 95 (2000): 1–11. –. “Homer as a Foundation Text.” Pages 75–96 in Homer, the Bible, and Beyond: Literary and Religious Canons in the Ancient World. Edited by Margalit Finkelberg and Guy G. Stroumsa. JSRC 2. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Finkelstein, Israel. “Archaeology and the List of Returnees in the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah.” PEQ 140 (2008): 7–16. –. “The Archaeology of the Last Days of Manasseh.” Pages 169–87 in Scripture and Other Artifacts: Essays on the Bible and Archaeology in Honor of Philip J. King. Edited by Michael D. Coogan, J. Cheryl Exum, and Lawrence E. Stager, with Joseph A. Greene. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1994. –. “A Corpus of North Israelite Texts in the Days of Jeroboam II?” HeBAI 6 (2017): 262– 89. –. The Forgotten Kingdom: The Archaeology and History of Northern Israel. ANEM 5. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2013. –. “The Geographical and Historical Realities behind the Earliest Layer in the David Story.” SJOT 27 (2013): 131–50. –. “Gezer Revisited and Revised.” TA 29 (2002): 262–96. –. “A Great United Monarchy? Archaeological and Historical Perspectives.” Pages 3–28 in One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives. Edited by Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. –. “The Great Wall of Tell en-Nasbeh (Mizpah), the First Fortifications in Judah, and 1 Kings 15:16–22.” VT 62 (2012): 14–28. –. “The Historical Reality behind the Genealogical Lists in 1 Chronicles.” JBL 131 (2012): 65–83. –. “Jerusalem and Judah 600–200 BCE: Implications for Understanding Pentateuchal Texts.” Pages 3–18 in The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of the Torah. Edited by Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl, and Jean-Pierre Sonnet. FAT 107. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016.

502

Bibliography

–. “Jerusalem in the Persian (and Early Hellenistic) Period and the Wall of Nehemiah.” JSOT 32 (2008): 501–20. –. “The Last Labayu: King Saul and the Expansion of the First North Israelite Territorial Entity.” Pages 171–87 in Essays on Ancient Israel in Its Near Eastern Context: A Tribute to Nadav Na’aman. Edited by Yaira Amit, Ehud Ben Zvi, Israel Finkelstein, and Oded Lipschits. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. –. “Major Saviors, Minor Judges: The Historical Background of the Northern Accounts in the Book of Judges.” JSOT 41 (2017): 431–49. –. “Migration of Israelites into Judah after 720 BCE: An Answer and an Update.” ZAW 127 (2015): 188–206. –. “Saul, Benjamin and the Emergence of Biblical Israel: An Alternative View.” ZAW 123 (2011): 348–67. –. “A Saul Update: The Role of Jerusalem.” Forthcoming. –. “Seilun, Khirbet.” ABD 5 (1992): 1069–72. –. “Stages in the Territorial Expansion of the Northern Kingdom.” VT 61 (2011): 227–42. –. “The Territorial Extent and Demography of Yehud/Judea in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods.” RB 117 (2010): 39–54. Finkelstein, Israel, and Baruch Brandl. Shiloh: The Archaeology of a Biblical Site. SMNIA 10. Tel Aviv: Institute of Archaeology Tel Aviv University, 1993. Finkelstein, Israel, Ido Koch, and Oded Lipschits. “The Biblical Gilead: Observations on Identifications, Geographic Divisions, and Territorial History.” UF 43 (2012): 131–59. Finkelstein, Israel, and Nadav Na’aman. “The Judahite Shephelah in the Late 8th and Early 7th Centuries B. C. E.” TA 31 (2004): 60–79. Finkelstein, Israel, and Eli Piasetzky. “The Date of Kuntillet ‘Ajrud: The 14C Perspective.” TA 35 (2008): 135–85. –. “Radiocarbon, Iron IIA Destructions and Israel–Aram Damascus Conflict in the 9th Century.” UF 39 (2007): 261–79. –. “Radiocarbon-Dated Destruction Layers: A Skeleton for Iron Age Chronology in the Levant.” OJA 28 (2009): 255–74. Finkelstein, Israel, and Thomas Römer. “Comments on the Historical Background of the Abraham Narrative: Between ‘Realia’ and ‘Exegetica.’” HeBAI 3 (2014): 3–23. –. “Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis.” ZAW 126 (2014): 317–38. –. “Early North Israelite ‘Memories’ of Moab.” Pages 711–27 in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America. Edited by Jan C. Gertz, Bernard M. Levinson, Dalit Rom-Shiloni, and Konrad Schmid. FAT 111. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Finkelstein, Israel, Thomas Römer, et al. “Excavations at Kiriath-jearim near Jerusalem, 2017: Preliminary Report.” Sem 60 (2018): 31–83. Finkelstein, Israel, and Benjamin Sass. “The West Semitic Alphabetic Inscriptions, Late Bronze II to Iron IIA: Archeological Context, Distribution and Chronology.” HeBAI 2 (2013): 149–220. Finkelstein, Israel, and Neil Asher Silberman. The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts. New York: Free Press, 2001. –. David and Solomon: In Search of the Bible’s Sacred Kings and the Roots of the Western Tradition. New York: Free Press, 2006. –. “Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the Rise of the Pan-Israelite Ideology.” JSOT 30 (2006): 259–85.

Bibliography

503

Finkelstein, Israel, and Lily Singer-Avitz. “Reevaluating Bethel.” ZDPV 125 (2009): 33–48. Finkelstein, Jacob J. “Ammisaduqa’s Edict and the Babylonian ‘Law Codes.’” JCS 15 (1961): 91–104. Finkelstein, Louis. Sifre on Deuteronomy. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1969. Finnegan, Ruth H. Literacy and Orality: Studies in the Technology of Communication. Oxford: Blackwell, 1988. Repr., Derry: Callender, 2014. –. Oral Poetry: Its Nature, Significance and Social Content. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977. Repr., Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992. Fischer, Georg. Jeremia 26–52. HThKAT. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2005. –. “Jeremiah: 7.3. Septuagint.” Pages 543–55 in The Hebrew Bible: Pentateuch, Former and Latter Prophets, vol. 1B of Textual History of the Bible. Edited by Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Fischer, Georg, and Dominik Markl. Das Buch Exodus. NSKAT 2. Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2009. Fishbane, Michael. Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel. Oxford: Clarendon, 1985. Fitzmyer, Joseph A. Tobit. CEJL. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003. Fitzpatrick-McKinley, Anne. Empire, Power, and Indigenous Elites: A Case Study of the Nehemiah Memoir. JSJSup 169. Leiden: Brill, 2015. Fleming, Daniel E. The Legacy of Israel in Judah’s Bible. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Flint, Peter W. The Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls and the Book of Psalms. STDJ 17. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Flynn, Shawn W. YHWH Is King: The Development of Divine Kingship in Ancient Israel. Leiden: Brill, 2013. Foley, John M. The Theory of Oral Composition: History and Methodology. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988. Formenti, Françoise, and J. M. Duthel. “The Analysis of Wine and Other Organics Inside Amphoras of the Roman Period.” Pages 79–88 in The Origins and Ancient History of Wine. Edited by Patrick E. McGovern, Stuart J. Fleming, and Solomon H. Katz. Amsterdam: Gordon and Breach, 1996. Fornara, Charles W. “The Cult of Harmodius and Aristogeiton.” Philologus 114 (1970): 155–80. Foster, Benjamin. Akkadian Literature of the Late Period. GMTR 2. Münster: UgaritVerlag, 2007. –. Before the Muses: An Anthology of Akkadian Literature. 3rd ed. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2005. Fowler, H. N., trans. Plutarch: Moralia, vol. 10. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1936. Fraade, Steven. “Rewritten Bible and Rabbinic Midrash as Commentary.” Pages 59–78 in Current Trends in the Study of Midrash. Edited by Carol Bakhos. JSJSup 106. Leiden: Brill, 2006. Frahm, Eckart. “‘And His Brothers Were Jealous of Him’: Surprising Parallels between Joseph and King Esarhaddon.” BAR 42.3 (2016): 43–50, 63–64. –. “Assyria in the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 556–69 in A Companion to Assyria. Edited by Eckart Frahm. Malden: Wiley Blackwell, 2017. –. Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries: Origins of Interpretation. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2011.

504

Bibliography

–. “Creation and the Divine Spirit in Babel and Bible: Reflections on mummu in Enuma elish I 4 and rûah in Genesis 1:2.” Pages 97–116 in Literature as Politics, Politics as Literature: Essays on the Ancient Near East in Honor of Peter Machinist. Edited by David S. Vanderhooft and Abraham Winitzer. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013. –. “Family Matters: Psychohistorical Reflections on Sennacherib and His Times.” Pages 163–222 in Sennacherib at the Gates of Jerusalem: Story, History and Historiography. Edited by Isaac Kalimi and Seth Richardson. CHANE 71. Leiden: Brill, 2014. –. “Mensch, Land und Volk: Aššur im Alten Testament.” Pages 267–85 in Assur – Gott, Stadt und Land. CDOG 5. Edited by Johannes Renger. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2011. –. “Nabû-zuqup-kenu, das Gilgamesch-Epos und der Tod Sargons II.” JCS 51 (1999): 73–90. –. “The Neo-Assyrian Period (ca. 1000–609 BCE).” Pages 161–208 in A Companion to Assyria, ed. Eckart Frahm. (Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell, 2017. –. “Of Doves, Fish, and Goddesses: Reflections on the Literary, Religious, and Historical Background of the Book of Jonah.” Pages 432–50 in Sibyls, Scriptures, and Scrolls: John Collins at Seventy. Edited by Joel Baden, Hindy Najman, and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar. Leiden: Brill, 2016. –. “On Some Recently Published Late Babylonian Copies of Royal Letters.” NABU 2005/43. –. “Rising Suns and Falling Stars: Assyrian Kings and the Cosmos.” Pages 97–120 in Experiencing Power, Generating Authority: Cosmos, Politics, and the Ideology of Kingship in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Edited by Jane A. Hill, Philip Jones, and Antonio J. Morales. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 2013. –. “Warum die Brüder Böses planten: Anmerkungen zu einer alten Crux in Asarhaddons Ninive A-Inschrift.” Pages 27–50 in Philologisches und Historisches zwischen Anatolien und Sokotra: Analecta Semitica in Memoriam Alexander Sima. Edited by Werner Arnold, Michael Jursa, Walter W. Müller, and Stephan Procházka. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009. Frame, Grant, and A. R. George. “The Royal Libraries at Nineveh: New Evidence for King Ashurbanipal’s Tablet Collecting.” Iraq 67 (2005): 265–84. Franklin, Norma. “Samaria: From the Bedrock to the Omride Palace.” Levant 36 (2004): 189–202. Frazer, Mary. “Akkadian Royal Letters in Later Mesopotamian Tradition.” Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 2015. Freedman, David Noel. The Unity of the Hebrew Bible. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991. Freeman, Michael D. A. Lloyd’s Introduction to Jurisprudence. 6th ed. London: Stevens, 1994. Frevel, Christian. Geschichte Israels. Studienbücher Theologie 2. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016. 2nd ed., Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2018. Freytag, Gustav. Freytag’s Technique of the Drama: An Exposition of Dramatic Composition and Art by Dr. Gustav Freytag. 3rd ed. Translated by Elias J. Macewan. Chicago: Scott, Foresman, 1900. Fricke, Klaus D. Das zweite Buch von den Königen. BAT 12.2. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1972. Friedel, Hans. Der Tyrannenmord in der Gesetzgebung und Volksmeinung der Griechen. Würzburger Studien zur Altertumswissenschaft. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1937.

Bibliography

505

Fritz, Volkmar. 1 & 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary. Translated by Anselm C. Hagedorn. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003. –. Das Buch Josua. HAT 1.7. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1994. Fröhlich, Ida. “Giants and Demons.” Pages 97–114 in Ancient Tales of Giants from Qumran and Turfan: Contexts, Traditions, and Influences. Edited by Matthew J. Goff, Loren T. Stuckenbruck, and Enrico Morano. WUNT 360. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. –. “Mesopotamian Elements and the Watchers Traditions.” Pages 11–24 in The Watchers in Jewish and Christian Traditions. Edited by Angela Kim Harkins, Kelley Coblentz Bautch, and John C. Endres. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014. –. “Theology and Demonology in Qumran Texts.” Henoch 32 (2010): 101–29. Frolov, Serge. “Homeric and Ancient Near Eastern Intertextuality in 1 Samuel 17.” JBL 130 (2011): 451–71. Frymer-Kensky, Tikva. “Israel.” Pages 975–1046 in A History of Ancient Near Eastern Law, vol. 2. Edited by Raymond Westbrook. HdO 1.72.2. Leiden: Brill, 2003. Gabbay, Uri. “Akkadian Commentaries from Ancient Mesopotamia and Their Relation to Early Hebrew Exegesis.” DSD 19 (2012): 267–312. –. “Drums, Hearts, Bulls, and Dead Gods: The Theology of the Ancient Mesopotamian Kettledrum.” JANES 18 (2018): 1–47. Gadot, Yuval. “In the Valley of the King: Jerusalem’s Rural Hinterland in the 8th–4th Centuries BCE.” TA 42 (2015): 3–26. Gafni, Isaiah M. “The Historical Background.” Pages 1–34 in The Literature of the Sages, First Part: Oral Tora, Halakha, Mishna, Tosefta, Talmud, External Tractates. Edited by Shmuel Safrai. Assen–Maastricht: Van Gorcum; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987. Galil, Gershon. The Chronology of the Kings of Israel and Judah. SHCANE 9. Leiden: Brill, 1996. –. “The Last Years of the Kingdom of Israel and the Fall of Samaria.” CBQ 57 (1995): 52–64. Gallagher, William R. Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah: New Studies. SHCANE 18. Leiden: Brill, 1999. Galvin, Garrett. Egypt as a Place of Refuge. FAT II 51. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. Gammie, John G., and Leo G. Perdue, eds. The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990. Gane, Roy. “The Role of Assyria in the Ancient Near East during the Reign of Manasseh.” AUSS 35 (1997): 21–32. Garbini, Giovanni. Storia e ideologia nell’Israele antico. Brescia: Paideia, 1986. García Martínez, Florentino. “The Contents of the Manuscripts from the Caves of Qumran.” Pages 67–79 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. García Martínez, Florentino, Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar, and Adam S. Van der Woude. Qumran Cave 11, II: 11Q2–18, 11Q20–31. DJD 23. Oxford: Clarendon, 1998. Gaspa, Salvatore. “Vessels in Neo-Assyrian Documents: Capacity Measures and Listing Conventions.” SAAB 16 (2007): 145–84. Gass, Erasmus. Die Moabiter: Geschichte und Kultur eines ostjordanischen Volkes im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. ADPV 38. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009. Geiger, Abraham. Urschrift und Übersetzungen der Bibel in ihrer Abhängigkeit von der innern Entwicklung des Judentums. Breslau: Heinauer, 1857. 2nd ed., Frankfurt am Main: Madda, 1928. Gelander, Shamai. From Two Kingdoms to One Nation – Israel and Judah: Studies in Division and Unification. SSN 56. Leiden: Brill, 2011.

506

Bibliography

Geller, Markham J. “Babylonian Astronomical Diaries and Corrections of Diodorus.” BSOAS 53 (1990): 1–7. George, Andrew R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition, and Cuneiform Texts. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. –. “Four Temple Rituals from Babylon.” Pages 259–99 in Wisdom, Gods and Literature: Studies in Assyriology in Honour of W. G. Lambert. Edited by A. R. George and I. L. Finkel. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2000. Gera, Deborah Levine. Judith. CEJL. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014. –. Warrior Women: The Anonymous “Tractatus De Mulieribus.” Leiden: Brill, 1997. Gerhards, Meik. Homer und die Bibel: Studien zur Interpretation der Ilias und ausgewählter alttestamentlicher Texte. WMANT 144. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2015. Gerleman, Gillis. Synoptic Studies in the Old Testament. Lund: Gleerup, 1948. Gerstenberger, Erhard S. Israel in the Persian Period: The Fifth and Fourth Centuries B. C. E.  Translated by Siegfried Schatzmann. SBLBibEnc 8. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011. Gertz, Jan C. “Abraham, Mose und der Exodus. Beobachtungen zur Redaktionsgeschichte von Genesis 15.” Pages 63–81 in Abschied vom Jahwisten: Die Komposition des Hexateuch in der jüngsten Diskussion. Edited by Jan C. Gertz, Konrad Schmid, and Markus Witte. BZAW 315. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2002. –. “Kompositorische Funktion und literarhistorischer Ort von Deuteronomium 1–3.” Pages 103–23 in Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions‑ und religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur „Deuteronomismus“-Diskussion in Tora und Vorderen Propheten. Edited by Markus Witte and Jan C. Gertz. BZAW 365. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006. Geva, Hillel. “Estimating Jerusalem’s Population in Antiquity: A Minimalist View.” ErIsr 28 (2007): 50–65. In Hebrew. Gianto, Agustinus. “Il fattore linguistico: l’ebraico «biblico» come lingua letteraria al servizio dell’identità storico-religiosa.” RStB 25 (2013): 211–22. –. “Linguistica e ispirazione.” Pages 204–22 in Ogni Scrittura è ispirata: Nuove prospettive sull’ispirazione biblica. Edited by Peter Dubovský and Jean-Pierre Sonnet. Rome: Gregorian and Biblical Press; Milan: Edizione San Paolo, 2013. –. “Variations in Biblical Hebrew.” Bib 77 (1996): 493–508. Gibson, John C. L. Aramaic Inscriptions. Vol. 2 of Textbook of Syrian Semitic Inscriptions. Oxford: Clarendon, 1975. Ginsberg, Harold L. “Reflexes of Sargon in Isaiah after 715 B. C. E.” JAOS 88 (1968): 49–53. Ginzberg, Louis. Legends of the Jews. 2nd ed. 2 vols. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 2003. Giovannini, Adalberto. Étude historique sur les origines du Catalogue des Vaisseaux. Bern: A. Francke, 1969. Gitin, Seymour, ed. The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Iron Age through the Hellenistic Period. 2 vols. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, W. F. Albright Institute of Archaeological Research, Israel Antiquities Authority, and American Schools of Oriental Research, 2015. Giuntoli, Federico. “Ephraim, Manasseh, and Post-Exilic Israel. A Study of the Redactional Expansions in Gen 48 Regarding Joseph’s Sons.” Pages 203–32 in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological

Bibliography

507

Profiles. Edited by Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid. FAT 101. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. –. Genesi 12–50: Introduzione, traduzione, apparato critico e commento. Nuova Versione della Bibbia dai Testi Antichi 1.2. Cinisello Balsamo, Milan: San Paolo, 2013. Given, Michael. The Archaeology of the Colonized. London: Routledge, 2004. Glassner, Jean-Jacques. Mesopotamian Chronicles. WAW 19. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004. Gnoli, Gherardo. “Politique religieuse et conception de la royauté sous les Achéménides.” Pages 117–90 in Hommage universel II. Acta Iranica 2. Tehran: Peeters, 1974. Goldstein, Ronnie. “Late Babylonian Letters on Collecting Tablets and Their Hellenistic Background – a Suggestion.” JNES 69 (2010): 199–207. Gomme, Arnold W., Anthony Andrewes, and Kenneth J. Dover. Historical Commentary on Thucydides, vol. 5. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981. González García, Francisco J. El Catálogo de las Naves: Mito y parentesco en la épica homérica. Madrid: Ediciones clásicas, 1997. Goody, Jack. The Interface between the Written and the Oral. Studies in Literacy, Family, Culture and the State. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Gordon, Cyrus H. Before the Bible: The Common Background of Greek and Hebrew Civilizations. New York: Harper & Row, 1962. Repr., New York: Norton, 1965. –. “Homer and the Bible. The Origin and Character of East Mediterranean Literature.” HUCA 26 (1955): 43–108. Repr., Ventnor, NJ: Ventnor Publishers, 1967. Goshen-Gottstein, Moshe H. “The Psalms Scroll (11QPsa): A Problem of Canon and Text.” Textus 5 (1966): 22–33. Gottlieb, Leeor. “Repetition Due to Homoioteleuton.” Textus 21 (2002): 21–43. Grabbe, Lester L. Ancient Israel: What Do We Know and How Do We Know It? London: T&T Clark, 2007. –. Ezra–Nehemiah. OTR. London: Routledge, 1998. –, ed. ‘Like a Bird in a Cage’: The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 B. C. E. JSOTSup 363. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003. Graham, J. N. “Enigmatic Bible Passages: ‘Vinedressers and Plowmen’: 2 Kings 25:2 and Jeremiah 52:16.” BA 47 (1984): 55–58. Grant, Elihu, and George E. Wright. Ain Shems Excavations: Part IV (Pottery). Biblical and Kindred Studies 7. Haverford, PA: Haverford College, 1938. –. Ain Shems Excavations: Part V (Text). Biblical and Kindred Studies 8. Haverford, PA: Haverford College, 1939. Gray, John. I & II Kings: A Commentary. 2nd ed. OTL. London: SCM; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1970. Grayson, A. Kirk. Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles. TCS 5. Locust Valley, NY: J. J. Augustin, 1975. –. Babylonian Historical-Literary Texts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1975. –. “Chronicles and the akītu Festival.” Pages 160–70 in Actes de la 17 e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Edited by A. Finet. Hamm-sur-Heure: Comité belge de Recherche en Mésopotamie, 1970. Grayson, A. Kirk, and Jamie Novotny. The Royal Inscriptions of Sennacherib, King of Assyria (704–681 BC). 2 vols. RINAP 3.1–2. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2012. Green, M. W. “The Uruk Lament.” JAOS 104 (1984): 253–79. Greenberg, Moshe. “The Stabilization of the Text of the Hebrew Bible, Reviewed in the Light of the Biblical Materials from the Judean Desert.” JAOS 76 (1956): 157–67.

508

Bibliography

–. “The Use of the Ancient Versions for Interpreting the Hebrew Text: A Sampling from Ezechiel ii 1–iii 11.” Pages 131–48 in Congress Volume, Göttingen 1977. Edited by John Emerton. VTSup 29. Leiden: Brill, 1978. Greenberg, Raphael, and Gilad Cinamon. “Stamped and Incised Jar Handles from Rogem Ganim and Their Implications for the Political Economy of Jerusalem, Late 8th–Early 4th Centuries B. C. E.” TA 33 (2006): 229–43. Greene, William C. “The Spoken and the Written Word.” HSCP 60 (1951): 23–59. Greenhut, Zvi, and Alon De-Groot. Salvage Excavations at Tel Moza: The Bronze and Iron Age Settlements and Later Occupations. IAA Reports 39. Jerusalem: Israel Antiquities Authority, 2009. Gruen, Erich S. Heritage and Hellenism: The Reinvention of Jewish Tradition. HSC 30. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. Guillaume, Philippe. Waiting for Josiah. JSOTSup 385. London: T&T Clark, 2004. Gunkel, Hermann. Genesis. 3rd ed. 1910. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969. ET: Genesis. Translated by Mark E. Biddle. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1997. –. Genesis. 4th ed. HThKAT I/1. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1917. –. The Stories of Genesis. Edited by William R. Scott. Translated by John J. Scullion. Vallejo, CA: BIBAL, 1994. Gunkel, Hermann, and Wilhelm Nowack. Die Psalmen. 4th ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1926. Gunneweg, A. H. J. “Das Gesetz und die Propheten: Eine Auslegung von Ex 33,7–11; Num 11,4–12,8; Dtn 31,14 f.; 34,10.” ZAW 102 (1990): 169–80. Gzella, Holger. A Cultural History of Aramaic: From the Beginnings to the Advent of Islam. HdO 1.111. Leiden: Brill, 2015. Haag, Herbert. “Der gegenwärtige Stand der Erforschung der Beziehung zwischen Homer und dem Alten Testament.” Pages 109–18 in Das Buch des Bundes: Aufsätze zur Bibel und zu ihrer Welt. Edited by Herbert Haag and Bernhard Lang. Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1980. Hacham, Noah. “The Letter of Aristeas: A New Exodus Story?” JSJ 36 (2005): 1–20. Hackl, Johannes. “Materialien zur Urkundenlehre und Archivkunde der spätzeitlichen Texte aus Nordbabylonien.” Ph.D. diss., University of Vienna, 2013. Hägg, Tomas. The Novel in Antiquity. Oxford: Blackwell, 1983. Haldar, A., and H. Ringgren. “Derekh II.2.” TDOT 3:275–76. Hallewy, Elimelekh E. “Biblical Midrash and Homeric Exegesis.” Tarbiz 31 (1961/2 [5721/2]): 157–69, 264–80. In Hebrew. Hallo, William W., and K. Lawson Younger, eds. The Context of Scripture. 4 vols. Leiden: Brill, 1997–2016. Halpern, Baruch. “Why Manasseh Is Blamed for the Babylonian Exile: The Evolution of a Biblical Tradition.” VT 48 (1998): 473–514. Halpern, Baruch, and David S. Vanderhooft. “The Editions of Kings in the 7th–6th Centuries B. C. E.” HUCA 62 (1991): 179–244. Hammond, Nicholas G. L. “The Peloponnese.” Pages 321–59 in The Expansion of the Greek World, Eighth to Sixth Centuries B. C. Vol. 3, pt. 3 of The Cambridge Ancient History. 2nd ed. Edited by John Boardman and Nicholas G. L. Hammond. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982. Handy, Lowell K. “Speaking of Babies in the Temple.” Proceedings of the Eastern Great Lakes and Midwest Biblical Societies 8 (1988): 155–65.

Bibliography

509

Hanson, Paul D. “Rebellion in Heaven, Azazel, and Euhemeristic Heroes in 1 Enoch 6–11.” JBL 96 (1977): 195–233. Haran, Menahem. “Bible Scrolls in Eastern and Western Jewish Communities from Qumran to the High Middle Ages.” HUCA 56 (1985): 21–62. –. “Book-Scrolls at the Beginning of the Second Temple Period: The Transition from Papyrus to Skins.” HUCA 54 (1983): 111–22. –. “The Rise and Decline of the Empire of Jeroboam Ben Joash.” VT 17 (1967): 266–97. Harding, Gerald L., et al. “The Archaeological Finds.” Pages 3–40 in Qumran Cave 1. Edited by Dominique Barthélemy and Jóseph T. Milik. DJD 1. Oxford: Clarendon, 1955. Harris, William V. Ancient Literacy. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989. Hartberger, Birgit. “An den Wassern von Babylon …”: Psalm 137 auf dem Hintergrund von Jeremia 51, der biblischen Edom-Traditionen und babylonischer Originalquellen. BBB 63. Bonn: Hanstein, 1986. Harvey, Francis D. “Literacy in the Athenian Democracy.” REG 79 (1966): 585–635. Hasegawa, Shuichi. Aram and Israel during the Jehuite Dynasty. BZAW 434. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012. –. “Relations between Amos 6:13–14 and 2 Kgs 14:25–28.” AJBI 33 (2007): 92–102. Hasegawa, Shuichi, Christoph Levin, and Karen Radner, eds. The Last Days of the Kingdom of Israel. BZAW 511. Boston: de Gruyter, 2018. Haubold, Johannes, Giovanni B. Lanfranchi, Robert Rolinger, and John Steele. The World of Berossos: Proceedings of the 4th International Colloquium on “The Ancient Near East between Classical and Ancient Oriental Traditions,” Hatfield College, Durham 7th–9th July 2010. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2013. Havelock, Eric A. The Literate Revolution in Greece and Its Cultural Consequences. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982. –. The Muse Learns to Write: Reflections on Orality and Literacy from Antiquity to the Present. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986. Hayes, John H., ed. Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation. 2 vols. Nashville: Abingdon, 1998. Hayes, John H., and Paul K. Hooker. A New Chronology for the Kings of Israel and Judah and Its Implications for Biblical History and Literature. Atlanta: John Knox, 1988. Hayes, John H., and Jeffrey K. Kuan. “The Final Years of Samaria (730–720 BC).” Bib 72 (1991): 153–81. Heckl, Raik. Moses Vermächtnis: Kohärenz, literarische Intention und Funktion von Dtn 1–3. ABIG 9. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2004. Heiserman, Arthur. The Novel before the Novel. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977. Hendel, Ronald. “The Nephilim Were on the Earth: Genesis 6:1–4 and Its Ancient Near Eastern Context.” Pages 11–34 in The Fall of the Angels. Edited by Christoph Auffarth and Loren T. Stuckenbruck. TBN 6. Leiden: Brill, 2004. –. “Of Demigods and the Deluge: Toward an Interpretation of Gen 6:1–4.” JBL 106 (1987): 13–26. Henkelman, Wouter F. M. The Other Gods Who Are: Studies in Elamite-Iranian Acculturation Based on the Persepolis Fortification Texts. Achaemenid History 14. Leiden: Brill, 2008. –. “Parnakka’s Feast: šip in Pārsa and Elam.” Pages 89–166 in Elam and Persia, edited by Javier Álvarez-Mon and Mark B. Garrison. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011.

510

Bibliography

Henkelman, Wouter F. M., and Kristin Kleber. “Babylonian Workers in the Persian Heartland: Palace Building at Matannan in the Reign of Cambyses.” Pages 163–76 in Persian Responses: Political and Cultural Interaction with(in) the Achaemenid Empire. Edited by Christopher Tuplin. Swansea: Classical Press of Wales, 2007. Hentschel, Georg. 2 Könige. NEchtB. Würzburg: Echter, 1985. Herr, Mosheh D. “External Influences in the World of the Sages in Palestine: Reception and Rejection.” Pages 60–64 in Acculturation and Assimilation: Continuity and Change in the Culture of Israel and the Nations. Edited by Yosef Kaplan and Menahem Stern. Jerusalem: Shazar Center, 1989 (5749). In Hebrew. Herrenschmidt, Clarisse. “Les Créations d’Ahura Mazdâ.” Studia Iranica 6.1 (1977): 17–58. Himbaza, Innocent. “Le mur de Manassé (2 Ch xxxiii 14) entre archéologues et théologiens.” VT 57 (2007): 283–94. Hjálmarsson, Jón R. History of Iceland: From the Settlement to the Present Day. Reykjavik: Forlagið, 2009. Hobbs, T. R. 2 Kings. WBC 13. Waco, TX: Word, 1985. Hochhut, Rolf. Judith: Trauerspiel. Mit einem Essay von Margarete Mitscherlich-Nielsen und einem Gespräch mit Jost Nolte. Hamburg: Rowohlt, 1988. Hoffman, Yair. “The Law as a Literary Shaping Device: The Law of Manumission and the Story in Jeremiah 32:8–22.” Beth Mikra 168 (2001): 2–10. In Hebrew with English summary, p. 98. –. “A North Israelite Typological Myth and a Judaean Historical Tradition: The Exodus in Hosea and Amos.” VT 39 (1989): 169–82. Hoglund, Kenneth G. Achaemenid Imperial Administration in Syria-Palestine and the Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah. SBLDS 125. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992. Hogue, Timothy. “Return from Exile: Diglossia and Literary Code-Switching in Ezra 1–7.” ZAW 130 (2018): 54–68. Hölderlin, Friedrich. Hyperion, Empedokles, Aufsätze, Übersetzungen. Vol. 1 of Sämtliche Werke und Briefe. Edited by Jochen Schmidt. Frankfurt am Main: Deutscher Klassiker Verlag, 1994. Holladay, William L. Jeremiah 1: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah, Chapters 1–25. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986. Holloway, Steven W. Assur is King! Assur is King! Religion in the Exercise of Power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire. CHANE 10. Leiden: Brill, 2002. –. “The giškakki Aššur and Neo-Assyrian Loyalty Oaths.” Pages 239–66 in Historiography in the Cuneiform World: Proceedings of the XLV e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Part 1. Edited by Tzvi Abusch, Carol Noyes, William W. Hallo, and Irene Winter. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2001. Hope Simpson, Richard, and John F. Lazenby. The Catalogue of Ships in Homer’s Iliad. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970. Hoppe, Leslie. “The Strategy of the Deuteronomic History: A Proposal.” CBQ 79 (2017): 1–19. Horowitz, Wayne, and Takayoshi Oshima. Cuneiform in Canaan: Cuneiform Sources from the Land of Israel in Ancient Times. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society / The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2006. Horowitz, Wayne, Takayoshi Oshima, and Filip Vukosavović. “Hazor 18: Fragments of a Cuneiform Law Collection from Hazor.” IEJ 62 (2012): 158–76.

Bibliography

511

Hossfeld, Frank-Lothar, and Ivo Meyer. “Der Prophet vor dem Tribunal. Neuer Auslegungsversuch von Jer 26.” ZAW 86 (1974): 30–50. Hudson, Alan. “Outline of a Theory of Diglossia.” International Journal of the Sociology of Language 157 (2002): 1–48. Huff, Dietrich. “Problems of Votive Offerings in Zoroastrian Iran.” Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran und Turan 43 (2011): 79–111. Humbert, Jean-Baptiste. “Introduction.” Pages 13–21 in Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha: Fouilles du P. Roland de Vaux, IIIA: L’archéologie de Qumrân. Reconsidération de l’interprétation. Les installations périphériques de Khirbet Qumrân. Qumran Terracotta Oil Lamps, by Jean-Baptiste Humbert, Alain Chambon, and Jolanta Młynarczyk. NTOA.SA 5A. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016. Humbert, Jean-Baptiste, and Marcello Fidanzio, eds. Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q: Archaeology and New Scroll Fragments. NTOA.SA 8. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2019. Hunger, Hermann, and Egbert von Weiher. Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk. Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft in Uruk-Warka, Endberichte, 9, 10, 12. Berlin: Mann, 1976–1988. Hunt, Alice M. W. Palace Ware across the Neo-Assyrian Imperial Landscape: Social Value and Semiotic Meaning. Leiden: Brill, 2015. Hutchesson, Ian. “63 BCE: A Revised Dating for the Depositation of the Dead Sea Scrolls.” QC 8.3 (1999): 177–94. Hutzli, Jürg. “The Literary Relationship between I–II Samuel and I–II Kings: Considerations Concerning the Formation of the Two Books.” ZAW 122 (2010): 505–19. Ibrahim, Ahmed Fekry. “Rethinking the Taqlīd Hegemony: An Institutional, Longue-Durée Approach.” JAOS 136 (2016): 801–16. Irvine, Stuart A. Isaiah, Ahaz, and the Syro-Ephraimite Crisis. SBLDS 123. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1990. Jachmann, Günther. Der homerische Schiffskatalog und die Ilias. WAAFLNW 5. Cologne: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften, 1958. Jackson, Bernard S. Essays on Halakhah in the New Testament. Leiden: Brill, 2008. –. “Justice and Righteousness in the Bible: Rule of Law or Royal Paternalism?” ZABR 4 (1998): 218–62. –. Making Sense in Jurisprudence. Legal Semiotics Monographs 5. Liverpool: Deborah Charles, 1996. –. “Ruth, the Pentateuch and the Nature of Biblical Law: In Conversation with Jean Louis Ska.” Pages 75–111 in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles. Edited by Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid. FAT 101. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. –. “Ruth’s Conversion: Then and Now.” The Jewish Law Annual 19 (2011): 53–61. –. “The Trials of Jesus and Jeremiah.” Brigham Young University Studies 32.4 (1992): 63–77. –. Wisdom-Laws: A Study of the Mishpatim of Exodus 21:1–22:16. Oxford: Clarendon, 2006. Jackson, Kent P. “The Language of the Meshaʿ Inscription.” Pages 96–130 in Studies in the Mesha Inscription and Moab. Edited by John A. Dearman. SBLABSt 2. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989. Jacob, Benno. Das Buch Exodus. Edited by Shlomo Mayer with the assistance of Joachim Hahn and Almuth Jürgensen. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1997.

512

Bibliography

Jacoby, Felix. Kleine philologische Schriften. Edited by Hans J. Mette. Deutsche Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin, Schr. f. Altertumswissenschaft 21. Berlin: Akademie, 1961. Janssen, Enno. Juda in der Exilszeit: Ein Beitrag zur Frage der Entstehung des Judentums. FRLANT 51. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1956. Janzen, J. Gerald. Studies in the Text of Jeremiah. HSM 6. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973. Japhet, Sara. 1 & 2 Chronicles. OTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1993. –. The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and Its Place in Biblical Thought. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2009. Jaruzelska, Izabela. Amos and the Officialdom in the Kingdom of Israel: The Socio-Economic Position of the Officials in the Light of the Biblical, the Epigraphic and Archaeological Evidence. Seria Socjoloia. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1998. Jaski, Bart. Early Irish Kingship and Succession. Dublin: Four Courts, 2013. Jassen, Alex P. “The Pesharim and the Rise of Commentary in Early Jewish Scriptural Interpretation.” DSD 19.3 (2012): 363–98. Jepsen, Alfred. “Amah und Schiphchah.” VT 8 (1958): 293–97. –. Die Quellen des Königsbuches. Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1953. Jeremias, Jörg. Der Zorn Gottes im Alten Testament: Das biblische Israel zwischen Verwerfung und Erwählung. Biblisch-Theologische Studien. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2009. Jericke, Detlef. Regionaler Kult und lokaler Kult: Studien zur Kult‑ und Religionsgeschichte Israels und Judas im 9. und 8. Jahrhundert v. Chr. ADPV 39. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2010. Jiménez, Enrique. “Ancient Texts for Homework: Elementary Education at Nippur during the First Millennium BCE.” Paper presented at the 63rd Rencontre Assyriologique, Marburg, July 25, 2017. Johne, Renate. “Übersicht über die antiken Romanautoren bzw. ‑werke mit Datierung und weitergeführter Bibliographie.” Pages 198–230 in Der antike Roman: Untersuchungen zur literarischen Kommunikation und Gattungsgeschichte. Edited by Heinrich Kuch. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1989. Johnson, Sara Raup. Historical Fictions and Hellenistic Jewish Identity: Third Maccabees in Its Cultural Context. HCS 43. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004. Jolles, André. Einfache Formen: Legende, Sage, Mythe, Rätsel, Spruch, Kasus, Memorabile, Märchen, Witz. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1930. 2nd ed., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1958. 3rd ed., Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1968. Jones, Barry. The Formation of the Book of the Twelve: A Study in Text and Canon. SBLDS 149. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995. Jones, Gwilym H. 1 and 2 Kings: Based on the Revised Standard Version. 2 vols. NCB. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans; London: Marshall Morgan & Scott, 1984. Jones, Susan R., and Elisa S. Abes. Identity Development of College Students: Advancing Frameworks for Multiple Dimensions of Identity. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2013. Jursa, Michael. “The Neo-Babylonian Empire.” Pages 121–48 in Imperien und Reiche in der Weltgeschichte: Epochenübergreifende und globalhistorische Vergleiche. Edited by Michael Gehler and Robert Rollinger. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2014. –. “Silver and Other Forms of Elite Wealth in Seventh Century BC Babylonia.” Pages 61– 71 in Silver, Money and Credit: A Tribute to Robartus J. van der Spek on the Occasion

Bibliography

513

of his 65th Birthday on 18th September 2014. Edited by Kristin Kleber and Reinhard Pirngruber. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2016. Jursa, Michael, and Céline Debourse. “A Babylonian Priestly Martyr, a King-Like Priest, and the Nature of Late Babylonian Priestly Literature.” WZKM 107 (2017): 77–98. Jursa, Michael, with contributions by Johannes Hackl et al. Aspects of the Economic History of Babylonia in the First Millennium BC: Economic Geography, Economic Mentalities, Agriculture, the Use of Money and the Problem of Economic Growth. AOAT 377. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2010. Kahana, Menahem. “The Halakhic Midrashim.” Pages 3–105 in The Literature of the Sages, Second Part: Midrash and Targum, Liturgy, Poetry, Mysticism, Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science and the Languages of Rabbinic Literature. Edited by Shmuel Safrai, Zeev Safrai, Joshua Schwartz, and Peter J. Tomson. Assen: Royal Van Gorcum; Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006. Kahane, Ahuvia. “Homer and the Jews in Antiquity.” Textus 25 (2010): 75–115. Kalimi, Isaac. The Reshaping of Ancient Israelite History in Chronicles. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005. Kalimi, Isaac, and Seth Richardson, eds. Sennacherib at the Gates of Jerusalem: Story, History and Historiography. CHANE 71. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Kalmin, Richard. Migrating Tales: The Talmud’s Narratives and Their Historical Context. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014. Kartveit, Magnar. The Origin of the Samaritans. VTSup 128. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Kelly, Fergus. A Guide to Early Irish Law. Dublin: Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 1988. Kenyon, Frederic G. Books and Readers in Ancient Greece and Rome. 2nd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1951. Kessler, Rainer. Sozialgeschichte des Alten Israel: Eine Einführung. 2nd ed. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2008. Kinnier Wilson, J. V. The Nimrud Wine Lists: A Study of Men and Administration at the Assyrian Capital in the Eighth Century B. C. Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud 1. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq, 1972. Kirchner, Dankwart. Vom Zorne Gottes und vom Zorn des Menschen: Plädoyer für eine nachbiblische Emotionalität. Frankfurt am Main: PL Academic Research, 2013. Kirchner, Johannes, ed. Inscriptiones Graecae II: Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno posteriores. Part 1. 2nd ed. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1913–1916. Kirk, Geoffrey S. The Iliad: A Commentary. Vol. 1, Books 1–4. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Kitchen, Kenneth A. The Third Intermediate Period in Egypt (1100–650 B. C.). Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1986. Kittel, Rudolf, and Wilhelm Nowack. Die Bücher der Könige. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1900. Klaffenbach, Günther. Bemerkungen zum griechischen Urkundenwesen. SDAW, Klasse für Sprachen, Literatur und Kunst, 1960, no. 6. Berlin: Akademi-Verlag, 1960. Klein, Ralph W. 2 Chronicles. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012. Klostermann, Heinrich August. Der Pentateuch: Beiträge zu seinem Verständnis und seiner Entstehungsgeschichte. 2 vols. Leipzig: Georg Böhme, 1893. 2nd ed., 1907. Knauf, Ernst Axel. “Bethel: The Israelite Impact on Judean Language and Literature.” Pages 291–349 in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006.

514

Bibliography

–. “Biblical References to Judean Settlement in Eretz Israel (and Beyond) in the Late Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods.” Pages 175–93 in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honor of Lester L. Grabbe. Edited by Philip R. Davies and Diana V. Edelman. LHBOTS 530. London: T&T Clark, 2010. –. “The Glorious Days of Manasseh.” Pages 164–88 in Good Kings and Bad Kings. Edited by Lester L. Grabbe. LHBOTS 393. European Seminar in Historical Methodology 5. London: T&T Clark, 2005. –. “Hezekiah or Manasseh? A Reconsideration of the Siloam Tunnel and Inscription.” TA 28 (2001): 281–87. –. “Jeroboam ben Nimshi: The Biblical Evidence.” HeBAI 6 (2017): 290–307. –. “King Solomon’s Copper Supply.” Pages 167–86 in Phoenicia and the Bible. Edited by Edward Lipiński. Leuven: Peeters: 1991. –. “Kings among the Prophets.” Pages 131–49 in The Production of Prophecy: Constructing Prophecy and Prophets in Yehud. Edited by Diana V. Edelman and Ehud Ben Zvi. BibleWorld. London: Equinox, 2009. Knibb, Michael A. The Ethiopic Book of Enoch. 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978. –. “Martyrdom and Ascension of Isaiah.” Pages 143–76 in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2. Edited by James H. Charlesworth. ABRL. New York: Doubleday, 1985. Knobloch, Harald. Die nachexilische Prophetentheorie des Jeremiabuches. BZABR 12. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2014. Knoppers, Gary N. “Saint or Sinner? Manasseh in Chronicles.” Pages 211–29 in Rewriting Biblical History: Essays on Chronicles and Ben Sira in Honor of Pancratius C. Beentjes. Edited by Jeremy Corley and Harm van Grol. DCLS 7. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011. Knoppers, Gary N., and Lester L. Grabbe, eds. Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd. LSTS 73. London: T&T Clark, 2009. Knox, Bernard M. W. “Books and Readers in the Greek World. From the Beginnings to Alexandria.” Pages 1–15 in Greek Literature. Edited by Pat Easterling and Bernard M. W. Knox. Vol. 1 of The Cambridge History of Classical Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Kochavi, Moshe. “The Identification of Zeredah, Home of Jeroboam Son of Nebat, King of Israel.” ErIsr 20 (1989): 198–201. In Hebrew. Köckert, Matthias. Vätergott und Väterverheißungen: Eine Auseinandersetzung mit Albrecht Alt und seinen Erben. FRLANT 142. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1988. –. “YHWH in the Northern and Southern Kingdom.” Pages 357–94 in One God – One Cult  – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives. Edited by Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann. BZAW 405. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. Koenen, Klaus. Bethel: Geschichte, Kult und Theologie. OBO. 192 Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003. Köhlmoos, Melanie. Bet-El – Erinnerungen an eine Stadt: Perspektiven der alttestamentlichen Bet-El-Überlieferung. FAT 49. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006. Kohut, Alexander. “Sifre Homeros, Books of Entertainment.” JQR 3 (1891): 546–48. Kooij, Arie van der. “Canonization of Ancient Hebrew Books and Hasmonean Politics.” Pages 27–38 in The Biblical Canons. Edited by Jean-Marie Auwers and Henk Jan De Jonge. BETL 163. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2003.

Bibliography

515

–. Die alten Textzeugen des Jesajabuches: Ein Beitrag zur Textgeschichte des Alten Testaments. OBO 35. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1981. –. “‘Nimrod, A Mighty Hunter before the Lord!’ Assyrian Royal Ideology as Perceived in the Hebrew Bible.” Journal for Semitics 21 (2012): 1–27. Kottsieper, Ingo. “‘And They Did Not Care to Speak Yehudit’: On Linguistic Change in Judah during the Late Persian Era.” Pages 95–124 in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B. C. E. Edited by Oded Lipschits, Gary N. Knoppers, and Manfred Oeming, 95–124. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007. Kratz, Reinhard G. “Der literarische Ort des Deuteronomiums.” Pages 101–20 in Liebe und Gebot: Studien zum Deuteronomium. Festschrift zum 70. Geburtstag von Lothar Perlitt. Edited by Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann. FRLANT 190. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000. –. Die Komposition der erzählenden Bücher des Alten Testaments: Grundwissen der Bibelkritik. UTB 2157. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000. –. “The Second Temple of Jeb and of Jerusalem.” Pages 247–64 in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oehming. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. Kratz, Reinhard G., and Hermann Spieckermann, eds. Divine Wrath and Divine Mercy in the World of Antiquity. FAT II 33. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008. Krauss, Samuel. Talmudische Archäologie. 3 vols. Leipzig: G. Fock, 1912. Repr., Hildesheim: Olms, 1966. Kreppner, Florian Janoscha. Die Keramik des “Roten Hauses” von Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / DurKatlimmu: Eine Betrachtung der Keramik Nordmesopotamiens aus der zweiten Hälfte des 7. und aus dem 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. 2 vols. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2006. Krul, Julia. The Revival of the Anu Cult and the Nocturnal Fire Ceremony at Late Babylonian Uruk. CHANE 95. Leiden: Brill, 2018. Kuch, Heinrich. Der antike Roman: Untersuchungen zur literarischen Kommunikation und Gattungsgeschichte. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1989. Kuenen, Abraham. Het ontstaan van de historische boeken des Ouden Verbonds. Vol. 1 of Historisch-Kritisch Onderzoek naar het onstaan en de verzameling van de Boeken des Ouden Verbonds. Leiden: Akademische Boekhandel van P. Engels, 1861. Reprinted as De Thora en de historische boeken des Ouden Verbonds. Vol. 1 of Historisch-Kritisch Onderzoek naar het onstaan en de verzameling van de Boeken des Ouden Verbonds. Amsterdam: S. L. van Looy, 1887. Kühne, Hartmut, and Andreas Luther. “Tall Seh Hamad  / Dur-Katlimmu  / Magdalu?” NABU 1998: 106–9. Kuhrt, Amélie. “Ancient Near Eastern History: The Case of Cyrus the Great of Persia.” Pages 103–23 in Understanding the History of Israel. Edited by H. G. M. Williamson. Proceedings of the British Academy 143. London: British Academy, 2007. –. “The Problem of Achaemenid ‘Religious Policy.’” Pages 117–42 in Die Welt der Götterbilder. Edited by Brigitte Groneberg and Hermann Spieckermann. BZAW 376. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2007. Kullmann, Wolfgang. “The Relative Chronology of the Homeric Catalogue of Ships and of the Lists of Heroes and Cities within the Catalogue.” Pages 210–23 in Relative Chronology in Early Greek Epic Poetry. Edited by Øivind Andersen and Dag T. T. Haug. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

516

Bibliography

Kvanvig, Helge S. Primeval History: Babylonian, Biblical, and Enochic: An Intertextual Reading. JSJSup 149. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Laato, Antti. Guide to Biblical Chronology. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2015. Lambert, Wilfred G. “The Problem of the Love Lyrics.” Pages 98–135 in Unity and Diversity: Essays in the History, Literature, and Religion of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Hans Goedicke and J. J. M. Roberts. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1975. –. “Processions to the akītu house.” RA 91 (1997): 49–80. Landes, George M. “Linguistic Criteria and the Dating of the Book of Jonah.” ErIsr 16 (1982): 147*–170*. Lange, Armin. “Ancient and Late Ancient Hebrew and Aramaic Jewish Texts.” Pages 112–66 in The Hebrew Bible: Overview Articles, vol. 1A of Textual History of the Bible. Edited by Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov. Leiden: Brill, 2016. –. “Ancient Manuscript Evidence.” Pages 24–42 in The Hebrew Bible: Writings, vol. 1C of Textual History of the Bible. Edited by Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov. Leiden: Brill, 2017. –. “Collecting Psalms in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 297–307 in A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam, vol. 1. Edited by Erich F. Mason et al. JSJSup 153. Leiden: Brill, 2012. –. “Jeremiah: 7.2. Ancient Hebrew-Aramaic Texts.” Pages 514–42 in The Hebrew Bible: Pentateuch, Former and Latter Prophets, vol. 1B of Textual History of the Bible. Edited by Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov. Leiden: Brill, 2017. –. “‘Nobody dared to add to them, to take from them, or to make changes’ (Josephus, Ag.Ap. 1,42): The Textual Standardization of Jewish Scriptures in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 105–26 in Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino García Martínez. Edited by Anthony Hilhorst, Émile Puech, and Eibert J. C. Tigchelaar. JSJSup 122. Leiden: Brill, 2007. –. “The Qumran Library in Context: The Canonical History and Textual Standardization of the Hebrew Bible in Light of the Qumran Library.” Pages 259–79 in The Dead Sea Scrolls at Qumran and the Concept of a Library. Edited by Sidnie White Crawford and Cecilia Wassen. STDJ 116. Leiden: Brill, 2015. –. “The Status of the Biblical Texts in the Qumran Corpus and the Canonical Process.” Pages 21–30 in The Bible as Book: The Hebrew Bible and the Judaean Desert Discoveries. Edited by Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov. London: British Library; New Castle, DE: Oak Knoll, 2002. –. “The Textual Plurality of Jewish Scriptures in the Second Temple Period in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 43–96 in Qumran and the Bible: Studying the Jewish and Christian Scriptures in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Nora David and Armin Lange. CBET 57. Leuven: Peeters, 2010. –. “‘They Confirmed the Reading’ (y. Ta‘an. 4.68a): The Textual Standardization of Jewish Scriptures in the Second Temple Period.” Pages 29–80 in From Qumran to Aleppo: A Discussion with Emanuel Tov about the Textual History of Jewish Scriptures in Honor of His 65th Birthday. Edited by Armin Lange, Matthias Weigold, and József Zsengellér. FRLANT 230. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2009. Lauinger, Jacob. “Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty at Tell Tayinat: Text and Commentary.” JCS 64 (2012): 87–123. –. “Iqqur īpuš at Tell Tayinat.” JCS 68 (2016): 229–48. Lavelle, Brian M. “The Nature of Hipparchos’ Insult to Harmonios.” American Journal of Philology 107 (1986): 318–31.

Bibliography

517

Lecoq, Pierre. Les inscriptions de la Perse achéménide. Paris: Gallimard, 1997. Leene, Henk. Newness in Old Testament Prophecy: An Intertextual Study. OtSt 64. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Lehmann, Gunnar. “Survival and Reconstruction of Judah in the Time of Manasseh.” Pages 289–309 in Disaster and Relief Management / Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung. Edited by Angelika Berlejung. FAT 81. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. Leichty, Erle. The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–669 BC). RINAP 4. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011. Lemaire, André. Levantine Epigraphy and History in the Achaemenid Period (539– 332 BCE). Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015. –. “Nabonidus in Arabia and Judah in the Neo-Babylonian Period.” Pages 285–98 in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003. –. “Writing and Writing Materials.” ABD 6:999–1008. –. “The Xanthos Trilingual Revisited.” Pages 423–32 in Solving Riddles and Untying Knots: Biblical, Epigraphic, and Semitic Studies in Honor of Jonas C. Greenfield. Edited by Ziony Zevit, Seymour Gitin, and Michael Sokoloff. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1995. Lenski, Gerhard. Power and Privilege: A Theory of Social Stratification. New York: McGraw Hill, 1966. Lenzi, Alan. Secrecy and the Gods: Secret Knowledge in Ancient Mesopotamia and Biblical Israel. SAA 19. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2008. –. “The Uruk List of Kings and Sages and Late Mesopotamian Scholarship.” JANES 8 (2008): 137–69. Leuchter, Mark. “Jeroboam the Ephratite.” JBL 125 (2006): 51–72. –. “The Manumission of Slaves in Leviticus and Deuteronomy: The Jeremiah Connection.” JBL 127 (2008): 635–53. –. The Polemics of Exile in Jeremiah 26–45. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Levavi, Yuval. Administrative Epistolography in the Formative Phase of the Neo-Babylonian Empire. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2018. Levavi, Yuval, and Michael Jursa. “The Neo-Babylonian Empire: The Imperial Periphery as Seen from the Center.” Paper presented in the “Current Historiography and Ancient Israel and Judah” section at the annual meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature, San Diego, November 23, 2014. Levin, Christoph. “Amos und Jerobeam I.” VT 45 (1995): 307–17. Reprinted as pp. 256–64 in Fortschreibungen: Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament, by Christoph Levin. BZAW 316. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2003. –. “Das System der zwolf Stämme Israels.” Pages 163–78 in Congress Volume: Papers Read at the Congress of the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament, Held July 19–24, 1992, in Paris. Edited by John A. Emerton. VTSup 61. Leiden: Brill, 1995. –. Der Jahwist. FRLANT 157. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993. –. Re-Reading the Scriptures. FAT 87. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013. Levin, Yigal. The Chronicles of the Kings of Judah: 2 Chronicles 10–36. A New Translation and Commentary. London: T&T Clark, 2017. Levine, Baruch A. “‘Wehe, Assur, Rute meines Zorns!’ (Jesaja 10:5): Der biblische Monotheismus als Antwort auf die neue politische Realität des assyrischen Weltreiches.”

518

Bibliography

Pages 77–98 in Der eine Gott und die Götter: Polytheismus und Monotheismus im antiken Israel. Edited by Manfred Oeming and Konrad Schmid. AThANT 82. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 2003. Levine, Lee I. The Ancient Synagogue: The First Thousand Years. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000. Levinson, Bernard M. “The Manumission of Hermeneutics: The Slave Laws of the Pentateuch as Challenge to Contemporary Pentateuchal Theory.” Pages 281–324 in Congress Volume, Leiden 2004. Edited by André Lemaire. VTSup 109. Leiden: Brill, 2006. –. “The Reconceptualization of Kingship in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History’s Transformation of Torah.” VT 51 (2001): 511–34. Lewis, David, ed. Inscriptiones Graecae I: Inscriptiones Atticae Euclidis anno anteriores. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1981–1994. Lieberman, Saul. Hellenism in Jewish Palestine: Studies in the Literary Transmission, Beliefs, and Manners of Palestine in the I Century B. C. E.–IV C. E. TSJTSA 18. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1950. 2nd ed., New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1962. Reprinted in Greek in Jewish Palestine / Hellenism in Jewish Palestine. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1994. –. “Rabbinic Interpretation of Scripture.” Pages 47–82 in Lieberman, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine. –. “The Texts of Scripture in the Early Rabbinic Period.” Pages 20–27 in Lieberman, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine. Lifshitz, Baruch. “L’hellénisation des Juifs de Palestine.” RB 72 (1965): 520–38. Linssen, Marc J. H. The Cults of Uruk and Babylon: The Temple Ritual Texts as Evidence for Hellenistic Cult Practice. CM 25. Leiden: Brill, 2004. Lipiński, Edward. “Le mariage de Ruth.” VT 26 (1976): 124–27. Lipschits, Oded. “Achaemenid Imperial Policy, Settlement Processes in Palestine, and the Status of Jerusalem in the Middle of the Fifth Century B. C. E.” Pages 19–52 in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. –. “Bethel Revisited.” Pages 233–46 in Rethinking Israel: Studies in the History and Archaeology of Ancient Israel in Honor of Israel Finkelstein. Edited by Oded Lipschits, Yuval Gadot, and Matthew J. Adams. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017. –. “Demographic Changes in Judah between the Seventh and the Fifth Centuries BCE.” Pages 323–76 in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003. –. The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2005. –. “The History of the Benjaminite Region under Babylonian Rule.” TA 26 (1999): 155– 90. –. “Judah, Jerusalem and the Temple (586–539 B. C.).” Transeu 22 (2001): 129–42. –. “Persian Period Finds from Jerusalem: Facts and Interpretations.” JHebS 9 (2009): 2–30. –. “The Rural Settlement in Judah in the Sixth Century BCE: A Rejoinder.” PEQ 136 (2004): 99–107. –. “Shedding New Light on the Dark Years of the ‘Exilic Period’: New Studies, Further Elucidation, and Some Questions Regarding the Archaeology of Judah as an ‘Empty Land.’” Pages 57–90 in Interpreting Exile: Displacement and Deportation in Biblical

Bibliography

519

and Modern Contexts. Edited by Brad E. Kelle, Frank R. Ames, and Jacob L. Wright. AIL 10. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011. Lipschits, Oded, and Yuval Gadot. “Summary and Conclusions.” Pages 715–24 in Ramat Raḥel III: Final Publication of Yohanan Aharoni’s Excavations (1954, 1959–1962), vol. 2. Edited by Oded Lipschits, Yuval Gadot, and Liora Freud. SMNIA 35. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016. Liverani, Mario. Assiria: La preistoria dell’imperialismo. Bari: Laterza, 2017. –. “The Ideology of the Assyrian Empire.” Pages 297–318 in Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires. Edited by M. T. Larsen. Mesopotamia 7. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag, 1979. –. Israel’s History and the History of Israel. Translated by Chiara Peri and Philip R. Davies. BibleWorld. London: Equinox, 2003. Repr., London: Routledge, 2014. –. “Mesopotamian Historiography and the Amarna Letters.” Pages 303–11 in Historiography in the Cuneiform World: Proceedings of the XlV e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Part I: Harvard University. Edited by I. Tzvi Abusch and Paul-Alain Beaulieu. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2001. –. Myth and Politics in Ancient Near Eastern Historiography. Studies in Egyptology and the Ancient Near East. London: Equinox, 2004. –. “Storiografia politica hittita – I. Sunassura, ovvero: Della reciprocità.” OrAnt 12 (1973): 267–97. Lods, Adolphe. Le livre d’Hénoch: Fragments grecs découverts à Akhmîm (Haute-Égypte) publiés avec les variantes du texte éthiopien. Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1892. Lohfink, Norbert. “Gab es eine deuteronomistische Bewegung?” Pages 313–82 in Jeremia und die “deuteronomistische Bewegung.” Edited by Walter Gross. BBB 98. Weinheim: Beltz Athenaum, 1995. Reprinted as pages 65–142 in Norbert Lohfink, Studien zum Deuteronomium und zur deuteronomistischen Literatur III. SBAB 20. Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1995. Long, Burke O. 1 Kings: With an Introduction to Historical Literature. FOTL 9. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1984. –. 2 Kings. FOTL 10. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991. L’Orange, H. P. Studies in the Iconography of Cosmic Kingship in the Ancient World. Oslo: Instituttet for Sammenlignende Kulturforskning, 1953. Lord, Albert B. The Singer of Tales. 3rd ed. Hellenic Studies Series 76. Publications of the Milman Parry Collection of Oral Literature 4. Cambridge, MA: Center for Hellenic Studies and Harvard University Press, 2018. Lorentz, Friedrich von. “Thyrsos.” PW 11 (1936): 747–52. Lundbom, Jack R. Jeremiah 21–36: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 21B. New York: Doubleday, 2004. –. Jeremiah 37–52: A New Translation and Commentary. AB 21C. New York: Doubleday, 2004. MacDowell, Douglas M, ed. Andokides: On the Mysteries. Oxford: Clarendon, 1962. Machinist, Peter. “‘Ah, Assyria …’ (Isaiah 10:5ff): Isaiah’s Assyrian Polemic Revisited.” Pages 183–217 in Not Only History: Proceedings of the Conference in Honor of Mario Liverani Held in Sapienza-Università di Roma, Dipartimento di Scienze dell’Antichità, 20–21 April 2009. Edited by Gilda Bartoloni and Maria Giovanna Biga with Armando Bramanti. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016. –. “Assyria and Its Image in the First Isaiah.” JAOS 103 (1983): 719–37.

520

Bibliography

–. “The Fall of Assyria in Comparative Ancient Perspective.” Pages 179–95 in Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Edited by Simo Parpola and Robert M. Whiting. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1997. –. “Nahum as Prophet and as Prophetic Book: Some Reconsiderations.” Pages 103–29 in The Book of the Twelve Prophets: Minor Prophets, Major Theologies. Edited by HeinzJosef Fabry. BETL 295. Leuven: Peeters, 2018. Madreiter, Irene. “Antiochus the Great and the Robe of Nebuchadnezzar: Intercultural Transfer between Orientalism and Hellenocentrism.” Pages 111–36 in Cross-Cultural Studies in Near Eastern History and Literature. Edited by Saana Svärd and Robert Rollinger. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2016. Maeir, Aren M. “Can Material Evidence of Aramean Influences and Presence in Iron Age Judah and Israel Be Found?” Pages 53–67 in Wandering Arameans: Arameans Outside Syria: Textual and Archaeological Perspectives. Edited by Andreas Schüle, Angelika Berlejung, and Aren M. Maeir. LAS 5. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017. Magness, Jodi. “The Connection between the Site of Qumran and the Scroll Caves in Light of the Ceramic Evidence.” Pages 184–94 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. –. Debating Qumran: Collected Essays on Its Archaeology. ISACR 4. Leuven: Peeters, 1994. –. “Qumran: The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls: A Review Article.” RevQ 22.4 (2006): 642–64. Maier, Christl M. “The Nature of Deutero-Jeremianic Texts.” Pages 103–23 in Jeremiah’s Scriptures: Production, Reception, Interaction and Transformation. Edited by Hindy Najman and Konrad Schmid. JSJSup 173. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Malamat, Abraham. History of Biblical Israel: Major Problems and Minor Issues. CHANE 7. Leiden: Brill, 2001. Maras, Sabrina. “A Reassessment of Brick Motifs and Brick-Building Techniques at Achaemenid Susa.” Pages 207–19 in The World of Achaemenid Persia: History, Art and Society in Iran and the Ancient Near East. Edited by John Curtis and St John Simpson. London: British Museum Press, 2010. Marcus, Ralph. Josephus: Jewish Antiquities, vol. 6. LCL. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1937. Mason, Rex. The Books of Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi. CBC. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977. –. Preaching the Tradition: Homily and Hermeneutics after the Exile. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Mathews, Claire R. Defending Zion: Edom’s Desolation and Jacob’s Restoration (Isaiah 34–35) in Context. BZAW 236. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1995. Mathys, Hans-Peter. Das Astarte-Quadrat. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 2008. Mayer, Walter. Politik und Kriegskunst der Assyrer. ALASPM 9. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 1995. Mazar, Eilat. The Summit of the City of David Excavations, 2005–2008: Final Reports, Volume I―Area G. Jerusalem: Shoham Academic Research and Publication, 2015. Mazar, Eilat, Yuval Goren, Wayne Horowitz, and Takayoshi Oshima. “Jerusalem 2: A Fragment of a Cuneiform Tablet from the Ophel Excavations.” IEJ 64 (2014): 129–39. Mazar, Eilat, Wayne Horowitz, Takayoshi Oshima, and Yuval Goren. “A Cuneiform Tablet from the Ophel in Jerusalem.” IEJ 60 (2010): 4–21.

Bibliography

521

Mazar, Eilat, and Benjamin Mazar. Excavations in the South of the Temple Mount: The Ophel of Biblical Jerusalem. Qedem 29. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1989. McCarthy, Dennis J. “2 Kings 13:4–6.” Bib 54 (1973): 409–10. McCown, Chester C. Archaeological and Historical Results. Vol. 1 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè. Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947. –. “Inscribed Material Including Coins.” Pages 156–74 in Archaeological and Historical Results, vol. 1 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè. Edited by Chester C. McCown. Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947. McDonald, Lee M. “Hellenism and the Biblical Canons: Is There a Connection?” Pages 13–49 in Early Christianity in Its Hellenistic Context. Edited by Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts. Vol. 2 of Christian Origins and Hellenistic Judaism: Social and Literary Contexts for the New Testament. TENTS 10. Leiden: Brill, 2013. McGovern, Patrick E., Stuart Fleming, and Solomon H. Katz, eds. The Origins and Ancient History of Wine. Amsterdam: Gordon and Breach, 1996. McHam, Sarah Blake. “Donatello’s David and Judith as the Metaphor of Medici Rule in Florence.” Art Bulletin 83 (2001): 32–47. –. “Donatello’s Judith as the Emblem of God’s Chosen People.” Pages 307–24 in The Sword of Judith: Judith Studies across the Disciplines. Edited by Kevin R. Brine, Elena Ciletti, and Henrike Lähnemann. Cambridge: OpenBook, 2010. McKane, William. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah. 2 vols. ICC. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996. Repr., London: Bloomsbury, 2014. McKay, John. Religion in Judah under the Assyrians, 732–609 BC. SBT 26. London: SCM, 1973. McKenzie, Steven L. “The Source for Jeroboam’s Role at Shechem (1 Kgs 11:43–12:3, 12, 20).” JBL 106 (1987): 297–300. –. The Trouble with Kings: The Composition of the Book of Kings in the Deuteronomistic History. VTSup 42. Leiden: Brill, 1991. McKenzie, Steven L., and M. Patrick Graham, eds. The History of Israel’s Traditions: The Heritage of Martin Noth. JSOTSup 182. Sheffield: Academic Press, 1994. McNamee, Kathleen. Sigla and Select Marginalia in Greek Literary Papyri. Papyrologica Bruxellensia 26. Brussels: Fondation Égyptologique Reine Élisabeth, 1992. McNeeley, Don. “A Brief Overview of Discoveries from the Shiloh Excavations, 2017.” Associates for Biblical Research, August 1, 2017, http://www.biblearchaeology.org/ post/2017/08/01/A-Brief-Overview-of-Discoveries-from-the-Shiloh-Excavations-2​0​1​ 7​.​a​s​p​x​#Article (accessed July 22, 2018) Meckelnborg, Christina, and Karl-Heinz Schäfer. Chariton, Kallirhoe. Edition Antike. Darmstadt: WBG, 2006. Meiser, Martin. “Theologische Anmerkungen in alexandrinischer Homerphilologie und theologische Korrekturen in der Septuaginta.” Pages 108–36 in Worte der Weissagung: Studien zu Septuaginta und Johannesoffenbarung. Edited by Julian Elschenbroich and Johannes de Vries. ABIG 47. Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2014. Melville, Sarah C. The Campaigns of Sargon II, King of Assyria, 721–705 B. C. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2016.

522

Bibliography

Mendel-Geberovich, Anat, Arie Shaus, Shira Faigenbaum-Golovin, Barak Sober, Michael Cordonsky, Eli Piasetzky, and Israel Finkelstein. “A Brand New Old Inscription: Arad Ostracon 16 Rediscovered Via Multispectral Imaging.” BASOR 378 (2017): 113–25. Mendels, Doron. The Land of Israel as a Political Concept in Hasmonean Literature: Recourse to History in Second Century B. C. Claims to the Holy Land. TSAJ 15. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987. Merkelbach, Reinhold. Roman und Mysterium in der Antike. Munich: Beck, 1962. Merlo, Paolo. “Il re mediatore di Dio nell’Israele antico. Lineamenti alla luce del contesto storico-religioso.” Pages 67–95 in “Multifariam multisque modis” (Eb 1,1) – Necessità e vie della mediazione divina nell’Israele biblico. Edited by Marco Zappella. Special issue, RStB 29.1 (2017). –. “Literature.” Pages 109–25 in The Aramaeans in Ancient Syria. Edited by Herbert Niehr. HdO 1.106. Leiden: Brill, 2014. Meshorer, Ya‘akov. Persian Period through Hasmonaeans. Vol. 1 of Ancient Jewish Coinage. Dix Hills, NY: Amphora, 1982. –. A Treasury of Jewish Coins. From the Persian Period to Bar Kokhba. Jerusalem: Yad Ben-Zvi Press; Nyack, NY: Amphora, 2001. Meshorer, Ya‘akov, and Shraga Qedar. The Coinage of Samaria in the Fourth Century BCE. Jerusalem: Numismatic Fine Arts International, 1991. Reprinted as Samarian Coinage. Numismatic Studies and Research 9. Jerusalem: Israel Numismatic Society, 1999. Meskell, Lynn. “An Archaeology of Social Relations in an Egyptian Village.” Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 5 (1998): 209–43. Meyers, Carol L., and Eric M. Meyers. Haggai, Zechariah 1–8: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 25B. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1987. –. Zechariah 9–14: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 25C. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1993. Meyers, Eric M. “The Babylonian Exile Revisited: Demographics and the Emergence of the Canon of Scripture.” Pages 1–13 in Judaism and Crisis: Crisis as a Catalyst in Jewish Cultural History. Edited by Armin Lange, K. F. Diethard Römheld, and Matthias Weingold. Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum 9. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2011. –. “Exile and Restoration in Light of Recent Archaeology and Demographic Studies.” Pages 166–73 in Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd. Edited by Gary N. Knoppers and Lester L. Grabbe with Deirdre N. Fulton. London: T&T Clark, 2009. –. “Haggai and Zechariah: A Maximalist View of the Return in a Minimalist Social Context.” Pages 433–48 in Enemies and Friends of the State: Ancient Prophecy in Context. Edited by Christopher Rollston. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017. –. “Messianism in First and Second Zechariah and the ‘End’ of Biblical Prophecy.” Pages 127–42 in Go to the Land I Will Show You: Studies in Honor of Dwight W. Young. Edited by Joseph Coleson and Victor H. Matthews. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1996. –. “The Shelomit Seal and Aspects of the Judean Restoration: Some Additional Observations.” ErIsr 18 (1985): 33*–38*. –. “The Use of Tora in Haggai 2:11 and the Role of the Prophet in the Restoration Community.” Pages 95–119 in The Word of the Lord Shall Go Forth: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in Celebration of His Sixtieth Birthday. Edited by Carol L. Meyers and Michael O’Connor. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983.

Bibliography

523

Meyers, Eric M., and Mark A. Chancey. Alexander to Constantine. Vol. 3 of Archaeology of the Land of the Bible. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2012. Middlemas, Jill. “Going beyond the Myth of the Empty Land: A Reassessment of the Early Persian Period.” Pages 174–94 in Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays on the Babylonian and Persian Periods in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd. Edited by Gary N. Knoppers, Lester L. Grabbe, and Deirdre N. Fulton. LSTS 73. London: T&T Clark, 2009. –. The Troubles of Templeless Judah. OTM. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Milik, Józef T. The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4. Oxford: Clarendon, 1976. Millard, Alan R. “Assyrian Royal Names in Biblical Hebrew.” JSS 21 (1976): 1–14. Millard, Alan R., with a contribution by Robert Whiting. The Eponyms of the Assyrian Empire, 910–612 BC. SAAS 2. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1994. Miller, J. Maxwell. “The Omride Era.” Pages 250–88 in A History of Ancient Israel and Judah, by J. Maxwell Miller and John H. Hayes. Philadelphia: Westminster, 1986. –. “Separating the Solomon of History from the Solomon of Legend.” Pages 1–24 in The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium. Edited by Lowell K. Handy. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Miller, J. Maxwell, and John H. Hayes. A History of Ancient Israel and Judah. 2nd ed. Louisville: John Knox Westminster, 2006. Miller, Patrick D., and J. J. M. Roberts. The Hand of the Lord: A Reassessment of the “Ark Narrative” of 1 Samuel. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977. Miller, Robert D. II. Oral Tradition in Ancient Israel. Biblical Performance Criticism Series 4. Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2011. Mizzi, Dennis. “The Archaeology of Khirbet Qumran: A Comparative Approach.” Ph.D. diss., University of Oxford, 2009. –. “Miscellaneous Artefacts from the Qumran Caves: An Exploration of their Significance.” Pages 137–60 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. Młynarczyk, Jolanta. “Qumran Terracotta Oil Lamps.” Pages 447–526 in Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha: Fouilles du P. Roland de Vaux, IIIA: L’archéologie de Qumrân, by Jean-Baptiste Humbert, Alain Chambon, and Jolanta Młynarczyk. NTOA.SA 5A. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016. –. “Terracotta Oil Lamps (Roland de Vaux’s Excavations of the Caves).” Pages 109–22 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. Moberly, Robert W. L. “The Earliest Commentary on the Akedah.” VT 38 (1988): 302–23. Mobley, Gregory. “Glimpses of the Heroic Saul.” Pages 80–87 in Saul in Story and Tradition. Edited by Carl S. Ehrlich. FAT 47. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006. Momigliano, Arnaldo. Alien Wisdom: The Limits of Hellenization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971. –. The Classical Foundations of Modern Historiography. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990. Monerie, Julien. L’économie de la Babylonie à l’époque hellénistique. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2018. Montgomery, James A. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Books of Kings. ICC. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1951. Moore, Carey A. Tobit. AB 40A. New York: Doubleday, 1996. Moore, Megan Bishop. “Fighting in Writing: Warfare in Histories of Ancient Israel.” Pages 57–66 in Writing and Reading War: Rhetoric, Gender, and Ethics in Biblical

524

Bibliography

and Modern Contexts. Edited by Frank Ritchel Ames and Brad E. Kelle. SBLSymS 42. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008. Moore, Megan Bishop, and Brad E. Kelle. Biblical History and Israel’s Past: The Changing Study of the Bible and History. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2011. Moorey, P. R. S. “Metal Wine Sets in the Ancient Near East.” Iranica Antiqua 15 (1980): 181–97. Morgenstern, Matthew. “Late Biblical Hebrew.” Pages 43–54 in Periods, Corpora, and Reading Traditions, vol. 1 of A Handbook of Biblical Hebrew. Edited by W. Randall Garr and Steven E. Fassberg. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2016. Morris, Ian. “The Use and Abuse of Homer.” ClAnt 5 (1986): 81–138. Morrow, William S. “Cuneiform Literacy and Deuteronomic Composition.” BO 62 (2005): 204–13. Mosshammer, Alden A. Georgii Syncelli Ecloga chronographica. BSGRT. Leipzig: Teubner, 1984. Mousavi, Ali. Persepolis: Discovery and Afterlife of a World Wonder. Boston: de Gruyter, 2012. Mrockzek, Eva. “Psalms Unbound: Ancient Concepts of Textual Tradition in 11QPsalmsa and Related Texts.” Ph.D. diss., University of Toronto, 2012. Muilenburg, James. “The Literary Sources Bearing on the Question of Identification.” Pages 23–44 in Archaeological and Historical Results, vol. 1 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè. Edited by Chester C. McCown. Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947. –. “Mizpah of Benjamin.” ST 8 (1954–1955): 25–42. Muldoon, Catherine L. In Defense of Divine Justice: An Intertextual Approach to the Book of Jonah. CBQMS 47. Washington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 2010. Müller, Reinhard, Juha Pakkala, and Bas ter Haar Romeny. Evidence of Editing: Growth and Change of Texts in the Hebrew Bible. SBLRBS 75. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2014. Murray, A. T., trans. Homer: The Iliad. LCL. London: Heinemann; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1924. Murray, Mary Anne. “Viticulture and Wine Production.” Pages 577–608 in Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technology. Edited by Paul T. Nicholson and Ian Shaw. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Murray, Robert. “The Origin of Aramaic ʿîr, Angel.” Or 53 (1984): 303–17. Na’aman, Nadav. “Abraham’s Victory over the Kings of the Four Quadrants in Light of Darius I’s Bisitun Inscription.” TA 42 (2015): 72–88. –. “Azariah of Judah and Jeroboam II of Israel.” VT 43 (1993): 227–34. –. “Beth-aven, Bethel and Early Israelite Sanctuaries.” ZDPV 103 (1987): 13–21. –. “Chronology and History in the Late Assyrian Empire (631–619 B. C.).” ZA 81 (1991): 243–67. –. “The Contribution of the Suḫu Inscriptions to the Historical Research of the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah.” JNES 66 (2007): 107–22. –. “Dismissing the Myth of a Flood of Israelite Refugees in the Late Eighth Century BCE.” ZAW 126 (2014): 1–14. –. “Does Archaeology Really Deserve the Status of a ‘High Court’ in Biblical Historical Research?” Pages 165–83 in Between Evidence and Ideology: Essays on the History

Bibliography

525

of Ancient Israel Read at the Joint Meeting of the Society for Old Testament Study and the Oud Testamentisch Werkgezelschap, Lincoln, July 2009. Edited by Bob Becking and Lester L. Grabbe. OtSt 59. Leiden: Brill, 2010. –. “Game of Thrones: Solomon’s ‘Succession Narrative’ and Esarhaddon’s Accession to the Throne.” TA 45 (2018): 89–113. –. “The Historical Background to the Conquest of Samaria (720 BC).” Bib 71 (1990): 206–25. –. “Historiography, the Fashioning of Collective Memory, and the Establishment of Historical Consciousness in Israel in the Late Monarchial Period.” Zion 60 (1995 [5755]): 449–72. In Hebrew. –. “Jebusites and Jabeshites in the Saul and David Story-Cycles.” Bib 95 (2014): 481–97. –. “The Kingdom of Ishbaal.” BN 54 (1990): 33–37. –. The Past that Shapes the Present: The Creation of Biblical Historiography in the Late First Temple Period and after the Downfall. Yeriot 3. Jerusalem: Hess, 2002 (5762). In Hebrew. –. “The Pre-Deuteronomistic Story of King Saul and Its Historical Significance.” CBQ 54 (1992): 638–58. –. “Saul, Benjamin and the Emergence of ‘Biblical Israel.’” ZAW 121 (2009): 211–24, 335–49. –. “Solomon’s District List (1 Kings 4:7–19) and the Assyrian Province System in Palestine.” UF 33 (2001): 419–36. –. “Text and Archaeology in a Period of Great Decline: The Contribution of the Amarna Letters to the Debate on the Historicity of Nehemiah’s Wall.” Pages 20–30 in The Historian and the Bible: Essays in Honor of Lester L. Grabbe. Edited by Philip R. Davies and Diana V. Edelman. LHBOTS 530. London: T&T Clark, 2010. –. “Tiglath-pileser III’s Campaigns against Tyre and Israel (734–732 B. C. E.).” TA 22 (1995): 268–78. –. “Updating the Messages: Hezekiah’s Second Prophetic Story (2 Kings 19.9b–35) and the Community of Babylonian Deportees.” Pages 201–20 in ‘Like a Bird in a Cage’: The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 BCE. Edited by Lester L. Grabbe. JSOTSup 363. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003. –. “When and How Did Jerusalem Become a Great City? The Rise of Jerusalem as Judah’s Premier City in the Eighth–Seventh Centuries B. C. E.” BASOR 347 (2007): 21–56. Nagy, Gregory. “Homeric Questions.” TAPA 122 (1992): 17–60. Reprinted as pages 29–63 in Gregory Nagy, Homeric Questions. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1996. –. Poetry as Performance: Homer and Beyond. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. –. “Response: Nagy on Powell on Nagy, ‘An Inventory of Debatable Assumptions about a Homeric Question.’” Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 97.4.18. http://bmcr.brynmawr. edu/1997/97.04.18 html. Nam, Roger S. “Power Relations in the Samaria Ostraca.” PEQ 144 (2012): 155–63. Naveh, Joseph. “Aramaic Script.” ABD 1:342–45. Naveh, Joseph, and Jonas C. Greenfield. “Hebrew and Aramaic in the Persian Period.” Pages 115–29 in The Persian Period, vol. 1 of The Cambridge History of Judaism. Edited by W. D. Davies and Louis Finkelstein. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Neef, Heinz-Dieter. Die Prüfung Abrahams: Eine exegetisch-theologische Studie zu Gen 22,1–19. 2nd ed. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014.

526

Bibliography

Nelson, Richard D. “Josiah in the Book of Joshua.” JBL 100 (1981): 531–40. Neujahr, Matthew. Predicting the Past in the Ancient Near East: Mantic Historiography in Ancient Mesopotamia, Judah, and the Mediterranean World. Providence: Brown Judaic Studies, 2012. Neusner, Jacob. The Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees before 70, vol. 3. Leiden: Brill, 1971. Newsom, Carol A. “The Development of 1 Enoch 6–19: Cosmology and Judgment.” CBQ 42 (1980): 310–29. Nickelsburg, George W. E. 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch, Chapters 1–36; 81–108. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001. –. “Apocalyptic and Myth in 1 Enoch 6–11.” JBL 96 (1977): 383–405. Niditch, Susan. Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature. LAI. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996. Repr., London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1997. Niehoff, Maren R. “Commentary Culture in the Land of Israel from an Alexandrian Perspective.” DSD 19 (2012): 442–63. –. “Homeric Scholarship and Bible Exegesis in Ancient Alexandria.” ClQ 57 (2007): 166–82. –. Jewish Exegesis and Homeric Scholarship in Alexandria. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Nielsen, Eduard. Oral Tradition: A Modern Problem in Old Testament: Introduction. Foreword by H. H. Rowley. SBT 11. London: SCM, 1954. Nielsen, John P. The Reign of Nebuchadnezzar I in History and Historical Memory. London: Routledge, 2018. Niemann, Michael H. “The Socio-Political Shadow Cast by the Biblical Solomon.” Pages 252–99 in The Age of Solomon: Scholarship at the Turn of the Millennium. Edited by Lowell K. Handy. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Niese, Benedikt. Der homerische Schiffskatalog als historische Quelle betrachtet. Kiel: Carl Schröder, 1873. Nimchuk, C. L. “Empire Encapsulated: The Persepolis Apadana Foundation Deposits.” Pages 221–29 in The World of Achaemenid Persia: History, Art and Society in Iran and the Ancient Near East. Edited by John Curtis and St John Simpson. London: British Museum Press, 2010. Nissinen, Martti. “Spoken, Written, Quoted, and Invented: Orality and Writtenness in Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy.” Pages 235–71 in Writings and Speech in Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy. Edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Michael H. Floyd. SBLSymS 10. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000. Nobile, Marco. 1–2 Re. Milan: Paoline, 2010. Noll, K. L. “Deuteronomic History or Deuteronomic Debate? (A Thought Experiment).” JSOT 31 (2007): 311–45. North, Robert. Sociology of the Biblical Jubilee. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1954. Noth, Martin. Das Buch Josua. 2nd ed. HAT 7. Tübingen: Mohr, 1953. –. Das System der zwölf Stämme Israels. BWANT 52. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1930. Repr., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1966. –. The Deuteronomistic History. JSOTSup 15. Sheffield: University of Sheffield, Department of Biblical Studies, 1981.

Bibliography

527

–. Die Gesetze im Pentateuch, ihre Voraussetzungen und ihr Sinn. Halle/Saale: Niemeyer, 1940. ET: The Laws in the Pentateuch and Other Studies. Translated by D. R. ApThomas. Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1966. Repr., London: SCM, 1984. –. The History of Israel. Rev. ed. New York: Harper & Row, 1960. –. “The Jerusalem Catastrophe of 587 B. C. and Its Significance for Israel.” Pages 260–80 in The Laws in the Pentateuch and Other Studies. Translated by D. R. Ap-Thomas. Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1966. Repr., London: SCM, 1984. –. Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament. 2nd ed. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1957. Novotny, Jamie, and Joshua Jeffers. The Royal Inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (668–631 BC), Aššur-etel-ilāni (630–627 BC), and Sîn-šarra-iškun (626–612 BC), Kings of Assyria. RINAP 5.1. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns, 2018. Ó Cróinín, Dáibhí. Early Medieval Ireland 400–1200. London: Longman, 1995. 2nd ed., Oxford: Taylor & Francis, 2016. O’Connor, Kathleen M. “‘Do not Trim a Word’: The Contributions of Chapter 26 to the Book of Jeremiah.” CBQ 51 (1989): 617–30. Ober, Josiah. The Rise and Fall of Classical Greece. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015. –. “Tyrant-Killing as Therapeutic Conflict: A Political Debate in Images and Texts.” Pages 212–47 in Athenian Legacies: Essays in the Politics of Going on Together. Edited by Josiah Ober. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005. Oblath, Michael D. “Of Pharaohs and Kings – Whence the Exodus?” JSOT 25 (2000): 23–42. Olabarri, Ignacio. “‘New’ New History: A Longue Durée Structure.” History and Theory 34 (1995): 1–29. doi:10.2307/2505581. Olivelle, Patrick. “Dharmasastra: A Literary History.” Pages 112–43 in Law and Hinduism: An Introduction. Edited by Timothy Lubin, Jayanth Krishnan, and Donald R. Davis Jr. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. –. Manu’s Code of Law: A Critical Edition and Translation of the Mānava‑Dharmaśāstra. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Olyan, Saul M. “Was the ‘King of Babylon’ Buried before His Corpse Was Exposed? Some Thoughts on Isa 14,19.” ZAW 118 (2006): 423–26. Onasch, Hans-Ulrich. Die assyrischen Eroberungen Ägyptens. ÄAT 27. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1994. Oshima, Takayoshi M. Babylonian Prayers to Marduk. Orientalische Religionen in der Antike 7. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. –. “How ‘Mesopotamian’ was Ahiqar the Wise? A Search for Ahiqar in Cuneiform Texts.” Pages 141–67 in Wandering Arameans: Arameans Outside Syria: Textual and Archaeological Perspectives. Edited by Angelika Berlejung, Andreas Schüle, and Aren M. Maeir. LAS 5. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017. Ossendrijver, Mathieu. “Exzellente Netzwerke: Die Astronomen von Uruk.” Pages 631–44 in The Empirical Dimension of Ancient Near Eastern Studies / Die empirische Dimension altorientalischer Forschungen. Edited by Gebhard J. Selz and Klaus Wagensonner. Vienna: LIT, 2011. Otto, Eckart. Das Deuteronomium: Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien. BZAW 284. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999.

528

Bibliography

–. “Deuteronomium 1–3 als Schlüssel der Pentateuchkritik in diachroner und synchroner Lektüre” (2008). Pages 284–420 in Die Tora: Studien zum Pentateuch: Gesammelte Schriften, by Eckart Otto. BZABR 9. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009. –. “Die nachpriesterschriftliche Pentateuchredaktion im Buch Exodus.” Pages 61–111 in Studies in the Book of Exodus: Redaction – Reception – Interpretation. Edited by Marc Vervenne. BETL 126. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1996. –. “Jeremia und die Tora: Ein nachexilischer Diskurs” (2007). Pages 515–60 in Die Tora: Studien zum Pentateuch: Gesammelte Schriften, by Eckart Otto. BZABR 9. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2009. –. “Mose, der erste Schriftgelehrte. Deuteronomium 1,5 in der Fabel des Pentateuch.” Pages 273–84 in L’Écrit et l’Esprit: Études d’histoire du texte et de théologie biblique en hommage à Adrian Schenker. OBO 214. Fribourg: Academic Press, 2005. Otto, Susanne. Jehu, Elia und Elisa: Die Erzählung von der Jehu Revolution und die Komposition der Elia-Elisa Erzählungen. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2001. Page, Denys L. History and the Homeric Iliad. Sather Classical Lectures 31. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1959. Pakkala, Juha. God’s Word Omitted: Omissions in the Transmission of the Hebrew Bible. FRLANT 251. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013. –. “Jeroboam without Bulls.” ZAW 120 (2008): 501–25. –. “The Quotations and References of the Pentateuchal Laws in Ezra-Nehemiah.” Pages 193–221 in Changes in Scripture: Rewriting and Interpreting Authoritative Traditions in the Second Temple Period. Edited by Hanne von Weissenberg, Juha Pakkala, and Marko Marttila. BZAW 419. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011. –. “Why the Cult Reforms in Judah Probably Did Not Happen.” Pages 201–35 in One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives. Edited by Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann. BZAW 405. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. Papen, Ferdinand-Gaudenz von. Der Thyrsos in der griechischen und römischen Literatur und Kunst. Bonn: G. Reimer, 1905. Park, Song-Mi Suzie. Hezekiah and the Dialogue of Memory. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2015. Parker, Simon B. Stories in Scripture and Inscriptions: Comparative Studies on Narratives in Northwest Semitic Inscriptions and the Hebrew Bible. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. Parpola, Simo. Assyrian Prophecies. SAA 9. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1997. –. Assyrian Royal Rituals and Cultic Texts. SAA 20. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 2017. –. “The Assyrian Tree of Life: Tracing the Origins of Jewish Monotheism and Greek Philosophy.” JNES 52 (1993): 161–208. –. “The Murderer of Sennacherib.” Pages 171–82 in Death in Mesopotamia. Mesopotamia 8. Edited by Bendt Alster. Copenhagen: Akademisk, 1980. Parry, Adam, ed. The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971. Payne, Annick, and H. Craig Melchert. Iron Age Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions. WAW 29. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2012. Pearce, Laurie E., and Cornelia Wunsch. Documents of Judean Exiles and West Semites in Babylonia in the Collection of David Sofer. CUSAS 28. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2014. Peel, John D. Y. “Making History: The Present in the Ijesha Present.” Man 19 (1984): 111–32.

Bibliography

529

Pelliccia, Hayden. “As Many Homers as You Please.” New York Review of Books, November 20, 1997, 46. Perlitt, Lothar. Deuteronomium: 1. Teilband. Deuteronomium 1–6*. BKAT 5.1. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Theologie, 2013. Person, Raymond F. Jr. “The Ancient Israelite Scribe as Performer.” JBL 117 (1998): 601–9. –. The Deuteronomic History and the Book of Chronicles: Scribal Works in an Oral World. AIL 6. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2010. –. Second Zechariah and the Deuteronomic School. JSOTSup 167. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1993. Petersen, David L. “Genesis 6:1–4, Yahweh and the Organization of the Cosmos.” JSOT 4 (1979): 47–64. Petrie, W. M. Flinders. Gerar. London: British School of Archaeology in Egypt, 1928. Pfeiffer, Henrik. Das Heiligtum von Bethel im Spiegel des Hoseabuches. FRLANT 183. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1999. Pierce, Laurie E. “New Evidence for Judeans in Babylonia.” Pages 399–412 in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Manfred Oeming. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. Pirngruber, Reinhard. The Economy of Late Achaemenid and Seleucid Babylonia. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017. Podlecki, Anthony J. “The Political Significance of the Athenian ‘Tyrannicide’-Cult.” Historia 15 (1966): 129–41. Pohlmann, Karl-Friedrich. Studien zum Jeremiabuch: Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach der Entstehung des Jeremiabuches. FRLANT 118. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1978. Polak, Frank H. “Sociolinguistics and the Judean Speech Community in the Achaemenid Empire.” Pages 589–628 in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschitz and Manfred Oeming. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. Popper, Julius. Der biblische Bericht über die Stiftshütte: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Composition und Diaskeue des Pentateuch. Leipzig: Hunger, 1862. Porten, Bezalel. Archives from Elephantine: The Life of an Ancient Jewish Military Colony. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1968. Porten, Bezalel, and Ada Yardeni. Contracts. Vol. 2 of Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1989. Porten, Bezalel, and Ada Yardeni. Textbook of Aramaic Ostraca from Idumea. 2 vols. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014–2016. Porzig, Peter. Die Lade Jahwes im Alten Testament und in den Texten vom Toten Meer. BZAW 397. Berlin: Gruyter, 2009. Postgate, Nicholas. “The Invisible Hierarchy: Assyrian Military and Civilian Administration in the 8th and 7th Centuries BC.” Pages 331–60 in The Land of Assur and the Yoke of Assur: Studies on Assyria, 1971–2005, by Nicholas Postgate. Oxford: Oxbow, 2007. Potts, Daniel. “Iran.” Pages 811–25 in The Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Ritual and Religion. Edited by Timothy Insoll. Oxford: University Press, 2011. Powell, Barry B. Review of Poetry as Performance: Homer and Beyond, by Gregory Nagy. Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 97.3.21. http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/1997/97.03.21. html. Pratt, Mary Louise. Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. New York: Routledge, 2008. Priebatsch, Hans Yohanan. “Das Buch Judit und seine hellenistischen Quellen.” ZDPV 90 (1974): 50–60.

530

Bibliography

Pritchard, James B., ed. The Ancient Near East in Pictures Relating to the Old Testament. 2nd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969. Puech, Émile. “Édition et reconstruction des manuscrits.” Hen 39 (2017): 105–25. –. “La paléographie des manuscrits de la mer Morte.” Pages 96–105 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. –. “Nouveaux menus fragments de la Grotte XI (boîte 1032a/1).” Pages 245–48 in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q. Pulikottil, Paulson. Transmission of Biblical Texts in Qumran: The Case of the Large Isaiah Scroll 1QIsaa. JSOTSup 34. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001. Pury, Albert de. “Osée 12 et ses implications pour le débat actuel sur le Pentateuque.” Pages 175–207 in Le Pentateuque: Débats et recherches. Edited by Pierre Haudebert. LD 151. Paris: Cerf, 1992. –. “Situer le cycle de Jacob. Quelques réflexions, vingt-cinq ans plus tard.” Pages 213–41 in Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction and History. Edited by André Wénin. BETL 155. Leuven: Peeters, 2001. Quack, Joachim. “Danaergeschenk des Nil?” Pages 333–81 in Disaster and Relief Management / Katastrophen und ihre Bewältigung. Edited by Angelika Berlejung. FAT 81. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. Rad, Gerhard von. Das formgeschichtliche Problem des Hexateuch. BWANT 78. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1938. Reprinted as pages 9–86 in Gesammelte Studien zum Alten Testament. TB 8. Munich: Kaiser, 1958. ET: “The Form-Critical Problem of the Hexateuch.” Pages 1–78 in The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays. Translated by E. W. Trueman Dicken. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966. Repr., London: SCM, 1984. –. Deuteronomium-Studien. FRLANT 58. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1948. Radner, Karen. “Assyrische ṭuppi adê als Vorbild für Deuteronomium 28,20–44?” Pages 351–78 in Die deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke: Redaktions‑ und religionsgeschichtliche Perspektiven zur “Deuteronomismus”-Diskussion in Tora und Vorderen Propheten. Edited by Jan Christian Gertz, Doris Prechel, Konrad Schmid, and Markus Witte. BZAW 365. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006. –. “Eine Bronzeschale mit neuassyrischer Inschrift.” SAAB 13 (1999–2000): 17–25. –, and Heather Baker, eds. The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. 6 vols. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project, 1998–2011. Rainey, Anson F. “Manasseh, King of Judah, in the Whirlpool of the Seventh Century B. C. E.” Pages 147–64 in Kinattūtu ša dārâti: Raphael Kutscher Memorial Volume. Edited by Anson F. Rainey. Tel Aviv: Tel-Aviv University, Institute of Archaeology, 1993. Razmjou, Shahrokh. “Persepolis: A Reinterpretation of Palaces and Their Function.” Pages 231–45 in The World of Achaemenid Persia: History, Art and Society in Iran and the Ancient Near East. Edited by John Curtis and St John Simpson. London: British Museum Press, 2010. Razmjou, Shahrokh, and Michael Roaf. “Temples and Sacred Places in Persepolis.” Pages 407–25 in Tempel im Alten Orient: 7. Internationales Colloquium der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft, 11.–13.Oktober 2009, München. Edited by Kai Kaniuth,  Anne Löhnert, Jared L. Miller, Adelheid Otto, Michael Roaf, and Walther Sallaberger. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2013. Reich, Ronny. “The Ancient Burial Ground in the Mamilla Neighborhood, Jerusalem.” Pages 111–18 in Ancient Jerusalem Revealed. Edited by Hillel Geva. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1994.

Bibliography

531

Reisner, George. Sumerisch-babylonische Hymnen nach Thontafeln griechischer Zeit. Mitteilungen aus den Orientalischen Sammlungen 10. Berlin: Spemann, 1896. Reiterer, Friedrich V. “Meines Bruders Licht: Untersuchungen zur Rolle des Achior.” Pages 111–60 in A Pious Seductress: Studies in the Book of Judith. Edited by Géza G. Xeravits. DCLS 14. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012. Rendsburg, Gary A. “Diglossia.” Pages 724–25 in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, vol. 1. Edited by Geoffrey Khan et al. Leiden: Brill, 2013. –. Diglossia in Ancient Hebrew. AOS 72. New Haven, CT: American Oriental Society, 1990. –. “No Stelae, No Queens: Two Issues Concerning the Kings of Israel and Judah.” Pages 95–99 in The Archaeology of Difference: Gender, Ethnicity, Class and the “Other” in Antiquity: Studies in Honor of Eric M. Meyers. Edited by Douglas R. Edwards and C. Thomas McCollough. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research, 2007. Rhodes, Peter J. A Commentary on the Aristotelian “Athenaion Politeia.” Oxford: Clarendon, 1981. Richelle, Matthieu. Le testament d’Élisée: Texte massorétique et Septante en 2 Rois 13.10– 14.16. CahRB 76. Pendé: Gabalda, 2010. Richter, Wolfgang. Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zum Richterbuch. BBB 18. Bonn: Peter Hanstein, 1966. Roaf, Michael. “Sculptures and Sculptors at Persepolis.” Iran 21 (1983): 1–164. Robker, Jonathan M. The Jehu Revolution: A Royal Tradition of the Northern Kingdom and Its Ramifications. BZAW 435. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2012. Rofé, Alexander. “The Admonitions Not to Leave the Promised Land in Genesis 24 and 26 and the Authorization in Genesis 46.” Pages 177–84 in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles. Edited by Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid. FAT 101. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. –. “Elders or Youngsters? Critical Remarks on 1 Kings 12.” Pages 79–89 in One God – One Cult – One Nation: Archaeological and Biblical Perspectives. Edited by Reinhard G. Kratz and Hermann Spieckermann. BZAW 405. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. –. “An Enquiry into the Betrothal of Rebekah.” Pages 27–39 in Die Hebräische Bibel und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift für Rolf Rendtorff zum 65. Geburtstag. Edited by Erhard Blum, Christian Macholz, and Ekkehard W. Stegemann. NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990. –. “The Onset of Sects in Postexilic Judaism: Neglected Evidence from the Septuagint, Trito-Isaiah, Ben Sira, and Malachi.” Pages 39–49 in The Social World of Formative Christianity and Judaism: Essays in Tribute to Howard Clark Kee. Edited by Jacob Neusner, Peder Borgen, Ernest S. Frerichs, and Richard Horsley. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988. –. “Properties of Biblical Historiography and Historical Thought.” VT 66 (2016): 433–55. –. “Ruth 4:11 LXX – A Midrashic Dramatization.” Textus 20 (2000): 129–40. –. “Sectarian Corrections by Sadducees and Zealots in the Texts of the Hebrew Bible.” RivB 64 (2016): 337–47. Rohde, Erwin. Der griechische Roman und seine Vorläufer. 3rd ed. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1914. Rollston, Christopher A. “Forging History: From Antiquity to the Modern Period.” Pages 176–97 in Archaeologies of Text: Archaeology, Technology, and Ethics. Edited by Matthew T. Rutz and Morag M. Kersel. Oxford: Oxbow, 2014.

532

Bibliography

–. “Inscriptional Evidence for the Writing of the Earliest Texts of the Bible: Intellectual Infrastructure in Tenth‑ and Ninth-Century Israel, Judah, and the Southern Levant. Pages 15–46 in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America. Edited by Jan C. Gertz, Bernard M. Levinson, Dalit Rom-Shiloni, and Konrad Schmid. FAT 111. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Rom-Shiloni, Dalit. Exclusive Inclusivity: Identity Conflicts between the Exiles and the People Who Remained (6th–5th Centuries BCE). LHBOTS 543. New York: Bloomsbury, 2013. Römer, Thomas. “Abraham and the Law and the Prophets.” Pages 103–18 in The Reception and Remembrance of Abraham. Edited by Pernille Carstens and Niels P. Lemche. PHSC 13. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2011. –. “Abraham’s Righteousness and Sacrifice: How to Understand (and Translate) Genesis 15 and 22.” CV 54 (2012): 3–15. –. “The Current Discussion on the So-Called Deuteronomistic History: Literary Criticism and Theological Consequences.” Humanities: Christianity and Culture 46 (2015): 43–66. –. “How Jeroboam II became Jeroboam I.” HeBAI 6 (2017): 372–82. –. The Invention of God. Translated by Raymond Geuss. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015. –. “La construction d’Abraham comme ancêtre œcuménique.” Pages 7–23 in Abramo tra storia e fede: XLII Settimana Biblica Nazionale (Roma, 10–14 Settembre 2012). Edited by Angelo Passaro and Antonio Pitta. Special issue, RStB 26.1–2 (2014). –. “La fille de Jephté entre Jérusalem et Athènes: réflexions à partir d’une triple intertextualité en Juges 11.” Pages 30–42 in Intertextualités: La Bible en échos. Edited by Daniel Marguerat and Adrian H. W. Curtis. MdB 40. Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2000. –. “Le ‘sacrifice d’Abraham’, un texte élohiste? Quelques observations à partir de Gn 22,14 et d’un fragment de Qumrân.” Sem 54 (2012): 163–72. –. “Recherches actuelles sur le cycle d’Abraham.” Pages 179–211 in Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction and History. Edited by André Wénin. BETL 155. Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2001. –. The So-Called Deuteronomistic History: A Sociological, Historical and Literary Introduction. London: T&T Clark, 2005. –. “Why Would the Deuteronomists Tell About the Sacrifice of Jephthah’s Daughter?” JSOT 77 (1998): 27–38. –. “Zwischen Urkunden, Fragmenten und Ergänzungen: Zum Stand der Pentateuchforschung.” ZAW 125 (2013): 2–24. Root, Margaret C. “Achaemenid Imperial Architecture: Performative Porticoes of Persepolis.” Pages 1–64 in Persian Kingship and Architecture: Strategies of Power in Iran from the Achaemenids to the Pahlavis. Edited by Sussan Babaie and Talinn Grigor. London: I. B. Tauris, 2015. –. The King and Kingship in Achaemenid Art: Essays on the Creation of an Iconography of Empire. Acta Iranica 19. Leiden: Brill, 1979. Rosén, Haiim B. L’Hébreu et ses rapports avec le mond classique: Essai d’évaluation culturelle. Paris: Paul Guethner, 1979. Routledge, Bruce E. Moab in the Iron Age: Hegemony, Polity, Archaeology. Archaeology, Culture, and Society. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004.

Bibliography

533

Ryholt, Kim. “The Assyrian Invasion of Egypt in Egyptian Literary Tradition.” Pages 483–510 in Assyria and Beyond: Studies Presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen. Edited by Jan Gerrit Dercksen. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2004. Sachs, Abraham J., and Hermann Hunger, eds. Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Vienna: LIT, 1988–. Sader, Hélène S. “History.” Pages 11–36 in The Aramaeans in Ancient Syria. Edited by Herbert Niehr. HdO 1.106. Leiden: Brill, 2014. –. Les états Araméens de Syrie: Depuis leur fondation jusqu’à leur transformation en provinces assyriennes. Beirut: Franz Steiner, 1987. Sæbø, Magne, ed. Hebrew Bible / Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation, III: From Modernism to Post-Modernism (The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries). Part 1: The Nineteenth Century, a Century of Modernism and Historicism. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013. Sáens-Badillos, Ángel. Storia della lingua ebraica. Brescia: Paideia, 2007. Salisbury, Johannes von. The Stateman’s Book. New York: Russell & Russel, 1963. Salvini, Mirjo, ed. Corpus dei testi urartei. 5 vols. Documenta Asiana 8/1–5. Rome: CNR, 2008–2018. Sammons, Benjamin. The Art and Rhetoric of the Homeric Catalogue. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Šanda, Albert. Das zweite Buch der Könige. EHAT 9.2. Münster: Aschendorff, 1912. Sanders, James A. The Dead Sea Psalms Scroll. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1967. –. The Psalms Scroll of Qumrân Cave 11 (11QPsa). DJD 4. Oxford: Clarendon, 1965. –. “The Qumran Psalms Scroll (11QPsa) Reviewed.” Pages 79–99 in On Language, Culture, and Religion: In Honor of Eugene A. Nida. Edited by Matthew Black and William A. Smalley. The Hague: Mouton, 1974. Sanderson, J. E. An Exodus Scroll from Qumran: 4QpaleoExodm and the Samaritan Tradition. HSS 30. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986. Sasson, Jack M. “The Issue of ge’ullah in Ruth.” JSOT 5 (1978): 52–64. –. Jonah. AB 24B. New York: Doubleday, 1990. –. “Ruth III: A Response.” JSOT 5 (1978): 49–51. Savigny, Friedrich Carl von. System of the Modern Roman Law. Translated by W. Holloway. Madras: J. Higginbotham, 1867. –. Vom Beruf unserer Zeit für Gesetzgebung und Rechtswissenschaft. Pandektenrecht 54. Heidelberg: Mohr und Zimmer, 1814. Repr., Goldbach: Keip Reprint, 1997. Schäfer-Lichtenberger, Christa. “Beobachtungen zur Ladegeschichte und zur Komposition der Samuelbücher.” Pages 323–38 in Freiheit und Recht (FS F. Crüsemann). Edited by Christoph Hardmeier, Rainer Kessler, and Andreas Ruwe. Gütersloh: Mohn, 1995. Schattner-Rieser, Ursula. “Garizim versus Ebal: Ein neues Qumranfragment Samaritanischer Tradition?” Early Christianity 2 (2010): 277–81. Schaudig, Hanspeter. Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon Kyros’ des Großen samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstanden Tendenzschriften: Textausgabe und Grammatik. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2001. Schefold, Karl. “Die Tyrannenmörder.” Museum Helveticum 1 (1944): 189–202. Schenker, Adrian. “Die Freilassung der hebräischen Sklaven nach Dt 15,12 und Jer 34,8– 22.” Pages 150–57 in Recht und Kult im Alten Testament: Achtzehn Studien. OBO 172. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000. In Italian:

534

Bibliography

“La liberazione degli schiavi a Gerusalemme secondo Geremia 34,8–22.” RivB 41 (1993): 453–58. –. “Jeroboam and the Division of the Kingdom in the Ancient Septuagint: LXX 3 Kingdoms 12.24 a–z, MT 1 Kings 11–12; 14 and the Deuteronomistic History.” Pages 214–57 in Israel Constructs Its History: Deuteronomistic Historiography in Recent Research. Edited by Albert de Pury, Thomas Römer, and Jean-Daniel Macchi. Sheffield: Academic Press, 2000. –. “Jeroboam’s Rise and Fall in the Hebrew and Greek Bible.” JSJ 39 (2008): 367–73. Schicklberger, Franz. Die Ladeerzählungen des ersten Samuel-Buches: Eine literaturwissenschaftliche und theologiegeschichtliche Untersuchung. FB 7. Würzburg: Echter, 1973. Schipper, Bernd U. “Egypt and the Kingdom of Judah under Josiah and Jehoiakim.” TA 37 (2010): 200–26. –. Geschichte Israels in der Antike. Wissen 2887. Munich: C. H. Beck, 2018. Schipper, Jeremy. Ruth: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary. AB 7D. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016. Schironi, Francesca. “The Ambiguity of Signs: Critical σημεῖα from Zenodotus to Origen.” Pages 87–112 in Homer and the Bible in the Eyes of Ancient Interpreters. Edited by Maren Niehoff. Leiden: Brill, 2012. –. “Greek Commentaries.” DSD 19 (2012): 399–441. Schlange-Schöningen, Heinrich. “Harmodios und Aristogeiton, die Tyrannenmörder von 514 v. Chr.” Pages 15–37 in Das Attentat in der Geschichte. Edited by Alexander Demandt. Augsburg: Bechtermünz, 2000. Schloen, J. David. “The City of Katumuwa: The Iron Age Kingdom of Sam’al and the Excavation of Zincirli.” Pages 27–38 in In Remembrance of Me: Feasting with the Dead in the Ancient Middle East. Edited by Virginia Rimmer Herrmann, J. David Schloen, and Anna R. Ressman. OIMP 37. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2014. Schmid, Konrad. “Das Deuteronomium innerhalb der ‘deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerke’ in Gen–2 Kön.” Pages 193–211 in Das Deuteronomium zwischen Pentateuch und deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk. Edited by Eckart Otto and Reinhard Achenbach. FRLANT 206. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004. –. “Der Abschluss der Tora als exegetisches und historisches Problem” (2006–2007). Pages 159–84 in Schriftgelehrte Traditionsliteratur: Fallstudien zur innerbiblischen Schriftauslegung im Alten Testament, by Konrad Schmid. FAT 77. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011. –. “Die Rückgabe der Verheißungsgabe. Der ‘heilsgeschichtliche’ Sinn von Gen 22 im Horizont innerbiblischer Exegese.” Pages 271–300 in Gott und Mensch im Dialog: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 80. Geburtstag. Edited by Markus Witte. BZAW 345. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004. –. “Divine Legislation in the Pentateuch and Its Late Judean and Neo-Babylonian Context.” Pages 129–54 in The Fall of Jerusalem and the Rise of the Torah. Edited by Peter Dubovský, Dominik Markl, and Jean-Pierre Sonnet. FAT 107. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. –, ed. Moses. Special issue, HeBAI 1.1 (2012). –. The Old Testament: A Literary History. Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012. –. “Post-Priestly Additions in the Pentateuch. A Survey of Scholarship.” Pages 589–604 in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel,

Bibliography

535

and North America. Edited by Jan C. Gertz, Bernard M. Levinson, Dalit Rom-Shiloni, and Konrad Schmid. FAT 111. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. –. “Von der Diaskeuase zur nachendredaktionellen Fortschreibung. Die Geschichte der Erforschung der nachpriesterschriftlichen Redaktionsgeschichte des Pentateuch.” Pages 1–18 in The Post-Priestly Pentateuch: New Perspectives on Its Redactional Development and Theological Profiles. Edited by Federico Giuntoli and Konrad Schmid. FAT 101. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. Schmid, Otto. Über verschiedene Eintheilungen der Heiligen Schrift insbesondere über die Capitel-Eintheilung Stephen Langtons im XIII. Jarhunderte. Graz: Leuschner & Lubensky, 1892. Schmidt, Brian B., ed. Contextualizing Israel’s Sacred Writings: Ancient Literacy, Orality, and Literary Production. AIL 22. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2015. Schmidt, Erich F. Persepolis I: Structures, Reliefs, Inscriptions. OIP 58. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953. –. Persepolis III: The Royal Tombs and Other Monuments. OIP 70. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970. Schmitt, Rainer. Zelt und Lade als Thema alttestamentlicher Wissenschaft: Eine kritische forschungsgeschichtliche Darstellung. Gütersloh: Mohn, 1972. Schmitt, Rüdiger, and David Stronach. “Apadāna.” Encyclopaedia Iranica. http://www. iranicaonline.org/articles/apadana (last updated August 5, 2011). Schmitz, Barbara. Gedeutete Geschichte: Die Funktion der Reden und Gebete im Buch Judit. HBS 40. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2004. –. “War, Violence and Tyrannicide in the Book of Judith.” Pages 103–19 in Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature: Yearbook 2010. Edited by Jan Liesen and Pancratius Beentjes. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. –. “Zwischen Achikar und Demaratos – Die Bedeutung Achiors in der Juditerzählung.” BZ 48 (2004): 19–38. Schmitz, Barbara, and Helmut Engel. Das Buch Judit. HThKAT. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2014. Schneider, Thomas. “Contributions to the Chronology of the New Kingdom and the Third Intermediate Period.” Egypt and the Levant 20 (2010): 373–403. Schniedewind, William M. “Aramaic, the Death of Written Hebrew, and Language Shift in the Persian Period.” Pages 141–51 in Margins of Writing, Origins of Culture. Edited by Seth L. Sanders. OIS 2. Chicago: Oriental Institute, 2006. –. “History and Interpretation: The Religion of Ahab and Manasseh in the Book of Kings.” CBQ 55 (1993): 649–61. –. How the Bible Became a Book: The Textualization of Ancient Israel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. –. A Social History of Hebrew: Its Origins through the Rabbinic Period. ABRL. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013. –. “The Source Citations of Manasseh in History and Homily.” VT 41 (1991): 450–61. Schöler, Claudia. Deutsche Rechtseinheit: Partikulare und nationale Gesetzgebung (1780–1866). Forschungen zur deutschen Rechtsgeschichte 22. Köln: Böhlau, 2004. Schorch, Stefan. “The Samaritan Version of Deuteronomy and the Origin of Deuteronomy.” Pages 23–37 in Samaria, Samarians, Samaritans: Studies on Bible, History and Linguistics. Edited by Jozef Zsengellér. Studia Samaritana 6. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011. Schott, Martin. “Die Jakobspassagen in Hos 12.” ZTK 112 (2015): 1–26.

536

Bibliography

Schreiber, Katharina. “Imperial Agendas and Local Agency: Wari Colonial Strategies.” Pages 237–62 in The Archaeology of Colonial Encounters. Edited by Gil J. Stein. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press, 2005. Schuette, Wolfgang. Israels Exil in Juda: Untersuchungen zur Entstehung der Schriftprophetie. OBO 279. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016. Schüle, Andreas. Der Prolog der hebräischen Bibel: Der literar‑ und theologiegeschichtliche Diskurs der Urgeschichte (Gen 1–11). AThANT 86. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2006. –. Die Urgeschichte (Genesis 1–11). ZBK.AT 1.1. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2009. Schürer, Emil. The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ (175 B. C.–A. D. 135), vol. 2. Edited by Geza Vermes, Fergus Millar, and Matthew Black. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1979. Schwabe, Mosheh. “A Graeco-Jewish Inscription from Beth Shearim.” BJPES 6 (1939 [5699]): 105–14. In Hebrew. Schwabe, Mosheh, and Baruch Lifshitz. The Greek Inscriptions. Vol. 2 of Beth She‘arim. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1974. Schwartz, Daniel R. 2 Maccabees. CEJL. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008. Schwartz, Seth. “Language, Power, and Identity in Ancient Palestine.” PAP 148 (1995): 3–47. Schwyzer, Eduard, ed. Dialectorum graecorum exempla epigraphica potiora. Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1923. Scodel, Ruth. “Lycurgus and the State Text of Tragedy.” Pages 129–54 in Politics of Orality. Edited by Craig R. Cooper. OLAG 6. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Scurlock, JoAnn. “Whose Truth and Whose Justice? The Uruk Prophecy and Other Late Akkadian Prophecies re-Revisited.” Pages 449–67 in Orientalism, Assyriology and the Bible. Edited by Steven W. Holloway. Sheffield: Phoenix, 2006. Seebass, Horst. “Die Gottessöhne und das menschliche Maβ: Gen 6,1–4.” BN 134 (2007): 5–22. –. Genesis I: Urgeschichte 1,1–11,26. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1996. Segal, Michael. “4QReworked Pentateuch or 4QPentateuch?” Pages 391–99 in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after Their Discovery. Edited by Lawrence H. Schiffman, Emanuel Tov, and James C. VanderKam. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000. –. “Between Bible and Rewritten Bible.” Pages 10–28 in Biblical Interpretation at Qumran. Edited by Matthias Henze. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005. –. “Biblical Exegesis in 4Q158: Techniques and Genre.” Textus 19 (1998): 45–62. Segal, Michael, Emanuel Tov, William Brent Seales, Clifford Seth Parker, Pnina Shor, and Yosef Porath, with an appendix by Ada Yardeni. “An Early Leviticus Scroll from En-Gedi: Preliminary Publication.” Textus 26 (2016): 29–58. Segal, Moses Hirsch. “The Promulgation of the Authoritative Text of the Hebrew Bible.” JBL 73 (1953): 35–47. Seitz, Christopher R. Theology in Conflict: Reactions to the Exile in the Book of Jeremiah. BZNW 176. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989. Sergi, Omer. “The Battle of Ramoth-Gilead and the Rise of the Aramean Hegemony in the Southern Levant during the Second Half of the 9th Century BCE.” Pages 81–97 in Wandering Arameans: Arameans Outside Syria: Textual and Archaeological Perspectives. Edited by Andreas Schüle, Angelika Berlejung, and Aren M. Maeir. LAS 5. Wies­baden: Harrassowitz, 2017.

Bibliography

537

Sergi, Omer, and Yuval Gadot. “Omride Palatial Architecture as Symbol in Action: Between State Formation, Obliteration, and Heritage.” JNES 76 (2017): 103–111. Shalev, Yiftah, and Shay Bar. “An 8th Century B. C. E. Administrative Centre at Tell elAsāwir/Tẹ̄l Ẹ̅sūr.” ZDPV 133 (2017): 123–44. Shamir, Orit, and Naama Sukenik. “Qumran Textiles and the Garments of Qumran’s Inhabitants.” DSD 18 (2011): 206–25. Sharp, Carolyn J. Prophecy and Ideology in Jeremiah: Struggles for Authority in DeuteroJeremianic Prose. OTS. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2003. Shea, William H. “The Date and Significance of the Samaria Ostraca.” IEJ 27 (1977): 16–27. Shead, Andrew G. The Open Book and the Sealed Book: Jeremiah 32 in Its Hebrew and Greek Recensions. JSOTSup 347. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002. Shear, Julia L. “The Oath of Demophantos and the Politics of Athenian Identity.” Pages 148–60 in Horkos: The Oath in Greek Society. Edited by Alan H. Sommerstein and Judith Fletcher. Exeter: Bristol Phoenix Press, 2007. –. Polis and Revolution: Responding to Oligarchy in Classical Athens. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Sherwin-White, Suzan, and Amélie Kuhrt. From Samarkhand to Sardis: A New Approach to the Seleucid Empire. London: Duckworth, 1993. Shiloh, Yigal. Excavations at the City of David I: 1978–1982. Qedem 19. Jerusalem: Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1984. Siddall, Luis R. The Reign of Adad-Nīrārī III: An Historical and Ideological Analysis of an Assyrian King and His Times. CM 45. Leiden: Brill, 2013. –. “Sammu-Ramāt: Regent or Queen Mother.” Pages 497–504 in La famille dans le Proche-Orient ancien: Réalités, symbolismes, et images. Proceedings of the 55th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Paris, 6–9 July 2009. Edited by Lionel Marti. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2014. –. “Tiglath-Pileser III’s Aid to Ahaz: A New Look at the Problems of the Biblical Accounts in Light of the Assyrian Sources.” ANES 46 (2009): 93–106. doi:10.2143/ ANES.46.0.2040712. Silverman, Jason M., and Caroline Waerzeggers, eds. Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire. Atlanta: SBL, 2015. Simpson, William. The Jonah Legend: A Suggestion of Interpretation. London: Grant Richards, 1899. Ska, Jean-Louis. “Exodus 19:3–6 and the Identity of Post-exilic Israel” (1996). Pages 139–64 in The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions, by Jean-Louis Ska. FAT 66. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. –. “Genesi 1–11: Un testo sacerdotale e i suoi complementi.” Pages 49–66 in Genesi 1–11 e le sue interpretazioni canoniche: Un caso di teologia biblica. XLI Settimana Biblica Nazionale (Roma, 6–10 Settembre 2010). Edited by Ermenegildo Manicardi and Luca Mazzinghi. Special issue, RStB 24.1–2 (2012). –. Introduction to Reading the Pentateuch. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. –. “L’esperienza del tempo nel libro della Genesi.” Pages 39–67 in Il tempo nella Bibbia. Edited by Lino Dan. Rome: AdP, 2009. –. “Narrator or Narrators?” Pages 221–31 in The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions, by Jean-Louis Ska. FAT 66. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009.

538

Bibliography

–. “Our Fathers Have Told Us”: Introduction to the Analysis of Hebrew Narratives. SubBi 13. 2nd ed. Rome: PIB Press, 2000. –. “‘Persian Imperial Authorization’: Some Question Marks.” Pages 161–82 in Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch. Edited by James W. Watts. SBLSymS 17. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature Press, 2001. –. “A Plea on Behalf of the Biblical Redactors.” Pages 232–45 in The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions, by Jean-Louis Ska. FAT 66. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009. –. “Some Groundwork on Genesis 15.” Pages 67–81 in The Exegesis of the Pentateuch: Exegetical Studies and Basic Questions, by Jean-Louis Ska. FAT 66. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009. Skehan, Patrick W. “A Liturgical Complex in 11QPsa.” CBQ 34 (1973): 195–205. –. “Qumran and Old Testament Criticism.” Pages 163–82 in Qumrân: Sa piété, sa théologie et son milieu. Edited by Mathias Delcor. BETL 46. Gembloux: Duculot; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1978. Skehan, Patrick W., Eugene Ulrich, and Judith E. Sanderson. Qumran Cave 4, IV: PalaeoHebrew and Greek Biblical Manuscripts. DJD 9. Oxford: Clarendon, 1992. Repr., 2003. Skinner, John. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Genesis. ICC. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1910. Smalley, Beryl. The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages. 2nd ed. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1964. Smelik, Klaas A. D. Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography. Leiden: Brill, 1992. –. “The Portrayal of King Manasseh. A Literary Analysis of II Kings xxi and II Chronicles xxiii.” Pages 129–89 in Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography, by Klaas A. D. Smelik. OtSt 28. Leiden: Brill, 1992. Smend, Rudolf. “In the Wake of Wellhausen.” Pages 472–93 in Magne Sæbø, ed., Hebrew Bible / Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation, III: From Modernism to PostModernism (The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries). Part 1. The Nineteenth Century, a Century of Modernism and Historicism. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2013. –. YHWH War and Tribal Confederation: Reflections upon Israel’s Earliest History. Nashville: Abingdon, 1970. Smith, Jannes. “Psalms, Primary Translations, 10.3.1. Septuagint.” Pages 82–88 in The Hebrew Bible: Writings, vol. 1C of Textual History of the Bible. Edited by Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Smith, Morton. Palestinian Parties and Politics That Shaped the Old Testament. 2nd ed. London: SCM, 1987. Smith-Christopher, David L. “Reassessing the Historical and Sociological Impact of the Babylonian Exile (597/587–538 BCE).” Pages 7–36 in Exile: Old Testament, Jewish, and Christian Conceptions. Edited by James M. Scott. JSJSup 56. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Sokoloff, Michael. “Notes on the Aramaic Fragments of Enoch from Qumran Cave 4.” Maarav 1 (1979): 197–224. Sonnet, Jean-Pierre. The Book within the Book: Writing in Deuteronomy. BibInt 14. Leiden: Brill, 1997. Speiser, Ephraim A. “The ‘Elative’ in West Semitic and Akkadian.” 1952. Reprinted as pp. 465–93 in Oriental and Biblical Studies. Edited by Jacob J. Finkelstein and Moshe Greenberg. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1967. –. “In Search of Nimrod.” ErIsr 5 (1958): 32–36.

Bibliography

539

Spek, Robartus J. van der. “The Alexander Chronicle (BCHP 1): Commentary.” Livius. http://www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchp-alexander/alexander_03 html (accessed August 8, 2018) –. “Berossos as a Babylonian Chronicler and Greek Historian.” Pages 277–318 in Studies in Ancient Near Eastern World View and Society Presented to Marten Stol on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, 10 November 2005, and his Retirement from the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam. Edited by Robartus J. van der Spek, with the assistance of G. Haayer, F. A. M. Wiggermann, Maruulke Prins, and Jovan Bilbija. Bethesda, MD: CDL, 2008. –. “Darius III, Alexander the Great and Babylonian Scholarship.” Pages 289–342 in A Persian Perspective: Essays in Memory of Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg. Edited by W. F. M. Henkelman and Amelie Kuhrt. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2003. Spieckermann, Hermann. Juda unter Assur in der Sargonidenzeit. FRLANT 129. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982. Stade, Bernhard, and Friedrich Schwally. The Books of Kings: Critical Edition of the Hebrew Text. Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1904. Stavrakopoulou, Francesca. “The Blackballing of Manasseh.” Pages 248–63 in Good Kings and Bad Kings. Edited by Lester L. Grabbe. LHBOTS 393. London: T&T Clark, 2005. –. King Manasseh and Child Sacrifice. BZAW 338. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004. Steen, Eveline van der, and Klaas A. D. Smelik. “King Mesha and the Tribe of Dibon.” JSOT 32 (2007): 139–62. Stein, Gil J. “Introduction: The Comparative Colonial Encounters.” Pages 3–31 in The Archaeology of Colonial Encounters. Edited by Gil J. Stein. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press, 2005. Steinert, Ulrike. “‘Tested’ Remedies in Mesopotamian Medical Texts.” Pages 103–46 in In the Wake of the Compendia: Infrastructural Contexts and the Licensing of Empiricism in Ancient and Medieval Mesopotamia. Edited by J. Cale Johnson. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. Stephens, Susan, and John J. Winkler. Ancient Greek Novels: The Fragments. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995. Stern, Ephraim. The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods, 732–332 B. C. E. Vol. 2 of Archaeology of the Land of the Bible. ABRL. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001. –. “The Babylonian Gap: The Archaeological Reality.” JSOT 28 (2004) 273–77. –. Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period, 538–332 B. C. Warminster: Aris & Phillips; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1982. Stern, Ephraim. “Persian Period.” Pages 565–617 in The Ancient Pottery of Israel and Its Neighbors from the Iron Age through the Hellenistic Period, vol. 2. Edited by Sy Gitin. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2015. Stevens, Kathryn. “Secrets in the Library: Protected Knowledge and Professional Identity in Late Babylonian Uruk.” Iraq 75 (2013): 211–54. Stevens, Marty E. Temples, Tithes, and Taxes: The Temple and the Economic Life of Ancient Israel. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2006. Steymans, Hans-Ulrich. Deuteronomium 28 und die adê zur Thronfolgeregelung Asarhaddons. OBO 145. Fribourg: Academic Press Fribourg; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995.

540

Bibliography

Stipp, Hermann-Josef. “‘But into the water you must not dip it’ (Jeremiah 13:1) – Methodological Reflections on How to Identify the Work of the Deuteronomistic Redaction in the Book of Jeremiah.” Pages 167–95 in Thinking of Water in the Early Second Temple Period. Edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin. BZAW 461. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2014. Expanded German edition: “Jeremias Zeichenhandlung mit dem leinenen Schurz (Jer 13,1–11). Zum Verfahren der Identifikation der deuteronomistischen Redaktion im Jeremiabuch.” Pages 299–323 in Studien zum Jeremiabuch: Text und Redaktion, by Hermann-Josef Stipp. FAT 96. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. –. “The Concept of the Empty Land in Jeremiah 37–43.” Pages 103–54 in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and Its Historical Contexts. Edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin. BZAW 404. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. –. “Das judäische und das babylonische Jeremiabuch. Zur Frage der Heimat der deuteronomistischen Redaktionen des Jeremiabuchs.” Pages 325–47 in Studien zum Jeremiabuch: Text und Redaktion, by Hermann-Josef Stipp. FAT 96. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015. –. “Die individuellen Prosaorakel des Jeremiabuches.” Pages 309–45 in Studien zu Psalmen und Propheten: Hubert Irsigler Festschrift. Edited by Carmen Diller, Martin Mulzer, Kristinn Ólason, and Ralf Rothenbusch. Herders biblische Studien 64. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 2010. –. “Ende bei Joschija: Zur Frage nach dem ursprünglichen Ende der Königsbücher bzw. des Deuteronomistischen Geschichtswerks.” Pages 391–439 in Alttestamentliche Studien: Arbeiten zu Priesterschrift, Deuteronomistischem Geschichtswerk und Prophetie, by Hermann-Josef Stipp. BZAW 442. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2013. –. “Formulaic Language and the Formation of the Book of Jeremiah.” Pages 145–65 in Jeremiah’s Scriptures: Production, Reception, Interaction and Transformation. Edited by Hindy Najman and Konrad Schmid. JSJSup 173. Leiden: Brill, 2017. –. Jeremia, der Tempel und die Aristokratie: Die patrizische (schafanidische) Redaktion des Jeremiabuches. Kleine Arbeiten zum Alten und Neuen Testament 1. Waltrop: Spenner, 2000. –. Jeremia im Parteienstreit: Studien zur Textentwicklung von Jer 26, 36–43 und 45 als Beitrag zur Geschichte Jeremias, seines Buches und judäischer Parteien im 6. Jahrhundert. BBB 82. Frankfurt am Main: Hain, 1992. –. “Jeremia und der Priester Paschhur ben Immer. Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Studie.” Pages 375–401 in Kulte, Priester, Rituale: Beiträge zu Kult und Kultkritik im Alten Testament und Alten Orient. Theodor Seidl Festschrift. Edited by Stephanie Ernst and Maria Häusl. Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament 89. St. Ottilien: EOSVerlag, 2010. –. “Jeremiah 24: Deportees, Remainees, Returnees, and the Diaspora.” Pages 163–79 in Centres and Peripheries in the Early Second Temple Period. Edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin. FAT 108. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Stolper, Matthew W. “Iranica in Post-Achaemenid Babylonian Texts.” Pages 223–60 in La transition entre l’Empire achémenide et les royaumes hellénistiques. Persika 9. Edited by Pierre Briant and Francis Joannès. Paris: de Boccard, 2006. Stoppel, Hendrik. Von Angesicht zu Angesicht: Ouvertüre am Horeb. Deuteronomium 5 und 9–10 und die Textgestalt ihrer Folie. AThANT 109. Zurich: Theologischer Verlag Zürich, 2018. Strange, John. “Joram, King of Israel and Judah.” VT 25 (1975): 191–201.

Bibliography

541

Strawn, Brent A. “Textual History of Psalms.” Pages 5–23 in The Hebrew Bible: Writings, vol. 1C of Textual History of the Bible. Edited by Armin Lange and Emanuel Tov. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Sukenik, Naama. “The Temple Scroll Wrapper from Cave 11: MS 5095/2, MS 5095/4, MS 5095/1.” Pages 339–50 in Gleanings from the Caves: Dead Sea Scrolls and Artefacts from the Schøyen Collection. Edited by Torleif Elgvin, Kipp Davis, and Michael Langlois. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2016. Sukenik, Naama, et al. “The Temple Textiles and Strings from Cave 11Q.” Pages 97–118 in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q. Swanson, Kristin A. “A Reassessment of Hezekiah’s Reform in Light of Jar Handles and Iconographic Evidence.” CBQ 64 (2002): 460–69. Sweeney, Marvin A. I & II Kings. OTL. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007. –. “A Reassessment of the Masoretic and Septuagint Versions of the Jeroboam Narratives in 1 Kings / 3 Kingdoms 11–14.” JSJ 38 (2007): 165–95. Tadmor, Hayim. “The Chronology of the First Temple Period: A Presentation and Evaluation of the Sources.” 1979. Reprinted as pp. 571–93 in “With My Many Chariots I Have Gone Up the Heights of the Mountains”: Historical and Literary Studies on Ancient Mesopotamia and Israel. Edited by Mordechai Cogan. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2011. Tadmor, Hayim, and Mordechai Cogan. “Hezekiah’s Fourteenth Year: The King’s Illness and the Babylonian Embassy.” ErIsr 16 (1982): 198–201. In Hebrew. Tadmor, Hayim, Benno Landsberger, and Simo Parpola. “The Sin of Sargon and Sennacherib’s Last Will.” SAAB 3 (1989): 3–51. Tal, Abraham. “Is There a Raison d’Être for an Aramaic Targum in a Hebrew-Speaking Society?” REJ 160 (2001): 357–78. Talmon, Shemaryahu. “Pisqah Be’emṣa‘ Pasuq and 11QPsa.” Textus 5 (1966): 11–21. Talmon, Shemaryahu, and Yigael Yadin, eds. Masada VI: The Yigael Yadin Excavations 1963–1965. Final Reports: Hebrew Fragments from Masada. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and Hebrew University, 1999. Talshir, Zipora. The Alternative Story of the Division of the Kingdom: 3 Kingdoms 12:24a– z. JBS 6. Jerusalem: Simor, 1993. Tatum, Lynn. “Jerusalem in Conflict: The Evidence for the Seventh Century B. C. E. Religious Struggle over Jerusalem.” Pages 291–306 in Jerusalem in Bible and Archaeology: The First Temple Period. Edited by Andrew G. Vaughn and Ann F. Killebrew. SBLSymS. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. –. “King Manasseh and the Royal Fortress at Ḥorvat ‛Usa.” BA 54 (1991): 136–45. Taylor, Joan E. “The Qumran Caves in Their Regional Context: A Chronological Review with a Focus on Bar Kokhba Assemblages.” Pages 9–33 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. Taylor, Joan E., Dennis Mizzi, and Marcello Fidanzio. “Revisiting Qumran Cave 1Q and its Archaeological Assemblage.” PEQ 149 (2017): 295–325. Taylor, Michael W. The Tyrant Slayer: The Heroic Image in Fifth Century B. C. Athenian Art and Politics. New York: Arno, 1981. Teegarden, David A. Death to Tyrants! Ancient Greek Democracy and the Struggle against Tyranny. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014. –. “The Oath of Demophantos, Revolutionary Mobilization, and the Preservation of the Athenian Democracy.” Hesperia: The Journal of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens 81 (2012): 433–65.

542

Bibliography

Teixidor, Javier. “The Aramaic Text in the Trilingual Stele from Xanthus.” JNES 37 (1978): 181–85. Thareani-Sussely, Yifat. “The ‘Archaeology of the Days of Manasseh’ Reconsidered in the Light of Evidence from the Beersheba Valley.” PEQ 139 (2007): 69–77. Thibaut, Anton Friedrich Justus. Über die Nothwendigkeit eines allgemeinen bürgerlichen Rechts für Deutschland. Heidelberg: Mohr und Zimmer, 1814. Thiele, Edwin R. The Mysterious Numbers of the Hebrew Kings. New York: Macmillan, 1951. 2nd ed., Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1965; 3rd ed., Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1983. Thomas, Nicholas. Colonialism’s Culture: Anthropology, Travel, and Government. Prince­ ton: Princeton University Press, 1994. Thomas, Rosalind. Oral Tradition and Written Record in Classical Athens. CSOLC 18. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Thompson, Thomas L., and Dorothy Thompson. “Some Legal Problems in the Book of Ruth.” VT 18 (1968): 79–99. Thureau-Dangin, François. Rituels accadiens. Paris: Leroux, 1921. –. Tablettes d’Uruk a l’usage des prêtres du Temple d’Anu au temps des Séleucides. TCL 6. Paris: Geuthner, 1922. Tigchelaar, Eibert J. C. “The Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 163–80 in The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism. Edited by John J. Collins and Daniel C. Harlow. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2010. –. “Revisiting the Manuscripts and Fragments from Qumran Cave 11.” Pages 249–62 in Humbert and Fidanzio, Khirbet Qumrân et Aïn Feshkha IVA: Cave 11Q. Tilia, Ann Britt. Studies and Restorations at Persepolis and Other Sites of Fārs. IsMEO Reports and Memoirs 16. Rome: Istituto Italiano per il Medio ed Estremo Oriente, 1972. Tiller, Patrick A. A Commentary on the Animal Apocalypse of 1 Enoch. EJL 4. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993. Tinney, Steve. The Nippur Lament: Royal Rhetoric and Divine Legitimation in the Reign of Išme-Dagan of Isin (1953–1935 B. C.). Occasional Publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund 16. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum, 1996. Toews, Wesley I. Monarchy and Religious Institution in Israel under Jeroboam I. SBLMS 47. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993. Tolini, Gauthier. “La Babylonie et l’Iran: les relations d’une province avec le cœur de l’empire achéménide (539–331 avant notre ère).” Ph.D. diss., Université 1 de Paris, 2011. Toorn, Karel van der. Family Religion in Babylonia, Syria and Israel: Continuity and Change in the Forms of Religious Life. SHCANE 7. Leiden: Brill, 1996. –. “The Theology of Demons in Mesopotamia and Israel: Popular Belief and Scholarly Speculation.” Pages 61–83 in Die Dämonen: Die Dämonologie der israelitisch-jüdischen und frühchristlischen Literatur im Kontext ihrer Umwelt. Edited by Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard Römheld. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003. Toorn, Karel van der, and Pieter W. van der Horst. “Nimrod before and after the Bible.” HTR 83 (1990): 1–29. Tov, Emanuel. “The Biblical Texts from the Judean Desert – An Overview and Analysis.” Pages 128–54 in Hebrew Bible, Greek Bible, and Qumran: Collected Essays. TSAJ 121. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008. –. “A Categorized List of All the ‘Biblical Texts’ Found in the Judaean Desert.” DSD 8 (2001): 67–84.

Bibliography

543

–. “Dead Sea Scrolls: Orthography and Scribal Practices.” Pages 669–73 in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, vol. 1. Edited by Geoffrey Khan et al. Leiden: Brill, 2013. –. “The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Textual History of the Masoretic Bible.” Pages 41–53 in The Hebrew Bible in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Nóra Dávid, Armin Lange, Kristin De Troyer, and Shani Tzoreff. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2012. –. “The Development of the Text of the Torah in Two Major Text Blocks.” Textus 26 (2016): 1–27. –. “The Myth of the Stabilization of the Text of Hebrew Scripture.” Pages 37–45 in The Text of the Hebrew Bible: From the Rabbis to the Masoretes. Edited by Elvira MartínContreras and Lorena Miralles-Macía. JAJSup 13. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014. –. “P. Vindob. G 39777 (Symmachus) and the Use of the Divine Names in Greek Scripture Texts.” Unpublished manuscript. 2019. http://orion mscc huji.ac.il/symposiums/15th/ papers/Tov.pdf. –. “‘Proto-Masoretic,’ ‘Pre-Masoretic,’ ‘Semi-Masoretic,’ and ‘Masoretic’: A Study in Terminology and Textual Theory.” Pages 31–52 in Found in Translation: Essays on Jewish Biblical Translation in Honor of Leonard J. Greenspoon. Edited by James W. Barker, Anthony Le Donne, and Joel N. Lohr. Shofar Supplements in Jewish Studies. West Lafayette, IN: Purdue University Press, 2018. –. “The Samaritan Pentateuch and the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Proximity of the Pre-Samaritan Qumran Scrolls to the SP.” Pages 387–410 in Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, Septuagint, by Emanuel Tov. Vol. 3 of Collected Essays. VTSup 167. Leiden: Brill, 2015. –. “The Scribal and Textual Transmission of the Torah Analyzed in Light of its Sanctity.” Pages 57–72 in Pentateuchal Traditions in the Late Second Temple Period. Edited by Akio Moriya and Gohei Hata. JSJSup 158. Leiden: Brill, 2012. –. Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert. STDJ 54. Leiden: Brill, 2004. –. “Scriptures: Texts.” EDSS 2:832–36. –. “Some Thoughts about the Diffusion of Biblical Manuscripts in Antiquity.” Pages 60–81 in Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, Septuagint, by Emanuel Tov. Vol. 3 of Collected Essays. VTSup 167. Leiden: Brill, 2015. –. “The Tefillin from the Judean Desert and the Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible.” Pages 277–92 in Is There a Text in This Cave? Studies in the Textuality of the Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of George J. Brooke. Edited by Ariel Feldman, Maria Cioată, and Charlotte Hempel. STDJ 119. Leiden: Brill, 2017. –. “The Tenth Commandment of the Samaritans.” Fs. James Kugel, forthcoming. In Hebrew. –. “The Text of the Hebrew/Aramaic and Greek Bible Used in the Ancient Synagogues.” Pages 171–88 in Hebrew Bible, Greek Bible, and Qumran: Collected Essays by Emanuel Tov. TSAJ 121. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008. –. “The Textual Base of the Biblical Quotations in Second Temple Compositions.” Pages 280–302 in Ha-Ish Moshe: Studies in Scriptural Interpretation in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature in Honor of Moshe J. Bernstein. Edited by Binyamin Goldstein, Michael Segal, and George Brooke. Leiden: Brill, 2017.

544

Bibliography

–. Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible. 2nd ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 1992. 3rd ed., Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2012. Tov, Emanuel, with the collaboration of Robert A. Kraft. The Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Naḥal Ḥever (8ḤevXIIgr) (The Seiyal Collection I). DJD 8. Oxford: Clarendon, 1990. Toynbee, Arnold J. Some Problems of Greek History. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969. Trebolle Barrera, Julio. “Qumran Evidence for a Biblical Standard Text and for Non-Standard and Parabiblical Texts.” Pages 89–106 in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context. Edited by Timothy H. Lim, Larry W. Hurtado, A. Graeme Auld, and Alison Jack. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000. Tropper, Josef. Die Inschriften von Zincirli: Neue Edition und vergleichende Grammatik des phöœnizischen, sam’alischen und aramäischen Textkorpus. ALASP 6. Münster: Ugarit Verlag, 1993. Tsochos, Charalampos. “Thyrsos.” DNP 12 (2002): 526. Tunyogi, A. C. “The Book of the Conquest.” JBL 84 (1965): 374–80. Turner, Eric G. Athenian Books in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries. 2nd ed. London: H. K. Lewis, 1977. –. Greek Manuscripts of the Ancient World. 2nd ed. Revised and enlarged by P. J. Parsons. Institute of Classical Studies, Bulletin Supplement 46. London: University of London, 1987. Uehlinger, Christoph. “Clio in a World of Pictures—Another Look at the Lachish Reliefs from Sennacherib’s Southwest Palace at Nineveh.” Pages 221–305 in ‘Like a Bird in a Cage’: The Invasion of Sennacherib in 701 B. C. E. Edited by Lester L. Grabbe. JSOTSup 363. London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003. –. Weltreich und “eine Rede”: Eine neue Deutung der sogenannten Turmbauerzählung (Gen 11,1–9). OBO 101. Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1990. Ulrich, Eugene. “The Absence of ‘Sectarian Variants’ in the Jewish Scriptural Scrolls Found at Qumran.” Pages 179–95 in The Bible as Book: The Hebrew Bible and the Judaean Desert Discoveries. Edited by Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov. London: British Library and Oak Knoll Press, in association with The Scriptorium: Center for Christian Antiquities, 2002. –. The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Developmental Composition of the Bible. VTSup 169. Leiden: Brill, 2015. –. “Methodological Reflections on Determining Scriptural Status in First Century Judaism.” Pages 145–61 in Rediscovering the Dead Sea Scrolls: An Assessment of Old and New Approaches and Methods. Edited by Maxine L. Grossman. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009. –. “A Qualitative Assessment of the Textual Profile of 4QSama.” Pages 147–61 in Flores Florentino: Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino García Martínez. Edited by Anton Hilhorst, Émile Puech, and Eibert Tigchelaar. JSJSup 12. Leiden: Brill, 2007. –. “Two Perspectives on Two Pentateuchal Manuscripts from Masada.” Pages 453–64 in Emanuel: Studies in the Hebrew Bible, the Septuagint, and the Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov. Edited by Shalom M. Paul, Robert A. Kraft, Eva Ben-David, Lawrence H. Schiffman, and Weston W. Fields. VTSup 94. Leiden: Brill, 2003.

Bibliography

545

Ulrich, Eugene, and Frank M. Cross, eds. Qumran Cave 4, VII: Genesis to Numbers. DJD 12. Oxford: Clarendon, 1994. Ulrich, Eugene, et al., eds. Qumran Cave 4, XI: Psalms to Chronicles. DJD 16. Oxford: Clarendon, 2000. Unger, Eckhard. Babylon: Die heilige Stadt nach der Beschreibung der Babylonier. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1931. Ussishkin, David. The Conquest of Lachish by Sennacherib. Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, Institute of Archaeology, 1982. Valkama, Kirsi. “Judah in the Mid-Sixth Century BCE: Archaeological Evidence for a Post-Collapse Society.” Ph.D. diss., University of Helsinki, 2012. –. “What Do Archaeological Remains Reveal of the Settlements in Judah during the MidSixth Century BCE?” Pages 39–59 in The Concept of Exile in Ancient Israel and Its Historical Contexts. Edited by Ehud Ben Zvi and Christoph Levin. BZAW 404. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2010. Van Keulen, Percy S. F. Manasseh through the Eyes of the Deuteronomists: The Manasseh Account (2 Kings 21:1–18) and the Final Chapters of the Deuteronomistic History. OtSt 38. Leiden: Brill, 1996. Van Seters, John. “Author or Redactor?” JHebS 7 (2007): art. 9. doi:10.5508/jhs.2007. v7.a9. –. “Did the Sopherim Create a Standard Edition of the Hebrew Scriptures?” Pages 47–61 in The Text of the Hebrew Bible: From the Rabbis to the Masoretes. Edited by Elvira Martín-Contreras and Lorena Miralles-Macía. JAJSup 13. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014. –. The Edited Bible: The Curious History of the “Editor” in Biblical Criticism. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. –. In Search of History: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983. ACLS Humanities E-Book. –. “Joshua’s Campaign of Canaan and Near Eastern Historiography.” SJOT 4 (1990): 1–12. –. “Solomon’s Temple: Fact and Ideology in Biblical and Near Eastern Historiography.” CBQ 59 (1997): 45–57. –. The Yahwist: A Historian of Israelite Origins. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2015. Vanderhooft, David S. “Biblical Perspectives on Nineveh and Babylon: Views from the Endangered Periphery.” Canadian Society for Mesopotamian Studies Journal 3 (2008): 83–92. –. “ʾel mĕdînâ kiktābāh: Scribes and Scripts in Yehud and in the Achaemenid Transeuphratene.” Pages 529–44 in Judah and the Judeans in the Achaemenid Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits, Gary N. Knoppers, and Manfred Oeming. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011. Vanderhooft, David S., and Wayne Horowitz. “The Cuneiform Inscription from Tell enNaṣbeh: The Demise of an Unknown King.” TA 29 (2002): 318–27. Vaux, Roland de. “Archéologie.” Pages 3–36 in Les ‘petites grottes’ de Qumrân: Exploration de la falaise. Les grottes 2Q, 3Q, 5Q, 6Q, 7Q à 10Q. Le rouleau de cuivre, by Maurice Baillet, Jóseph T. Milik, and Roland de Vaux. DJD 3. Oxford: Clarendon, 1962. –. “Archéologie.” Pages 3–22 in Qumrân Grotte 4, II: I. Archéologie. II. Tefillin, Mezuzot et Targums (4Q128–4Q157), by Roland de Vaux and Jóseph T. Milik. DJD 6. Oxford: Clarendon, 1977. Veijola, Timo. “Das Opfer des Abraham  – Paradigma des Glaubens aus dem nachexilischen Zeitalter.” ZTK 85 (1988): 129–64.

546

Bibliography

Viberg, Åke. Symbols of Law: A Contextual Analysis of Legal Symbolic Acts in the Old Testament. ConBOT 34. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1992. Voigtlander, Elizabeth von. “A Survey of Neo-Babylonian History.” Ph.D. diss., University of Michigan, 1963. Waerzeggers, Caroline. “Babylonian Kingship in the Persian Period: Performance and Reception.” Pages 181–222 in Exile and Return: The Babylonian Context. Edited by Jonathan Stökl and Caroline Waerzeggers. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2015. –. “Facts, Propaganda or History? Shaping Political Memory in the Nabonidus Chronicle.” Pages 95–124 in Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire. Edited by Jason M. Silverman and Caroline Waerzeggers. Atlanta: SBL, 2015. –. “The Pious King: Royal Patronage of Temples.” Pages 725–51 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by Karen Radner and Eleanor Robson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. –. “The Prayer of Nabonidus in the Light of Hellenistic Babylonian Literature.” Pages 64–75 in Jewish Cultural Encounters in the Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern World. Edited by M. Popović et al. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2017. Waerzeggers, Caroline, and Maarja Seire, eds. Xerxes and Babylonia: The Cuneiform Evidence. OLA 277. Leuven: Peeters, 2018. Wälchli, Stefan. Gottes Zorn in den Psalmen: Eine Studie zur Rede vom Zorn Gottes in den Psalmen im Kontext des Alten Testamentes und des Alten Orients. OBO 244. Fribourg: Academic Press Fribourg, 2012. Wallerstein, Immanuel. Capitalist Agriculture and the Origins of the European WorldEconomy in the Sixteenth Century. Vol. 1 of The Modern World-System. New York: Academic Press, 1974. –. Mercantilism and the Consolidation of the European World-Economy, 1600–1750. Vol. 2 of The Modern World-System. New York: Academic Press, 1980. –. The Second Era of Great Expansion of the Capitalist World-Economy, 1730–1840s. Vol. 3 of The Modern World-System. New York: Academic Press, 1989. Wampler, Joseph C. The Pottery. Vol. 2 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè. Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947. –. “Some Cisterns and Silos.” Pages 129–47 in Archaeological and Historical Results, vol. 1 of Tell en-Naṣbeh: Excavated under the Direction of the Late William Frederic Badè. Edited by Chester C. McCown. Berkeley: Palestine Institute of Pacific School of Religion; New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1947. –. “Three Cistern Groups from Tell en-Naṣbeh.” BASOR 82 (1941): 25–43. Weber, Martin. “Two (?) Lion Reliefs from Iron Age Moab: Further Evidence for an Architectural and Intellectual Koiné in the Levant?” BASOR 377 (2017): 85–106. Weinberg, Joel P. The Citizen-Temple Community. JSOTSup 151. Sheffield: Academic Press, 1992. –. “Die Agrarverhältnisse in der Bürger-Tempel-Gemeinde der Achämenidenzeit.” Pages 473–86 in Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft im Alten Vorderasien. Edited by János Harmatta and Géza Komoróczy. Reprint of Acta antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 22.1–4 (1974). Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1990. Weinberg, Werner. “Language Consciousness in the OT.” ZAW 92 (1980): 185–204.

Bibliography

547

Weinfeld, Moshe. “Sabbatical Year and the Jubilee in the Pentateuchal Laws and their Ancient Near Eastern Background.” Pages 39–62 in The Law in the Bible and in Its Environment. Edited by Timo Veijola. Helsinki: The Finnish Exegetical Society, 1990. –. “Semiramis: Her Name and Her Origin.” Pages 99–103 in Ah, Assyria … : Studies in Assyrian History and Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Hayim Tadmor. Edited by Mordechai Cogan and Israel Eph‘al. Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1991. Weinreich, Otto. Der griechische Liebesroman. Zurich: Artemis, 1962. Weippert, Manfred, Joachim Friedrich Quack, Bernd Ulrich Schipper, and Stefan Jakob Wimmer. Historisches Textbuch zum Alten Testament. GAT 10. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010. Weis, Richard D. “Jeremiah: 7.1 Textual History of Jeremiah.” Pages 495–513 in The Hebrew Bible: Pentateuch, Former and Latter Prophets, vol. 1B of Textual History of the Bible. Edited by Armin Lange und Emanuel Tov. Leiden: Brill 2017. Weissert, David. “Alexandrian Analogical Word-Analysis and Septuagint Translation Techniques.” Textus 8 (1973): 31–44. Wellhausen, Julius. Der Text der Bücher Samuelis. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1871. –. Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments. 3rd ed. Berlin: Reimer, 1899. Wenham, David. Genesis 1–15. WBC 1. Waco, TX: Word, 1987. Werlitz, Jürgen. “Amos und sein Biograph. Zur Entstehung und Intention der Prophetenerzählung Am 7,10–17.” BZ 44 (2000): 233–50. Wessels, W. J. “Jeremiah 24:1–10 as a Pronouncement of Hope?” OTE 4 (1991): 397–407. West, Martin L. The East Face of Helicon: West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry and Myth. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997. –. The Making of the Iliad: Disquisition and Analytical Commentary. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. –, ed. Rhapsodias I–XII. Vol. 1 of Homeri Ilias. BSGRT. Stuttgart: B. G. Teubner, 1998. –. “The Textual Criticism and Editing of Homer.” Pages 94–110 in Editing Texts – Texte edieren. Edited by Glenn W. Most. Aporemata: Kritische Studien zur Philologiegeschichte 2. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998. West, Stephanie. “Elements of Epic.” TLS, August 2, 1996, 27. –. The Ptolemaic Papyri of Homer. Cologne: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1967. Westbrook, Raymond. “Jubilee Laws.” Israel Law Review 6.2 (1971): 209–26. –. Property and the Family in Biblical Law. JSOTSup 113. Sheffield: Academic Press, 1991. –. “What is the Covenant Code?” Pages 15–36 in Theory and Method in Biblical and Cuneiform Law: Revision, Interpolation and Development. Edited by Bernard M. Levinson. JSOTSup 181. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994. Westermann, Claus. “Arten der Erzählung in der Genesis.” Pages 9–91 in Forschung am Alten Testament, by Claus Westermann. TB 24. Munich: Kaiser, 1964. –. Genesis 1–11: A Continental Commentary. Translated by John J. Scullion. Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994. Wevers, John William. Notes on the Greek Text of Genesis. SCS 35. Atlanta: Scholars, 1993. Whitt, William D. “The Jacob Traditions in Hosea and Their Relation to Genesis.” ZAW (1991): 18–43.

548

Bibliography

Wijesinghe, Shirley Lal. Jeremiah 34,8–22: Structure and Redactional History of the Masoretic Text and of the Septuagint Hebrew Vorlage. Colombo, Sri Lanka: Centre for Society and Religion, 1999. Wildberger, Hans. Jesaja 13–17. BKAT 10.2. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1978. Willgren, David. The Formation of the ‘Book’ of Psalms: Reconsidering the Transmission and Canonization of Psalmody in Light of Material Culture and the Poetics of Anthologies. FAT II 88. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Williams, Margaret H. The Jews among the Greeks and Romans: A Diasporan Sourcebook. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998. Williamson, H. G. M. 1 and 2 Chronicles. NCB. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1982. –. The Book Called Isaiah: Deutero-Isaiah’s Role in Composition and Redaction. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994. –. Ezra, Nehemiah. WBC 16. Waco, TX: Word, 1985. –. “The Governors of Judah under the Persians.” Pages 46–63 in Studies in Persian Period History and Historiography, by H. G. M. Williamson. FAT 38. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004. –. Isaiah 1–5, vol. 1 of A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 1–27. ICC. London: T&T Clark, 2006. –. Isaiah 6–12, vol. 2 of A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Isaiah 1–27. ICC. London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2018. –. Understanding the History of Ancient Israel. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007. Wills, Lawrence M. The Jewish Novel in the Ancient World. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1995. Wilson, Gerald H. The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter. SBLDS 76. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1985. –. “The Qumran Psalms Manuscripts and the Consecutive Arrangement of Psalms in the Hebrew Psalter.” CBQ 45 (1983): 377–88. –. “The Qumran Psalms Scroll (11QPsa) and the Canonical Psalter: Comparison of Editorial Shaping.” CBQ 59 (1997): 448–64. Witte, Markus. Die biblische Urgeschichte: Redaktions‑ und theologiegeschichtliche Beobachtungen zu Genesis 1,1–11,26. BZAW 265. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998. Wöhrle, Jakob. Die frühen Sammlungen des Zwölfprophetenbuches: Entstehung und Komposition. BZAW 360. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2006. –. “Jacob, Moses, Levi. Pentateuchal Figures in the Book of the Twelve.” Pages 997–1014 in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel and North America. Edited by Jan C. Gertz, Bernard M. Levinson, Dalit Rom-Shiloni, and Konrad Schmid. FAT 111. Tübingen; Mohr Siebeck, 2016. Wolf, Friedrich A. Prolegomena ad Homerum, sive de operum Homericorum prisca et genuina forma variisque mutationibus et probabili ratione emendandi. Berlin: S. Calvary, 1795. Repr., Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 2013. ET: Prolegomena to Homer, 1795. Translated by Anthony Grafton, Glenn W. Most, and James E. G. Zetzel. Princeton Legacy Library. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985. Worschech, Udo. “Enviroment and Settlements in the Ard Al-Karak: Remarks on the Socio-Ecological and Socio-Economic Conditions in the Iron Age.” Pages 47–70 in Studies on Iron Age Moab and Neighbouring Areas in Honour of Michèle Daviau. Edited by Piotr A. Bienkowski. ANESSup 29. Leuven: Peeters, 2009.

Bibliography

549

Worthington, Ian, and John M. Foley, eds. Epea and Grammata: Oral and Written Communication in Ancient Greece. OLAG 4. Leiden: Brill, 2002. Wright, Archie T. The Origin of Evil Spirits: The Reception of Genesis 6:1–4 in Early Jewish Literature. 2nd ed. WUNT 2/198. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013. Wright, David P. “The Covenant Code Appendix (Exodus 23:20–33), Neo-Assyrian Sources, and Implications for Pentateuchal Study.” Pages 47–86 in The Formation of the Pentateuch: Bridging the Academic Cultures of Europe, Israel, and North America. Edited by Jan C. Gertz, Bernard M. Levinson, Dalit Rom-Shiloni, and Konrad Schmid. FAT 111. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. –. Inventing God’s Law: How the Covenant Code of the Bible Used and Revised the Laws of Hammurabi. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Wright, Jacob L. “Military Valor and Kingship: A Book-Oriented Approach to the Study of a Major War Theme.” Pages 33–56 in Writing and Reading War: Rhetoric, Gender, and Ethics in Biblical and Modern Contexts. Edited by Frank Ritchel Ames and Brad E. Kelle. SBLSymS 42. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008. –. “A New Model for the Composition of Ezra-Nehemiah.” Pages 333–48 in Judah and the Judeans in the Fourth Century B. C. E. Edited by Oded Lipschits, Gary N. Knoppers, and Rainer Albertz. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007. –. Rebuilding Identity: The Nehemiah Memoir and Its Earliest Readers. BZAW 348. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004. Würthwein, Ernst. Die Bücher der Könige: Das erste Buch der Könige, Kapitel 1–16. ATD 11.1. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977. –. Die Bücher der Könige: 1. Kön. 17–2. Kön. 25. ATD 11.2. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984. Wyatt, Nicolas. “The Seventy Sons of Athirat, the Nations of the World, Deuteronomy 32.6b,8–9 and the Myth of Divine Election.” Pages 547–56 in Reflection and Refraction: Studies in Biblical Historiography in Honour of A. Graeme Auld. Edited by Robert Rezetko, Timothy H. Lim, and W. Brian Aucker. VTSup 113. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Yadin, Yigael. “Another Fragment (E) of the Psalms Scroll from Qumran Cave 11 (11QPsa).” Textus 5 (1966): 1–10. Yamada, Keiko, and Shigeo Yamada. “Shalmaneser V and His Era, Revisited.” Pages 387–442 in “Now It Happened in Those Days”: Studies in Biblical, Assyrian, and Other Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Mordechai Cogan on His 75th Birthday. Edited by Amitai Baruchi-Unnai, Tova L. Forti, Shmuel Ahituv, Israel Eph’al, and Jeffrey H. Tigay. 2 vols. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2017. Yamada, Shigeo. The Construction of the Assyrian Empire: A Historical Study of the Inscriptions of Shalmanesar III (859–824 B. C.) Relating to His Campaigns to the West. CHANE 3. Leiden: Brill, 2000. –. “Qurdi-Assur-Lamur: His Letters and Career.” Pages 296–311 in Treasures on Camels’ Humps: Historical and Literary Studies from the Ancient Near East Presented to Israel Ephal. Edited by Mordechai Cogan and Dan’el Kahn. Jerusalem: Magnes, 2008. Yarchin, William. “Is There an Authoritative Shape for Sefer Tehillim? Profiling the Manuscripts of the Hebrew Psalter.” RB 122–23 (2015): 335–70. –. “Were the Psalms Collections at Qumran True Psalters?” JBL 134 (2015): 775–89. Yardeni, Ada. “A Note on a Qumran Scribe.” Pages 287–98 in New Seals and Inscriptions: Hebrew, Idumean and Cuneiform. Edited by Meir Lubetski. HBM 8. Sheffield: Phoenix, 2007.

550

Bibliography

Yehoshua, Amir. “Homer und Bibel als Ausdruckmittel im 3. Sibyllenbuch.” Pages 83–100 in Studien zum Antiken Judentum. Edited by Amir Yehoshua. BEATAJ 2. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1985. Young, Ian. Diversity in Pre-Exilic Hebrew. FAT 5. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993. –. “The Stabilization of the Biblical Text in the Light of Qumran and Masada: A Challenge for Conventional Qumran Chronology?” DSD 9 (2002): 364–90. Young, Ian, and Robert Rezetko. An Introduction to Approaches and Problems. Vol. 1 of Linguistic Dating of Biblical Texts. London: Routledge, 2014. Younger, K. Lawson. A Political History of the Arameans: From Their Origins to the End of Their Polities. SBLABSt 13. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2016. Yourcenar, Marguerite. Carnets de notes de “Mémoires d’Hadrien.” Paris: Club de Meilleur Livre, 1953. –. Memoirs of Hadrian, and Reflections on the Composition of Memoirs of Hadrian. Translated by Grace Frick in collaboration with the author. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1954. Zadok, Ran. “The Account of Nabû-šuma-iškun.” AoF 44.2 (2017): 261–67. –. The Earliest Diaspora: Israelites and Judeans in Pre-Hellenistic Mesopotamia. Tel Aviv: The Diaspora Institute, Tel Aviv University, 2002. –. “Israelites and Judaeans in the Neo-Assyrian Documentation (732–602 BCE): An Overview of the Sources and a Socio-Historical Assessment.” BASOR 374 (2015): 159–89. Zangenberg, Jürgen K. “The Functions of the Caves and the Settlement of Qumran: Reflections on a New Chapter of Qumran Research.” Pages 195–209 in Fidanzio, Caves of Qumran. Zevit, Ziony. “Is There an Archaeological Case for Phantom Settlements in the Persian Period?” PEQ 141 (2009): 127–37. Ziemer, Benjamin. Abram – Abraham: Kompositionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zu Genesis 14, 15 und 17. BZAW 350. Berlin: de Gruyter, 2005. Zilberg, Peter. “The Assyrian Provinces of the Southern Levant: Sources, Administration, and Control.” Pages 56–88 in The Southern Levant under Assyrian Domination. Edited by Shawn Zelig Aster and Avraham Faust. University Park, PA: Eisenbrauns, 2018. Zorn, Jeffrey R. “The Date of a Bronze Vase from Tell en-Naṣbeh.” TA 23 (1996): 209–12. –. “An Inner and Outer Gate Complex at Tell en-Naṣbeh.” BASOR 307 (1997): 53–66. –. “Mesopotamian-style Ceramic ‘Bathtub’ Coffins from Tell en-Nasbeh.” TA 20 (1993): 216–24. –. “Mizpah: Newly Discovered Stratum Reveals Judah’s Other Capital.” BAR 23 (1997): 28–38. –. “Mizpah, Mizpah Wherefore Art Thou Mizpah? Tell en–Naṣbeh, Nebi Samwil and the Identification of a Biblical Site.”  BAR Web Extra (August 2008). https://www. biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/biblical-sites-places/biblical-archaeology-places/b​i​b​l​i​c​a​ l​-mizpah/. –. “Tell en-Nasbeh: A Re-evaluation of the Architecture and Stratigraphy of the Early Bronze Age, Iron Age and Later Periods.” Ph.D. diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1993. –. “Tell en-Naṣbeh and the Problem of the Material Culture of the Sixth Century.” Pages 413–47 in Judah and the Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period. Edited by Oded Lipschits and Joseph Blenkinsopp. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2003. –. “Two Rosette Stamp Impressions from Tell en-Nasbeh.” BASOR 293 (1994): 81–82.

Bibliography

551

–.  “Wedge‑ and Circle-Impressed Pottery: An Arabian Connection.” Pages 689–98 in Studies in the Archaeology of Israel and Neighboring Lands in Memory of Douglas L. Esse. Edited by Samuel R. Wolff. SAOC 59. Chicago: Oriental Institute, 2001. Zorn, Jeffrey R., and Aaron J. Brody, eds. “As for me, I will dwell at Mizpah …”: The Tell en-Nasbeh Excavations after 85 Years. Gorgias Studies in the Ancient Near East 9. Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias, 2014. Zorn, Jeffrey R., Joseph Yellin, and John Hayes. “The m(w)ṣh Stamp Impressions and the Neo-Babylonian Period.” IEJ 44 (1994): 161–83.

List of Contributors Katell Berthelot, CNRS/Aix–Marseille University Erhard Blum, University of Tübingen Pierfrancesco Callieri, University of Bologna, Ravenna Céline Debourse, University of Vienna Henryk Drawnel, The John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin Peter Dubovský, Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome Diana Edelman, University of Oslo Marcello Fidanzio, Istituto di Cultura e Archeologia delle Terre Bibliche, ­Facoltà di Teologia di Lugano Israel Finkelstein, Tel Aviv University Eckart Frahm, Yale University Agustinus Gianto, Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome Federico Giuntoli, Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome Alice M. W. Hunt, University of Georgia Michael Jursa, University of Vienna Peter Machinist, Harvard University Eric M. Meyers, Duke University Thomas Römer, Collège de France, Universities of Lausanne and Pretoria Barbara Schmitz, University of Würzburg Jean Louis Ska, Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome Hermann-Josef Stipp, University of Munich / S ­ tellenbosch University Emanuel Tov, Hebrew University of Jerusalem Jeffrey R. Zorn, Cornell University

Index of Citations Genesis 1 292 1–11 25, 28, 461, 463, 465 177 1–2:3 4 360 5 461 5:1 288 466 5:18–20 462, 463 6–11 461 6:5–8:22 461, 462, 463, 465–489 6:1–4 6:5–7 296 167 10:11–12 167 10:11 10:22 167 173 11:1–9 25 12–39 24 12:6 12:8 24 24 13:18 360, 361, 362 14 361 14:18–20 14:1 164 15 361 361 15:9–10 296 18:17–19 21:33 24 22 361 362 22:14 24 362 25–33 136 28 134 295 28:11 134, 135 28:10–22 29–31 135 479 29:33–35 59 30:3 59 30:4 31:47 341, 348, 350, 351, 352 34, 135 32:23–32 1 34 424 479 30:5, 7, 17 134 35:14–15 37–50 174 363 48:3–6 363 48:15–16

49 25 104 50:24 Exodus 1 289 2 173, 174 104 2:24 104 3:6, 15, 16 104 6:3, 8 15:20–21 414 58 15:25 288 17:14 289 19–20 19:3–8 299 290 19:3–6 177, 285 20–23 20 30 20:5 194 21 55 55, 59 21:7 178 23:20–33 24 290 290, 299 24:3–11 40 24:3–8 56 24:8 29:42–46 294 23 30:13–15 24 30:13 289, 297 32–34 32 291 104 32:13 291 32:26–29 291, 297 33–34 33 294, 297, 298, 299 104 33:1 291, 293, 294, 295, 297, 33:7–11 298 33:7 296 294 33:10 291, 296, 297, 298, 299 34 298 34:1–10 34:5–9 296 212 34:6–7 298 34:34–35 298 35–40

556

Index of Citations

Leviticus 8 290 294 9:23–24 383 10:10–20 44 17–26 19:31 22 233 23:33–43 233 23:34 50, 53, 54 25 25:10 59 54 25:23–28 104 26:42 288 26:46 Numbers 5–7 11 11:11–12 11:24b–30 12 13:21 13:29 21:14 29:12 32:11 34:8 36:13

383 294, 299 291 291 292, 294, 200 129 364 11, 12 233 104 129 288

Deuteronomy 1–3 1:5 1:8 1:19–46 1:34–39 2:2–5 2:24 3:8 3:9–13 3:17 4:35 4:49 5–11 5 5:9 6:4 6:10 7:3–4 9–10 9:5 9:14 9:27

283, 284, 286, 287, 288 46 104, 287 289 287 287 287 467 288 107 22, 198 107 46 30, 285, 286, 289 194 40 104 362 286, 289 104 108, 129, 130 104

46, 178 12–26 12 46 48 12:5 23 14:23–26 15 59 15:1 58 55 15:12–15 59 15:12–13 56, 57, 58, 59, 60 15:12 16:13 233 24 16:21 374 17:18–19 22 18:11 18:12 53 292 18:18 52 23:4–7 25 50 25:5–10 50, 51 108 25:6 49 26:5b–9 431, 432 27:4 29:12 104 108, 129, 130 29:19 104 30:20 31 292 31:9–13 45 49, 58 31:10 291 31:14–15 291 31:23 32:8 134 108 32:36 22 32:39 291, 292, 299 34:10 Joshua 1–11 287 288 1:8 107 3:16 49 4:19–14 5:10–12 49 123. 126 6–11 51 8:31 299 8:30–35 10 124 11 10:13 11 124 467 11:7 12:3 107 129 13:5 129 13:25 129 13:28 19:10–39 130

557

Index of Citations 22 24 47, 49, 285 24 481 24:2 24:25–26 47 Judges 288 2:6–10 3 250 107 3:3 5 414 109 9:7–15 48, 120 10:1–5 414 11:34 12:7–15 48. 120 Ruth 1–4 1:1 3–4 3:9 3:12 4:2 4:3 4:7 4:8

13, 49, 51, 52 52 50 50 50 51 50 51, 52 51

1 Samuel 59 1:16 59 1:18 7 47 138 7:1 139 7:2 13 9:1–10:16 10 47 47 10:25 12 285 102 13:12 17:1–18:5 13 416 17:50–54 481 27:8 416 31:8–9 2 Samuel 1:18

11

2:9 116 416 4:5–12 6 138 7 285 481 8:12 481 15:18 451, 452 23:1–7

23:23 1 Kings

481

2:3

51

4 4:15 4:19–20 5–6 8:50 8:58 8:60 8:65 11–12 12 12:1–20 12:1 12:2–3 12:24 12:25 14:10 14:25 14:27 15:16–22 16–19 16:15–28 16:23 21:21

123, 126 125 125 83 103 383 22 107 117, 118 130, 132, 135 95 117 117 33 117, 118 108 125 108 231 70 128 136 108

2 Kings 5:15 22 6 77 8 77 70 9–10 9:8 108 103 10:30 68 10:32 34 11:12 11:19 103 79, 84, 85, 86, 92, 98, 99, 13–14 100 99 13:1–9 13:2 101 83, 87, 89, 91, 94, 101, 13:3–5 102, 111 110 13:3 13:5 81, 84, 168 84, 101 13:6 101, 110 13:7 84, 99 13:12 13:13 99, 103 108 13:14–19 103 13:19

558 13:22–25 13:22 13:23 13:24 13:25 14 14:5 14:6 14:8–14 14:9 14:15–17 14:15 14:17 14:19 14:22 14:24 14:25–27 14:25 14:28 15:12 15:29 16:6 17:6 17:23 17:25–41 18–19 18:3 18:4 18:5–6 18:14 18:19 18:26–28 19:36–37 19:37 20:10 20:12–19 21 21:2–9 21:6 21:7–9 21:10 21:13 21:14–37 21:16 21:17 21:19–25 21:24 22:2 22:8

Index of Citations 88, 89, 91, 93, 94, 102, 103, 104, 105, 111 110 104 85, 110 77, 79, 84, 85, 100, 107, 110 107, 123 79 51 79, 83, 84, 95, 108, 109, 111 109 99, 100 84, 212 100, 130 109 84, 107 101 93, 104, 111 31, 77, 79, 81, 83, 84, 85, 103, 107, 108, 121, 122 77, 79, 81, 83, 85, 121 103 26, 130 107 169, 170 132 133 109, 186, 208, 209 132, 189 189, 190 189 169 405 341, 349 194 168, 174 209 209 192, 195, 196, 220 195 196 191 208 108 202 216 171, 198 198 193 189 428

22:13 193 195 22:15º20 189 23:1–24 23:2 428 133 23:15 51 23:21 428 23:24 23:25 189, 194 202, 208, 215 23:29 195 23:32 24:7 246 195 24:9 188 24:10–17 246 24:18–21 195 24:19 24:20–25:21 188, 229 25 289 365 25:9 132 25:21 25:22–26 229, 239 1 Chronicles 481 5:24 9 255 129 13:5 13:19 391 2 Chronicles 3:1 7:8 17:7–9 26:2 28:1–25 29–31 29:2 30–31 30:26 31:20–21 31:27–30 32 32:18 32:20–23 32:24–26 32:31 33–35 33:3 33:6 33:7 33:9 33:10–17 33:11 33:18–19

362 129 40 107 199 189, 208 189 201 189 189 189 186, 210 341, 349 202 201 201 214 195 195, 196 195 195 196, 202, 215, 222 226 208

559

Index of Citations 34:1–35:19 34:2 34:15 34;30 35:18 35:26 36:17–21 36:22–23

189 189 428 428 189 189 229, 230 380

Ezra 1–7 2 2:7 2:12 2:14 2:23 2:26 2:28 2:64 3:2 3:8 4:8–10 4:10 4:17 4:18 4:22–5:7 5:2 5:16–6:2 6:1 7:6–24 7:25 8:5–6 8:15–36 9:1

348 240, 355 20 20 20 240 240 133, 240 240, 344, 356 35 35 346 168, 203 346 342, 352 346 35 346 470 388 388 389 388 364, 366

Nehemiah 389 1:1–2:20 239, 240, 386 3 343 3:1–32 3:33–7:3 389 7 355 388 7:1 20 7:12 7:17 20 20 7:19 388 7:23 240 7:25 7:27 240 240 7:29 240 7:30 240 7:31 7:32 133, 240

7:45 388 240, 344, 356 7:66–67 341, 348, 351, 389 8:1–8 342 8:8 8:15 51, 435 9 363 364 9:36–37 23, 24 10:33–34 10:35 51 51 10:37 133 11:31 35 12:1 13:1–3 52 389 13:4–31 341, 346, 348, 350, 352 13:23–24 350 13:23 Psalms 24:8 481 32 453 38 453 467 42:7 49:12 431 71 453 90 454 450, 456 91 99 453 103 453 481 103:20 109 453 112 453 450, 457 119 122 449 136 453 141 453 452 147:18–19 150 452 Proverbs 7:1–3 14:32

39 431

Ecclesiastes 12:12

411

Isaiah 1 204 435 1:8 3:18 404 219, 220 5:5–15 204, 206, 211 5:26–30

560

Index of Citations

7–8 204 204, 205, 216 10:5–15 171 10:5 10:7 211 211 10:13 204, 209 14:1–23 172 14:19–20 15:7 404 20 204 404 21:1 28:16 404 204 29:1–12 365 34:5–17 208, 209 36–39 204 36–37 36:4 405 341 36:11–12 22 37:19 205 37:36–38 44:28 380 380 45:1 25 51:12 53 383 54:1–6 50, 51 403 54:11–14 59 61:1 61:6 290 481 63:16 Jeremiah 303 6:14 217 7:6 303 7:10 8:3 305 305 9:15 341, 348, 349–350, 352 10:11 305 13:11 14:12 237 199 15:3–4 305 16:2–13 307, 308 16:13 21:2 303 237 21:7 237 21:9 217 22:3 22:17 217 24 305 310 24:2 311 24:8–10 24:10 237 26 52 53 26:6

26:8–9 53 309 27–29 309 27:5–6 237 27:8 27:13 237 303, 428 27:14–22 303 28:1–4, 10–11 309 29:57 29:17–18 237 31 214 481 31:3 53 32:6–15 32:9–12 54 237 32:24 237 32:36 190 32:35 33:32 39 34 61 307 34:2–3 307 34:5 34:8–22 54–60 361 34;18–20 57, 58, 59 34:14 56 34:15 34:17 237 56 34:18 237 38:2 232 39–41 39:1–10 229 239 40–41 229 40:5–41:18 232 40:5–6 40:7–10 233 232 40:10 233 40:12 230, 233 41:1–3 41:4–8 230, 233, 246 249 41:5 233 41:10 230 41:11–15 41:14 58 233 41:16 309 42:10–22 310 42:12 42:17 237 237 42:22 230 43:2–3 230 43:5–7 44:1 17 307 44:7–8 237 44:13 17 44:15 44:27 308

561

Index of Citations 50:17–18 52:1–30 52:27 52:28–30 52:30 52:31–34

211, 216 188 132 240 230 188

Lamentations 4:21–22

365

1:2 188 248 11:14–21 383 11:16 190 16:21 18 214 217 22:6–16 217 22:25–31 365 32:29 33:21 229 480 32:27 248 33:23–29 25 33:24 35:5 481 37 383 59 46:17 107 47:13–48:35 47:20 129 129 48:1 Daniel 13 348 481 476 476 476 476 348

Hosea 1:1 10:13 12 12:4

135 481 135, 136 134

Amos 1:1 2:14 3:3

136 136 159 121, 124, 130 137 132 133 137

Obadiah 9 365

Ezekiel

2–6 2:4 3:20 4:10 4:13 4:17 4:20 8:1

3:14 4:14 6:6 6:13 7:9 7:10–17 7:13 8:14

132 482 294

Jonah 1–4 1:2–3 3:10

176, 211–216, 391 212 212

Micah 5:5–6 6:14

167 206

Nahum 2:1

206

Zephaniah 2:13–15

207

Haggai 1:1 1:4–11 1:12–14 2:2–4 2:10–14 2:21–23

35 381 35 35 382, 383 35

Zechariah 1:4 384 3 384 35 4:6–10 246 7:5 7:7 384 384 7:12 1 Maccabees 1:56 7:47

399 416

562

Index of Citations 8:32 13:4–9 13:8 15:4 15:8–10 15:12–13 16:21–25 16:22

2 Maccabees 2:14 10:7 15:30–33

399 414 416

Judith 1:1 3:8 4:3 6:2

413 413 413 413

422 416 422 423 422, 423 414 422 422

Sirach 51:13–30

451, 452, 453

A. Extra-biblical References 1 En. 1–36 1 En. 6–19 1 En.6–11 1 En. 6:1–7:2 1 En. 6:1–2 1 En. 6:1–4 1 En. 6:1 1 En. 6:2 1 En. 6:6 1 En. 6:7 1 En.7:1–2 1 En. 7:3–5 1 En. 8 1 En. 10:7 1 En. 10:9–10 1 En. 14:3 1 En. 16:1 1 En. 20:1 1 En. 22:6 1 En. 86:4 1 En. 88:2 1 En. 89:11

462 463 462, 464–465 462 462 465–469 469–472 472–473, 474 467 467, 477 462, 469, 472, 476, 479, 481 462, 467, 468 478 475 482 476 480 474 475 480 480 480

3 Ezra

411

Ag.Ap. 1.42 399 Ant. 9.214 221 221 Ant. 9.242 221 Ant. 10.30 Ant. 10.38 216 414, 429 Ant. 13.372 221 Ant. 14.4 221 Ant. 14.8 Ant. 14:15 221 397 Jew. W. 7.253

Curtius Rufus Histories 8.3.1–10 416 Herodotus Hist. 1.183 273 416 Hist. 3.69 Hist. 4.64–65 416 Hist. 4.103 416 Hist. 7.238 416 Polybius Histories 21.38

416

481 481 431 403, 404, 405, 431, 435, 436 1QDeuta 437 1QIsaa 437 2QExodb 437 2QNumb 437 2QDeutc 437 437 2QJer 2QRutha 439 4Q109 404 4Q158 406 4Q159 406 462, 463, 464, 467, 468, 4Q201 477–481 463, 464, 469, 470, 471 4Q202 4Q204 471, 476 4Q206 475 4Q208–4Q211 465 4Q252 440 4QXIIc,e,g 437 , 452 1QH 8:11 1QH 10:33 1QpHab 1QIsaa

563

Index of Citations 4QapocrJoshc 450 4QDeutj,k1,k2,m 437 4QExodb 437 4QExodd 428 4QExod-Levf 428 4QGenb 433 4QNumb 437 4QIsac 437 403 4QJera XII 11 4QJosha 299 4QLam 437 4QpaleoDeuts 428 4QpaleoExodm 432 437, 438 4QPhyl 4QPsc 459 4QPse 458, 459 4QPsg 450 4QPsh 450 4QPsl 457 4QPsk 452 4QPso(?) 437 4QPsq 452 404, 437 4QQoha 4QRPa,b,c 437 4QSama 428 4QSamb 428 4QSamc 437 404 5QDeut 5QPs 450 8QPhyl I 436, 438 11Q19 465 11Q5a 451 11QTa 440 11QpaleoLeva I 1–2 403 11QPsa,b,c,d 437, 451–459 11QPsa 451 11QPsAp 450 11QTa 440 COS 1.111 COS 1.86 COS 2.35 COS 2.39 COS 2.40 COS 2.137

11 11 75 76 76 107

CTU A 1–1 CTU A 2–1 CTU A 3–1 CTU A 3–4 CTU A 3–5 CTU A 5–1

85 77, 85 76 89 84 84

CTU A 5–11A CTU A 8–1d CTU A 8–3 V CTU A 8–21 CTU A 9–3 IV

89 89 89 90 89

LKU 41 LKU 43

280 280

KAI 24 KAI 24 KAI 181 KAI 202 KAI 214 KAI 216

72, 76, 85, 98 73, 89 76, 85, 90, 93, 97 75, 85, 89, 91, 98 73, 76 73

RIMA 3 A.0.102.1 RIMA 3 A.0.102.2 RIMA 3 A.0.102.3 RIMA 3 A.0.102.5 RIMA 3 A.0.102.6 RIMA 3 A.0.102.8 RIMA 3 A.0.102.10 RIMA 3 A.0.102.13 RIMA 3 A.0.102.14 RIMA 3 A.0.102.14 RIMA 3 A.0.102.16 RIMA 3 A.0.102.24 RIMA 3 A.0.102.28 RIMA 3 A.0.102.30 RIMA 3 A.0.102.40 RIMA 3 A.0.102.88 RIMA 3 A.0.104.2 RIMA 3 A.0.104.4 RIMA 3 A.0.104.7 RIMA 3 A.0.104.8 RIMA 3 A.0.104.2010

72, 89 66, 67, 74, 98 73, 89 89 67 70 67 97 97 67 67, 73 67 67 67 67 70 69 69 71 68 76, 84, 85, 89, 90, 91, 98

RIMB 2 B.2.4 RIMB 2 S. 0.1001.1 RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.1 RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.2 RIMB 2 S. 0.1002.3

102 84, 89 76, 91, 96, 97 85 76, 90

RINAP 1 13 RINAP 1 14 RINAP 1 47 RINAP 3/1 4 RINAP 3/1 4 RINAP 4 1 RINAP 5/1 6 RINAP 5/1 7

75 74 78 78, 167 186 78, 185 185 226

564 SAA I 110 SAA IX SAA XI 33 SAA XIX 8

Index of Citations 78 22, 180 78 78

SAA XIX 19 SAA XIX 29 SAA XIX 159 SAA XX 7

263 78 78 270

Index of Modern Authors Abes, E.  143 Ableman. O. ​450 Abusch, T. ​11, 86, 181, 254 Achenbach, R. ​284, 293 Acker, G. A. ​173 Ackermann, D. ​44 Ackermann, S. ​168 Ackroyd, P. R. ​251, 301, 379 Adler, M. ​373 Adler, W. ​476 Adler, Y. ​447 Ahituv, Sh. ​65, 119 Ahlström, G. W. ​14, 26 Albertz, R. ​118, 229, 232, 246, 248, 249, 251, 252, 293, 294, 295, 296, 355 Albright, A. ​1 Alexander, P. S. ​372 Allen, L. ​317 Allen, T. W. ​358 Alt, A. ​14, 48 Ambos, C. ​262, 270, 280 Ames, F. R. ​76, 237, 301 Amit, Y. ​55 Anderson, G. ​411 Anderson, J. K. ​357, 359 Aptowitzer, V. 436 Arie, E. ​121, 131, 137 Askari Chaverdi, A. ​315, 318 Assmann, A. ​17 Astour, M. C. ​68 Aster, S. Z. 171, 203, 204 Aucker, B. ​134 Aufrecht, W. G. ​12 Avigad, N. ​229 Bach, J. ​261, 274 Bagg, A. M. ​166 Baiche, A. ​425 Baillet, M. ​432, 443 Baltzer, K. ​361 Bar, Sh. ​82 Bar-Nathan, R. ​446 Barclay, J. M. G. ​370 Barkay, G. ​236 Barrick, W. B. ​26 Bartelmus, R. ​461

Barthélemy, D. ​398, 434, 447, 456 Beattie, D. G. R. ​50 Beaudry, M. ​145 Beaulieu, P.-A. ​27 Becking, B. ​71, 133, 137, 249 Bélis, M. ​70, 147, 447 Beloc, K. J. ​359 Ben Zvi, E. ​12, 20, 22, 23, 30, 31 Ben-Ami, D. ​81, 88 Benzinger, I. ​80, 108 Berges, U. ​51 Bergman, J. ​32 Berlejung, A. ​27, 67, 70, 131, 166, 169, 170, 175, 177, 180, 223 Berman, J. ​41 Berner, Ch. ​289, 360 Berthelot, K. ​407 Bhayro, S. ​470 Bickerman, E. J. ​370 Bidez, J. ​374 Bidmead, J. ​265, 271 Bienkowski, P. A. ​78 Biran, A. ​138 Black, M. ​430, 455, 463, 464 Blair, J. M. ​483 Bleibtreu, E. ​416 Blenkinsopp, J. ​15, 232, 238, 246, 247, 250, 301 Blum, E. ​114, 133, 134, 135, 136, 285, 286, 288, 289, 290, 293, 297, 298, 361, 362, 377 Boecker, H. J. ​52 Bogan, Z. 372 Böhler, D. ​355 Bolin, T. M. ​31 Bonner, C. ​464 Booth, W. C. ​9 Bosworth, D. A. ​373 Bothmer, D. von ​243 Boucharlat, R. ​318 Bovati, P. ​52 Bowie, E. L. ​411 Brandl, B. ​138 Braudel, F. ​66, 74, 83 Barun, O. ​449 Brettler, M. Z. 366

566

Index of Modern Authors

Briant, P. ​23 Briend, J. ​107 Brinkman, J. A. ​96 Brooke, G. J. ​32 Brownlee, W. H. ​431 Brueggemann, W. ​101 Brunnsåker, S. ​419 Buber, M. ​297 Bunimovitz, Sh. ​79, 80 Burgess, R. W. ​373 Burr, V. 358 Burstein, S. M. ​271 Buschor, E. ​419 Byock, J. ​45 Çağirgan, G. ​262, 263, 271 Callieri, F. ​317, 318, 320, 340 Calmeyer, P. ​318 Cantrell, D. O. ​122 Caponigro, M. S. ​415 Caquot, A. ​107, 432 Cardellini, I. ​59 Carr, D. M. ​39, 40, 171 Carter, Ch. E. ​238, 252, 344, 356, 357, 381, 383, 386, 387, 389 Cavigneaux, A. ​96 Chambers, M. ​417 Chambon, A. ​444 Chambon, G. ​150 Chancey, E. M. ​387 Charles, R. H. ​464 Charlesworth, J. H. ​198, 216, 432, 451 Charpin, D. ​96 Chavel, S. ​56, 57, 58, 60 Childs, B. ​461 Chirichigno, G. C. ​56 Clanchy, M. T. ​367 Clancier, P. ​258, 260, 279 Clendenen, E. R. ​349 Clines, D. J. A. ​461 Cogan, M. ​72, 80, 129, 168, 175, 180, 184, 185, 188, 190, 192, 217, 222, 224 Cohen, A. ​168 Cohen, M. E. ​263 Cohen, R. ​187, 281 Colasuonno, M. M. ​348 Cole, S. W. ​280 Colin, G. ​367 Collins, J. J. ​448, 467 Coogan, M. D. ​222, 380 Cook, R. M. ​145, 243 Cooke, G. A. ​107 Cooper, C. R. ​369

Cooper, J. ​180 Corley, J. ​200, 415 Cotton, H. M. ​396 Crawford, S. W. ​400, 443 Cróinín, D. Ó. ​45 Crosby, A. W. ​148 Cross, F. M. ​372, 385, 397, 398, 409, 428, 439 Crouch, C. I. ​178 Crowfoot, G. M. ​447 Crown, A. D. ​372 Crüsemann, F. ​130 Culley, R. C. ​368 Cummings, r. ​425 Cumont, F. ​374 Da Riva, R. ​260, 263, 266, 268, 272 Dafni, E. D. ​372 Dahmen, U. ​456 Dalley, S. ​170, 171, 176, 233, 416 Darshan, G. ​371, 373 Daryaee, T. ​380 Davies, P. R. ​12, 19, 33 Davis, A. R. ​77, 82, 193 Davis, D. R. ​45 Davis, K. ​447 de Breucker, G. ​256, 261, 267, 269, 271 de Pury, A. ​114, 117, 135 de Vaux, R. ​443, 444, 446 Dearman, J. A. ​78, 92, 107 Debourse, C. ​259, 262, 264, 268, 269, 270, 273 De-Groot, A. ​237 del Monte, G. ​255 Delcor, M. ​107, 432 Denneler, I. ​41 Denis, A. M. ​464 Dennis, A. ​45 Dever, W. G. ​186, 223, 249 Dicou, B. ​365 Dietler, M. ​144 Dietrich, W. ​105, 116, 167 Dillery, J. ​261 Dillmann, A. ​284, 285 Dimant, D. ​465, 473 Dittenberger, W. ​358 Dohmen, Ch. ​295 Doudna, G. ​400 Drawnel, H. ​464, 467, 469, 473, 476, 481, 482 Drinkard, J. ​92 Driver, G. R. ​342

Index of Modern Authors Dubovský, P. ​27, 49, 71, 81, 94, 100, 101, 170, 193, 229, 346, 356, 385 Durand, J. M. ​96 Durham, J. ​261, 296 Durkin-Meisterernst, D.  342 Dušek, J. ​342 Duthel, J. M. ​152 Edelman, D. V. 12, 19, 20, 21, 25, 30, 32, 34, 36, 38, 116, 239, 348, 349, 370, 371, 398 Edenburg, C. ​125 Edzard, D. O. ​263 Ego, B. ​362 Ehrenberg, V. 419 Ehrlich, C. S. ​116 Elayi, J. ​186, 194 Ellis, R. S. ​318 Emerton, J. A. ​26 Eph’al, I. ​187 Eshel, E. ​119 Eshel, H. ​119, 396 Eskenazi, T. C. ​389, 390 Etz, D. V. 35 Evans, C. A. ​114 Evans, T. V. 372 Eynikel, E. ​217 Fabry, H.-J. ​206, 454 Fales, F. M. ​71, 75, 151, 152, 179, 187 Falk, Z. W. ​49 Fantalkin, A. ​128 Faust, A. ​203, 223, 229, 232, 235, 237, 238, 239, 243, 248, 249, 301 Fehr, B. ​419 Feldman, A. ​437, 444 Feldman, L. H. ​217, 372 Ferguson, Ch. A. ​345, 346 Fidanzio, M. ​443, 444, 445, 446, 447, 448, 450, 452 Finegan, J. ​184 Finkel, I. ​255, 260, 261, 262, 263, 268, 273, 280 Finkelberg, M. ​358, 359, 360, 374, 376 Finkelstein, I. ​19, 66, 68, 70, 74, 82, 113, 114, 115, 117, 120, 121, 122, 124, 125, 128, 129, 130, 131, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 222, 231, 240, 249, 301, 342, 343, 344, 355, 362, 385, 386, 387, 388, 435 Finkelstein, J. J. ​56, 207 Finnegan, R. H. ​8 Fishbane, M. ​61 Fischer, G. ​52, 54, 57

567

Fitzmyer, J. A. ​220 Fitzpatrick–McKinley, A.  25 Fleming, D. E. ​114, 149, 152 Flint, P. W. ​451, 453, 454, 455, 456 Floyd, M. H. ​22 Flynn, S. W. ​177 Foley, J. M. ​368, 376 Formenti, F. ​152 Foote, P. D. ​45 Fornara, Ch. ​419 Foster, B. ​259, 260, 266, 267, 280 Fowler, H. N. ​369 Fraade, S. ​407 Frahm, E. ​66, 167, 171, 172, 174, 175, 177, 186, 253, 254 Frame, G. ​253, 254, 255 Franklin, N. ​119 Frazer, M. ​253, 254, 255, 258, 259, 265, 268, 274, 276 Freedman, D. N. ​382 Freeman, M. D. A. ​43 Frevel, Ch. ​131, 223 Freytag, G. ​95, 97 Fricke, K. D. ​102 Friedel, H. ​418, 421, 423, 424 Fritz, V. 129, 130, 217, 253 Fröhlich, I. ​474, 482 Frolov, S. ​373 Frymer-Kensky, T. ​50, 51, 53, 54 Gabbay, U. ​253, 280, 407 Gadot, Y. ​119, 133, 223, 237, 249 Galil, G. ​71,184 Gallagher, W. R. ​185, 186 Galvin, G. ​118 Gammie, J. G. ​370 Gane, R. ​185 Garbini, G. ​315, 334, 339 García Martínez, F. ​399, 428, 448, 450 Gaspa, S. ​150 Gass, E. ​78 Gauley, S. ​12 Geiger, A. ​431 Gelander, Sh. ​27 Geller, M. J. ​267, 397, 432, 439 George, A. R. ​254, 255, 259, 262, 264, 271 Gera, D. L. ​415, 416 Gerhards, M. ​373 Gerleman, G. ​428 Gerstenberger, E. ​31 Gertz, J. Ch. ​121, 134, 140, 169, 178, 284, 285, 286, 360, 361, 376, 385 Geva, H. ​236, 387

568

Index of Modern Authors

Gianto, A. ​346, 347, 349 Gibson, J. C. L. ​70, 75 Ginsberg, H. L. ​172 Giovannini, A. ​357, 358, 359 Gitin, S. ​19 Giuntoli, F. ​50, 229, 362, 363, 376 Given, M. ​146 Glassner, J.-J. ​184, 188, 260 Gnoli, G. ​326 Goldstein, R. ​254 Gomme, A. W. ​367 González García, F. J.  357 Goody, J. ​369 Gordon, C. H. ​372 Goshen-Gottstein, M. H.  455 Gottlieb, L. ​404 Grabbe, L. L. ​19, 65, 128, 133, 170, 185, 186, 225, 239, 249, 251, 252, 301, 344 Graham, J. N. ​14 Grant, E. ​236 Gray, G. B. ​207 Gray, J. ​83, 104, 107, 108, 109, 216, 217 Grayson, K. ​167, 170, 259, 265, 272, 274, 275, 276 Green, M. W. ​32 Greenberg, M. ​207, 400, 402, 435 Greenberg, R. ​238 Greene, J. A. ​222, 368 Greenfield, J. C. ​342 Greenhut, Z. 237 Gruen, E. S. ​370 Guillaume, A. B. ​425 Guillaume, P. ​114 Gunkel, H. ​40, 42, 461 Gunneweg, A. H. J. ​293, 447 Gzella, H. ​342 Haag, H. ​372 Hacham, N. ​415 Hackl, J. ​253, 254, 259 Hägg, T. ​412 Hagedorn, A. C. ​135 Haldar, A. ​32 Hallewy, E. F. ​372 Hallo, W. W. ​281 Halpern, B. ​102, 122, 193, 195 Hammond, N. G. L. ​358 Handy, L. K. ​35 Hanson, P. D. ​462, 467 Haran, M. ​107, 372, 428 Harding, G. L. ​443 Hardmeier, Ch. ​138 Harris, W. V. 373

Hasegawa, Sh. ​67, 69, 77, 79, 80, 82, 107, 130, 168 Haubold, J. ​261 Haudebert, P. ​135 Hautepen, A. ​118 Havelock, E. A. ​368 Hayes, J. H. ​26, 44, 71, 229, 235, 243 Heckl, R. ​284 Hendel, R. ​461, 474 Henkelman, F. M. ​316, 317, 339 Heiserman, A. ​412 Hentschel, G. ​101, 104, 107, 108 Herr, M. D. ​372 Herrenschmidt, C. ​318 Herrmann, V. R. ​72, 223 Himbaza, I. ​225 Hjálmarsson, J. R. ​45 Hobbs, T. R. ​77, 104 Hochhut, R. ​425 Hoffman, Y. ​54, 55, 114 Hoglund, K. G. ​14, 19 Hogue, T. ​348, 350 Hölderlin, F. ​429 Holladay, W. L. ​305 Holloway, W. ​43, 180, 224, 280, 324 Hooker, P. K. ​26 Hope, S. R. ​357 Hoppe, L. ​382, 383, 384 Horowitz, W. ​164, 165, 233 Hossfeld, F.-L. ​52 Hudson, A. ​346 Huff, D. ​318 Humbert, J.-B. ​443, 444, 446, 447, 450, 452 Hunger, H. ​376 Hunt, A. M. W. ​66, 151, 153, 155, 156, 159 Hutchesson, I. ​400 Hutzli, J. ​29 Ibrahim, A. F. ​66 Ismail, B. K. ​96 Irvine, S. A. ​168 Jachmann, G. ​359 Jackson, B. S. ​40, 41, 43, 49, 50, 53, 55, 54, 56, 57, 59, 61 Jackson, K. P. ​107 Jacob, B. ​298 Jacoby, F. ​359 Janssen, E. ​248 Janzen, J. G. ​54, 59 Japhet, S. ​197, 198, 200 Jaruzelska, I. ​82

Index of Modern Authors Jaski, B. ​45 Jassen, A. P. ​407 Jepsen, A. ​59, 123 Jeremias, J. ​94, 303, 304 Jericke, D. ​137 Jiménez, E. ​173 Johne, R. ​411 Johnson, J. C. ​276 Johnson, S. G. ​147 Johnson, S. R. ​412 Jolles, A. ​44 Jones, B. ​385 Jones, G. W. ​102 Jones, P. ​173 Jones, S. ​143 Jürgensen, A. ​298 Jursa, M. ​14, 253, 254, 257, 260, 264, 266, 268, 270, 271, 272, 273 Kahana, M. ​408 Kahane, A. ​374 Kahn, D. ​72 Kalimi, I. ​168, 171, 186 Kalmin, R. ​217 Kartveit, M. ​432 Kelle, B. E. ​76, 235, 237, 251, 301 Kelly, F. ​45 Kenyon, F. G. ​368 Kinnier Wilson, J. V. 73, 150, 152, 199 Kessler, R. ​65, 138 Kirchner, D. ​94 Kirchner, J. ​367 Kirk, G. S. ​358 Kitchen, K. A. ​117 Kittel, R. ​102 Klaffenbach, G. ​367 Klein, R. W. ​196, 197, 200, 217, 225, 226 Klostermann, H. A. ​44, 45 Knauf, E. A. ​30, 34 Knibb, M. A. ​216 Knobloch, H. ​292 Knoppers, G. ​200, 251, 252, 301, 344, 350, 355, 379, 409 Knox, B. ​412 Kochavi, M. ​118 Köckert, M. ​134, 135, 136, 361 Koenen, K. ​133 Köhlmoos, M. ​132 Kohut, A. ​373 Kottsieper, I. ​350 Kratz, R. G. ​18, 29, 94, 113, 116, 134, 284, 285

569

Krauss, S. ​401, 435 Kreppner, F. J. ​154 Krishnan, J. ​45 Krul, J. ​262, 280, 281 Kuan, J. K. ​71 Kuch, H. ​411, 412 Kuenen, A. ​375, 376 Kühne, H. ​153 Kuhrt, A. ​19, 257, 315, 324, 340 Kullmann, W. ​357, 359 Kvanvig, H. ​22, 462, 463 Laato, A. ​184, 185 Lambert, W. G. ​260, 262, 263, 271 Landes, G. M. ​213 Lange, A. ​380, 396, 397, 400, 402, 404, 409, 433, 439, 450, 457, 458, 483 Larsen, M. T. ​83, 175 Lauinger, J. ​165, 179 Lavelle, B. M. ​417 Lazenby, J. F. ​357 Lecoq, P. ​319 Leene, H. ​311 Lederman, Z. 79, 80 Lehmann, G. ​223 Lemaire, A. ​19, 58, 247, 372 Lenski, G. ​388 Lenzi, A. ​263, 271, 280, 281 Leuchter, M. ​55, 58, 59, 118 Levavi, Y. ​14, 266, 276 Levin, Ch. ​26, 122, 131, 133, 168, 229, 230, 301, 304, 309, 310, 344, 390 Levin, Y. ​119, 196, 197, 225, 238 Levine, B. A. ​180 Levine, D. ​414, 415 Levine, L. I. ​390 Levinson, B. M. ​49, 57 Lewis, D. ​367 Lewis, H. K. ​368 Lieberman, S. ​370, 401, 409, 435 Lifshitz, B. ​370, 374 Lim, T. H. ​134 Linssen, M. ​262, 263, 264, 271, 280 Lipiński, E. ​50, 113 Lipschits, O. ​14, 15, 18, 114, 133, 135, 229, 230, 232, 237, 238, 239, 243, 246, 247, 249, 250, 301, 343, 344, 346, 350, 355, 379, 380, 381, 386, 387, 388 Liverani, M. ​26, 65, 66, 68, 79, 83, 86, 90, 91, 245 Lods, A. ​470 Lohfink, N. ​283, 428 Lohr, J. N. ​114, 433

570

Index of Modern Authors

Long, B. O. ​77, 84 Lord, A. ​40 Lorentz, F. von ​414 L’Orange, H. P. ​326 Lundbom, J. R. ​52, 54 Luther, A. ​153 MacDowell, D. M. ​420, 421 Macchi, J. D. ​117 Machinist, P. ​167, 169, 171, 177, 204, 205, 206, 210, 212, 213, 219, 220 Madreiter, I. ​277, 278 Maeir, A. M. ​67, 70, 177 Maier, Ch. M. ​305 Magness, J. ​446 Malamat, A. ​65, 187 Maras, S. ​337 Marcus, R. ​216, 217 Markl, D. ​27, 49, 295, 385 Marti, L. ​69, 96 Mason, R. ​379, 457 Mathews, C. R. ​365 Mathys, P.-H. ​73 Mayer, Sh. ​298 Mayer, W. R. ​68 Mazar, A. ​119 Mazar, B. ​229 Mazar, E. ​165, 229, 236 McCarthy, D. J. ​101 McCown, C. C. ​231, 234, 241, 243, 244, 245, 247 McDonald, L. M. ​373 McGovern, P. E. ​149 McHam, S. B. ​425 McKane, W. ​10, 52, 53, 54, 55, 57 McKay, J. ​224 McKenzie, S. ​L. ​49, 116, 118, 134 McNamee, K. ​403 McNeeley, D. ​138 Meckelnborg, Ch. ​412 Meiser, M. ​373 Melchert, C. H. ​76, 83 Melville, S. C. ​186 Mendel-Geberovich, A.  75 Mendels, D. ​355 Merkelbach, R. ​412 Merlo, P. ​49, 84, 90 Meshorer, Y. ​371 Meskell, ​145 Meyer, I. ​52 Meyers, C. L. ​382, 384, 388, 391 Meyers, E. M. ​169, 252, 301, 344, 380, 382, 384, 387, 388, 391

Middlemas, J. ​233, 248, 249, 251, 252 Milano, L. ​71, 151 Milik, J. T. ​443, 447, 456, 462, 463, 465, 467, 469 Millard, A. R. ​69, 75, 167 Miller, J. M. ​26, 26 Miller II, R. D. ​40, 41 Mirau, N. A. ​12 Mizzi, D. ​444, 446, 447 Młynarczyk, J. ​444, 446 Moberly, R. W. L. ​362 Mobley, G. ​116 Momigliano, A. ​363, 370 Mommsen, ​Ch. M. Th. Monerie, J. ​257, 258 Montgomery, J. A. ​101 Moore, C. A. ​220 Moore, M. B. ​76, 235, 251 Moorey, P. R. S. ​152 Morgenstern, M. ​347 Morris, S. P. ​357 Morris, I. ​368 Morrow, W. S. ​178 Mosshammer, A. ​464 Mousavi, A. ​316 Muilenburg, J. ​231 Muldoon, C. L. ​212, 213, 221 Müller, R. ​36, 125 Murray, A. T. ​358 Murray, M. A. ​149 Murray, R. ​474 Na’aman, N. ​19, 71, 80, 96, 115, 116, 122, 124, 125, 128, 133, 136, 168, 170, 174, 187, 222, 225, 249, 359, 361 Naguib, S.-A. ​17 Nagy, G. ​373 Naveh, J. ​342, 372 Neef, H.-D. ​361 Nelson, R. D. ​123 Neujahr, M. ​260, 267, 280 Neusner, J. ​430 Newsom, C. A. ​465 Nickelsburg, G. W. E.  462, 467, 476 Niditch, S. ​8, 40 Niehoff, M. R. ​371, 373, 402, 407, 409 Nielsen, E. ​40, 41, 48, 49 Nielsen, J. P. ​274, 277 Niemann, M. H. ​113 Niese, B. ​359 Nimchuk, C. L. ​318 Nissinen, M. ​22 Nobile, M. ​101

Index of Modern Authors Noll, K. L. ​385 North, R. ​55 Noth, M. ​48, 233, 249, 283, 284, 289 Novotny, J. ​170 Nowack, W. ​102 Ó Cróinín, D. ​45 O’Connor, K. M. ​53 Ober, J. ​420 Oblath, M. D. ​118 Olabarri, I. ​66, 119 Olivelle, P. ​45 Olyan, S. M. ​172 Onasch, H. U. ​185 Oshima, T. ​164, 165, 176, 264 Ossendrijver, M. ​279 Otto, E. ​22, 46, 178, 284, 292, 293, 362 Otto, S. ​118 Ornan, T. ​14 Oehming, M. ​18 Pakkala, J. ​29, 36, 61, 131, 136 Papen, F.-G. von ​414 Park, S.-M. S. ​201 Parker, S. B. ​92 Parpola, S. ​22, 168, 169, 180, 186, 270 Parry, M. ​40, 376 Payne, A. ​76, 83 Pearce, L. E. ​188 Peel, J. D. Y. ​366 Pelliccia, H. ​374 Perkins, R. ​45 Perlitt, L. ​284, 288 Person, R. F. ​382, 391 Petersen, D. L. ​114 Petrie, W. F. M. ​157 Pfeiffer, H. ​134, 135 Piasetzky, E. ​70, 121, 135 Pierce, L. E. ​380 Pirngruber, R. ​253, 254, 257, 258, 259, 265 Podlecki, A. J. ​418 Pohlmann, K.-F. ​311 Polak, F. H. ​346, 350 Popper, J. ​376 Porten, B. ​18, 20, 24, 34 Porzig, P. ​138 Postgate, N. ​148 Potts, D. ​317, 318 Powell, B. B. ​373 Pratt, M. L. ​148 Priebatsch, H. Y. ​414 Pritchard, J. B. ​342

571

Puchta, G. F. ​43 Puech, E. ​399, 428, 448, 451 Pulikottil, P. ​431 Quack, J. ​175 Rad, G. von ​46, 49, 130 Radner, K. ​149, 150, 158, 166, 168, 178, 256 Rainey, A. F. ​226 Razmjou, Sh. ​316, 317, 321 Reich, R. ​236 Reisner, G. ​262 Reiterer, F. V. 415 Rendsburg, G. A. ​169, 347, 348 Ressman, A. R. ​72 Reventlow, H. G. ​55 Rezetko, R. ​134, 348 Rhodes, P. J. ​417 Richelle, M. ​110 Richter, W. ​114 Ringgren, H. ​32 Roaf, M. ​316, 317, 318 Roberts, J. J. M. ​138, 262 Robker, J. M. ​117, 119, 122, 125 Rofé, A. ​51, 65, 116, 362, 430 Rohde, E. ​412 Rollston, Ch. A. ​163, 380, 385, 386 Romeny, B. T. H. ​36 Rom-Shiloni, D. ​304 Römer, T. ​25, 32, 114, 117, 118, 121, 127, 131, 133, 134, 136, 138, 139, 140, 361, 371, 382, 385, 395 Root, M. C. ​316 Rosén, H. B. ​297, 373 Ruwe, A. ​138 Ryholt, K. ​175 Sader, H. S. ​73, 75 Sæbø, M. ​48 Sáens-Badillos, Á. ​347 Salisbury, J. von ​425 Sammons, B. ​357, 358 Šanda, A. ​101, 103, 108 Sanders, J. A. ​450, 451, 453, 455, 456 Sanders, S. ​L. ​344 Sanderson, J. E. ​432 Sass, B. ​113 Sasson, J. M. ​50, 213 Savigny, F. C. von ​42, 43 Schäfer-Lichtenberger, Ch. ​138 Schattner-Rieser, U. ​432 Schaudig, P. ​167, 260, 261, 268, 273

572

Index of Modern Authors

Schenker, A. ​46, 54, 56, 117 Shear, J. L. ​420, 421, 422 Schicklberger, F. ​138 Schipper, B. U. ​187, 223 Schipper, J. ​51 Schironi, F. ​402, 405, 406 Schlange-Schöningen, H.  417 Schloen, D. ​71, 74, 77, 174, 342, 377 Schmid, K. ​49, 50, 118, 174, 180, 284, 292, 305, 318, 360, 362, 363, 376 Schmid, O. ​189 Schmidt, B. B. ​40 Schmidt, E. F. ​319 Schmidt, J. ​419 Schmitt, Ra. ​295 Schmitt, Rü. ​331 Schmitz, B. ​413, 414, 415, 416, 424 Schneider, T. ​117 Schniedewind, W. M.  40, 125, 192, 198, 342 Schöler, C. ​41 Schorch, S. ​431, 432 Schott, M. ​135 Schreiber, K. ​145 Schuette, W. ​125 Schüle, A. ​67, 70, 177, 295, 360 Schürer, E. ​429, 430, 431 Schwabe, M. ​374 Schwally, B. ​103 Schwartz, D. R. ​399, 429 Schwartz, S. ​373 Schwyzer, E. ​358 Scodel, R. ​369 Scurlock, J. A. ​280 Seebass, H. ​461 Segal, M. ​406, 433, 456 Segal, M. H. ​398 Seitz, Ch. R. ​251, 304 Sergi, O. ​67, 68, 70, 119 Shalev, Y. ​82 Sharp, C. J. ​304 Shea, W. H. ​82 Shead, A. G. ​53 Shear, J. L. ​420 Sherwin-White, S. ​277 Shiloh, Y. ​229 Siddall, L. R. ​67, 68, 69, 71 Silberman, N. A. ​122, 123, 124, 125, 222 Silverman, J. M. ​256 Simpson, J. ​317, 318, 321, 337 Simpson, W. ​175 Singer-Avitz, L. ​121, 133, 249 Ska, J. L. ​9, 10, 13, 20, 60, 290, 361, 362 Skehan, P. W. ​432, 455, 456

Skinner, J. ​477, 479 Smelik, K. A. D. ​78, 198, 199, 217 Smend, R. ​48, 118 Smith, J. ​450 Smith, M. J. ​52, 247 Smith-Christopher, D. L.  251 Sokoloff, M. ​19 Sonnet, J. P. ​27, 45 Speiser, E. A. ​168, 207 Spieckermann, H. ​19, 29, 94, 113, 116, 134, 180, 224, 315 Stade, B. ​103 Stavrakopoulou, F. ​190, 222, 223, 225 Stein, G. J. ​143, 145 Steinert, U. ​276 Stephens, S. ​412 Stevens, M. E. ​11 Steymans, H.-U. ​178 Stipp, H.-J, ​230, 237, 289, 302, 304 Stolper, M. ​254, 316 Stoppel, H. ​289, 293, 295 Strange, J. ​26 Strawn, B. A. ​457 Sukenik, N. ​447 Swanson, K. A. ​132 Sweeney, M. A. ​101, 104, 117, 192 Tadmor, H. ​80, 129, 175, 184, 185, 186, 190, 192, 217 Tal A. ​352 Talmon, Sh. ​428, 451, 455, 495 Talshir, Z. 116, 117 Tatum, L. ​225 Taylor, J. E. ​443, 444 Taylor, M. W. ​418, 419 Teegarden, D. A. ​419, 420, 421, 422 Thareani-Sussely, Y. ​222 Teixidor, J. ​19 Thibaut, A. F. J. ​42 Thiele, E. R. ​169, 184, 185 Thomas, N. ​143 Thompson, T. L. ​50 Thompson, D. ​50 Thureau-Dangin, F. ​262 Tigchelaar, J. C. ​399, 418, 450, 452 Tilia, A. B. ​318, 329, 331 Tiller, P. A. ​480 Tinney, S. ​32 Toews, W. I. ​116 Tolini, G. ​257 Tov, E. ​299, 303, 353, 366, 375, 377, 396, 397, 398, 401, 403, 404, 405, 407, 427,

Index of Modern Authors 428, 430, 431, 434, 435, 436, 439, 448, 449, 451, 453, 457 Toynbee, A. J. ​359 Trebolle Barrera, J. ​398 Tropper, J. ​73, 74 Tsochos, Ch. ​414 Tunyogi, A. C. ​124 Turner, E. G. ​368, 403 Uehlinger, Ch. ​27, 172, 173, 186 Ulrich, E. ​8, 9, 10, 398, 428, 430 432, 439 Unger, E. ​262 Ussishkin, D. ​122, 167, 186 Valkama, K. ​229, 301 Vanderhooft, D. ​14 van Henten, J. W. ​118 Van Keulen, P. S. F. ​200 Van Seters, J. ​10, 25, 28 Van Beek, G. ​145, 157 van der Kooij, A. ​173, 398, 431 van der Spek, R. J. ​254, 261, 263, 265, 267, 271, 280 van der Steen, E. ​78 van der Toorn, K. ​125, 168, 483 van Dommelen, P. ​145 van Seters, J. ​10, 25, 28, 113, 115, 123, 134, 375, 376, 377 Veijola, T. ​56 Viberg, Å. ​51 Voigtlander, E. von ​271 Waerzeggers, C. ​256, 257, 259, 261, 263, 279 Wälchli, S. ​94 Wallerstein, I. ​143, 144 Wampler, J. C. ​231, 241, 243, 245 Weber, M. ​85 Weinberg, J. ​357 Weinberg, W. ​348 Weinfeld, M. ​56 Weinreich, O. ​412 Weippert, M. ​67, 184, 185, 188 Weis, R. D. ​303 Weissert, D. ​372 Wellhausen, J. ​1, 48, 61, 288, 295, 376, 431 Wenham, D. ​479 Wénin, A. ​25 Werlitz, J. ​132

573

Wessels, J. ​311 West, M. J. ​357, 372 West, S. ​374 Westbrook, R. ​50, 57, 187 Westermann, C. ​44 Wevers, J. W. ​471 Whitt, W. D. ​135 Wijesinghe, Sh. L. ​54 Wildberger, H. ​209 Willgren, D. ​454 Williams, M. H. ​370 Williamson, H. G. M.  14, 65, 196, 204, 206, 207, 208, 340, 355 Wills, L. M. ​411 Wilson, G. ​453, 454, 455, 456 Wilson, R. A. ​48 Winkler, J. J. ​412 Witte, M. ​284, 360, 362, 463 Wöhrle, J. ​132, 134 Wolf, A. ​375 Worschech, U. ​78 Wright, A. T. ​474 Wright, D. P. ​169, 173, 178, 254 Wright, G. E. ​79, 236, 372 Wright, J. L. ​76, 237, 301, 355 Würthwein, E. ​77, 101, 104, 116, 128, 129, 130 Wyatt, N. ​134 Yadin, Y. ​446, 450, 451 Yamada, K. ​168 Yamada, Sh. ​66, 67, 72, 168 Yarchin, W. ​450, 456 Yardeni, A. ​18, 20, 24, 34 Yehoshua, A. ​372 Young, I. ​400, 401, 433 Younger, K. L. ​71, 74, 77, 174, 341, 342, 377 Yourcenar, M. ​365 Zadok, R. ​17, 170, 280 Zangenberg, J. K. ​443, 445, 446 Zappella, M. ​49 Zevit, Z. 19, 240 Ziemer, B. ​360, 361 Zilberg, P. ​203 Zorn, J. R. ​15, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 241, 243, 245

Index of Proper Names Achaemened ​7, 18, 35, 36, 37, 210, 213, 256, 257, 258, 261, 262, 315–319, 324, 325, 331–334, 337–351 Achior ​415 Adad-nirari III ​68, 69, 71, 73, 89, 96, 166, 168 Adad-šumu-uṣur ​259, 268, 272 Adrammelech ​168, 174 Ahaz ​166, 190, 199 Ahaziah ​33, 95, 119 Akiva ​434, 435 Althing ​41, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48 Amaziah ​79, 80, 84, 95, 96–100, 108, 109, 110, 123, 128, 132, 133 Amīl-Marduk ​260, 265, 268, 272 Amon ​184, 185, 188–190, 193, 195, 198, 200, 202, 208, 218, 219 Apadāna ​318, 324, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332 Apla-Adad ​91 Aristogeiton ​417–419, 420, 422, 425, 426 Artaxerxes I ​331 Artaxerxes III ​261, 321 Asa ​96, 123, 231 Ashurbanipal ​168, 185, 186, 187, 203, 221, 222, 226, 253, 254, 259, 274, 276 Asherah ​22, 24, 25, 30, 84, 190, 195, 196 Asburbanipal ​127, 168, 178, 185, 186, 187, 203, 221, 222, 226, 253, 254, 255, 259, 274, 276 Ashur-dan III ​69 Baʿal ​11, 22, 29, 30, 127, 136, 190, 195, 196 Bagh-e Firuzi ​334, 337 Bar Kokhba ​397, 433, 434, 440, 443 Basha ​96 Bashan ​121, 287 Ben-hadad ​26, 67, 75, 77, 81, 85, 87, 88, 109 Bethel ​20, 25, 27, 29, 30, 33, 47, 114, 118, 126, 131–139, 233, 240, 246, 249, 251, 252, 343 Bisitun ​18, 337, 338, 361 Bit-Nabu-leʾ ​16 Boaz ​49, 50, 51, 52 Borsippa ​16, 253, 259, 266, 268, 274

Cyrus II ​210, 230, 261, 263, 315, 334, 339, 340, 372, 380, 281 Dan ​26, 29, 68, 76, 82, 118, 121, 123, 126, 131, 133, 135, 137, 138, 163 Darius I ​245, 262, 315–325, 329, 331, 337–340 Darius II ​262 Darius III ​257, 267 Demophantos ​420–422, 423, 424, 425 Dur-Katlimmu ​152, 153, 154, 155, 159 Ebal ​299, 431, 432 Elijah ​13, 119 Elisha ​13, 84, 103, 104, 108, 119 Esangila ​253–260, 264, 265–269, 272, 274, 276, 279, 280 Esarhaddon ​22, 78, 163, 165, 167, 172, 174, 175, 176, 178, 179, 185, 187, 203, 222, 226 Eucrates ​422 Gedaliah ​14, 229–239, 246, 247, 250, 251, 381 Gerizim ​25, 28, 34, 37, 431 Grágás ​44, 45, 46, 47 Guzana ​68, 152, 155–156, 159 Hamath ​65, 68, 69, 74–81, 85, 88, 89, 98, 107, 110, 128, 129 Harran ​25, 27, 28, 184, 267 Harmodius ​417–419, 420, 421, 425, 426 Hazael ​26, 67, 68–79, 81, 85–88, 103, 106, 114, 131, 137 Hazor ​68, 82, 121, 130, 131, 165 Hezekiah ​27, 53, 83, 123, 127, 128, 131, 132, 166, 167, 169, 1709, 184, 185, 188–194, 201–203, 208–210, 218–225, 349 Holophernes ​416 Homer ​40, 357, 359, 360, 368, 371–377, 405, 415 Huldah ​193, 194, 195, 208 Ibn Ezra ​294, 296, 298

Index of Proper Names Jehoahaz ​26, 71, 77, 81, 84, 85, 87, 88, 93, 95, 98, 101–103, 168, 168 Jehoash ​77, 79, 81, 85, 88, 95, 99, 163, 169 Jehoiachin ​188, 200, 216, 218, 302, 310, 311 Jehoiakim ​188, 200, 216, 218 Jehoram ​26, 29, 33, 35, 200, 184, 185, 188, 189, 193, 195, 198, 208, 215, 216, 219, 221, 224, 302 Jehu ​26, 33, 67, 68, 70, 71, 82, 95, 103, 110, 115, 118–122, 125–127, 166 Jeroboam I ​34, 96, 115, 117, 118, 121, 122, 126, 137, 249 Jeroboam II ​77, 80, 81, 82, 84, 85, 88, 89, 98–101, 107, 108, 114, 118, 120–126, 127–132, 133–140, 212, 213 Jezebel ​70, 119 Josiah ​33, 48, 102, 114, 123, 133, 179 Kandawas ​19 Kiriath-jearim ​138, 139, 240 Kish ​16, 250 Kulamuwa ​71, 72, 73, 76, 85, 90, 91, 98 Kuntillet ʿAjrud ​113, 132, 135, 136 Lachish ​80, 109, 127, 166, 167, 186, 236, 343 Makkedah ​20 Manasseh ​48, 108, 120, 127, 128, 131, 166, 169, 183–226, 287, 363 Marduk ​27, 28, 37, 177, 253, 256, 258, 259, 260, 265–271, 276, 279, 280, 483 Masada ​396, 397, 400, 401, 408, 433, 434, 436, 440, 448, 450 Megiddo ​68, 82, 121, 122, 166, 195 Memphis ​17 Mizpah ​14, 15, 18, 27, 47, 229–252, 343, 344, 381 Nabonidus ​260, 261, 266, 267, 272 Nabopolassar ​184, 259, 260, 265, 267, 268, 272 Nabû ​266, 268, 273 Nabû-šuma-iškun ​280 Naḥal Arugot ​433 Naḥal Ḥever ​396, 397, 433, 434, 437, 450 Naḥal Ṣeʾelim ​433, 437 Naḥal Tzeʾelim ​396 Naram-Sin ​32 Necho II ​184, 187, 195, 198, 199, 202, 208, 215, 219, 226 Nebi Samwil ​14, 231

575

Nebuchadnezzar II ​109, 201, 202, 221, 229, 249, 260, 265, 266, 271, 272, 277, 303, 309, 413, 423, 481 Nephilim ​461, 468, 471, 474, 477, 479, 480, 482 Nikarchos ​281 Opis ​16 Pasargadae ​340 Pathros ​17 Pekah ​26, 166 Penuel ​117, 118, 132, 134 Persepolis ​315–324, 327, 329, 332, 334, 337–340 Plato ​9, 374, 377 Ramat Raḥel ​14, 237, 238, 388 Rasapa ​153 Rashbam ​298 Rehoboam ​96, 117 Samaria ​13, 14, 24, 27–30, 32–37, 66–74, 79, 84, 95, 99, 101, 109,118, 125, 130, 136, 139, 159, 165, 170, 192, 204, 247, 343 Sam’al ​65, 68–74, 79, 85, 110, 129 Sargon II ​27, 71, 74, 165, 167, 170, 171, 173, 180, 186 Sennacherib ​78, 109, 167–171, 174, 176, 184, 185, 186, 188, 189, 194, 201–210, 218–225, 349 Shalmaneser III ​66, 67, 70, 72, 89, 96, 97, 147, 166, 168 Shalmaneser IV ​69 Shalmaneser V ​71, 73, 167, 184 Šamaš-šumu-ukin ​187, 226 Šamši-Adad V ​68, 70, 89, 96, 175 Šamši-ilu ​65, 69, 70, 76, 85, 89, 90, 91, 98 Sharezer ​168, 174 Shechem ​24, 25, 47, 49, 109, 116, 117, 118, 120, 121 Shephelah ​33, 82, 124, 128, 165, 186, 222, 223, 343, 344, 387 Shiloh ​63, 138, 139, 229 Shishak ​117, 121, 125 Susa ​329, 337, 339, 416 Tahpanes ​17 Tel Jemmeh ​145, 156–160 Tell el-Asāwir ​82 Tell el-Hammah ​68 Tel Kinrot ​82

576

Index of Proper Names

Te-Umman ​416 Tiglath-pileser III ​26, 66, 69, 71, 73, 74, 75, 78, 79, 96, 130, 153, 167, 168, 170, 171 Til Gubbi ​16 Tol-e Ajori ​334, 335, 336, 337, 338, 339 Wadi Murabbaʿat ​396, 433 Wadi Sdeir ​396, 433

Xenophon ​412, 415, 417 Xerxes ​257, 259, 268, 273, 322, 329, 419 Zakkur ​69, 70, 73–76, 85, 89, 90, 91, 98 Zazanna ​16 Zedekiah ​55, 56, 57, 60, 188, 199, 216, 218, 232, 302, 306, 307, 310, 311