A Teacher for All Generations: Essays in Honor of James C. Vanderkam (Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism)

A Teacher for All Generations

Supplements to the

Journal for the Study of Judaism Editor

Benjamin G. Wright, III Department of Religion Studies, Lehigh University Associate Editors

Florentino García Martínez Qumran Institute, University of Groningen

Hindy Najman Yale University and Department and Centre for the Study of Religion, University of Toronto Advisory Board

g. bohak – j.j. collins – j. duhaime – p.w. van der horst – a.k. petersen – m. popoviĆ – j.t.a.g.m. van ruiten – j. sievers – g. stemberger – e.j.c. tigchelaar – j. magliano-tromp VOLUME 153/I

A Teacher for All Generations Essays in Honor of James C. VanderKam Volume One

Edited by

Eric F. Mason (general editor) Samuel I. Thomas (lead volume editor) Alison Schofield Eugene Ulrich

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2012

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A teacher for all generations : essays in honor of James C. Vanderkam / edited by Eric F. Mason . . . [et al.]. v. cm. — (Supplements to the Journal for the study of Judaism ; v. 153) Includes index. “This collection of essays honors James C. VanderKam on the occasion of his sixty-fifth birthday and twentieth year on the faculty of the University of Notre Dame”—ECIP data view. ISBN 978-90-04-21520-7 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Bible. O.T.—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 2. Dead Sea scrolls. 3. Qumran community. 4. Judaism—History—Post-exilic period, 586 B.C.–210 A.D. 5. Ethiopic book of Enoch—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 6. Book of Jubilees—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 7. Bible. N.T.—Criticism, interpretation, etc. I. VanderKam, James C. II. Mason, Eric Farrel. III. Title. IV. Series. BS1171.3.T43 2012 220.092—dc23 2011030949 Brill has made all reasonable efforts to trace all rights holders to any copyrighted material used in this work. In cases where these efforts have not been successful the publisher welcomes communications from copyright holders, so that the appropriate acknowledgements can be made in future editions, and to settle other permission matters.

ISSN 1384-2161 ISBN 978 90 04 21520 7 (set) 978 90 04 21535 1 (vol. I) 978 90 04 21536 8 (vol. II) Copyright 2012 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change.

CONTENTS Volume One Introduction ...................................................................................... Acknowledgments ............................................................................ List of Contributors ......................................................................... Abbreviations ................................................................................... James C. VanderKam—A Teacher for All Generations ........... Publications of James C. VanderKam (Through 2010) ............ Ph.D. Dissertations Directed by James C. VanderKam (Through 2010) ............................................................................

xi xvii xxi xxv xxxv xli lxix

PART ONE

THE HEBREW BIBLE AND THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST Configuring the Text in Biblical Studies ..................................... Hindy Najman The Relevance of Textual Theories for the Praxis of Textual Criticism ....................................................................................... Emanuel Tov Sea, Storm, Tragedy, and Ethnogenesis: Living the Blues and (Re)Building Community in Post-Katrina America and Early Israel .................................................................................... Hugh R. Page, Jr. Cain’s Legacy: The City and Justice in the Book of Genesis ..... Sejin (Sam) Park The Biblical Manumission Laws: Has the Literary Dependence of H on D Been Demonstrated? ........................ John S. Bergsma

3

23

37

49

65

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contents

The History of Pentecontad Time Units (I) .................................. Jonathan Ben-Dov

93

The Egyptian Goddess Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 1–9: Reassessing Their Relationship .......................... Steven Schweitzer

113

From Name to Book: Another Look at the Composition of the Book of Isaiah with Special Reference to Isaiah 56–66 .......... J. Todd Hibbard

133

LXX Isaiah or Its Vorlage: Primary “Misreadings” and Secondary Modifications .............................................................. Donald W. Parry

151

Isaiah and the King of As/Syria in Daniel’s Final Vision: On the Rhetoric of Inner-Scriptural Allusion and the Hermeneutics of “Mantological Exegesis” ................................ Andrew Teeter

169

The Parallel Editions of the Old Greek and Masoretic Text of Daniel 5 ........................................................................................... Eugene Ulrich

201

Daniel and the Narrative Integrity of His Prayer in Chapter 9 ........................................................................................ Kindalee Pfremmer De Long

219

PART TWO

QUMRAN AND THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS Qumran: Caves, Scrolls, and Buildings .......................................... Sidnie White Crawford

253

Digital Qumran: Virtual Reality or Virtual Fantasy? .................. Jodi Magness

275

Seven Rules for Restoring Lacunae ................................................ James Hamilton Charlesworth

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Collecting Psalms in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls ..................... Armin Lange

297

L’épilogue de 4QMMT revisité ........................................................ Émile Puech

309

Identifying Reuse of Scripture in the Temple Scroll: Some Methodological Reflections .......................................................... Molly M. Zahn

341

Biblical Antecedents of the Kinship Terms in 1QSa ................... Richard J. Bautch

359

Leviticus Outside the Legal Genre .................................................. Sarianna Metso

379

The Interpretation of Scriptural Isaiah in the Qumran Scrolls: Quotations, Citations, Allusions, and the Form of the Scriptural Source Text .................................................................. Peter W. Flint The Status and Interpretation of Jubilees in 4Q390 ..................... Todd R. Hanneken

389

407

Runner, Staff, and Star: Interpreting the Teacher of Righteousness through Scripture ................................................ Kelli S. O’Brien

429

Who is the Teacher of the Teacher Hymns? Re-Examining the Teacher Hymns Hypothesis Fifty Years Later .......................... Angela Kim Harkins

449

Re-Placing Priestly Space: The Wilderness as Heterotopia in the Dead Sea Scrolls ...................................................................... Alison Schofield

469

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contents Volume Two

Abbreviations .....................................................................................

xi

PART THREE

EARLY JUDAISM Tobit as Righteous Sufferer .............................................................. Gary A. Anderson

493

The Growth of Belief in the Sanctity of Mount Gerizim ............ Hanan Eshel ‫ז״ל‬

509

Peton Contests Paying Double Rent on Farmland (P.Heid.Inv. G 5100): A Slice of Judean Experience in the Second Century b.c.e. Herakleopolite Nome ......................................... Rob Kugler Ascents to Heaven in Antiquity: Toward a Typology ................. Adela Yarbro Collins Eternal Writing and Immortal Writers: On the Non-Death of the Scribe in Early Judaism .................................................... Samuel I. Thomas The Rabbis’ Written Torah and the Heavenly Tablets ............... Tzvi Novick Demons of Change: The Transformational Role of the Antagonist in the Apocalypse of Abraham ................................ Andrei A. Orlov Sefer Zerubbabel and Popular Religion .......................................... Martha Himmelfarb

537

553

573

589

601

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PART FOUR

STUDIES ON ENOCH AND JUBILEES Enmeduranki and Gilgamesh: Mesopotamian Figures in Aramaic Enoch Traditions .......................................................... Ida Fröhlich

637

The Parables of Enoch and the Manuscripts from Qumran ...... George W. E. Nickelsburg

655

The Social Setting of the Parables of Enoch ................................. Leslie W. Walck

669

1 Enoch 73:4–8 and the Aramaic Astronomical Book ................. Henryk Drawnel

687

Reflections on Sources behind the Epistle of Enoch and the Significance of 1 Enoch 104:9–13 for the Reception of Enochic Tradition ......................................................................... Loren T. Stuckenbruck On the Importance of Being Abram: Genesis Apocryphon 18, Jubilees 10:1–13:4, and Further Thoughts on a Literary Relationship .................................................................................... Daniel A. Machiela The Genre of the Book of Jubilees .................................................. John J. Collins A Note on Divine Names and Epithets in the Book of Jubilees ............................................................................................. James Kugel

705

715

737

757

Revisiting the Rebekah of the Book of Jubilees ............................ John C. Endres

765

Judah and Tamar in Jubilees 41 ...................................................... Devorah Dimant

783

Enoch and Jubilees in the Canon of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church ............................................................................................. Leslie Baynes

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contents PART FIVE

THE NEW TESTAMENT AND EARLY CHRISTIANITY Aspects of Matthew’s Use of Scripture in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls ....................................................................................... George J. Brooke

821

Surprises from Law and Love: In Tribute to Dr. James C. VanderKam .................................................................................... John P. Meier

839

The Meaning of Εὐαγγέλιον in the Inscriptiones of the Canonical Gospels ......................................................................... David E. Aune

857

One Ethiopian Eunuch is Not the End of the World: The Narrative Function of Acts 8:26–40 ................................... Curt Niccum

883

“Sit at My Right Hand”: Enthronement and the Heavenly Sanctuary in Hebrews ................................................................... Eric F. Mason

901

Christians and the Public Archive .................................................. William Adler

917

Three Apocryphal Fragments from Armenian Manuscripts ...... Michael E. Stone

939

Index of Ancient Sources ................................................................. Index of Modern Authors ................................................................

947 992

INTRODUCTION This Festschrift is the result of the work of many individuals who wish to celebrate colleague, teacher, and mentor James C. VanderKam, known to many simply as “Jim.” As these two volumes honor Jim on the occasion of his sixty-fifth birthday (and twentieth year on the faculty at the University of Notre Dame), we observe that the study of ancient Israel and of Judaism and Christianity in antiquity has developed in so many respects in the course of the last sixty-five years. From the time of the 1940s, scholarly work in biblical studies (from ancient Israel to early Judaism and Christianity) has been transformed by various discoveries as well as by methodological advances. The Dead Sea Scrolls, Nag Hammadi library, and numerous excavations in the Levant and Mediterranean world have provided new data expanding the perspectives of those who study antiquity. Moreover, study of the Bible has been irrevocably changed by insights gleaned from JewishChristian dialogue in the wake of the Shoah and by further deliberation on methodologies employed in the readings of scriptural texts. Jim’s career has coincided with many of these extraordinary changes, and, as the footnotes in these essays will attest, his work has been not only prolific but also wide-ranging. While each contributor was encouraged to submit an essay of his or her choice, most have attempted to interact with Jim’s scholarship in one way or another (in so many cases it cannot be ignored!), on topics extending from ancient Near Eastern calendars to the modern Ethiopian Orthodox scriptural canon. Indeed, Jim’s contributions to our discipline are difficult to measure. Jim’s groundbreaking work on Jubilees, the writings associated with Enoch, and the Dead Sea Scrolls—the latter especially in terms of his work as editor of several volumes of the Discoveries of the Judaean Desert series—has critically advanced our understanding of these texts and their historical contexts. At the same time, as his biography, bibliography, and record of mentoring graduate students demonstrate, Jim’s research, publications, and guidance concern a variety of areas that might well be identified as or seen as relating to the Hebrew Bible/ Old Testament, ancient Near Eastern studies, early Judaism, the Dead Sea Scrolls, apocalyptic literature, Second Temple period traditions, Pseudepigrapha, and early Christianity. It is no surprise, then, that colleagues and former students have contributed to this Festschrift

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essays that represent a similar range of cognate areas, areas that speak to biblical studies and the examination of religion and civilizations in the ancient world. While Jim’s scholarship has certainly made an impact on our studies, his contributions to the academy and the leadership roles he has held at, for example, North Carolina State University, the University of Notre Dame, and the Journal of Biblical Literature, have ensured that many would have a chance to interact and work with him. Jim is respected and appreciated by scholars from around the world, and there is no doubt that if not for space limitations there would be many more who would have happily contributed to this Festschrift. The contents of these volumes suggest the breadth and scope of Jim’s own work and influence on the academy. In Volume 1, the essays in Part I take up topics related to the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East, and essays in Part II concern Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls. Volume 2 is arranged in three parts: Part III, Early Judaism; Part IV, Studies on Enoch and Jubilees; and Part V, the New Testament and Early Christianity. Some have observed that the Festschrift is a curious genre that communicates something important about one’s scholarly circle. In the case of Jim VanderKam, it should be clear that his circle of admirers is extensive. Contributors to the Festschrift come from a number of institutions in Austria, Canada, Hungary, Israel, Poland, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Moreover, there were several supporters of this Festschrift, again of an international scope, who wished to celebrate Jim even if they were not able to contribute essays here. Likewise, those who have studied with Jim, having flourished under his guidance, were enthusiastic about the occasion to honor and remember Jim’s important contributions to their professional development. These former students have progressed in their careers such that they teach, research, and serve at a wide range of institutions; they make their own contributions to the academy while continuing the legacy of their mentor and advisor. All this is to say that Jim’s Bekanntenkreis is not confined to a particular region but is widespread and representative of scholars in our field today, both established and emerging. Jim’s scholarly contributions, of the highest quality, ensure that future students of the Bible, early Judaism, and Christianity will benefit also from his work. From our perspective, invoking purposefully the title of one of his works (the book Enoch—A Man for All Generations), Jim is indeed a scholar and teacher for all generations, and it is our

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privilege to offer this Festschrift honoring his many gifts to us and to the academy. While the essays in these two volumes concern themes familiar to many readers of the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament, other essays explore texts and traditions that are less well known but nonetheless important for our reconstructions of Israelite religion and Judaism and Christianity in antiquity. In many respects, the scope of this Festschrift mirrors well the trajectory of Jim’s own scholarship. Jim has invested a good portion of his life in knowing (in fact, commanding) the “classics”; for many of us in biblical studies, the “classics” might be considered the Hebrew Bible, New Testament, and rabbinic literature, writings of great antiquity that have also been deemed authoritative by generations of religious communities. At the same time, a strength of Jim’s scholarship has been his quest to understand coterminous texts that also shed light on the “canonical” ones. As Jim has shown us through his research, those who would want to understand Israelite religion, early Judaism and Christianity, and the history of these communities must not neglect these additional windows into the past. Thus, our contributors follow Jim’s lead. Many explore with depth and care biblical texts or topics related to the Hebrew Bible, New Testament, or rabbinic literature, illuminating new aspects of or advancing our understanding of these writings; others consider texts and traditions associated with early Judaism and Christianity that are outside these collections of authoritative texts, again to profitable ends. From text criticism to the study of genre, the Dead Sea Scrolls have significantly advanced our understanding of biblical texts and at least some of the communities who preserved them. Similarly, Jubilees and texts associated with the figure Enoch teach us much about diverse traditions within the Second Temple period and how religious communities responded differently to texts Jews and Christians would come to know as Scripture. Likewise, late antique Christian writings also teach us much about the reception and preservation of scriptural texts. Indeed, as many of the essays in these volumes will attest, the importance of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ancient literature and traditions outside of canonical collections, and late antique texts extends beyond the light they shed on canonical writings. The editors and the contributors know—and as Jim has shown through his own scholarship—that the study of Scripture benefits from robust engagement with context, history, and community, and with writings outside of contemporary canonical collections.

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In some respects the scope of these two volumes represents a snapshot of our discipline as it is being construed in the second decade of the twenty-first century. The editors note that there are different ways that these essays could be arranged and put into conversation with each other. The editors struggled, in fact, with how to divide the essays into two volumes and what alternative arrangements might suggest about how we understand our discipline. For example, should one group together essays on the Hebrew Bible and New Testament into one volume that would resemble to some extent the Christian canon (acknowledging, of course, that the Tanak differs from the Old Testament, and that Christians of varying denominations have Old Testaments that differ from one another)? Would such an arrangement suggest that the Dead Sea Scrolls or other ancient writings are peripheral and unimportant to our understanding of ancient Israel, early Judaism, and early Christianity (even though so many of the Qumran scrolls are themselves biblical manuscripts)? Or, given that so many pseudepigraphical texts seem to build on figures and stories of ancient Israel, would it be good to group certain texts (such as Jubilees and 1 Enoch) with those of the Hebrew Bible? Or, since many of the writings of the Dead Sea Scrolls are apocalyptic in orientation, should these have been grouped with similar writings from the early church that are focused on eschatology or messianism? There are other arrangements that could be justified as well, and each would imply certain presuppositions about the ways in which related areas illumine one another. Our subheadings in these volumes pose challenges much like the labels that we often arbitrarily assign to ancient texts. These labels, no doubt, affect how we evaluate or assess the place of texts in the ancient world, a matter still of investigation for scholars. For example, although some essays in Volume 2 were placed in a section on “Early Judaism,” in truth, a majority of the essays in both volumes could easily merit placement under such a rubric. While there might have been fewer disagreements as to what constitutes the “Bible” and less anxiety about terms like “Apocrypha” and “Pseudepigrapha” (as uncertain as these expressions are) a hundred years ago, in the early years of the twenty-first century scholars consider how our previous categories may say more about our most immediate scholarly predecessors or religious heritage and less about our ancient subjects. We know better how our canonical collections have developed, and thanks to the Dead Sea Scrolls and other discoveries,

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we understand more fully the different versions or editions of texts, order of texts in collections, and range of texts that could be considered authoritative in antiquity. Thus, the subheadings and the arrangement of essays in each volume have not been selected naively by the editorial team but rather with the awareness that the current ordering of essays offers one way among many to serve as a vantage point into our discipline at this juncture. Further, while many subheadings do not capture fully the significance and place of various writings and traditions vis-à-vis their own contexts, the editors made use of such headings especially in order to lend structure to the volumes. In the end, these headings provide some basic guidance to the reader, who is encouraged to enjoy all of the rich contributions in these two volumes. To Jim, we wish a happy sixty-fifth birthday and we look forward to celebrating with you and your family for many years to come. Kelley Coblentz Bautch

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Publication of any book is a significant undertaking, but completion of a project with the size and scope of this Festschrift certainly would not have been possible without the numerous contributions of many people eager to honor James C. VanderKam. Though these volumes are thick and the essays are numerous, they constitute only a small expression of our gratitude to Jim as we celebrate his sixty-fifth birthday and twentieth anniversary as a faculty member in the Department of Theology at the University of Notre Dame. Indeed, the project that produced A Teacher for All Generations has its origins in two fledgling efforts to honor Jim that independently began formulating plans in the early months of 2009. Leaders of the groups became aware of the others’ intentions that summer, and fortuitously each group had concentrated thus far on different components for such a project. Quickly a combined editorial team took shape, and the synergy of our efforts provided us a significant leap forward, so much so that less than a month after the merger we were able to extend invitations to potential contributors in August 2009 with firm plans in place. At seven members, our editorial team was large but never unwieldy. We labored together united by our common appreciation for Jim’s formative influence on our lives and careers, and in the process we formed strong bonds between different “generations” of Jim’s graduate students. Several people made vital contributions early on, without which this project would not have been possible. Florentino García Martínez was an early champion of the Festschrift. As editor (in some capacity) for multiple relevant series, he suggested the Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism series (Brill) as the one most appropriate given the broad scope of Jim’s own work and the expected articles in the collection. Though circumstances did not allow him to contribute an essay to the collection personally, its existence nevertheless owes much to Florentino’s eagerness to see this tribute to Jim succeed. Likewise, Hindy Najman, the series editor at that time and Jim’s former colleague at Notre Dame, enthusiastically embraced the project and authorized its inclusion in the series. Machiel Kleemans, then Brill’s editor for the series, provided invaluable guidance on matters

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acknowledgments

far too numerous to list, and the fruit of his sage advice is evident throughout the final product; we wish him only the best in his new endeavors. Indeed, we are deeply indebted to everyone at Brill for this esteemed publisher’s commitment to scholarship on Second Temple Judaism in general and specifically to this project. Despite transitions in the series editorship and Brill’s staff, the support for this Festschrift remained firm, and in its latter stages series editor Benjamin Wright and Brill’s Peter Buschman, Mattie Kuiper, and Suzanne Mekking have skillfully guided it to completion. A two-volume Festschrift likely is not the easiest project to inherit, but they have done so with aplomb and their leadership has been much appreciated. Numerous people at Notre Dame have also made significant contributions to this project. Monica Brady, who completed her dissertation with Jim, co-edited multiple volumes in the Discoveries in the Judaean Desert series, and continues to work with him as editorial assistant for the Journal of Biblical Literature, advised us on numerous matters early in the process. Later, Dr. J. Matthew Ashley, chair of the Department of Theology, and Dr. Gregory E. Sterling, dean of the Graduate School, provided vital support. Behind the scenes, Jim’s wife Mary VanderKam made invaluable contributions. In many ways this Festschrift is also a tribute to her, and like Jim she is beloved, respected, and admired by all who know her. Others have provided assistance at various stages. We are grateful to Aminah Hassoun, a student at California Lutheran University, whose keen reading during the editing stage improved the final state of the manuscript of volume 1. Similarly, we express appreciation to Dr. Robert E. Wallace, Judson University, for his help with file format conversions. We are very indebted to April Favara of the University of Denver and Iliff School of Theology, Joe L. Ruiz of St. Edward’s University, and especially Jonathan Trotter of the University of Notre Dame for their preparation of the indices. This was made possible in part by support from the Institute for Scholarship in the Liberal Arts, College of Arts and Letters, University of Notre Dame. We also express thanks to Brad Bechler, Susan Swartwout, and Michelle Ailene True for granting permission for our inclusion of quotations from their poems in the contribution by Hugh R. Page, Jr. in volume 1. Attempts to contact rights holders for other works quoted in that article were unsuccessful. A longer version of the article by Adela Yarbro Collins in volume 2 of this collection is forthcoming in David E. Aune and

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Frederick Brenk, eds., Biblical and New Testament Genres and Themes in the Context of Greco-Roman Literature (Brill). Finally, the editors express appreciation to our families for their support and patience during the many hours spent planning, writing, and editing. Jim’s influence and kindness extend far beyond just his students and colleagues, and these volumes are by extension also expressions of our families’ gratitude to him. While this collection includes fifty-one contributions from Jim’s students and colleagues, this reflects only a small portion of those impacted by his scholarly contributions and influence on their own lives and work. The editorial team faced many difficult decisions in narrowing down the invitation list for articles, both due to Jim’s wideranging scholarly interests and the high regard in which so many hold him. Unfortunately some invited contributors were unable to participate due to health issues or other pressing commitments, and we frequently were asked about the possibility of including a list of other friends and colleagues expressing congratulations to Jim. The editors decided against including the latter because by necessity it would have been very incomplete, and we trust that the present collection serves as a testament to the high regard with which Jim is held in the international academic community. Eric F. Mason for the editorial team

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS William Adler North Carolina State University Gary A. Anderson University of Notre Dame David E. Aune University of Notre Dame Richard J. Bautch St. Edward’s University (Texas) Leslie Baynes Missouri State University Jonathan Ben-Dov University of Haifa John S. Bergsma Franciscan University of Steubenville George J. Brooke University of Manchester James H. Charlesworth Princeton Theological Seminary Kelley Coblentz Bautch St. Edward’s University (Texas) John J. Collins Yale University Adela Yarbro Collins Yale University

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Sidnie White Crawford University of Nebraska—Lincoln Kindalee Pfremmer De Long Pepperdine University Devorah Dimant University of Haifa Henryk Drawnel The John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin John C. Endres Jesuit School of Theology of Santa Clara University (in Berkeley) Hanan Eshel ‫ז״ל‬ Bar-Ilan University Peter W. Flint Trinity Western University Ida Fröhlich Pázmány Péter Catholic University Todd R. Hanneken St. Mary’s University (Texas) Angela Kim Harkins Fairfield University J. Todd Hibbard University of Detroit Mercy Martha Himmelfarb Princeton University James Kugel Bar-Ilan University

list of contributors Rob Kugler Lewis & Clark College Armin Lange University of Vienna Daniel A. Machiela McMaster University Jodi Magness University of North Carolina—Chapel Hill Eric F. Mason Judson University (Illinois) John P. Meier University of Notre Dame Sarianna Metso University of Toronto Hindy Najman Yale University and University of Toronto Curt Niccum Abilene Christian University George W. E. Nickelsburg University of Iowa Tzvi Novick University of Notre Dame Kelli S. O’Brien Regis University (Colorado) Andrei A. Orlov Marquette University

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list of contributors

Hugh R. Page, Jr. University of Notre Dame Sejin (Sam) Park Donald W. Parry Brigham Young University Émile Puech Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Paris—École Biblique et Archéologique Française, Jérusalem Alison Schofield University of Denver Steven Schweitzer Bethany Theological Seminary (Indiana) Michael E. Stone Hebrew University of Jerusalem Loren T. Stuckenbruck Princeton Theological Seminary Andrew Teeter Harvard University Samuel I. Thomas California Lutheran University Emanuel Tov Hebrew University of Jerusalem Eugene Ulrich University of Notre Dame Leslie W. Walck Colfax Lutheran Church, Colfax, Wisconsin Molly M. Zahn University of Kansas

ABBREVIATIONS In general the essays in this volume follow the conventions of The SBL Handbook of Style, edited by Patrick H. Alexander, John F. Kutsko, James D. Ernest, Shirley A. Decker-Lucke, and David L. Petersen (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1999). General Abbreviations AASOR Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research AB Anchor Bible ABD Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by D. N. Freedman. 6 vols. New York, 1992 ADAJ Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan AGAJU Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums AHw Akkadisches Handwörterbuch. Edited by W. von Soden. 3 vols. Wiesbaden, 1965–1981 AnBib Analecta biblica ANET Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Edited by J. B. Pritchard. Princeton, 1969 ANF Ante-Nicene Fathers ANRW Aufstieg und Niedergang der romischen Welt: Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung. Edited by H. Temporini and W. Haase. Berlin, 1972– ANTC Abingdon New Testament Commentaries AOAT Alter Orient und Altes Testament AOS American Oriental Series AR Archiv für Religionswissenschaft ArBib The Aramaic Bible ASP American Studies in Papyrology ATD Das Alte Testament Deutsch BA Biblical Archaeologist BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research BBB Bonner biblische Beiträge BBR Bulletin for Biblical Research

xxvi BDAG

abbreviations

Bauer, W., W. F. Arndt, F. W. Gingrich, and F. W. Danker. Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 2d ed. Chicago, 1979 BETL Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium BGU Aegyptische Urkunden aus den Königlichen Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin, Griechische Urkunden. 15 vols. Berlin, 1895–1983 BHT Beiträge zur historischen Theologie BI Biblical Interpretation Bib Biblica BibOr Biblica et orientalia BibS(F) Biblische Studien (Freiburg, 1895–) BJRL Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester BJS Brown Judaic Studies BN Biblische Notizen BO Bibliotheca orientalis BTB Biblical Theology Bulletin BWANT Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament BZABR Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für altorientalische und biblische Rechtgeschichte BZAW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft BZNW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft CAD The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Chicago, 1956– CAH Cambridge Ancient History CahRB Cahiers de la Revue biblique CBET Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly CBQMS Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series CC Continental Commentaries CEJL Commentaries on Early Jewish Literature ConBNT Coniectanea biblica: New Testament Series CP Classical Philology CPJ Corpus papyrorum judaicorum. Edited by V. Tcherikover. 3 vols. Cambridge, 1957–64 CRINT Compendia rerum iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum

abbreviations CSCO

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Corpus scriptorium christianorum orientalium. Edited by I. B. Chabot et al. Paris, 1903– DDD Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible. Edited by K. van der Toorn, B. Becking, and P. W. van der Horst. Leiden, 1995 [2d ed., 1999] DSD Dead Sea Discoveries EDSS Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Lawrence Schiffman and James C. VanderKam. 2 vols. Oxford, 2000 EncJud Encyclopedia Judaica. 16 vols. Jerusalem, 1972 EvQ Evangelical Quarterly ETL Ephemerides theologicae lovanienses ExpTim Expository Times FAT Forschungen zum Alten Testament FOTL Forms of the Old Testament Literature FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments GCS Die griechische christliche Schriftsteller der ersten [drei] Jahrhunderte HAT Handbuch zum Alten Testament HNT Handbuch zum Neuen Testament HS Hebrew Studies HSM Harvard Semitic Monographs HSS Harvard Semitic Studies HTR Harvard Theological Review HUBP Hebrew University Bible Project HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual ICC International Critical Commentary IEJ Israel Exploration Journal Int Interpretation JAAS Journal of Asia Adventist Seminary JANESCU Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JCS Journal of Cuneiform Studies JCT Jewish and Christian Texts JEA Journal of Egyptian Archaeology JECS Journal of Early Christian Studies

xxviii JEOL JETS JJS JNES JNSL JQR JRT JSJ JSNT JSNTSup JSOT JSOTSup JSP JSPSup JSQ JSS JTS KAT KEK KHC KS LCL LHBOTS LNTS LSTS MBPF MVAG NCBC NICOT NIDB NovT

abbreviations Jaarbericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Gezelschap (Genootschap) Ex oriente lux Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies Journal of Northwest Semitic Languages Jewish Quarterly Review Journal of Religious Thought Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods Journal for the Study of the New Testament Journal for the Study of the New Testament: Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha: Supplement Series Jewish Studies Quarterly Journal of Semitic Studies Journal of Theological Studies Kommentar zum Alten Testament Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament (Meyer-Kommentar) Kurzer Hand-Commentar zum Alten Testament Kirjath-Sepher Loeb Classical Library Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies Library of New Testament Studies Library of Second Temple Studies Münchener Beiträge zur Papyrusforschung und antiken Rechtgeschichte Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatisch-ägyptischen Gesellschaft. Vols. 1–44. 1896–1939 New Century Bible Commentary New International Commentary on the Old Testament The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by Katharine Doob Sakenfeld. 5 vols. Nashville, 2006–2009 Novum Testamentum

abbreviations NovTSup NTL NTOASA NTS OBO OBT OCD OLA OrNS OTL OtSt PAAJR PCPS PEFQS PMLA PO PRSt PTSMS RAC RB RechBib REJ RelSoc RES RevQ (RdQ) RHR RSR SAOC SB SBLABS SBLDS SBLEJL SBLMS

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Novum Testamentum Supplements New Testament Library Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus Series Archaeologica New Testament Studies Orbis biblicus et orientalis Overtures in Biblical Theology Oxford Classical Dictionary. Edited by S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth. 3d ed. Oxford, 1996 Orientalia lovaniensia analecta Orientalia (Nova Series) Old Testament Library Oudtestamentlische Studiën Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement Publications of the Modern Language Association Patrologia orientalis Perspectives in Religious Studies Princeton Theological Seminary Monograph Series Reallexicon für Antike und Christentum. Edited by T. Kluser et al. Stuttgart, 1950– Revue Biblique Recherches bibliques Revue des etudes juives Religion and Society Revue des etudes sémitique Revue de Qumran Revue de l’histoire des religions Recherches de science religieuse Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilizations Sources bibliques Society of Biblical Literature Archaeology and Biblical Studies Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series Society of Biblical Literature Early Judaism and Its Literature Society of Biblical Literature Monograph Series

xxx SBLRBS SBLSP SBLSymS SBLTT SBLWAW SBM SBT ScrHier SDSSRL SEÅ SJLA SNTSMS SOTSMS SP SSAP SSEJC STDJ StPatr StPB SUNT SVTP TBN TDNT

TLOT

TLZ TQ Transeu TSAJ TU UF VT VTSup WBC WMANT

abbreviations Society of Biblical Literature Resources for Biblical Study Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series Society of Biblical Literature Texts and Translations Society of Biblical Literature Writings from the Ancient World Stuttgarter biblische Monographien Studies in Biblical Theology Scripta hierosolymitana Studies on the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature Svensk exegetisk årsbok Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Society for Old Testament Studies Monograph Series Sacra pagina Series of Studies on the Ancient Period Studies in Early Judaism and Christianity Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah Studia patristica Studia post-biblica Studien zur Umwelt des Neuen Testaments Studia in Veteris Testamenti pseudepigraphica Themes in Biblical Narrative Theological Dictionary of the New Testament. Edited by G. Kittel and G. Friedrich. Translated by G. W. Bromiley. 10 vols. Grand Rapids, 1964–76 Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament. Edited by E. Jenni, with assistance from C. Westermann. Translated by M. E. Biddle. 3 vols. Peabody, Mass., 1997 Theologische Literaturzeitung Theologische Quartalschrift Transeuphratène Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum Texte und Untersuchungen Ugarit-Forschungen Vetus Testamentum Vetus Testamentum Supplements Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament

abbreviations WUNT YCS ZA ZAW ZDMG ZDPV ZPE

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Yale Classical Studies Zeitschrift für Assyriologie Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenländischen Gesellschaft Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik Editions of the Dead Sea Scrolls

The following editions of the Dead Sea Scrolls are cited in these volumes. DJD 1

Barthélemy, D. and J. T. Milik. Qumran Cave 1. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 1. Oxford: Clarendon, 1955. DJD 3 Baillet, M., J. T. Milik, and R. de Vaux. Les ‘petites grottes’ de Qumrân. 2 vols. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 3. Oxford: Clarendon, 1962. DJD 4 Sanders, J. A. The Psalms Scroll of Qumran Cave 11 (11QPsa). Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 4. Oxford: Clarendon, 1965. DJD 6 de Vaux, R. and J. T. Milik. Qumrân grotte 4.II. I Archéologie, II. Tefillin, Mezuzot et Targums (4Q128–4Q157). Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 6. Oxford: Clarendon, 1977. DJD 9 Skehan, P. W., E. Ulrich, and J. E. Sanderson. Qumran Cave 4.IV: Palaeo-Hebrew and Greek Biblical Manuscripts. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 9. Oxford: Clarendon, 1992. DJD 10 Qimron, E. and J. Strugnell. Qumran Cave 4.V: Miqsat Ma‘ase ha-Torah. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 10. Oxford: Clarendon, 1994. DJD 13 Attridge, H. et al., in consultation with J. VanderKam. Qumran Cave 4.VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 1. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 13. Oxford: Clarendon, 1994. DJD 15 Ulrich, E. et al. Qumran Cave 4.X: The Prophets. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 15. Oxford: Clarendon, 1997.

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abbreviations

DJD 16 Ulrich, E. et al. Qumran Cave 4.XI: Psalms to Chronicles. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 16. Oxford: Clarendon, 2000. DJD 18 Baumgarten, J. M. Qumran Cave 4.XIII: The Damascus Document (4Q266–273). Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 18. Oxford: Clarendon, 1996. DJD 22 Brooke, G. J. et al., in consultation with J. VanderKam. Qumran Cave 4.XVII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 3. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 22. Oxford: Clarendon, 1996. DJD 23 García Martínez, F., E. J. C. Tigchelaar, and A. S. van der Woude. Qumran Cave 11.II: 11Q2–18, 11Q20–31. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 23. Oxford: Clarendon, 1998. DJD 25 Puech, É. Qumran Cave 4.XVIII: Textes hébreux (4Q521–528, 4Q576–579). Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 25. Oxford: Clarendon, 1998. DJD 28 Gropp, D. Wadi Daliyeh II: The Samaria Papyri for Wadi Daliyeh; Schuller, E., et al., in consultation with J. VanderKam and M. Brady. Qumran Cave 4.XXVIII: Miscellanea, Part 2. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 28. Oxford: Clarendon, 2001. DJD 29 Chazon, E. et al., in consultation with J. VanderKam and M. Brady. Qumran Cave 4.XX: Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 2. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 29. Oxford: Clarendon, 1999. DJD 30 Dimant, D. Qumran Cave 4.XXI: Parabiblical Texts, Part 4: Pseudo-Prophetic Texts. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 30. Oxford: Clarendon, 2001. DJD 31 Puech, É. Qumrân Grotte 4.XXII: Textes araméens, première partie, 4Q529–549. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 31. Oxford: Clarendon, 2001. DJD 32 Ulrich, E. and P. W. Flint, Qumran Cave 1.II: The Isaiah Scrolls. 2 vols. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 32. Oxford: Clarendon, 2011. DJD 36 Pfann, S. J. Qumran Cave 4.XXVI: Cryptic Texts; Alexander, P. S. et al., in consultation with J. VanderKam and M. Brady. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 36. Oxford: Clarendon, 2000. DJD 37 Puech, É. Qumrân Grotte 4.XXVII: Textes araméens, deuxième partie, 4Q550–575, 580–582. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 37. Oxford: Clarendon, 2009.

abbreviations DJD 39

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Tov, E., ed. The Texts from the Judaean Desert: Indices and an Introduction to the Discoveries in the Judaean Desert Series. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 39. Oxford: Clarendon, 2002. DJD 40 Newsom, C., H. Stegemann, and E. Schuller. Qumran Cave 1.III: 1QHodayota, with Incorporation of 4QHodayota-f and 1QHodayotb. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 40. Oxford: Clarendon, 2008. DSSR Parry, D. W. and E. Tov. The Dead Sea Scrolls Reader. 6 vols. Leiden: Brill, 2004. DSSSE García Martínez, F. and E. J. C. Tigchelaar. The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition. 2 vols. Leiden and Grand Rapids: Brill and Eerdmans, 1999. PTSDSSP 2 Charlesworth, James H., ed. Damascus Document, War Scroll, and Related Documents. The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations 2. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1995. PTSDSSP 3 Charlesworth, James H., ed., with Henry W. L. Reitz, along with J. M. Baumgarten. Damascus Document Fragments, Some Works of the Torah, and Related Documents. The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations 3. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2005. PTSDSSP 4A Charlesworth, James H. and Henry W. L. Reitz, eds. Pseudepigraphic and Non-Masoretic Psalms and Prayers. The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations 4A. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997. PTSDSSP 6B Charlesworth, James H., ed. Pesharim, Other Commentaries, and Related Documents. The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations 6B. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002. PTSDSSP 7 Charlesworth, James H., ed. Temple Scroll and Related Documents. The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations 7. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2010.

JAMES C. VANDERKAM—A TEACHER FOR ALL GENERATIONS “Let us now sing the praises of famous men!” begins Ben Sira’s hymn for the venerable ancestors of Israel. It is indeed fitting to stop occasionally for reflection upon, and celebration of, the lives of those worthy of emulation. Such is the life of our dear friend and colleague James VanderKam. The present Festschrift is ample testimony to the caliber and impact of Jim’s scholarship; it seems unnecessary to belabor a point so obvious. It is also, however, a witness to the fact that he is far more than the sum of his bibliography. Jim is a wonderful person who has touched many lives for the better, inside and outside of the academic contexts in which he has proven so influential. This brief biography is an attempt to paint some of the broad strokes of Jim’s life. As such, it is part historiography and another part first-hand knowledge and reflection by someone who spent six years studying formally under Jim’s guidance. I should especially like to thank Jim’s wife Mary for her help in recounting his younger days. I should also say that I make no attempt to document comprehensively Jim’s scholarly breadth and accomplishments, to the great relief of many trees. To get a sense of these attainments the reader is directed to the bibliography included in this volume. James Claire VanderKam entered this world in the small, northern Michigan town of Cadillac on February 15, 1946. The second child of Henry and Elaine VanderKam (Dekker), he is one of five children along with two brothers (Henry and David) and two sisters (Terri and Judy). Jim’s father was a pastor in the Christian Reformed Church (a historically Dutch Calvinist denomination) and, as such pastors are wont to do, he moved his family in order to serve new churches every so often: first there was Prosper Christian Reformed Church (Falmouth, Michigan), then Second Christian Reformed Church (Pella, Iowa), followed by 12th Avenue Christian Reformed Church (Jenison, Michigan), and finally Grace Christian Reformed Church (Kalamazoo, Michigan). It was during the Jenison years that something momentous happened to Jim: he met his future wife, Mary Vander Molen. This meeting took place at Jenison Christian School, in the 7th grade, and Jim’s

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life undoubtedly took a turn for the better as a result. After graduating from Unity Christian High School in 1964 (Jim was the president of student council that year), he proceeded to study at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan (1964–68). Here Jim excelled as a major in Classics, and with one year of college remaining he and Mary were married in 1967. Following completion of his B.A. degree, Jim enrolled in Calvin Theological Seminary with the intention of entering the pastorate (1968–71). While at seminary, however, a growing interest in biblical studies and archeology developed into a pursuit of further graduate studies in these areas. In the end, Jim was not ordained as a “Minister of Word and Sacrament” due to this change of direction, though he did serve churches over three summer assignments during his time at seminary. Here I must mention that Jim’s bright future as an archeologist was unexpectedly derailed. He and Mary were planning to participate in an excavation in Jordan over the summer of 1970, but due to unrest in Jordan related to the airplane hijackings of that year and other tensions with the Palestinians living in Jordan, their entry to that country was not possible. The couple decided to make the most of this turn of events by travelling across Europe for three months in a pup-tent on a strictly regulated budget of $5 per day. It is indeed profound to consider how those tragic world events impacted study of the book of Jubilees, and perhaps, too, some forlorn Middle Eastern tell. With several graduate admissions offers on the table, Jim chose next to enter the Th.D. program at Harvard Divinity School, due in part to the support of Dr. Bastiaan (Bas) Van Elderen, who taught courses at Calvin Seminary and was himself a respected biblical scholar and archeologist. Harvard would have to wait, however, for Jim had also received a one-year Fulbright fellowship to study at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland (1971–72). It was here that their first child, Jeff, was born. Rumor also has it that Jim was a commanding presence on the basketball court during his stay in St. Andrews (Jim has hinted that he was 6’ 6” tall and 230 pounds in those days). Upon returning from Scotland, studies at Harvard commenced (1972–76). Although Jim began in the Th.D. program, he eventually requested to transfer into the Ph.D. track, where he would work under the co-supervision of Frank Moore Cross and John Strugnell—both giants in their generation of Dead Sea Scrolls research. As most readers of this biography will already know, Jim eventually settled on the book of Jubilees for his dissertation topic, a version of which was pub-

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lished in 1977 under the title Textual and Historical Studies in the Book of Jubilees. The book of Jubilees would comprise a major (though by no means the only) focus of Jim’s academic career, up to the present day with his ongoing Jubilees Hermeneia commentary project. It was also his expertise in Jubilees that led to Jim’s benchmark Ethiopic edition and translation of that book in the esteemed Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium series in 1989; here Jim incorporated the previous labors of Dutch scholars Rochus Zuurmond and Willem Baars, who had collected lists and copies of many Ethiopic manuscripts. In 1976 Jim was offered a job in the Department of Philosophy and Religion at North Carolina State University in Raleigh, North Carolina, where he and his family lived and worked until 1991. Jim and Mary’s second child, Laura, was born in 1978, and along with their two children they left for another stint at St. Andrews in 1981. Here Jim worked closely with Matthew Black, and he made such a good impression that Black asked him to be the literary executor of his commentary on 1 Enoch. Though Jim never had to fulfill this duty, he did end up transcribing and translating all of the Ethiopic for the project. In this, the birthplace of modern golf, Jim was also able to cultivate an avid and longstanding (he might add longsuffering) interest in that game. After returning from Scotland, life continued on in Raleigh, punctuated by the birth of Dan, their third child (1984), and another academic leave to the University of California, San Diego, during the fall of 1987. By this time Jim had published his second book, Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition (1984), prefacing an important body of work in the Enochic literature and traditions (yet another Hermeneia volume on this front, co-authored with George Nickelsburg, scheduled to appear in late 2011). In due time, the University of Notre Dame Department of Theology came calling. Jim answered, accepting a position there as full professor in 1991, and in 1998 he was elevated to an endowed chair as John A. O’Brien Professor of Hebrew Scriptures. The move to South Bend, Indiana, offered a context in which Jim could expand the borders of his research and teaching in exciting new ways. For instance, Jim was able to team up with Eugene Ulrich to make Notre Dame a center of Dead Sea Scrolls research, the North American hub of editorial work on the official publication project of the Scrolls, the Discoveries in the Judaean Desert series (for which Jim was a prominent editor), published by Oxford University Press. This contributed to Notre Dame’s

xxxviii james c. vanderkam—a teacher for all generations rise to prominence as a place for the study of early Judaism and its integration into the wider field of biblical studies. Further—and here is where I and most editors of these volumes have felt his impact the greatest—Jim was now able to take on graduate students and to help mentor a new generation of scholars. His ongoing contributions in this respect are impressive, and we can say from personal experience that Jim exemplifies for his students the very best balance of hard work, thoroughness, attention to detail, generosity, patience, and especially kindness and graciousness. While at Notre Dame Jim has also helped to shape his discipline by serving on the editorial boards of nearly every esteemed journal and series in his field, through his terms as a founding editor of Dead Sea Discoveries and chief editor of the Journal of Biblical Literature, and by assuming leading roles in professional organizations such as the Society for Biblical Literature. Jim does not seek the spotlight for himself, but it nevertheless finds him because of the quality of his work and his commitment to the field. To this day Jim continues to be a vital, formative member of the Department of Theology at Notre Dame, with connections of friendship and scholarship stretching across the globe. In addition to all these things, Jim and Mary have seen five grandchildren added to their family during the years at Notre Dame (with a sixth now on the way). Although Jim’s academic career is as distinguished as one could imagine, recounting these achievements does not do him full justice. For one thing, Jim has long been and remains a man of sport. He is an avid fan of basketball, baseball, and American football, and he has plied himself at various stages to basketball, running, golf, and softball, to name just a few. The church softball team (both men’s and co-ed) has been a summer staple for Jim throughout his time in South Bend, a good-humored token of his role being the name one of these teams bore for a number of years: The Grateful Dead Sea Scrolls (the shirt was tie-dyed and had Jim’s portrait on the front)! This leads naturally to the prominent, dedicated roles that Jim and Mary have played in their various church communities over the years. At South Bend Christian Reformed Church Jim has held almost every role conceivable for a layperson, from head of Church Council as an elder to middle school catechism teacher. Anyone who walks into Jim’s office will quickly notice something in addition to the shelves of books and journals. The box of toys in

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the corner, the electric train set in the office next door, the children’s drawings scotch-taped to the front of Jim’s desk, the Hawaiian leis and tiki torches left by a raiding band of graduate students, and the many pictures of grandchildren and others who are part of his and Mary’s lives—all of these point to Jim’s highest priorities and aspirations. A lovely, parting illustration is Jim’s faithful practice of reading every week during the academic year with first-grade schoolchildren who need extra help at the nearby Tarkington Elementary School. This, from a man who is otherwise as busy and productive as many of us could only dream. “Let us now sing the praises of famous men!” James VanderKam may be famous because of his excellent, insightful, and influential scholarship, but this is only one of the reasons we sing his praises through this collection of essays. Daniel A. Machiela

PUBLICATIONS OF JAMES C. VANDERKAM (THROUGH 2010) 1973 “The Theophany of Enoch i, 3b–7, 9,” Vetus Testamentum 23, 129–50. 1977 “Bhl in Ps 2:5 and Its Etymology,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 39, 245–50. “A Typological Analysis of Intertestamental Pronouncement Stories.” Pages 279–84 in Society of Biblical Literature: Seminar Papers. Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press. Textual and Historical Studies in the Book of Jubilees. Harvard Semitic Monographs 14. Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press. Review of D. Gowan, Bridge Between the Testaments in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 39, 559–61. 1978 “The Textual Affinities of the Biblical Citations in the Genesis Apocryphon,” Journal of Biblical Literature 97, 45–55. “Enoch Traditions in Jubilees and Other Second-Century Sources.” Pages 229–51 in Society of Biblical Literature: Seminar Papers. Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press. Review of H. R. Moeller, The Legacy of Zion in The Banner 113, 27. Review of E. M. Laperrousaz, Qoumrân: L’établissement essénien des bords de la Mer Morte. Histoire et archéologie du site in Journal of Biblical Literature 97, 310–11. Review of B. Z. Wacholder, Essays on Jewish Chronology and Chronography in Journal of the American Oriental Society 98, 517–19. 1979 “The Origin, Character, and Early History of the 364-Day Calendar: A Reassessment of Jaubert’s Hypotheses,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 41, 390–411. “The Poetry of 1 Q Ap Gen XX, 2–8a,” Revue de Qumran 37, 57–66. Review of C. A. Moore, Daniel, Esther and Jeremiah: The Additions in Journal of Biblical Literature 98, 434–36. Review of S. Lund and J. A. Foster, Variant Versions of Targumic Traditions Within Codex Neofiti 1 in Journal of Biblical Literature 98, 465.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Review of J. M. Baumgarten, Studies in Qumran Law in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 41, 669–70.

1980 “Old Problems Revisited: Inerrancy, Princeton, and Orthodoxy,” Reformed Journal 30, 18–21. “The Righteousness of Noah.” Pages 13–32 in Ideal Figures in Ancient Judaism: Profiles and Paradigms. Edited by George W. E. Nickelsburg and John J. Collins. Septuagint and Cognate Studies 12. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press. “Davidic Complicity in the Deaths of Abner and Eshbaal: A Historical and Redactional Study,” Journal of Biblical Literature 99, 521–39. Review of P. von der Osten-Sacken, Gott und Belial: traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zum Dualismus in den Texten aus Qumran in Religious Studies Review 6, 72. Review of J. T. Milik, The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4 in Journal of the American Oriental Society 100, 360–62. Review of E. Ulrich, The Qumran Text of Samuel and Josephus in Journal of Biblical Literature 99, 599–601. 1981 “2 Maccabees 6,7a and Calendrical Change in Jerusalem,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 12, 52–74. “Intertestamental Pronouncement Stories.” Pages 65–72 in Pronouncement Stories. Edited by Robert Tannehill. Semeia 20. “The Putative Author of the Book of Jubilees,” Journal of Semitic Studies 26, 209–17. Review of J. C. H. LeBram, Lijden en redding in het Antieke Jodendom in Religious Studies Review 7, 82. Review of C. V. Newsom, The Roots of Christianity in Religious Studies Review 7, 69. Review of Eretz-Israel 14: H. L. Ginsberg Volume in Religious Studies Review 7, 64. Review of J. Fitzmyer and D. Harrington, A Manual of Palestinian Aramaic Texts in Journal of Biblical Literature 100, 142–43. Review of D. W. Suter, Tradition and Composition in the Parables of Enoch in Journal of the American Academy of Religion 49, 489–90. Review of H. Lichtenberger, Studien zum Menschenbild in Texten der Qumrangemeinde in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 43, 447–49.

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Review of M. Hengel, Jews, Greeks and Barbarians in Interpretation 35, 428–29. Review of L. Hartman, Asking for a Meaning: A Study of 1 Enoch 1–5 in Journal of Biblical Literature 100, 641–42. Review of M. A. Knibb, The Ethiopic Book of Enoch: A New Edition in the Light of the Aramaic Dead Sea Fragments in Journal of the American Oriental Society 101, 412–14. 1982 “Some Major Issues in the Contemporary Study of 1 Enoch: Reflections on J. T. Milik’s The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumrân Cave 4,” MAARAV 3, 85–97. “A 28-Day-Month Tradition in the Book of Jubilees?” Vetus Testamentum 32, 504–6. Review of F. M. Cross, Jr., The Ancient Library of Qumran and Modern Biblical Studies in Calvin Theological Journal 17, 102–5. Review of M. K. H. Peters, An Analysis of the Textual Character of the Bohairic of Deuteronomy in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 44, 493–94. 1983 “1 Enoch 77, 3 and a Babylonian Map of the World,” Revue de Qumran 42, 271–78. “The 364-Day Calendar in the Enochic Literature.” Pages 157– 65 in Society of Biblical Literature: Seminar Papers. Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press. Review of M. Küchler, Frühjüdische Weisheitstraditionen in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 45, 111–13. Review of B. E. Thiering, The Gospels and Qumran: A New Hypothesis in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 45, 512–14. Review of B. E. Thiering, The Gospels and Qumran: A New Hypothesis in Religious Studies Review 9, 283. Review of K. Berger, Das Buch der Jubiläen in Religious Studies Review 9, 283–84. 1984 Enoch and the Growth of An Apocalyptic Tradition. Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series 16. Washington, D.C.: The Catholic Biblical Association of America. “Recent Studies in ‘Apocalyptic,’ ” Word and World 4, 70–77. “Sensitive Conservatism,” Reformed Journal 34, 24–27. “Studies in the Apocalypse of Weeks,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 46, 511–23.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Review of Melvin K. H. Peters, ed., A Critical Edition of the Coptic (Bohairic) Pentateuch, vol. 5: Deuteronomy in Religious Studies Review 10, 170. Review of F. du Toit Laubscher, “Aharît hajjamîm” in die Qumran-Geskrifte in Religious Studies Review 10, 187–88. Review of R. Eisenman, Maccabees, Zadokites, Christians, and Qumran: A New Hypothesis of Qumran Origins in Religious Studies Review 10, 405. Review of B. Z. Wacholder, The Dawn of Qumran in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 46, 803–4.

1985 The Book of Enoch or 1 Enoch. By Matthew Black, in consultation with James C. VanderKam, with an Appendix on the ‘Astronomical’ Chapters (72–82) by Otto Neugebauer. Leiden: Brill. “Zadok and the SPR HTWRH HḤ TWM in Dam. Doc. V, 2–5,” Revue de Qumran 44, 561–70. “The Book of Jubilees.” Pages 111–44 in Outside the Old Testament. Edited by M. de Jonge. Cambridge Commentaries on the Writings of the Jewish and Christian World 200 BC to AD 200, vol. 4. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Review of J. Ziegler, ed., Iob in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 47, 153–54. Review of M. Baillet, Qumrân Grotte 4.III (4Q482–4Q520) (DJD VII) in Journal of Biblical Literature 104, 327–29. Review of J. Goldstein, II Maccabees in Journal of the American Academy of Religion 53, 134–35. Review of B. Z. Wacholder, The Dawn of Qumran in Biblical Archaeologist 48, 126–27. Review of E. Schwarz, Identität durch Abgrenzung in Religious Studies Review 11, 84. Review of J. Neusner, Ancient Judaism: Debates and Disputes in Religious Studies Review 11, 85. Review of J. H. Charlesworth, ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 1 in Interpretation 39, 302–4. Review of R. Eisenman, Maccabees, Zadokites, Christians and Qumran: A New Hypothesis of Qumran Origins in Journal of the American Oriental Society 105, 798–99. 1986 “The Prophetic-Sapiential Origins of Apocalyptic Thought.” Pages 163–76 in A Word in Season: Essays in Honour of

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William McKane. Edited by James D. Martin and Philip R. Davies. JSOT Supplement Series 42. Sheffield: JSOT Press. Review of G. J. Brooke, Exegesis at Qumran: 4 Q Florilegium in its Jewish Context in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 48, 554. Review of J. J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination in Journal of the American Academy of Religion 54, 140–41. Review of M. Himmelfarb, Tours of Hell in Theology Today 42, 526–27. Review of M. E. Stone, ed., Jewish Writings of the Second Temple Period (Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum, Section 2, vol. 2) in Interpretation 40, 194–95. Review of A. van der Lingen, David en Saul in I Samuel 16–II Samuel 5: verhalen in politiek en religie in Journal of Biblical Literature 105, 136–37. Review of J. H. Charlesworth, ed., The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, vol. 2 in Theology Today 43, 147. Review of F. E. Greenspahn et al., eds., Nourished With Peace: Studies in Hellenistic Judaism in Memory of Samuel Sandmel in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 48, 766–67. Review of K. Bringmann, Hellenistische Reform und Religionsverfolgung in Judäa in Religious Studies Review 12, 306. 1987 “Hanukkah: Its Timing and Significance According to 1 and 2 Maccabees,” Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 1, 23–40. “The Textual Base for the Ethiopic Translation of 1 Enoch.” Pages 247–62 in “Working With No Data”: Semitic and Egyptian Studies Presented to Thomas O. Lambdin. Edited by David M. Golomb. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns. Review of J. Neusner and E. S. Frerichs, eds., “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity in Religious Studies Review 13, 271. Review of H. Engel, Die Susanna-Erzählung: Einleitung, Übersetzung und Kommentar zum Septuaginta-Text und zur Theodotion-Bearbeitung in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 49, 638–39. Review of M. K. H. Peters, A Critical Edition of the Coptic (Bohairic) Pentateuch, vol. 2: Exodus in Religious Studies Review 13, 342–43. Review of J. Maier, The Temple Scroll in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 49, 153–54.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Review of M. Knibb, Het Boek Henoch in Religious Studies Review 13, 172. Review of E. Stern, Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period 538–332 B.C. in Religious Studies Review 13, 164–65. Review of H. W. Hollander and M. de Jonge, The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs: A Commentary in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 49, 669–71. Review of D. S. Russell, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: Patriarchs & Prophets in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 1, 115–16. Review of D. N. Freedman and K. A. Mathews, The PaleoHebrew Leviticus Scroll (11 Q paleo Lev) in Journal of Biblical Literature 106, 520–21. Review of S. Fraade, Enosh and His Generation in Jewish Quarterly Review 78, 172–73.

1988 “Jubilees and the Hebrew Texts of Genesis-Exodus,” Textus 14, 71–85. “Jubilees and the Priestly Messiah of Qumran,” Revue de Qumran 13 (J. Carmignac memorial volume), 353–65. Review of H. F. D. Sparks, ed., The Apocryphal Old Testament in Bible Review 4, 7–9. Review of D. E. Gowan, Eschatology in the Old Testament in Bible Review 4, 9–10. Review of E. M. Schuller, Non-Canonical Psalms from Qumran in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 50, 335–36. Review of A. Dupont-Sommer and M. Philonenko, eds., La Bible: Écrits Intertestamentaires in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 2, 113–15. Review of M. Barker, The Older Testament in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 2, 115–17. 1989 The Book of Jubilees. 2 vols. Corpus Scriptorum Christianorum Orientalium 510–511. Scriptores Aethiopici 87–88. Leuven: Peeters. “The Temple Scroll and the Book of Jubilees.” Pages 211–36 in Temple Scroll Studies: Papers presented at the International Symposium on the Temple Scroll, Manchester, December 1987. Edited by George J. Brooke. Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha: Supplement Series 7. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989.

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Review article on R. A. Kraft and G. W. E. Nickelsburg, eds., Early Judaism and Its Modern Interpreters in Religious Studies Review 15, 327–33. Review of K. W. Niebuhr, Gesetz und Paränese: Katechismusartige Weisungsreihen in der frühjüdischen Literatur in Journal of Biblical Literature 108, 514–16. Review of R. Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church and its Background in Early Judaism in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 4, 119–21. Review of B. Halpern, The First Historians: The Hebrew Bible and History [title of review: “The Historians of Israel and their Craft”] in Interpretation 44, 293–95. 1990 “John 10 and the Feast of the Dedication.” Pages 203–14 in Of Scribes and Scrolls: Studies on the Hebrew Bible, Intertestamental Judaism, and Christian Origins. Edited by Harold |W. Attridge, John J. Collins, and Thomas H. Tobin, S. J. College Theology Society Resources in Religion 5. Lanham, Md.: University Press of America. “People and High Priesthood in Early Maccabean Times.” Pages 205–25 in The Hebrew Bible and its Interpreters. Edited by William H. Propp, Baruch Halpern, and David N. Freedman. Biblical and Judaic Studies l. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns. Review of E. Ullendorff, Ethiopia and the Bible: The Schweich Lectures 1967 in Religious Studies Review 16, 263. Review of P. Höffken, Elemente Kommunikativer Didaktik in frühjüdischer und rabbinischer Literatur in Religious Studies Review 16, 166. Review of G. Delling, Die Bewältigung der Diasporasituation durch das hellenistische Judentum in Religious Studies Review 16, 164. Review of H. Leene, De vroegere en de nieuwe dingen bij Deuterojesaja in Journal of Biblical Literature 109, 129–30. 1991 “The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essenes or Sadducees?” Bible Review 7/2, 42–47. “The Qumran Residents: Essenes not Sadducees!” The Qumran Chronicle 213, 105–8. [excerpts by the editor, Zdzislaw J. Kapera, from “The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essenes or Sadducees?”]

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publications of james c. vanderkam “Implications for the History of Judaism and Christianity.” Pages 18–38 in The Dead Sea Scrolls After Forty Years. Symposium at the Smithsonian Institution October 27, 1990. Washington, D.C.: Biblical Archaeology Society. (and J. T. Milik) “The First Jubilees Manuscript from Qumran Cave 4: A Preliminary Publication,” Journal of Biblical Literature 110, 243–70. “Congreso Internacional Sobre Los Manuscritos der Mar Muerto,” Biblical Archaeologist 54, 108–9. [report on the congress, held in El Escorial, Spain, March 18–21, 1991] “Jewish High Priests of the Persian Period: Is the List Complete?” Pages 67–91 in Priesthood and Cult in Ancient Israel. Edited by Gary A. Anderson and Saul M. Olyan. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series 125. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Translations of and cross references, exegetical notes, and textual notes to Psalms 37, 79, 80, 81, 83, and 110 in The Revised Psalms of the New American Bible. New York: Catholic Book Publishing Company. “The Dead Sea Scrolls and Early Christianity, Part One: How Are They Related?” Bible Review 7, 14–21, 46–47. “Joshua The High Priest and the Interpretation of Zechariah 3,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 53, 553–70. Review of A. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees in Palestinian Society in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 53, 147–49. Review of H. Burgmann, Die essenischen Gemeinden von Qumrân und Damaskus in der Zeit der Hasmonäer und Herodier (130 ante–68 post) in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 53, 317–18. Review of M. P. Graham, The Utilization of 1 and 2 Chronicles in the Reconstruction of Israelite History in the Nineteenth Century in Interpretation 45, 308. Review of E. Tov, The Greek Minor Prophets Scroll from Naḥ al Ḥ ever (8Ḥ evXIIgr) in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 9, 118–19.

1992 (editor) “No One Spoke Ill of Her”: Essays on Judith. Society of Biblical Literature Early Judaism and its Literature 2. Atlanta: Scholars Press. “The Dead Sea Scrolls and Early Christianity, Part Two: What They Share,” Bible Review 8, 16–23, 40–41.

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(and J. T. Milik) “A Preliminary Publication of a Jubilees Manuscript from Qumran Cave 4: 4QJubd (4Q219),” Biblica 73, 62–83. “The Book of Jubilees,” The Missouri Review 15, 57–82. “Ancient Scrolls, Modern Controversies,” Perspectives 7, 14–16. “The Dead Sea Scrolls: The Real Deception,” The Banner 127, 16–17. “The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Essenes or Sadducees?” Pages 50–62 in Understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Hershel Shanks. New York: Random House. [reprint of article of the same name in Bible Review 7 (1991)] “The Dead Sea Scrolls and Christianity.” Pages 181–202 in Understanding the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Hershel Shanks. New York: Random House. [reprint of “The Dead Sea Scrolls and Early Christianity” parts one and two in Bible Review 7 (1991)] “Achior (Person).” Page 55 in vol. 1 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by David Noel Freedman. 6 vols. New York: Doubleday. “Ahikar/Ahiqar (Person).” Pages 113–15 in vol. 1 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary. “Ahiqar, Book of.” Pages 119–20 in vol. 1 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary. “Calendars, Ancient Israelite and Early Jewish.” Pages 814–20 in vol. 1 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary. “Dedication, Feast of.” Pages 123–25 in vol. 2 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary. “Jubilees, Book of.” Pages 1030–32 in vol. 3 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary. “Weeks, Festival of.” Pages 895–97 in vol. 6 of The Anchor Bible Dictionary. “The Birth of Noah.” Pages 213–31 in Studies Offered to Józef Tadeusz Milik, Part I: Intertestamental Essays in honour of Józef Tadeusz Milik. Edited by Zdzislaw J. Kapera. Qumranica Mogilanensia 6. Kraków: The Enigma Press. “Righteous One, Messiah, Chosen One, and Son of Man in 1 Enoch 37–71.” Pages 169–91 in The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity: The First Princeton Symposium on Judaism and Christian Origins. Edited by James H. Charlesworth. Minneapolis: Fortress.

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publications of james c. vanderkam “Ezra-Nehemiah or Ezra and Nehemiah?” Pages 55–75 in Priests, Prophets and Scribes: Essays on the Formation and Heritage of Second Temple Judaism in Honour of Joseph Blenkinsopp. Edited by Eugene Ulrich, John W. Wright, Robert P. Carroll, and Philip R. Davies. Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series 149. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. “The Jubilees Fragments from Qumran Cave 4.” Pages 635–48 in vol. 2 of The Madrid Qumran Congress: Proceedings of the International Congress on the Dead Sea Scrolls, Madrid 18–21 March, 1991. Edited by Julio Trebolle Barrera and Luis Vegas Montaner. 2 vols. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 11. Leiden: Brill. Review of L. H. Schiffman, ed., Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls: The New York University Conference in Memory of Yigael Yadin in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 54, 397–98. Review of M. Stone, Fourth Ezra (Hermeneia) in Interpretation 46, 322, 324. Review of G. Boccaccini, Middle Judaism: Jewish Thought, 300 B.C.E. to 200 C.E. in Shofar 11, 152–54. Review of G. Boccaccini, Middle Judaism: Jewish Thought, 300 B.C.E. to 200 C.E. in Bible Review 8/4, 59. Review of L. H. Schiffman, The Eschatological Community of the Dead Sea Scrolls: A Study of the Rule of the Congregation in Journal of Religion 72, 99–100.

1993 “The Care and Keeping of Scrolls,” Comparative Civilizations Review 28, 152–61. “The Scrolls, the Apocrypha, and the Pseudepigrapha,” Hebrew Studies 34, 35–47. “Biblical Interpretation in 1 Enoch and Jubilees.” Pages 96–125 in The Pseudepigrapha and Early Biblical Interpretation. Edited by James H. Charlesworth and Craig A. Evans. Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha: Supplement Series 14. Studies in Early Judaism and Christianity 2. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Review of P. R. Davies and R. T. White, eds., A Tribute to Geza Vermes: Essays on Jewish and Christian Literature and History in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 55, 193–95.

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Review of J. Naveh, On Sherd and Papyrus: Aramaic and Hebrew Inscriptions from the Second Temple, the Mishnaic and Talmudic Periods [Hebrew] in Religious Studies Review 19, 274. Review of P. R. Davies, ed., Second Temple Studies: 1, Persian Period in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 55, 626–27. Review of M. Fishbane et al., eds., “Sha‘arei Talmon”: Studies in the Bible, Qumran and the Ancient Near East Presented to Shemaryahu Talmon in Hebrew Studies 34, 129–31. 1994 The Dead Sea Scrolls Today. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. (editor with Eugene Ulrich) The Community of the Renewed Covenant: The Notre Dame Symposium on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Christianity and Judaism in Antiquity 10. Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press. “Messianism in the Scrolls.” Pages 211–34 in The Community of the Renewed Covenant: The Notre Dame Symposium on the Dead Sea Scrolls. (editor) Qumran Cave 4.VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 1. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XIII. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (and J. T. Milik) “Jubilees.” Pages 1–185 in Qumran Cave 4.VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 1. “Calendrical Texts and the Origins of the Dead Sea Scroll Community.” Pages 371–86 (discussion 386–88) in Methods of Investigation of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Khirbet Qumran Site: Present Realities and Future Prospects. Edited by Michael O. Wise, Norman Golb, John J. Collins, and Dennis G. Pardee. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 722. New York: The New York Academy of Sciences. (and J. T. Milik) “4QJubileesg (4Q222).” Pages 105–14 in New Qumran Texts & Studies: Proceedings of the First Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies, Paris 1992. Edited by George J. Brooke. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 15. Leiden: Brill. “Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Encyclopedia Americana 8.552–55. (and J. T. Milik) “4QJubc (4Q218) and 4QJube (4Q220): A Preliminary Edition,” Textus 17, 43–56. “Putting Them in Their Place: Geography as an Evaluative Tool.” Pages 46–69 in Pursuing the Text: Studies in Honor of Ben Zion Wacholder on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday. Edited by John C. Reeves and John Kampen. Journal for the

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publications of james c. vanderkam Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series 184. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. “Genesis 1 in Jubilees 2,” Dead Sea Discoveries 1, 300–21. (with J. T. Milik) “QJubf (4Q221): A Preliminary Edition,” Hebrew Annual Review 14, 233–61. “The Granddaughters and Grandsons of Noah,” Revue de Qumran 16/63, 457–61. “The Theology of the Temple Scroll,” Jewish Quarterly Review 85 (1994) 129–35. Review of R. Eisenman and M. Wise, The Dead Sea Scrolls Uncovered: The First Complete Translation and Interpretation of 50 Key Documents Withheld for Over 35 Years in Religious Studies Review 20, 149–50. Review of L. Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian in Interpretation 48, 291–93. Review of A. Momigliano, Essays on Ancient and Modern Judaism (edited and with an Introduction by Silvia Berti) in IOUDAIOS Review 4.023. [ftp://ftp.lehigh.edu/pub/listserv/ioudaios-review/4.1994/momigliano.vanderkam.023]. Review of F. García Martínez, Textos de Qumrán in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 56, 546–47. Review of J. S. McLaren, Power and Politics in Palestine: The Jews and the Governing of their Land 100 BC–AD 70 in Critical Review of Books in Religion 6, 142–44.

1995 Manoscritti del Mar Morto. Rome: Città Nuova Editrice. [Italian translation of The Dead Sea Scrolls Today] Dødehavs rullerne—teorier og kendsgerninger. Frederiksberg: Forlaget ANIS. [Danish translation of The Dead Sea Scrolls Today] Os Manuscritos do Mar Morto Hoje. Rio de Janeiro: Editora Objetiva LLtda. [Portugese translation of The Dead Sea Scrolls Today] Shikai Bunsho no Subete. Tokyo: Seidosha. [Japanese translation of The Dead Sea Scrolls Today] “Das chronologische Konzept des Jubiläenbuches,” Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 107, 80–100. Enoch—A Man for All Generations. Studies on Personalities of the Old Testament. Columbia, S.C.: University of South Carolina Press.

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(editor) M. Broshi, et al., Qumran Cave 4.XIV: Parabiblical Texts, Part 2. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XIX. Oxford: Clarendon Press. “Simon the Just: Simon I or Simon II.” Pages 303–18 in Pomegranates and Golden Bells: Studies in Biblical, Jewish, and Near Eastern Ritual, Law, and Literature in Honor of Jacob Milgrom. Edited by David P. Wright, David Noel Freedman, and Avi Hurvitz; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns. (with Eugene Ulrich) “Sacred Challenge,” Notre Dame Magazine 24, 15–17. “Prophecy and Apocalyptics in the Ancient Near East.” Pages 2083–94 in vol. 3 of Civilizations of the Ancient Near East. Edited by Jack M. Sasson. 4 vols. New York: Scribner’s. (with Eugene Ulrich and Catherine Murphy) “Piecing Together the Past: The Dead Sea Scrolls,” Humanities 16/6, 14–18, 42–45. 16 short articles in Encyclopedia of Catholicism. Edited by Richard P. McBrien. San Francisco: HarperCollins. “Adam” 14; “covenant” 374; “deuterocanonical books” 412–13; “Diaspora” 415; “Eve” 494; “Exodus” 502; “Holy Land” 619; “Moses” 894–95; “Pentateuch” 983–84; “pseudepigrapha” 1065; “Sadducees” 1152; “scribes” 1171; “Solomon” 1208; “Temple” 1244; “Yahweh” 1343; “Zealots” 1344.

Review of Y. (L.) Schiffman, Halakhah, Halikhah, umeshihiyut bekat midbar Yehudah [Hebrew] in Dead Sea Discoveries 2, 120–23. Review of S. Aalen, Heilsverlangen und Heilsverwirklichung: Studien zur Erwartung des Heils in der apokalyptischen Literatur des antiken Judentums und im ältesten Christentum in Journal of Ecumenical Studies 32, 139–40. Review of É. Puech, La croyance des Esséniens en la vie future: Immortalité, résurrection, Vie Éternelle? Histoire d’une croyance dans le Judaïsme Ancien (2 vols.) in Journal of Biblical Literature 114, 320–22. Review of M. Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses in Journal of Biblical Literature 114, 323–24. Review of K. Grünwaldt, Exil und Identität: Beschneidung, Passa und Sabbat in der Priesterschrift in Journal of Biblical Literature 114, 493–95.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Review of E. Qimron and J. Strugnell, Qumran Cave 4.V: Miqṣat Ma‘aśê Ha-Torah (DJD X) in The Journal of Religion 75, 548–50. Review of A. Steudel, Der Midrasch zur Eschatologie aus der Qumrangemeinde (4QMidrEschata.b) in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 57, 576–77.

1996 (editor with William Adler) The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage in Early Christianity. Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum III.4. Assen: van Gorcum/Minneapolis: Fortress. “1 Enoch, Enochic Motifs, and Enoch in Early Christian Literature.” Pages 33–101 in The Jewish Apocalyptic Heritage in Early Christianity. (editor) G. J. Brooke et al., Qumran Cave 4.XVII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 3. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXII. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Manuskrypty znad Morza Martwego. Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Cyklady. [Polish translation of The Dead Sea Scrolls Today] “Jubilees’ Exegetical Creation of Levi the Priest,” Revue de Qumran 17 (Hommage à Józef T. Milik), 359–73. 19 short articles in Dictionary of Judaism in the Biblical Period 450 B.C.E. to 600 C.E. Edited by Jacob Neusner and William S. Green. New York: Simon & Schuster MacMillan. “astronomy” 64; “calendar” 110–11; “covenant renewal” 137; “cult” 140; “election” 187; “Enoch” 194; “firstfruits” 228; “free will” 235–36; “Israel, Land of, 1. in Second Temple literature” 322–23; “Israel. People of, 1. in Second Temple times” 323–24; “Jubilees, Book of ” 344; “Moses” 437–38; “name” 448; “predestination” 499; “remnant” 524; “sacrifices and offerings” 540); “temptation” 627; “tribes, ten” 648–49; “tribes, twelve” 649.

Review of R. Fenn, The Death of Herod: an essay in the sociology of religion in Critical Review of Books in Religion 7, 470–71. Review of J. C. Campbell, The Use of Scripture in the Damascus Document 1–8, 19–20 in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 58, 503–504. Review of G. Vermes, The Dead Sea Scrolls in English (4th ed.) in Dead Sea Discoveries 3, 214–17. Review of J. Neusner, Israel After Calamity: The Book of Lamentations in Calvin Theological Journal 31, 589–90.

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1997 “The Calendar, 4Q327, and 4Q394.” Pages 179–94 in Legal Texts and Legal Issues: Proceedings of the Second Meeting of the International Organization for Qumran Studies, Published in Honour of Joseph M. Baumgarten. Edited by Moshe Bernstein, Florentino García Martínez, and John Kampen. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 23. Leiden: Brill. “The Aqedah, Jubilees, and PseudoJubilees.” Pages 241–61 in The Quest for Context and Meaning: Studies in Biblical Intertextuality in Honor of James A. Sanders. Edited by by Craig A. Evans and Shemaryahu Talmon. Biblical Interpretation Series 28. Leiden: Brill. “Exile in Jewish Apocalyptic Literature.” Pages 89–109 in Exile: Old Testament, Jewish, and Christian Conceptions. Edited by James M. Scott. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 56. Leiden: Brill. “Mantic Wisdom in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Dead Sea Discoveries 4, 336–53. “The Origins and Purposes of the Book of Jubilees.” Pages 3–24 in Studies in the Book of Jubilees. Edited by Matthias Albani, Jörg Frey, and Armin Lange. Texte und Studien zum Antiken Judentum 65. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Review of C. T. R. Hayward, Jerome’s Hebrew Questions on Genesis in Journal of Semitic Studies 42, 160–62. Review of B. Nitzan, Qumran Prayer and Religious Poetry in Bibliotheca Orientalis 54, 475–76. Review of H.-J. Fabry et al., eds., Qumranstudien in the Catholic Biblical Quarterly 59, 413–15. Review of D. Parry and S. Ricks, editors, Current Research and Technological Developments on the Dead Sea Scrolls in Dead Sea Discoveries 4, 226–29. 1998 Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Measuring Time. The Literature of the Dead Sea Scrolls. London: Routledge. (volume editor) É. Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4.XVIII: Textes Hébreux (4Q521–4Q528, 4Q576–4Q579). Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXV. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (editor with Monica Brady) E. Eshel et al., Qumran Cave 4.VI: Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 1. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XI. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (editor with Peter Flint) The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, vol. 1. Leiden: Brill.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Einführung in die Qumranforschung: Geschichte und Bedeutung der Schriften vom Toten Meer. UTB für Wissenschaft: UniTaschenbücher 1998; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998. [German translation of The Dead Sea Scrolls Today] “Apocalyptic Literature.” Pages 305–22 in The Cambridge Companion to Biblical Interpretation. Edited by John Barton. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. “Messianism and Apocalypticism.” Pages 193–228 in Encyclopedia of Apocalypticism, vol. 1 The Origins of Apocalypticism in Judaism and Early Christianity. Edited by John J. Collins. New York: Continuum. “Authoritative Literature in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Dead Sea Discoveries 5 (Qumran Studies Presented to Eugene Ulrich on His Sixtieth Birthday), 382–402. “The People of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Svensk Exegetisk Arsbok 63, 129–46. Review of A. Lange, Weisheit und Prädestination: Weisheitliche Urordnung und Prädestination in den Textfunden von Qumran in Jewish Quarterly Review 88, 366–68. Review of D. Bryan, Cosmos, Chaos and the Kosher Mentality in Jewish Quarterly Review 89, 253–54. Review of E. Meyers, ed., The Oxford Encyclopedia of Archaeology in the Near East (5 volumes) in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 17, 123–24.

1999 (editor with Monica Brady) E. Chazon et al., Qumran Cave 4.XX: Poetical and Liturgical Texts, Part 2. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXIX. Oxford: Clarendon Press. “The Angel Story in the Book of Jubilees.” Pages 151–70 in Pseudepigraphic Perspectives: The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha in Light of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Proceedings of the International Symposium of the Orion Center, 12–14 January 1997. Edited by Esther Chazon and Michael Stone. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 31. Leiden: Brill, 1999. “Isaac’s Blessing of Levi and His Descendants in Jubilees 31.” Pages 497–519 in The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls: Technological Innovations, New Texts, and Reformulated Issues. Edited by Donald W. Parry and Eugene C. Ulrich. Leiden: Brill, 1999.

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“The Judean Desert and the Community of the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 159–71 in Antikes Judentum und Frühes Christentum: Festschrift für Hartmut Stegemann zum 65. Geburtstag. Edited by Bernd Kollmann, Wolfgang Reinbold, and Annette Steudel. Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 97. Berlin: de Gruyter. “Calendars and Calendrical Information in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Revue Xristianskij Vostok 7, 207–33. “Les manuscrits de la mer Morte et le Nouveau Testament,” Jésus au regard de l’histoire (Dossiers d’Archéologie 249) 142–49. “Charles, Robert Henry (1855–1931).” Page 176 in vol. 1 of Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation. Edited by John H. Hayes. 2 vols. Nashville: Abingdon. “Jubilees, Book of.” Pages 632–35 in vol. 1 of Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation. “Vos, Geerhardus (1862–1949). Pages 615–16 in vol. 2 of Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation. (editor with Peter Flint) The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, vol. 2. Leiden: Brill. “Identity and History of the Community.” Pages 487–533 in The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, vol. 2. “Studies on ‘David’s Compositions’ (11QPsa 27:2–11),” in EretzIsrael 26 (Frank Moore Cross Volume), 212–20*. Review of M. Wise, M. Abegg, and E. Cook, The Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Translation in Dead Sea Discoveries 6, 103–8. Review of L. Cansdale, Qumran and the Essenes: A Re-evaluation of the Evidence in Religious Studies Review 25, 205. Review of J. Reeves, Heralds of That Good Realm: SyroMesopotamian Gnosis and Jewish Traditions in Journal of the American Oriental Society 119, 159–60. Review notes on Qumran Cave 4.VII: Genesis to Numbers (DJD XII) and Qumran Cave 4.VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 1 (DJD XIII) in Journal of Biblical Literature 118, 379. Review of B. Metzger, Reminiscences of An Octogenarian in Journal of Presbyterian History 77, 67–68. Review of L. T. Stuckenbruck, The Book of Giants from Qumran: Texts, Translation, and Commentary in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 20, 139–41.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Review of G. Vermes, The Complete Dead Sea Scrolls in English in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 20, 141–44.

2000 From Revelation to Canon: Studies in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Literature. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 62. Leiden: Brill. (editor in chief, with Lawrence Schiffman) Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls. 2 vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 10 articles in Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls. “Apostolic Fathers” 44–45 (with Robert Kraft); “covenant” 151– 55; “festivals” 290–92; “Jubilees, Book of ” 434–38; “Passover” 637–38; “Ro’sh ha-Shanah” 790–91; “Scrolls research” 844–51 (with George Brooke and Lawrence Schiffman); “Shavu‘ot” 871– 72; “Sukkot” 903–5; “Yom Kippur” 1001–3.

(editor with Monica Brady) S. J. Pfann, Qumran Cave 4.XXVI: Cryptic Texts and P. S. Alexander et al., Miscellanea, Part 1. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXXVI. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (editor with Monica Brady) J. H. Charlesworth et al., Miscellaneous Texts From the Judaean Desert. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXXVIII. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (editor with Lawrence Schiffman and Emanuel Tov) The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years After Their Discovery: Proceedings of the Jerusalem Congress, July 20–25, 1997. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society and The Shrine of the Book, Israel Museum. “Covenant and Biblical Interpretation in Jubilees 6.” Pages 92–104 in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years After Their Discovery: Proceedings of the Jerusalem Congress, July 20–25, 1997. “Learning from the Legacy of Jewish Apocalyptic Literature in the Second Temple Period.” Pages 46–68 in Apocalypticism and Millennialism: Shaping a Believers Church Eschatology for the Twenty-First Century. Edited by Loren L. Johns. Studies in the Believers Church Tradition. Kitchener, Ont.: Pandora Press. “Sabbatical Chronologies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature.” Pages 159–78 in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context. Edited by Timothy H. Lim. Edinburgh: T&T Clark. “Apocalyptic Tradition in the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Religion of Qumran.” Pages 113–34 in Religion in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by John J. Collins and Robert A. Kugler. Studies

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in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. “Studies on the Prologue and Jubilees 1.” Pages 266–79 in For a Later Generation: The Transformation of Tradition in Israel, Early Judaism and Early Christianity. Edited by Randal A. Argall, Beverly A. Bow, and Rodney A. Werline. Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International. “The Angel of the Presence in the Book of Jubilees,” Dead Sea Discoveries 7, 378–93. “Jubilees.” Pages 600–603 in Dictionary of New Testament Background. Edited by Craig A. Evans and Stanley E. Porter. Downers Grove, Ill./Leicester: InterVarsity Press. “Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Near Eastern Archaeology 65, 164–67. Review of R. Hendel, The Text of Genesis 1–11: Textual Studies and Critical Edition in Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 318, 90–91. Review of E. Herbert, Reconstructing Biblical Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Method Applied to the Reconstruction of 4QSama in Journal of Biblical Literature 119, 558–60. 2001 An Introduction to Early Judaism. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. The Book of Jubilees. Guides to Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. (editor with Monica Brady) É. Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4.XXII: Textes Araméens Première Partie 4Q529–549. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXXI. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (editor with Monica Brady) D. M. Pike et al., Qumran Cave 4.XXIII: Unidentified Fragments. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXXIII. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (editor with Monica Brady) D. Gropp, Wadi Daliyeh II: The Samaria Papyri from Wadi Daliyeh and E. Schuller et al., Qumran Cave 4 Miscellanea, Part 2. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXVIII. Oxford: Clarendon Press. “368. 4QApocryphal Pentateuch A” and “377. 4QApocryphal Pentateuch B.” Pages 131–49 and 205–17 in Wadi Daliyeh II: The Samaria Papyri from Wadi Daliyeh and Qumran Cave 4 Miscellanea, Part 2. “When Archeology Conflicts With the Bible,” The Banner 136.7, 16–19.

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publications of james c. vanderkam “The Interpretation of Genesis in 1 Enoch.” Pages 129–48 in The Bible at Qumran: Text, Shape, and Interpretation. Edited by Peter Flint. Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. “Foreword.” Pages xi–xxv in the reprint of A. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes and Sadducees in Palestinian Society: A Sociological Approach. Biblical Resource Series. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans/Livonia, Mich.: Dove. “Greek at Qumran.” Pages 175–81 in Hellenism in the Land of Israel. Edited by John J. Collins and Gregory E. Sterling. Christianity and Judaism in Antiquity 13. Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame. “Questions of Canon Viewed Through the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Bulletin for Biblical Research 11, 269–92. “The Qumran Community,” Calliope 12, 28–32. “The Scrolls and the New Testament,” Calliope 12, 46–48. “Foreword.” Pages xiii–xv in Bruce K. Gardner, The Genesis Calendar: The Synchronistic Tradition in Genesis 1–11. Lanham, Md.: University Press of America.

2002 (volume consultant with Monica Brady) E. Tov, ed., The Texts From the Judaean Desert: Indices and An Introduction to the Discoveries in the Judaean Desert Series. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XXXIX. Oxford: Clarendon Press. (with Peter Flint) The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. Paperback edition of From Revelation to Canon: Studies in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Literature. Leiden: Brill. Translation of the Ethiopic text of The Apostolic Tradition in The Apostolic Tradition. Edited by Paul Bradshaw, Maxwell Johnson, and L. Edward Phillips. Hermeneia. Minneapolis: Fortress. (with Robert Kugler) “A Note on 4Q225 (4Qpseudo-Jubilees),” Revue de Qumran 77, 109–16. “The Wording of Biblical Citations in Some Rewritten Scriptural Works.” Pages 41–56 in The Bible as Book: The Hebrew Bible and the Judaean Desert Discoveries. Edited by Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov. London: The British Library & Oak Knoll Press in Association with The Scriptorium: Center for Christian Antiquities.

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“Questions of Canon Viewed Through the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 91–109 in The Canon Debate. Edited by Lee Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders. Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson. “Covenant and Pentecost,” Calvin Theological Journal 37, 239–54. “Viewed from Another Angle: Purity and Impurity in the Book of Jubilees,” Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 13, 209–15. [appeared in 2004] Review of G. Anderson, The Genesis of Perfection: Adam and Eve in Jewish and Christian Imagination in Catholic Studies: An On-line Journal. [http://www.catholicbooksreview.org/ 2002/anderson.htm] Review of I. Hjelm, The Samaritans and Early Judaism: A Literary Analysis in Journal of the American Oriental Society 122, 172–73. 2003 “Those Who Look for Smooth Things, Pharisees, and Oral Law.” Pages 465–77 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. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 94. Leiden: Brill. “The Demons in the Book of Jubilees.” Pages 339–64 in Demons: The Demonology of the Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in Context of their Environment. Edited by Armin Lange, Hermann Lichtenberger, and K. F. Diethard Römheld. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. “Anthropological Gleanings from the Book of Jubilees.” Pages 117–31 in Der Mensch vor Gott: Forschungen zum Menschenbild in Bibel, antikem Judentum und Koran. Festschrift für Hermann Lichtenberger zum 60. Geburtstag. Edited by Ulrike Mittmann-Richert, Friedrich Avemarie, and Gerbern S. Oegema. Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag. “Enoch’s Vision of the Next World,” Bible Review 19/2, 32–36, 46, 48. “Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 27–31 in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Catalog of the Exhibition of Scrolls and Artifacts from the Collections of the Israel Antiquities Authority, Public Museum of Grand Rapids. Edited by Ellen M. Herron. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Associate Editor, New Interpreter’s Study Bible, responsible for pages 1357–1744, “The Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books of the Old Testament.” Nashville: Abingdon. “The Additions to Daniel,” New Interpreter’s Study Bible, 1537–49. “Culture and Religion Among the Ancient Israelites,” New Interpreter’s Study Bible, 2274–79. Response to George Nickelsburg, 1 Enoch: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch Chapters 1–36; 81–108. Pages 379–86 in vol. 2 of George W. E. Nickelsburg in Perspective: An Ongoing Dialogue of Learning. Edited by Jacob Neusner and Alan J. Avery-Peck. 2 vols. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 80. Leiden: Brill. Review of J. H. Charlesworth et al., eds., Pesharim, Other Commentaries, and Related Documents (The Dead Sea Scrolls 6B) in The Journal of Hebrew Studies 4. [http://www.arts. ualberta.ca/JHS/reviews/review088.htm] Review of M. Knibb, Translating the Bible: The Ethiopic Version of the Old Testament in Journal of Religion 83, 431–32. Review of S. Talmon, J. Ben-Dov, and U. Glessmer, eds., Qumran Cave 4 XVI Calendrical Texts (DJD XXI) in Dead Sea Discoveries 10, 448–52.

2004 From Joshua to Caiaphas: High Priests after the Exile. Minneapolis: Fortress. (with George Nickelsburg) 1 Enoch: A New Translation. Minneapolis: Fortress. (with Peter Flint). The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. [paperback version] Korean translation of An Introduction to Early Judaism. Seoul: KCBS. “Open and Closed Eyes in the Animal Apocalypse (1 Enoch 85–90).” Pages 279–92 in The Idea of Biblical Interpretation: Essays in Honor of James L. Kugel. Edited by Hindy Najman and Judith Newman. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 83. Leiden: Brill. “Pesher Nahum and Josephus.” Pages 299–311 in vol. 1 of When Christianity and Judaism Began: Essays in Memory of Anthony J. Saldarini. Edited by Alan J. Avery-Peck, Daniel J. Harrington, and Jacob Neusner. 2 vols. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 85. Leiden: Brill.

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“The Festival of Weeks and the Story of Pentecost in Acts 2.” Pages 185–205 in From Prophecy to Testament: The Function of the Old Testament in the New. Edited by Craig A. Evans. Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson. “Scripture in the Astronomical Book of Enoch.” Pages 89–103 in Things Revealed: Studies in Early Jewish and Christian Literature in Honor of Michael E. Stone. Edited by Esther G. Chazon, David Satran, and Ruth A. Clements. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 89. Leiden: Brill. One of ten participants whose answers to questions are published in B. Bioul, Qumrân et les manuscrits de la mer Morte: Les hypothèses, le débat. Paris: François-Xavier de Guibert. Review of J. van Ruiten, Primaeval History Interpreted: The Rewriting of Genesis 1–11 in the Book of Jubilees in Jewish Quarterly Review 94, 164–66. 2005 “Sinai Revisited.” Pages 44–60 in Biblical Interpretation at Qumran. Edited by Matthias Henze. Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. (with Alison Schofield) “Were the Hasmoneans Zadokites?” Journal of Biblical Literature 124, 73–87. “Response: Jubilees and Enoch.” Pages 162–70 in Enoch and Qumran Origins: New Light on a Forgotten Connection. Edited by Gabriele Boccaccini. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. “Too Far Beyond the Essene Hypothesis?” Pages 388–93 in Enoch and Qumran Origins: New Light on a Forgotten Connection. “Il contributo dei manoscritti di Qumran allo studio delle origini del cristianesimo.” Pages 195–200 in Il Messia tra memoria e attesa. Edited by Gabriele Boccaccini. Biblia Enoch Seminar. Brescia: Morcelliana. Review of L. Grabbe, Judaic Religion in the Second Temple Period: Belief and Practice from the Exile to Yavneh in Review of Biblical Literature March 2005. [http://www.bookreviews .org/bookdetail.asp?TitleId=1368&CodePage=6271,2459,15 32,1793,7545,4911,7984,1368,4226,4616] Review of G. Nickelsburg, Ancient Judaism and Christian Origins: Diversity, Continuity, and Transformation in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 67, 155–57. Review of M. Goff, The Worldly and Heavenly Wisdom of 4QInstruction in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 67, 117–18.

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publications of james c. vanderkam Review of J. Trever, The Dead Sea Scrolls in Perspective in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 67, 543–44.

2006 Wprowadzenie do wczesnego judaizmu. Warsaw: Wydawnictwo Cyklady. [Polish translation of An Introduction to Early Judaism] (editor with Peter Flint and Emanuel Tov) Studies in the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, and the Septuagint Presented to Eugene Ulrich. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 101. Leiden: Brill. “To What End? Functions of Scriptural Interpretation in Qumran Texts.” Pages 302–20 in Studies in the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, and the Septuagint Presented to Eugene Ulrich. (editor with Harold W. Attridge) Presidential Voices: The Society of Biblical Literature in the Twentieth Century. Society of Biblical Literature Scholarship in North America 22. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. “Jaubert’s Solution to the Passion Chronology,” Revue Xristianskij Vostok n.s. 4/10 (Mémorial Annie Jaubert), 536–50. “Daniel 7 in the Similitudes of Enoch (1 Enoch 37–71).” Pages 291–307 in Biblical Traditions in Transition: Essays in Honour of Michael A. Knibb. Edited by Charlotte Hempel and Judith Lieu. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 111. Leiden: Brill. “1 Enoch 80 Within the Book of the Luminaries.” Pages 333–55 in From 4QMMT to Resurrection: Mélanges qumraniens en homage à Émile Puech. Edited by Florentino García Martínez, Annette Steudel, and Eibert Tigchelaar. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 61. Leiden: Brill. “The Scriptural Setting of the Book of Jubilees,” Dead Sea Discoveries 13, 61–72. “The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha at Qumran.” Pages 469– 91 in vol. 2 of The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Qumran Community. The Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls: The Princeton Symposium on the Dead Sea Scrolls. 3 vols. Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press. “Jozef Tadeusz Milik 1922–2006.” SBL Forum. May. [http:// www.sbl-site.org/publications/article.aspx?ArticleId=535] “Bitter Herbs.” Pages 474–75 in vol. 1 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by Katharine Doob Sakenfeld. 5 vols. Nashville: Abingdon.

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“Calendar.” Pages 521–27 in vol. 1 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Review of G. Nickelsburg, Jewish Literature between the Bible and the Mishnah (2nd edition) in Biblical Archaeology Review 32/3, 72. Review of J. Neusner, The Vitality of Rabbinic Imagination: The Mishnah against the Bible and Qumran in Review of Rabbinic Literature 9, 217–20. Review of J. Scott, On Earth as in Heaven: The Restoration of Sacred Time and Sacred Space in Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 15, 233–37. 2007 “The Scrolls and Early Christianity: How They Are Related and What They Share.” Pages 62–81 in The Dead Sea Scrolls. Washington, D.C.: Biblical Archaeology Society/Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. [re-publication of “The Dead Sea Scrolls and Early Christianity,” Bible Review 7/6 (1991) 14–21, 46–47, and 8/1 (1992) 16–23, 40–41] “The Pharisees and the Dead Sea Scrolls.” Pages 225–36 in In Quest of the Historical Pharisees. Edited by Jacob Neusner and Bruce Chilton. Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press. “The Book of Parables within the Enoch Tradition.” Pages 81–99 in Enoch and the Messiah Son of Man: Revisiting the Book of Parables. Edited by Gabriele Boccaccini. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. “The End of the Matter? Jubilees 50:6–13 and the Unity of the Book.” Pages 267–84 in Heavenly Tablets: Interpretation, Identity and Tradition in Ancient Judaism. Edited by Lynn R. LiDonnici and Andrea Lieber. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 119. Leiden: Brill. “Mapping Second Temple Judaism.” Pages 1–20 in The Early Enoch Literature. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 121. Edited by Gabriele Boccaccini and John J. Collins. Leiden: Brill. “Adam’s Incense Offering,” Meghillot 5–6, 141–56*. “1 Enoch 73:5–8 and the Synchronistic Calendar.” Pages 433–47 in Flores Florentino: The Dead Sea Scrolls and Other Early Jewish Studies in Honour of Florentino García Martínez. Edited by Anthony Hilhorst, Émile Puech, and Eibert Tigchelaar. Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 122. Leiden: Brill.

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publications of james c. vanderkam “Essenes.” Pages 315–16 in vol. 2 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by Katharine Doob Sakenfeld. 5 vols. Nashville: Abingdon. “Feasts and Fasts.” Pages 443–47 in vol. 2 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. “Harvest.” Page 738 in vol. 2 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Six articles for the Encyclopedia of Religious and Philosophical Writings in Late Antiquity: Pagan, Judaic, Christian. Edited by Jacob Neusner and Alan J. Avery-Peck. Leiden: Brill. “Calendrical Works (Qumran)” 58–59; “Dead Sea Scrolls” 85–87; “Genesis Apocryphon” 138; “Jubilees” 196–97; “Noah, Books of ” 255–56; “Shem, Treatise of ” 386–88.

“Jubilees, Book of.” Page 303 in Encyclopaedia Aethiopica 3. Edited by Siegbert Uhlig. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. “The Dead Sea Scrolls: How They Changed My Life,” Biblical Archaeology Review 33/5, 63–66. Review of J. Hughes, Scriptural Allusions and Exegesis in the Hodayot in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 69, 324–26. Review of R. Hanhart, Text und Geschichte des 2. Esrabuches in Theologische Literaturzeitung 132, columns 769–72. Review of E. Regev, The Sadducees and their Halakhah: Religion and Society in the Second Temple Period [Hebrew] in Henoch 29, 397–400. 2008 “Recent Scholarship on the Book of Jubilees,” in Currents in Biblical Research 6/3, 405–31. “Sources for the Astronomy in 1 Enoch 72–82.” Pages 965–78 in vol. 2 of Birkat Shalom: Studies in the Bible, Ancient Near Eastern Literature, and Postbiblical Judaism Presented to Shalom M. Paul on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday. Edited by Chaim Cohen et al. 2 vols. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns. “Judaism.” Pages 424–35 in vol. 3 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by Katharine Doob Sakenfeld. 5 vols. Nashville: Abingdon. “Leaven.” Page 627 in vol. 3 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Review of D. N. Freedman and P. Fox Kuhlken, What Are the Dead Sea Scrolls and Why Do They Matter? in Biblical Archaeology Review 34/1, 78, 80.

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Review of R. Klein, 1 Chronicles: A Commentary (Hermeneia) in Journal for the Study of Judaism 39, 414–15. Review of J. A. Fitzmyer, The One Who Is To Come in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 70, 600–601. 2009 (editor with Monica Brady) C. Newsom et al., Qumran Cave 1.III 1QHodayota with Incorporation of 1QHodayotb and 4QHodayota–f. Discoveries in the Judaean Desert XL. Oxford: Clarendon Press. “The Aramaic Astronomical Book and the Ethiopic Book of the Luminaries.” Pages 207–21 in With Wisdom as a Robe: Qumran and Other Jewish Studies in Honour of Ida Fröhlich. Edited by Károly Dániel Dobos and Miklós Kőszeghy. Hebrew Bible Monographs 21. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press. “Jaubert’s Solution to the Passion Chronology.” Pages 179–94 in L’Église des deux Alliances. Mémorial Annie Jaubert (1912– 1980). Edited by Basil Lourié, Andrei Orlov, and Madeleine Petit. Orientalia Judaica Christiana 1. Piscataway, N.J.: Gorgias. “The Manuscript Tradition of Jubilees.” Pages 3–21 in Enoch and the Mosaic Torah: The Evidence of Jubilees. Edited by Gabriele Boccaccini and Giovanni Ibba. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. “The Oath and the Community,” Dead Sea Discoveries 16, 416–32. “Enoch and the Canon of the Old Testament,” Near East Archaeological Bulletin 54, 1–9. “New Moon.” Pages 264–65 in vol. 4 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by Katharine Doob Sakenfeld. 5 vols. Nashville: Abingdon. “New Year.” Pages 267–68 in vol. 4 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. “Passover and Feast of Unleavened Bread.” Pages 388–92 in vol. 4 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. “Pentecost.” Pages 438–40 in vol. 4 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. “Seasons.” Page 146 in vol. 5 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by Katharine Doob Sakenfeld. 5 vols. Nashville: Abingdon. “Unleavened Bread.” Pages 714–15 in vol. 5 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible.

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publications of james c. vanderkam “Week.” Pages 828–29 in vol. 5 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. “Weeks, Feast of.” Pages 829–31 in vol. 5 of The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Review of R. T. Beckwith, Calendar, Chronology and Worship: Studies in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity in Dead Sea Discoveries 16, 117–18. Review of L. Schiffman, The Courtyards of the House of the Lord: Studies on the Temple Scroll in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 71, 927–29.

2010 The Dead Sea Scrolls Today. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. El significado de los rollos del Mar Muerto: Su importancia para entender la Biblia, el judaísmo, Jesús, y el cristianismo. Madrid: Editorial Trotta. [Spanish translation of The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls] “Jubilees 46:6–47:1 and 4QVisions of Amram,” Dead Sea Discoveries 17, 141–58. “Moses Trumping Moses: Making the Book of Jubilees.” Pages 25–44 in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Transmission of Traditions and Production of Texts. Edited by Sarianna Metso, Hindy Najman, and Eileen Schuller. Studies in the Texts of the Desert of Judah 92. Leiden: Brill. “Reflections on Early Jewish Apocalypses,” Analecta Biblica Lublinensia 6, 13–28. “The Book of Enoch and the Qumran Scrolls.” Pages 254–77 in the Oxford Handbook of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Edited by Timothy Lim and John J. Collins. Oxford: Oxford University Press. “Judaism in the Land of Israel.” Pages 57–76 in The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism. Edited by John J. Collins and Daniel C. Harlow. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. “Enoch, Astronomical Book (1 Enoch 72–82).” Pages 581–83 in The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism. “High Priests.” Pages 739–42 in The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism. Review of A. Yarbro Collins and J. J. Collins, King and Messiah as Son of God: Divine, Human, and Angelic Messianic Figures in Biblical and Related Literature in Catholic Biblical Quarterly 72, 191–92.

PH.D. DISSERTATIONS DIRECTED BY JAMES C. VANDERKAM (THROUGH 2010) Titles reflect the published version or the dissertation, with date of graduation in brackets. 1. Robert A. Kugler. From Patriarch to Priest: The Levi-priestly Tradition from Aramaic Levi to Testament of Levi. Early Judaism and Its Literature 9. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996. [1994] 2. Daniel C. Harlow. The Greek Apocalypse of Baruch (3 Baruch) in Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity. Studia in Veteris Testamenti pseudepigraphica 12. Leiden: Brill, 1996. [1994; co-directed with John J. Collins] 3. Leslie W. Walck. The Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch and in Matthew. Jewish and Christian Texts 9. New York: T&T Clark, 2011. [1999] 4. Catherine M. Murphy. Wealth in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Qumran Community. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 40. Leiden: Brill, 2002. [1999; co-directed with Harold W. Attridge] 5. Monica L. W. Brady. “Prophetic Traditions at Qumran: A Study of 4Q383–391.” [2000] 6. Kelli S. O’Brien. The Use of Scripture in the Markan Passion Narrative. Library of New Testament Studies 384. London: T&T Clark, 2010. [2001] 7. Kelley Coblentz Bautch. A Study of the Geography of 1 Enoch 17–19: “No One Has Seen What I Have Seen.” Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 81. Leiden: Brill, 2003. [2001] 8. C. Shaun Longstreet. “Native Cultic Leadership in the Empire: Foundations for Achaemenid Hegemony in Persian Judah.” [2003] 9. Jonathan D. Lawrence. Washing in Water: Trajectories of Ritual Bathing in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Literature. Academia Biblica 23. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006. [2003] 10. Angela Y. Kim (Harkins). “Signs of Editorial Shaping of the Hodayot Collection: A Redactional Analysis of 1QHa–b and 4QHa–f.” [2003]

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11. John S. Bergsma. The Jubilee from Leviticus to Qumran: A History of Interpretation. Supplements to Vetus Testamentum 115. Leiden: Brill, 2007. [2004] 12. Steven J. Schweitzer. Reading Utopia in Chronicles. Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 442. New York: T&T Clark, 2007. [2005] 13. Eric F. Mason. ‘You Are a Priest Forever’: Second Temple Jewish Messianism and the Priestly Christology of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 74. Leiden: Brill, 2008. [2005] 14. Alison Schofield. From Qumran to the Yaḥ ad: A New Paradigm of Textual Development for The Community Rule. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 79. Leiden: Brill, 2009. [2006] 15. Sejin (Sam) Park. Pentecost and Sinai: The Festival of Weeks As a Celebration of the Sinai Event. Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 342. New York: T&T Clark, 2008. [2006] 16. Samuel I. Thomas. The “Mysteries” of Qumran: Mystery, Secrecy, and Esotericism in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Early Judaism and Its Literature 25. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009. [2007] 17. Daniel A. Machiela. The Dead Sea Genesis Apocryphon: A New Text and Translation with Introduction and Special Treatment of Columns 13–17. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 79. Leiden: Brill, 2009. [2007] 18. Todd R. Hanneken. The Subversion of the Apocalypses in the Book of Jubilees. (monograph in preparation) [2008] 19. Molly M. Zahn. Rethinking Rewritten Scripture: Composition and Exegesis in the 4QReworked Pentateuch Manuscripts. Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah 95. Leiden: Brill, 2011. [2009] 20. Christina Brinks Rea. “The Thematic, Stylistic, and Verbal Similarities between Isaiah 40–55 and the Book of Job.” [2010]

PART ONE

THE HEBREW BIBLE AND THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST

CONFIGURING THE TEXT IN BIBLICAL STUDIES Hindy Najman Introduction I begin with a well-known diary entry from Søren Kierkegaard, which I will take the liberty, for the purposes of this paper, of rewriting: “Philosophy is perfectly right in saying that life must be understood backwards. But then one forgets the other clause—that it must be lived forwards.”1 In order to broaden the point’s significance, I propose to rewrite Kierkegaard’s first sentence as follows: “Historical approaches are perfectly right in saying that life must be understood backwards.” After all, the philosophy Kierkegaard has in mind is the Hegelian variety, which takes a historical approach. There is no reason why the point should be essentially about philosophy. And, in order to apply the point more concretely to a specific historical approach of crucial importance to biblical studies, I propose a second rewriting: “Philology is perfectly right in saying that texts must be understood backwards. But then one forgets the other clause—that texts are both products and constituents of lives lived forwards.” Now I am in a position to raise two pairs of questions. First: Must philology understand texts backwards? Can it not also understand texts forwards, in the process of their formation? Second: Are the lives of which texts are both products and constituents always lived forwards? Can they not, in some way, be lived backwards, in relation to a past that can be remade? Here, I want to sketch a new project that investigates the connections between (1) the formation of texts, corpora and discourses; (2) the formation of the concept of the personality to whom these textual units come to be ascribed; and (3) the formation of the personality of the reader of these textual units. Biblical philology (which has traditionally been understood to mean textual and historical criticism) has sought, for the most part, to understand backwards. It has focused on reconstructing and undoing 1 Søren Kierkegaard, Diary of Søren Kierkegaard (ed. P. Rohde; trans. G. Anderson; New York: Philosophical Library, 1960), 111.

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the formation of textual units, in search of the authentic original that is assumed to lie buried beneath layers of error and accretion. Meanwhile, ascriptions of biblical and parabiblical texts have been treated mainly as pseudo-historical claims about the origination of these texts, or occasionally as exegesis that is posterior to the existence of the texts. The linkage between ascription and text formation—not to mention the connection between these two and the formation of readers—has been almost entirely neglected in recent work. However, a brilliant classical philologist anticipated the idea of such a connection in the nineteenth century. His innovation remained without impact for a century and, to this day, its impact on biblical studies remains small. This is something I should like to change. To this end, I will argue, first, that textual formation need not only be understood backwards. It may also be understood forwards. I will then explore the almost forgotten nineteenth-century suggestion that textual formation is connected to the formation of authorial personalities. Finally, I will illustrate the reciprocal dynamic between textual formation and authorial formation, along with its significance for reader formation, by considering two important figures: Moses and Ezra. Part I: Text Formation Current approaches to textual formation in biblical studies remain deeply indebted to major developments that occurred between 1780 and 1850. It is worth noting that, in this period, philology crossed boundaries between sacred and secular, and between antiquity and the middle ages. What connected biblical and classical studies in particular was the sense that both continued to play central roles in the formation and self-understanding of the modern West. If the Hebrew Bible, along with the New Testament, was the sacred source of religious self-understanding, the Homeric corpus was nonetheless a secular source of both aesthetic and ethical norms (so much so that it sometimes seemed to give rise to a new paganism, as we see in the case of Goethe). Today these boundaries are treated far too often as impassable. But we still have a deep investment in finding fruitful relations to both biblical and classical pasts, and there is still fertile ground for cross-pollination between the disciplines. The late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century developments in philology were typically retrospective. They sought to understand texts

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backwards in a quest for the originals. However, I believe that these developments can be separated from this retrospective orientation. While a quest for original texts is perfectly legitimate, this is not the only legitimate approach. Just as textual formation is lived forwards, it can also be understood forwards.2 In the late eighteenth century, two scholars, both trained in philology at Göttingen, set out in quest of the original texts underlying the Hebrew Bible (or the Old Testament) and the Homeric corpus. Their quests did not succeed. But they found something else of great importance along the way: the history of the text in antiquity, a history that can be understood not only backwards but also forwards. Johann Gottfried Eichhorn (1753–1827) blazed the trail. Employing an extensive knowledge not only of the Septuagint, but also of rabbinic and masoretic sources, as well as information about the material conditions of writing in antiquity, he reached the pessimistic conclusion that it was impossible to reconstruct the original text: the compilers of our canon, who brought to their labors neither the inspiration of the Holy Spirit nor the aids of critical skill, have delivered to us not merely the materials they were in possession of, but also the shape of those materials; must not then faults occur in the original exemplar [Originalexemplar], from which our copies are derived, for which there is no longer any remedy? In short, our critical apparatus where unnecessary is superfluously abundant, and elsewhere poor and remediless where we are in the greatest need of its assistance.3

Friedrich August Wolf (1759–1824) followed Eichhorn’s lead. In what was intended as a prolegomenon to a new edition of Homer, Wolf used recently published scholia of the Alexandrian grammarians, where Eichhorn had used the rabbinic and masoretic notes. Like Eichhorn— and unlike Villoison, who published the scholia—Wolf reached the pessimistic conclusion that the original text rests beyond our reach. The pessimism of Eichhorn and Wolf did not, of course, signal the impossibility of understanding textual formation backwards. By 1850,

2 Of course, we must seek this understanding from our own moment in history. So we cannot help the fact that our understanding is to some extent always also backwards, and we must constantly challenge ourselves to overcome the pitfalls of anachronism. 3 Johann Gottfried Eichhorn, Introduction to the Study of the Old Testament (trans. C. G. Reeve; London: Spottiswood, 1888), 232 = Einleitung in das Alte Testament (4th ed.; Göttingen: Rosenbusch, 1823), 1:383–84.

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a number of scholars had helped to formulate a new, attainable goal for the reconstruction of ancient texts, along with what came to be called “Lachmann’s method.”4 If one could not reach the Urtext, one might nevertheless reconstruct what Eichhorn had called the “original exemplar, from which our copies are derived”—what came to be called the archetype. Setting aside some technical issues that need not concern us here, we may follow Ronald Hendel in characterizing the archetype as “the earliest inferable textual state.”5 Whether there is one such archetype or many is an empirical question depending on the particular case. The crucial point, for my purposes, is that only a relatively late, if still quite ancient archetype was seen to be within reach: the Homer of the Alexandria in the third to second century b.c.e.; the masoretic Hebrew Bible of the early middle ages; the New Testament of the fourth century c.e.6 In any event, it remains true that textual criticism remains retrospective in orientation. We understand backwards. In Hendel’s words, “A critical text attempts to turn back the hands of time, a nostalgic gesture perhaps, but one that restorers of other works of human hands will recognize.”7 Must we understand backwards? Is it not also possible to understand the history of textual formation forwards? One obstacle preventing such a reorientation is the assumption that textual variations are all to be regretted. We find this assumption, for example, in the following sentence by Frank Moore Cross: “The sole way to improve a text, to ferret out error, is to trace the history of readings, to determine an archetype which explains or makes transparent the introduction of error or corruption.”8 From this perspective, the history of readings is a history of errors and corruptions. 4 In fact, as Sebastiano Timpanaro showed, it is questionable whether this is strictly speaking a method, since it hardly renders judgment redundant; and it is in any event not the product of Karl Lachmann alone, or even principally. See Timpanaro, The Genesis of Lachmann’s Method (trans. and ed. G. W. Most; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005). 5 Ronald Hendel, “The Oxford Hebrew Bible: Prologue to a New Critical Edition,” VT 58 (2008): 324–351. 6 It is important to note here that textual criticism of the Hebrew Bible has been transformed by the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Ronald Hendel’s project of the Oxford Hebrew Bible is not a diplomatic edition based on the MT, but a critical edition that takes the scrolls findings into account. 7 Hendel, “The Oxford Hebrew Bible: Prologue to a New Critical Edition,” 335. 8 Frank Moore Cross, “Problems of Method in the Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible,” in The Critical Study of Sacred Texts (ed. W. D. O’Flaherty; Berkeley, Calif.: Graduate Theological Union, 1979), 50.

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Another assumption that goes with an exclusively retrospective approach is the assumption that there is a sharp and irreversible distinction between textual formation and textual transmission. If this is the case, then we may make an equally sharp and irreversible distinction: between textual criticism, which aims to regress to the point of textual fixation, and the history of interpretation, which seeks to understand forwards, but only—on this view—from the point of textual fixity. But we are not forced to adopt these two assumptions. To be sure, they seem well suited to cases of medieval manuscript copying. It is perhaps no accident that Jakob Bernays and Karl Lachmann worked out their methods for reconstructing archetypes in relation to manuscripts of Lucretian poetry. But it is not at all obvious that the assumptions in question are compulsory when it comes to the Hebrew Bible or other ancient texts. Thus Hendel agrees with James Kugel and others in seeing some variation as interpretation rather than corruption: Interpretive phenomena such as harmonizations, explications, linguistic modernizations, and exegetical revisions open a window onto scribal interpretation in the period prior to the textual stabilization of the various biblical books. These types of variants ought not to be seen as mere “corruptions”—as in the older text-critical nomenclature—but rather as evidence of the process of scripturalization, i.e., the conceptual shifts by which texts became Scripture.9

Hendel retains a distinction between textual formation and textual transmission. But Hendel does not see the distinction as sharp and irreversible. Instead, he sees “a historical transition from major to minor textual intervention, rather than a change from all to none.”10 And he also regards this transition as reversible: Some scribes became major partners once again, when the changes were so thoroughgoing as to create a new edition. In these cases, new textual production occurs after the period of textual transmission has begun.11

In my view, once we abandon the assumptions that make a retrospective approach compulsory, we should stop thinking in terms of compositional processes that culminate in the production of fixed texts. Instead, we should think in terms of what I call traditionary processes 9 10 11

Hendel, “The Oxford Hebrew Bible: Prologue to a New Critical Edition,” 327. Ibid., 327. Ibid., 327.

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that encompass both textual formation and textual interpretation, as well as a variety of text-involving practices, individual and communal. From these traditionary processes, texts of more or less fixity sometimes precipitate out, just as, in chemistry, separable solids sometimes form within a medium that remains liquid. Once we think in terms of traditionary processes, we are free to understand them either backwards or forwards. We may take a retrospective approach, seeking to reconstruct an archetypal text or family of texts, and this is a very valuable pursuit. Or, we may take a prospective approach, studying the interpretive, religious and cultural developments that precede, succeed and intervene in the formation of texts. Part II: Author Formation Far less well known than the story of the development of the historiography of the text, which has been told by Sebastiano Timpanaro12 and Anthony Grafton13 among others, is the story of a further nineteenth century development, initiated in 1869—some 80 years after Eichhorn’s groundbreaking work—by a twenty-four year old who, in a highly unusual step, had been appointed to a professorship in classical philology at the University of Basel. This precocious youth was none other than Friedrich Nietzsche. While Eichhorn and Wolf, along with Bernays and Lachmann, crystallized the idea of understanding the formation of the text backwards, Nietzsche articulated the idea of understanding the formation of the author and, indeed, of understanding this formation forwards. Only a century later, in 1969, would this idea begin to become more widely appreciated, thanks to Michel Foucault. For his inaugural lecture at Basel, Nietzsche chose as his topic, “The Homeric Question.” This was understood—and is still understood by many scholars—to comprise two questions: (1) How are we to identify and reconstruct the original Homeric text? (2) How are we to identify and contextualize Homer himself, the original author?14 12

Timpanaro, The Genesis of Lachmann’s Method. Anthony Grafton, Glenn W. Most, and James E. G. Zetzel, F. A. Wolf: Prolegomena to Homer, 1795: Translated with Introduction and Notes (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985). 14 This combined quest for both original text, Urtext and original writer, Urschriftsteller is, of course, found in biblical studies, too. Hence the search for the ipsissima verba of Isaiah or Jeremiah in the history of research on the prophetic books. 13

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Bernays and Lachmann may have arrived at a practical response to the pessimism of Eichhorn and Wolf with respect to the question of the Urtext. But this did nothing whatsoever for the question of the Urschrifsteller. Here, Nietzsche took the decisive step, though he was derided for it at the time, by asking: “Was the person created out of a concept, or the concept out of a person? This is the real ‘Homeric question,’ the central problem of personality.”15 Nietzsche proceeded to suggest three stages in the development of both the Homeric collection and the Homeric personality. What interests me here is not whether Nietzsche is correct. Of course, the details are still hotly contested by Homer scholars, who tend to ignore Nietzsche in any event. What interests me is the sort of story Nietzsche tells—the way he links textual and authorial formation—and ultimately the question of whether this sort of story can be told in biblical studies. In specifying the three stages, Nietzsche went backwards in time. His ultimate point, however, was to vindicate a prospective approach.16 The first stage in Nietzsche’s discussion is, then, the latest, chronologically speaking. At this stage, The Alexandrian grammarians [e.g., Zenodotus of Ephesus in the third century b.c.e. and Aristarchus in the second] . . . conceived the Iliad and the Odyssey as the creations of one single Homer; they declared it to be psychologically possible for two such different works to have sprung from the brain of one genius . . . in contradiction to the Chorizontes [attributing the two works to different authors], who represented the extreme limit of the skepticism of a few detached individuals of antiquity rather than antiquity itself considered as a whole.17

Here the textual unity of the collection went together with the unity of the author’s personality: To explain the different general impression of the two books on the assumption that one poet composed them both, scholars sought assistance by referring to the seasons of the poet’s life, and compared the poet of the Odyssey to the setting sun.18

15 Friedrich Nietzsche, “Homer and Classical Philology” (inaugural lecture, Basel University, May 28, 1869). Published in The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche (ed. O. Levy; trans. J. McFarland Kennedy; Edinburgh and London: T. N. Foulis, 1910), 3:155. 16 Nietzsche, “Homer and Classical Philology,” in The Complete Works of Friedrich Nietzsche, 3:145–170. 17 Ibid., 3:152–53. 18 Ibid., 3:153.

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This assumption of a unitary collection along with a unitary authorial personality lasted, Nietzsche thought, until his own day: the personality of Homer is treated seriously; that a certain standard of inner harmony is everywhere presupposed in the manifestations of the personality; and that, with these two excellent auxiliary hypotheses, whatever is seen to be below this standard and opposed to this inner harmony is at once swept aside as un-Homeric. . . . Individuality is ever more strongly felt and accentuated; the psychological possibility of a single Homer is ever more forcibly demanded.19

Only Wolf, Nietzsche thinks, opened up the possibility of a different view, but he did not explore this other possibility. If we go back before the Alexandrian grammarians to a second stage, however, we do not find—or so Nietzsche argues—the same emphasis on Homeric personality. Instead, we find, as we go back before the Alexandrian conquest to Aristotle and his predecessors in the fifth and fourth centuries b.c.e., that the inability to create a personality is seen to increase; more and more poems are attributed to Homer; and every period lets us see its degree of criticism by how much and what it considers to be Homeric. In this backward examination, we instinctively feel that away beyond Herodotus [in the fifth century b.c.e.] there lies a period in which an immense flood of great epics has been identified with the name of Homer.

And if we go still further back to a third stage, before the time of Pisistratus (the mid-sixth century b.c.e. Athenian tyrant, sometimes said to be responsible for a “recension” of Homeric poems), then we find according to Nietzsche that, at this earliest stage, “Homer” was a name attached, not to a personality, but rather to a genre or to an epic tendency: The only path which leads back beyond the time of Pisistratus and helps us to elucidate the meaning of the name Homer, takes its way on the one hand through the reports which have reached us concerning Homer’s birthplace: from which we see that, although his name is always associated with heroic epic poems, he is on the other hand no more referred to as the composer of the Iliad and the Odyssey than as the author of the Thebais or any other cyclical epic. On the other hand, again, an old tradition tells of the contest between Homer and Hesiod, which proves that when these two names were mentioned people instinctively thought

19

Ibid., 3:154.

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of two epic tendencies, the heroic and the didactic; and that the signification of the name “Homer” was included in the material category and not in the formal.20

In other words, the ancient Alexandrian grammarians had assumed that there had been an actual poet called Homer, and that on the basis of his personality, a concept of the poet had been formed. This assumption was still dominant in Nietzsche’s own day. As in the case of the text, the philologist’s goal—attainable or not—was to strip away the representational layers, until the original person, existing at a particular time in a particular place, was exposed. However, if we suspend the assumption that personality came first, and if we look at the textual evidence, then we find according to Nietzsche that, prior to the Alexandrian grammarians, there was very little conception of Homer’s personality, and many texts were associated with his name. At the earliest discernible stage, it would seem that all heroic epics were ascribed to Homer, and all didactic epics to Hesiod. So, Nietzsche suggests, what came first was not the personality, but rather the concept and in particular, the concept of a certain genre. In the first place, the name of Homer stood, not for a concrete person, but rather for the heroic epic. To ascribe a work to Homer was to say that it was a heroic, rather than a didactic epic. Later, however, some of these texts were excluded, since they were not of the highest quality, and they were imperfect instances of the genre. Only gradually, as some of the higher quality texts came to be read as a unit and at least partially harmonized, did the name of Homer come to stand for an author who had, in representation, a distinct personality. This personality both reflected the unity of the texts in question, and also served as an idea guiding further harmonization and, perhaps, further text production. Ultimately, this gave rise to a text collection and, at some point, to an ancient edition of this collection. Nietzsche concluded: We believe in a great poet as the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey— but not that Homer was this poet. . . . And the wonderful genius to whom we owe the Iliad and the Odyssey belongs to this thankful posterity: he, too, sacrificed his name on the altar of the primeval father of the Homeric epic, Homeros.21

20 21

Ibid., 3:155. Ibid., 3:156.

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In other words, the great poet and wonderful genius deserving of study is not the actual, historical Homer, assuming that there was such a person. Even if we could find this original Homer, contextualizing him would shed little light on Homeric texts.22 Nietzsche did not last long in the academy. The reaction to his first book, The Birth of Tragedy, was vicious. To some extent, one can already see the seeds of this disaster in some of the more provocative aspects of Nietzsche’s inaugural lecture.23 One unnecessarily provocative feature of Nietzsche’s argument is his statement that the prospective investigation of authorial formation responds to “the real ‘Homeric question.’ ” On my view, both questions about textual formation and questions about authorial formation, as well as both retrospective and prospective approaches to these questions, are equally legitimate. My intention is not to repudiate the retrospective quest for Urtext and Urschriftsteller, or for multiple versions of these. If we could find the original Homer and his compositions, this would be extremely interesting, even if it would shed little light on Homeric texts, most of whose formation is connected to a concept of the personality (i.e., the author) with hardly any connection to the historical figure. Rather, my intention is to endorse the importance of the retrospective search for the original text and writer, while arguing at the same time for a prospective examination of traditionary processes in which both textual units and concepts of personalities are produced, redacted, and revised. 22 For a somewhat similar view, see Gregory Nagy, Homeric Questions (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1996), 110–11: “The comparative evidence of living oral epic traditions goes a long way to show that unity or integrity results from the dynamic interaction of composition, performance, and diffusion in the making of epic. Such evidence, added to the internal evidence of the Iliad and Odyssey as texts, points to an evolutionary process in the making of Homeric poetry. And yet, this envisioning of Homer in evolutionary terms may leave some of us with a sense of aching emptiness. It is as if we had suddenly lost a cherished author whom we could always admire for the ultimate achievement of the Iliad and the Odyssey. But surely what we have really admired all along is not the author, about whom we never did really know anything historically, but the Homeric poems themselves. To this extent, the evolutionary model may even become a source of consolation: we may have lost a historical author whom we never knew anyway, but we have recovered in the process a mythical author who is more than just an author: he is a cultural hero of Hellenism, a most cherished teacher of all Hellenes, who will come back to life with every new performance of his Iliad and Odyssey.” 23 Nietzsche argued that philology included at least as much aesthetic subjectivity as objective science, and called for philology to become philosophy. None of this went over well with his colleagues.

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Nietzsche’s inaugural lecture suggests four questions that I want to ask of biblical studies: First, what role is played by ascription in the formation of textual units? Second, to what extent and in what ways does textual formation go hand in hand with formation of a distinctive authorial personality? Third, to what extent and in what ways is the relationship between textual formation and authorial formation reciprocal? (So, for example, may the authorial personality be affected by the production of further texts?) Fourth, what roles can textual and authorial formation play in the formation of the reader? Part III: Moses and Ezra as Metaphor and Simile To explore these questions, I want to compare two figures and the texts associated with them: Moses and Ezra. The comparison is especially apt because they are both founding figures. Moses is the founder of the people of Israel constituted by means of the exodus from Egypt, the years of wandering in the wilderness, and the revelation at Sinai. Ezra is the founder of the reconstituted Second Temple community and is returned to the land of Israel from the Babylonian exile.24 I will argue, however, that there are significant differences between the ways in which Moses and Ezra are handled by traditionary processes in ancient Judaism, and these differences help us to pursue the four questions for biblical studies suggested by Nietzsche’s early work in classics. Before proceeding to examples, I need to make two preliminary remarks. The first concerns distinct levels of unity that are achievable by means of textual formation. In my first book, Seconding Sinai, I focused on the formation of what I called “a discourse tied to a founder,” developing an idea of Foucault’s, but without yet knowing of Nietzschean roots of the idea. In particular, I focused on Mosaic discourse. Now I want to distinguish two further levels of textual formation, establishing a threefold distinction between text, collection, and discourse. As I use the terms, a text is a unit that may be ascribed to a personality or a figure. A collection is a group of texts that may be ascribed

24 Tosefta Sanhedrin 4:7 compares them in stature: “Rabbi Yossi said: Ezra was sufficiently worthy (ra’uy) that the Torah could have been given through him, had Moses not preceded him.”

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to a single figure collectively, or as a group, such as the book of Psalms, 11QPsalms, or the Pentateuch. A discourse is a group of texts that may be ascribed to a single figure individually but not collectively, for example, Deuteronomy and Jubilees are part of the same Mosaic discourse,25 but not of the same collection. So too Ezra-Nehemiah and 4 Ezra are part of the same discourse, but not of the same collection. My second preliminary remark concerns the difference between the two ways in which both writers and readers can relate to exemplary personalities: imitation and emulation. The distinction is related to the distinction between simile and metaphor. A simile compares two terms in some determinate respect by affirming that one is like the other in that respect. In contrast, a metaphor compares two terms by affirming that one is the other, which establishes an indeterminate identification, pregnant with possibility. If Romeo had said that, “Juliet is like the sun,” he would have employed a simile to establish that, like the sun, Juliet is, let us say, the radiant center of his world. But Romeo does not employ a simile. Instead, Romeo speaks metaphorically, saying, “Juliet is the sun.” There are indefinitely many things to say about the sun. Perhaps not all of them may be said of Juliet. After all, the identification is not literal. But any of them may be said of Juliet if it turns out to be apt.26 Similarly, a figure may be exemplary in two different ways. The figure may serve as a simile. In that case, someone may imitate the figure in question: they may be like the figure in some determinate respect. Alternatively, the exemplary figure may serve as a metaphor. In that case, someone may emulate the figure in question: they may identify with the figure in an indeterminate way that is pregnant with possibility. With these preliminaries in place, I will argue for the following two differences between Moses and Ezra. First, traditionary processes gave

25 Hindy Najman, Seconding Sinai: The Development of Mosaic Discourse in Second Temple Judaism (JSJSup 77; Leiden: Brill, 2003), esp. chap. 1, “Mosaic Discourse,” 1–40. 26 See Stanley Cavell, Must We Mean What We Say? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), 78–79. Also see later discussion in David Hills, “Aptness and Truth in Verbal Metaphor,” Philosophical Topics 25 (1997): 117–53; Hindy Najman, Past Renewals: Interpretive Authority, Renewed Revelation, and the Quest for Perfection in Jewish Antiquity (JSJSup 53; Leiden: Brill, 2010), see in particular chap. 13, “How Should We Contextualize Pseudepigrapha: Imitation and Emulation in 4 Ezra,” 235–43.

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rise, not only to Mosaic texts and to a Mosaic discourse, but also to a Mosaic collection. In contrast, there are Ezrean texts and an Ezrean discourse, but there is no Ezrean collection—with one notable exception. Second, the name “Ezra” goes from signifying a role to signifying a richly imagined personality, fit both for emulation and imitation. In contrast, the name “Moses” goes from signifying a personality to signifying a role, fit for emulation, but not for imitation—with one notable exception. This contrast has major implications not only for ancient Jewish writers, but also for readers of the texts they produced. (A) First Difference: In various pentateuchal sources, we see aspects of Moses’ personality that make him suitable for a leadership role. He risks his life of privilege to punish the oppressor of an Israelite slave. But this is not merely tribal loyalty. For he also defends the daughters of the priest of Midian against those who would deny them access to the well. In fulfilment of his leadership potential, Moses becomes God’s spokesperson to Israel, and Israel’s spokesperson to God. However, Moses’ role as protagonist comes to be eclipsed by his role as spokesperson. The highest authority attaches to “Torah of Moses.” This happens to such an extent that Moses becomes an authorial figure, so that texts are now expressions of his spokesperson role. Deuteronomy does not begin with the familiar formula, “And God spoke to Moses saying.” Instead, Deuteronomy begins with “And these are the words that Moses spoke to all Israel.” In Jubilees, this move from protagonist to author is extended to those parts of what we now call the Pentateuch that narratively precede Moses’ birth.27 Prologue: These are the words regarding the divisions of the times of the law and of the testimony, of the events of the years, of the weeks of their jubilees throughout all the years of eternity as he related (them) to Moses on Mt. Sinai when he went up to receive the stone tablets—the law and the commandments—on the Lord’s orders as he had told him that he should come up to the summit of the mountain. 1:27: Then he said to an angel of the presence: ‘Dictate to Moses (starting) from the beginning of the creation until the time when my temple is built among them throughout the ages of eternity.’

27 Translation from James C. VanderKam, The Book of Jubilees (2 vols.; CSCO 510–11; Scriptores Aethiopici 87–88; Leuven: Peeters, 1989).

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Jubilees then proceeds to “rewrite” Genesis through part of Exodus, emphasizing repeatedly that everything written—including, of course, the calendrical issues about which Jubilees cares so much, and which appear to be a point of significant disagreement with the Temple establishment—is dictated to Moses on Sinai, and transcribed by Moses. Similarly, Philo of Alexandria regards Moses as the lawgiver, not only insofar as the law was given through him at Sinai, but also insofar as he is responsible for the entire Pentateuch, including the parts prior to the narrative of his own birth. Thus, for example, Philo writes, He [Moses] did not, like any prose-writer, make it his business to leave behind for posterity records of ancient deeds for the pleasant but unimproving entertainment which they give; but, in relating the history of early times, and going for its beginning right to the creation of the universe, he wished to show two most essential things: first that the Father and Maker of the world was in the truest sense also its Lawgiver, secondly that he who would observe the laws gladly welcomes conformity with nature and lives in accordance with the ordering of the universe, so that his deeds are attuned to harmony with his words and his words with his deeds. (Mos., 2.48)28

Thus Moses ultimately became, not only the protagonist and prophet, and not only the authorial figure to whom texts were ascribed—indeed, not only the founding figure of an entire Mosaic discourse—but also the authorial figure to whom two crucial collections were ascribed: Deuteronomy and the Pentateuch. Textual formation, at various levels, in its essence involved ascription. Ezra, too, begins as a protagonist in Ezra-Nehemiah, and becomes an authorial figure to whom texts such as 4 Ezra are ascribed: “In the thirtieth year of the destruction of our country, I, Shealtiel, who is Ezra, was in Babylon.”29 Since texts ascribed to Ezra continued to be produced for some time, one might also speak of a discourse of Ezra, comparable to Mosaic discourse.30 But there is no collection ascribed to Ezra, no parallel to the Mosaic Deuteronomy and Pentateuch. However, in 4 Ezra, we encounter what appears to be an imagined Ezrean

28 Translations of Philo’s works are from the Loeb Classical Library (trans. F. H. Colson and G. H. Whitaker; 10 vols.; London: Heinemann, 1941). 29 4 Ezra 1:1. 30 This would require a specification of the features required for membership in Ezrean discourse. I hope to do this elsewhere.

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collection on the model of the Mosaic collection. See 4 Ezra where Ezra receives the ninety-four books: Ninety-four books were written by them in forty days, and it was that when the forty days were completed the Most High spoke to me and said to me: These twenty-four books that were written before me place in public and they will read in them, those who are worthy and those who are unworthy of the people. But these seventy you are going to keep and you will complete them for the wise of your people. (14:44–46)

If these books ever existed, then they have long been lost. And if this is an attempt to establish Ezra, not merely as a restorer of “Torat Moshe,” but as the institutor of a “Torat Ezra,” then it would seem to have been a failure. The absence of an Ezrean collection leaves the authority of Moses without parallel. Perhaps, as Rabbi Yossi said, Ezra was fit to transmit the Torah. But, after all, Moses did precede him, and Ezra did not displace him. (B) Second Difference: In Ezra-Nehemiah, Ezra is a protagonist, introduced as “a scribe expert in the Teaching of Moses” (Ezra 7:6). His personality is not portrayed in much detail. What matters is his role. Doubly authorized by his knowledge of Torat Moshe and by the king of Persia, he undertakes to re-establish the Temple cult and to purify the people of intermarriage. However, in 4 Ezra, Ezra’s personality is richly imagined. The portrayal employs two distinct devices. First, there are several similes, which serve to establish that Ezra is like an authoritative figure in some determinate respect. Here is an explicit comparison to Daniel with respect to visionary power and content: This is the interpretation of the vision that you saw: the eagle you saw who came up from the sea—this is the fourth kingdom that was shown in a vision unto your brother Daniel. But it was not interpreted to him as I am interpreting to you now. Look! The days are coming when a kingdom will arise upon the earth and it will be more fearful than all the kingdoms that were before it. (4 Ezra 12:10–13)

Ezra is also explicitly likened to Moses, to whom was shown the burning bush, symbolizing Israel’s survival in extreme adversity: Then [God] said to me, “I revealed myself in a bush and spoke to Moses when my people were in bondage in Egypt; and I sent him and led my people out of Egypt; and I led him up to Mount Sinai. And I kept him

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hindy najman with me many days; and I told him many wondrous things, and showed him the secrets of the times and declared to him the end of the times. Then I commanded him, saying: ‘These words you shall publish openly, and these you shall keep secret.’ And now I say to you: Lay up in your heart the signs that I have shown you, the dreams that you have seen and the interpretation that you have heard; for you shall be taken up from among men, and henceforth you shall be with my servant and with those who are like you, until the times are ended. (4 Ezra 14:3–9)

In other passages, the simile is implicit, working by means of textual allusion. Thus Ezra is likened to Ezekiel, in his ability to receive revelation in exile; and to Jeremiah, in his ability to lament destruction. In all these respects, the eponymous author of 4 Ezra imitates these figures and inherits their authority. But this is not all. In the culminating passage cited above, Ezra does not merely imitate Moses; he emulates him, receiving the books of the law after forty days. This is not merely a simile. It is an identification: Ezra is the new Moses, though, as I said before, this move appears to have been unsuccessful. The historical development of Ezra is to some extent the reverse of the development of Moses. If Ezra ceased to be a role and became a personality, then Moses ceased to be a personality and became a role— the role of the lawgiver par excellence. An important step in this direction was taken in Deuteronomy 34, which portrays Moses’ death on the threshold of the promised land: “Since then, no prophet has risen in Israel like Moses. . . .” The incomparability of Moses is akin to the incomparability of God. It signifies a pre-eminent authority. If no prophet was “like Moses,” then similes that likened prophets to Moses were highly problematic, although we have seen, in the case of 4 Ezra, that they were nevertheless attempted. By the same token, determinate features of Moses’ personality became less important than his role as lawgiver. There was no further need to establish Moses’ authority, since it was axiomatic. And it was largely inappropriate to establish Moses as an exemplar for imitation, because to imitate Moses would be to appear to challenge his authority. However, this did not mean that it was impossible to emulate Moses. Indeed, this was exactly what the anonymous writers of Deuteronomy and Jubilees did. They effaced their own names and personalities and, through their pseudepigraphy, they identified with the Mosaic role of lawgiver. Moses was incomparable. But this incomparability was asserted in a book that repeated the giving of the law. Hence the name: Deuteronomy. So Mosaic lawgiving was established in Deuteronomy as at once both incomparable and repeatable.

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This is not to say that the emulation and repetition of Mosaic lawgiving was easy to accomplish. In my book, Seconding Sinai, I established specific features that texts needed to exhibit in order to count as participating in Mosaic discourse. Ascription to Moses was necessary, but far from sufficient. Deuteronomy was accepted by all communities while Jubilees was not, although the latter employed elaborate Deuteronomic strategies and seems to have been treated as scripture at Qumran. However, even much later, in the classical rabbinic and medieval periods when Deuteronomic pseudepigraphy would seem to have been unthinkable, we hear echoes of the emulation of Moses. Laws with great authority but with no scriptural source were sometimes called halakhah lemoshe missinai.31 And Maimonides, in an extremely audacious move, called his code Mishneh Torah. So far I have addressed the writer’s imitation and/or emulation of exemplary figures such as Moses and Ezra. But what of the reader? In 4 Ezra, it is clear that the reader is supposed to emulate Ezra. Not all ancient Jewish readers were graced with visions and with angelic instruction. So they could hardly be asked to imitate Ezra in the way that he imitates Daniel, among others. However, the lesson that Ezra learns from visions and angels was one that all ancient Jewish readers could be asked to learn with him. 4 Ezra was written after the destruction of the Second Temple. But it portrays Ezra’s response to the destruction of the First Temple. This is a mode of consolation: what has not yet been built cannot have been destroyed.32 What distinguishes such consolation from delusion is the long-standing sense, found throughout the Second Temple period, that the Second Temple never was the restoration of the First. Ezra is portrayed as a personality paralysed by loss. Only after the fourth of his seven visions, when he learns how to lament, is Ezra transformed into a figure worthy of receiving the books of the law. He is said explicitly to be turned around by his encounter with a mourning mother who turns out to be none other than Zion herself. The reader who allows him or herself to mourn the loss of Zion and the Temple— who thereby succeeds in finding hope in the wake of destruction—will have emulated Ezra.

31 Najman, Seconding Sinai, passim, where there is an extensive discussion of halakhah lemoshe missinai. 32 Najman, “How Should We Contextualize Pseudepigrapha? Imitation and Emulation in 4 Ezra,” in Past Renewals, 235–242, esp. 238.

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What of Moses? I have said that he became inimitable, but that writers could seek, with great difficulty and with no guarantee of success, to emulate his lawgiving. But ordinary readers could hardly be expected or intended to take on this leadership role par excellence. Nevertheless, there is one exception known to me. Perhaps it is the exception that proves the rule. Philo of Alexandria gave a richly imagined account of Moses’ personality and his fitness for leadership, no doubt because he felt the need to establish Mosaic authority in the eyes of Hellenized Jews and, indeed, in the eyes of non-Jewish Greek-speakers. But Philo also noticed the incomparability that Deuteronomy ascribes to Moses at the moment of his death, and he connected this with Moses’ movement, which I have thematized already, beyond a personality with traits that could be imitated. Philo dealt with this movement beyond personality by means of his Platonism. On his account, Moses achieved the ultimate goal of human life: a transcendence of determinate personality that rendered him “pure mind”: Afterwards the time came when he had to make his pilgrimage from earth to heaven, and leave this mortal life for immortality, summoned thither by the Father Who resolved his twofold nature of soul and body into a single unity, transforming his whole being into mind, pure and the sunlight. Then, indeed, we find him possessed by the spirit, no longer uttering general truths to the whole nation but prophesying to each tribe in particular the things, which were to be, and hereafter must come to pass. Some of these have already taken place, others are still looked for, since confidence in the future is assured by fulfilment in the past. (Mos., 2.288)

In this respect, Moses could and should be emulated by every reader: What more shall I say? Has he not also enjoyed an even greater communion with the Father and Creator of the universe, being thought unworthy of being called by the same appellation? For he also was called the god and king of the whole nation, and he is said to have entered into the darkness where God was; that is to say, into the invisible, and shapeless, and incorporeal world, the essence, which is the model of all existing things, where he beheld things invisible to mortal nature; for, having brought himself and his own life into the middle, as an excellently wrought picture, he established himself as a most beautiful and Godlike work, to be a model for all those who were inclined to imitate him. Happy are those who imprint it, or strive to imprint, that image [of Moses] in their souls. For it were best that the mind should carry the form of virtue in perfection, but, failing this, let it at least have the unflinching desire to possess that form. (Mos., 1.158–59)

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Only because of his Platonic emphasis on the soul’s transcendence of the body could Philo maintain that every reader should emulate Moses. Such Platonic views would return in medieval Jewish philosophy. But they do not seem characteristic of classical rabbinic literature, and Moses is therefore treated primarily as an incomparable authority, and not as an exemplar to be emulated. Conclusion In conclusion, I return to the four questions suggested for biblical studies by Nietzsche’s inaugural lecture. (1) Textual ascription can indeed, sometimes, play a crucial role in textual formation. Certainly this is true at the levels of discourse and collection. Whether it is true at the level of smaller textual units, such as sources, remains to be seen. Comparison with other ancient textual units, such as the Homeric books, may prove to be fruitful once again. (2) Ascription is sometimes to a personality. In these cases, textual formation and authorial formation go hand in hand. But ascription is sometimes to a role. As we have seen, there is variation and development: the name “Moses” ceased to signify a personality and came to signify a role, while the name “Ezra” ceased to signify a role and came to signify a personality. (3) It is not only that authorial formation can affect textual formation by establishing the need for harmonization. Textual formation can also affect authorial formation. In the case of Jubilees, the perceived need to continue Mosaic discourse generated the “rewriting” of much of the Pentateuch. In the case of 4 Ezra, the perceived need to continue an Ezrean discourse after the destruction of the Second Temple generated the “rewriting” of Ezra as a richly imagined personality. (4) Finally, one purpose of textual ascription may be to bring about the imitation or emulation of an exemplary figure by the reader, as we see in the case of Ezra. However, as we see in the case of Moses, the more authoritative and incomparable the figure, the more difficult it is to hold this figure up for imitation and even emulation. We understand backwards, but live forwards. So, in effect, says the passage from Kierkegaard with which this essay began. However, I hope to have shown that it is also possible to understand forwards. The pursuit of original texts and their authors is important, but it is by no means the only path in biblical studies. At the same time, I hope that

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I have also shown that texts themselves sometimes live backwards and forwards at the same time. The complex, dynamic, and reciprocal relationships between the formations of text, author, and reader that characterize ancient Judaism are, to be sure, directed towards the present and future later interpretive communities. They achieve this direction through a profound engagement with a past that is never settled.33

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Many thanks to Paul Franks, Ron Hendel, Nicole Hilton, Sol Goldberg, Julia Lauwers, Eva Mroczek and Eibert Tigchelaar for their incisive comments and suggestions. I also acknowledge my hosts and audience at the Princeton Theological Seminary where this essay was first delivered as the 2010 Alexander Thompson Lecture.

THE RELEVANCE OF TEXTUAL THEORIES FOR THE PRAXIS OF TEXTUAL CRITICISM Emanuel Tov General (textual) theories such as speculation about “the original text(s) of the Bible” or the theory of local texts are abstract entities. Parallel to these textual theories are other abstract entities, named “rules,” which are used for the evaluation of readings, such as that of the lectio difficilior. In this study, we ask ourselves whether the use of these textual theories and rules is necessary for textual praxis, that is, for the comparison of readings and their evaluation. Every biblical scholar, especially those who write commentaries, is involved to some degree in the textual decision-making process. Commentators ordinarily use the apparatus of the BH series, and while their commentaries are usually based on MT, now and then they prefer readings found in other sources. When quoting these other readings, they are actively engaged in textual praxis, since they are forming an opinion on the comparative merits of the readings. Students do the same, as they are encouraged from the beginning of their studies to compare variant readings, despite the fact that they are not experts in textual criticism. I name this procedure “textual praxis level 1,” involving persons who are not necessarily experts in textual criticism. Indeed, most authors of commentaries limit themselves to general statements, such as “reading X is preferable to reading Y because it better suits the style of the author, his language, or the Hebrew language in general.”1 In order to better exemplify my intentions, let me indicate what I mean by textual praxis. I refer to the procedure of determining which reading is original, better suits the context, or best explains the development of the other readings. For example:

1 See, for example, the formulation of rules six (“Lectio, quae cum stylo scriptoris convenit, melior est”) and seven (“Ea lectio vera et genuina esse nequit, quae nullo modo contextui apta aut consilio scriptoris prorsus contraria est”) by P. G. Borbone, Il libro del profeta Osea, Edizione critica del testo ebraico (Quaderni di Henoch 2; Torino: Zamorani, 1990), 26–32.

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MT 1QIsaa

(MTQ ‫אישר‬, MTK ‫דוּרים )אושר‬ ִ ‫)אני לפניך אלך( וַ ֲה‬ (I will go before you) and (I shall level) hadurim ‫ = והררים‬LXX καὶ ὄρη ≈ S and mountains

Most scholars prefer the reading of 1QIsaa LXX (≈ S). The prophet describes God’s ability to accomplish the impossible (v. 2b: “I will shatter doors of bronze and cut down iron bars”) and in light of v. 2b, a reading “I will level the mountains” (1QIsaa LXX) would be appropriate.2

When referring to textual praxis, I have such considerations in mind. The involvement in what I would call “textual praxis level 2,” or “advanced textual praxis” requires the textual expertise of specialists. Such specialists write textual commentaries or monographs, and some of them prepare textual editions that in today’s world are published in the BHQ, HUB, and OHB series. These scholars are greatly involved in textual praxis and by necessity are expected to employ appropriate arguments for their decisions. The issue I am addressing in this study is what kind of arguments are used in the course of textual praxis levels 1 and 2, if at all, and, in general, which textual theories and arguments are relevant or useful when one is involved in textual praxis. We now turn to a brief review of the textual arguments and theories. They are described and exemplified in handbooks to textual criticism, theoretical papers, and introductions to both the literature of Hebrew Scripture and the methodology of biblical research. Theoretical help for textual praxis may derive from two areas: (1) Textual theories about the origin and development of the biblical text; (2) “Rules” guiding the evaluation of textual readings. In order to examine the possible guidance of these theories and guidelines, we will define first what the area of textual criticism involves.

2 When the word became corrupted by a daleth/resh interchange, a waw was added as an internal vowel letter, giving the resulting word ‫ והדורים‬the appearance of a passive participle. Other scholars connect the word with ‫הדר‬, “glory” (cf. Vulg gloriosos terrae) and the root ‫“( הדר‬to honor”); accordingly BDB s.v. records the word as “swelling places” (cf. neb: “swelling hills”). At the same time, C. H. Southwood (“The Problematic hadūrîm of Isaiah XLV 2,” VT 25 [1975]: 801–2) holds on to MT suggesting that it reflects an Akkadian loan word dūru, “city walls,” which could fit the context.

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In the third edition of my Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, I describe the task of the textual criticism of Hebrew-Aramaic Scripture as follows: Textual criticism deals with the nature and origin of all the witnesses of a composition or text, in our case the biblical books. This analysis often involves an attempt to discover the original form of details in a composition, or even of large stretches of text, although what exactly constitutes (an) “original text(s)” is subject to much debate. . . . Those scholars who express a view on the originality of readings do so while evaluating their comparative value. This comparison—the central area of the textual praxis—refers to. . . . One of the practical results of the analysis of textual data is that it creates tools for the exegesis of Hebrew-Aramaic Scripture.3

This general and abstract description, subjective as it is, provides a good starting point for our thinking about the usefulness of guidelines such as mentioned above. It seems almost impossible to be involved in textual criticism without a proper introduction to the field, training in the tools needed, and use of appropriate guidelines. Indeed, Kyle McCarter provides some very practical advice at the beginning of his introduction to textual criticism that is not given in other handbooks: “Be sure you are competently trained in the skills.”4 A minimal list of these skills, according to McCarter, includes knowledge of Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic, Syriac, Latin, Coptic, Ethiopic, Armenian, and Arabic, as well as the historical grammar, orthography, and paleography of Hebrew. It includes the rule that McCarter names the “one great rule” (lectio difficilior praeferenda est) and suggests that the text critic “sit at the feet of a master,” “keep a clear image of the scribe in mind,” “know the personalities of your witnesses,” “treat each case as if it were unique,” “beware of prejudices,” and “apply thought to textual criticism.” These pieces of advice are helpful, but one wonders to what extent they provide sufficient, practical guidance. Several guidelines for textual criticism in general and for textual evaluation are described in the literature, sometimes with examples.

3 Quotation from Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (3d rev. ed.; Minneapolis: Fortress; Assen: Van Gorcum, 2012), 1–2. 4 P. K. McCarter, Textual Criticism: Recovering the Text of the Hebrew Bible (Guides to Biblical Scholarship, Old Testament Series 11; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 22–25.

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Some of these introductions are completely theoretical, such as that of Barth–Steck, which in its thirteen editions is influential in the Germanspeaking world.5 Some of these formulations are based on textual experience, while others were simply copied from earlier monographs. The area of our investigation is the evaluation of readings, which is the central area of textual praxis. This process involves the comparison of details found in the textual witnesses with an eye to their comparative merits. We now examine the relevance of textual theories and guidelines to textual praxis. I. Textual Theories 1. Original text. Foremost among the textual theories is the assumption of (an) “original text(s).” By way of convention, this idea is often expressed as the theory of de Lagarde as opposed to that of Kahle. In concise, abstract terms, de Lagarde proposed that all of the manuscripts of MT derived from one source that served as the archetype of what he called the “recension” of MT. On the other side of the spectrum we find Kahle, who dealt with the original form of both the individual textual witnesses and the biblical text in its entirety. In his opinion, none of these textual witnesses were created in a single act, but rather through a process of editing and revising.6 According to Kahle, these texts developed from a textual plurality into a unity, whereas de Lagarde had maintained that the unity preceded the textual plurality. Kahle’s approach is in many aspects opposed to that of de Lagarde, but one cannot appropriately define the differences between them, since de Lagarde’s exposition was very brief and, in addition, the textual information on which Kahle based his opinions was not known in the time of de Lagarde.7 5 H. Barth and O. H. Steck, Exegese des Alten Testaments, Leitfaden der Methodik— Ein Arbeitsbuch für Proseminare, Seminare und Vorlesungen (13th ed.; Neukirchen/ Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1993) = O. H. Steck, Old Testament Exegesis—A Guide to the Methodology (trans. J. D. Nogalski; SBLRBS 33; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995). 6 With regard to the Hebrew Bible in its entirety, Kahle did not reject the assumption of one original text but emphasized that the textual sources known to us were created from an intermediary source that he originally (1915) named Vulgartext (“vulgar” text) and later (1951) referred to in the plural as Vulgärtexte, that is, texts created to facilitate the reading. He described both SP and LXX as such texts, and also MT, although, in his opinion, the latter passed through a stage of refinement at the end of the first century c.e. 7 For a fuller discussion and references, see Tov, Textual Criticism, 170–73.

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The basic dichotomy between de Lagarde and Kahle pertains to the question of whether at the beginning of the textual transmission there was one original text (de Lagarde) or several texts (Kahle). The texts presupposed by Kahle may be named original texts, although he did not use that term. To what extent are these theories relevant to textual praxis? In other words, in the evaluation of textual variation, do we have to take a stand with regard to these theories or is it possible to proceed without referring to them? These are difficult questions, so difficult in fact that many scholars prefer to leave them unanswered.8 Further, some scholars say expressly that the problem of an original text cannot be resolved.9 However, in our view, the praxis of textual criticism is not possible without taking a stand on the issue of the original text. For example, the BH series does express an implied view about the original text of Hebrew Scripture. For the instructions given by that tool (e.g., “change X”, “delete Y,” or “add Z”) are only valid if the underlying principle of an original text is accepted. Those who claim, as does the BH series, that reading X is preferable to reading Y necessarily presuppose an original text in this detail, since they claim that the preferred reading better reflects the original composition from the point of view of the language, vocabulary, ideas, or meaning.10 If, with Kahle, one does not adhere to the idea of an original text, there would be no need to prefer this or that detail. In such a case, we would be able to accept the co-existence of any two readings without feeling the need to prefer one of them. In sum, it seems to me that all those who are involved in textual praxis, except for those who prepare the HUB, implicitly express a view on the

8

E.g., B. J. Roberts, The Old Testament Text and Versions—The Hebrew Text in Transmission and the History of the Ancient Versions (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1951); the authors of various introductions to the Bible, e.g. S. R. Driver, An Introduction to the Literature of the Old Testament (9th ed.; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1913); R. H. Pfeiffer, Introduction to the Old Testament (London: A. and C. Black, 1953), 71–126; E. Sellin and G. Fohrer, Introduction to the Old Testament (trans. D. E. Green; Nashville: Abingdon, 1968), 489–515; R. Smend, Die Entstehung des Alten Testaments (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1978), 13–32; J. Weingreen, Introduction to the Critical Study of the Text of the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Clarendon, 1982). 9 B. Lemmelijn, “What Are We Looking for in Doing Old Testament Text-Critical Research,” JNWSL 23 (1997): 69–80 (77): “. . . I would rather start from the observation that at a certain moment in history several texts have indeed been current . . . without positing anything about their origin and the phases of their prior textual history.” 10 At the same time, one often has the feeling that not all users of the BH series are sufficiently aware of its underlying assumptions.

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existence of an original text. Therefore, taking a stand on the original text is a necessary part of textual praxis. 2. Parallel readings or traditions. Beyond Kahle and his supporters who developed their views mainly at the theoretical level, four scholars rejected the assumption of an original text on the basis of the existence of certain types of readings. Basing himself upon the occurrence of synonymous readings as variants in textual witnesses, Shemaryahu Talmon claimed that such pairs as ‫ יד‬// ‫( כף‬both: “hand”) and ‫ אדמה‬// ‫( ארץ‬both: “land”) reflect components that are equally early and original and that neither one should be preferred to the other.11 He expanded this claim in reference to additional groups of readings in a later study.12 Likewise, Greenberg, basing himself upon a comparison of details in MT and LXX of Ezekiel, suggested that various details in both texts are equally valid in the context.13 In Greenberg’s view these details are original to the same extent. Goshen-Gottstein claimed that if any two readings cannot be described as primary as opposed to secondary, or original as opposed to corrupt, both of them should be considered to be alternative and original readings.14 Similarly, Walters tried to show that in 1 Samuel 1, MT and LXX reflect two parallel stories slightly differing from each other.15 These four views pertain to details in the theory of an original text, and therefore for those who accept these views they provide a form of guidance for textual praxis even though they refer to a very small number of instances. For example, Hendel accepts the notion of synonymous readings for his eclectic edition (OHB) and therefore does not decide on the preference of one of a pair of such readings.16

11 S. Talmon, “Synonymous Readings in the Textual Traditions of the Old Testament,” ScrHier 8 (1961): 335–83. 12 “The Old Testament Text,” in The Cambridge History of the Bible (ed. R. P. Ackroyd and C. F. Evans; 3 vols.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 1.159–99. 13 M. Greenberg, “The Use of the Ancient Versions for Interpreting the Hebrew Text,” VTSup 29 (1978): 131–48. 14 M. H. Goshen-Gottstein, “The History of the Bible-Text and Comparative Semitics,” VT 7 (1957): 195–201. In his argumentation, he draws an analogy between procedures in linguistic reconstruction and the reconstruction of the text of the Bible. 15 S. D. Walters, “Hannah and Anna—The Greek and Hebrew Texts of I Samuel 1,” JBL 107 (1988): 385–412. 16 R. Hendel (“The Oxford Hebrew Bible; Prologue to a New Critical Edition,” VT 58 [2008]: 324–51 [346]) realizes that the textual critic cannot in all cases reach a verdict regarding the words to be included in the text, especially in “synonymous” and “alternative” readings. In these cases, the central text of the edition (the “copy

the relevance of textual theories

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Even if one does not accept the views expressed in this paragraph, they remain relevant for those scholars who describe them as relating to their conception of the original text. 3. The relation between the textual witnesses. From the beginning of critical inquiry into the biblical text, scholars tried to solve the question of the relation between MT, LXX, SP, etc. Until some time after the discovery of the Qumran Scrolls, scholars adhered to the view that the textual witnesses are divided into three groups represented by MT, LXX, and SP. In more recent research, scholars have accepted the assumption of a plurality of texts.17 In my view, these theories contribute little to the advancement of textual praxis. 4. Local text traditions. It is unclear to what extent scholars still adhere to the theory of local texts, which was developed mainly by American scholars. In the wake of a brief study by Albright a new textual theory developed, mainly in the United States, according to which all Hebrew textual witnesses represent three different groups, which were at first described as “recensions” and later as “families.” These groups were linked to particular areas: Babylon (MT), Palestine (SP, MT of Chronicles, several Qumran texts), and Egypt (the Hebrew Vorlage of LXX). This view was developed in particular in the studies of Cross.18 If the theory itself is problematic,19 determining relations between readings on its basis20 is even more difficult. McCarter provides brief characterizations of the various textual witnesses in the books of the text”) is left intact, while the apparatus includes another reading considered to be of “equal” value. E.g., in 1 Kgs 11:5, for ‫ שקץ‬of MT the apparatus records a variant ‫ אלהא‬reconstructed from the Peshitta and named “equal” by the editor, Joosten, in S. W. Crawford, J. Joosten, & E. Ulrich, “Sample Editions of the Oxford Hebrew Bible: Deuteronomy 32:1–9, 1 Kings 11:1–8, and Jeremiah 27:1–10 (34 G),” VT 58 (2008): 352–66, esp. 359. 17 For a discussion, see Tov, Textual Criticism, 155–63. 18 The principal argument in favor of this theory is abstract and logical and posits that texts developed in different ways in the locations in which they were preserved and/or copied. According to this view, the lack of contact between the centers in which the three families were developed created different textual characteristics. For example, the Palestinian recension is held to be expansionistic and full of glosses and harmonizing additions (cf. the features of SP), the Egyptian recension is considered to be full, and the Babylonian recension is conservative and short. The three families developed during the fifth to third centuries b.c.e. 19 See Tov, Textual Criticism, 186–87. 20 As suggested by F. M. Cross, Jr., “The History of the Biblical Text in the Light of Discoveries in the Judaean Desert,” HTR 57 (1964): 281–99, esp. 189–90 and Klein, Textual Criticism, 69–71.

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Bible in accord with this theory, such as the expansionistic character of MT in most books.21 5. Vulgar versus non-vulgar texts; precise versus imprecise texts. Various scholars accepted from Kahle’s writings the concept of “vulgar” as opposed to conservative or exact texts, albeit with certain changes.22 The writers of these texts (e.g., 1QIsaa and SP) approached the biblical text in a free manner and inserted changes of various kinds, including orthography. Summarizing this section, we realize that textual theories in general are of little relevance for the comparison of readings, their value being greater for the historian. The only theory that is relevant is the expression of a view on the original text of Hebrew Scripture. As we have seen, this view may take different forms. In our view, one cannot evaluate readings without expressing a stance on this issue. II. Rules for Evaluation Another area of textual theory is that of the “rules” used in the evaluation of readings. Seemingly, these rules would be very appropriate (see the various handbooks), but they are problematic. In the evaluation of readings, a distinction is often made between external and internal criteria (considerations) relating to the evaluation of readings. External criteria pertain to the document in which the reading is found, whereas internal criteria bear on the intrinsic value of the reading itself.23

21 McCarter, Textual Criticism, 87–94 (“Textual characteristics of the books of the Hebrew Bible”). 22 For details, see Tov, Textual Criticism, 173. 23 The following sources mention rules for the evaluation of readings and not textual theories: D. Barthélemy et al., Preliminary and Interim Report on the Hebrew Old Testament Text Project, vols. 1–5 (2d ed.; New York: United Bible Societies, 1979– 1980); Barth and Steck, Exegese, 37–44 = Steck, Old Testament Exegesis, 39–47; E. R. Brotzman, Old Testament Textual Criticism—A Practical Introduction (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1994), 123–32; E. Würthwein, The Text of the Old Testament—An Introduction to the Biblia Hebraica (2d ed.; trans. E. F. Rhodes; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 113–22; J. Trebolle Barrera, The Jewish Bible and the Christian Bible, An Introduction to the History of the Bible (trans. W. G. E. Watson; Leiden: Brill; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 370–404, esp. 380. For an analysis, see Tov, Textual Criticism, 270–82.

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A. External rules 1. Preference for MT. Many scholars make statements such as “all other things being equal, the reading of MT should be preferred.” Readings of MT are often preferable to those found in other texts, but this statistical information should not influence decisions in individual instances, because the exceptions to this situation are not predictable. When judgments are involved, statistical information should be considered less relevant, although it certainly influences scholars unconsciously. Furthermore, MT is no more reliable than LXX or certain Qumran texts. The application of this rule reflects an inappropriate preference for MT. 2. Broad attestation. It is often claimed that the trustworthiness of a reading is directly related to the breadth of its attestation. Sometimes a scholar will stress its wide or narrow geographical distribution. However, reliance on a broad attestation of textual evidence is profitable neither in the case of Hebrew manuscripts nor in that of the ancient versions, for it could have been created by a historical coincidence. Long ago it was recognized that manuscripta ponderantur, non numerantur. The same argument may be used with regard to the ancient versions.24 Textual criticism does not proceed according to democratic rules. 3. Age of witnesses. Older witnesses are often preferable to more recent ones, because “the older one is likely to have been less exposed to textual corruption than the younger one.”25 Reliance on the age of documents is seemingly desirable, because the closer the document is to the time of the autograph, the more likely it is that it has preserved the wording of that autograph. However, some copyists or traditions preserved their source better than others. For example, the community that transmitted MT has left the biblical text virtually unchanged for more than two thousand years since the time of the Judean Desert texts, whereas the Qumran scribes modernized and changed the orthography, morphology, and content of the text. Thus 1QIsaa, dating from the first century b.c.e., 24 Several versions may be interdependent, as in the case of the reliance of Jerome (Vulg) on LXX, Symmachus, Aquila, and Theodotion. Hebrew and retroverted readings should be judged on the basis of their intrinsic value, and consequently even minority readings may be preferable to well-attested variants. 25 F. E. Deist, Towards the Text of the Old Testament (2d ed.; Pretoria: D. R. Church Booksellers, 1981), 232.

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is further removed from the original text of Isaiah than a Masoretic manuscript written in the tenth century c.e. Given such exceptional cases, the fallacy of dependence upon the age of witnesses was recognized long ago. B. Internal rules The above discussion has shown that external criteria usually cannot be used profitably in the textual criticism of the Hebrew Bible. We turn now to internal criteria, that is, criteria bearing on the intrinsic value and content of the readings. 1. Lectio difficilior praeferenda/praevalet/praestat. This rule (“the more difficult reading is to be preferred”) has been phrased in different ways. For example: “When a text was particularly difficult, there was a tendency for ancient scribes and translators to simplify the text by employing contextually more fitting lexical, grammatical, and stylistic forms (these modifications are often spoken of as ‘facilitating’).”26 When textual variation is encountered, one of the readings is sometimes termed the “difficult” reading, and the other(s), the “easy” reading(s), with the implication that the former has a preferable (original) status. From a theoretical point of view, this rule is logical as some “difficult” readings were indeed replaced by scribes with simpler ones. Although the basic validity of this rule cannot be denied, many scholars have recognized that the rule is problematic and impractical since it fails to take into consideration simple scribal errors.27 By definition, often a scribal error creates a lectio difficilior. If there were a consensus with regard to the recognition of scribal errors, the rule would be more practical, but since it is often unclear whether or not a given reading reflects a scribal error, the rule of the lectio difficilior

26 Barthélemy, Report xi (“factor 4”). For similar formulations, see A. Bentzen, Introduction to the Old Testament (7th ed.; Copenhagen: Gad, 1967), 1.97; R. W. Klein, Textual Criticism of the Old Testament—The Septuagint after Qumran (Guides to Biblical Scholarship, Old Testament Series 4; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1974), 75; Deist, Text of the Old Testament, 244–45; idem, Witnesses to the Old Testament— Introducing Old Testament Textual Criticism (The Literature of the Old Testament 5; Pretoria: N. G. Kerkboekhandel Transvaal, 1988), 203; Barth and Steck, Exegese, 41. According to McCarter (Textual Criticism, 21) this is “the one great rule” for the evaluation of readings. 27 See especially B. Albrektson, “Difficilior Lectio Probabilior,” in idem, Text, Translation, Theology—Selected Essays on the Hebrew Bible (SOTSM; Farnham/Burlington, Vt.: Ashgate, 2010), 73–86.

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cannot be effectively applied. Moreover, in many instances this rule has been applied so subjectively that it can hardly be called a textual rule. For what appears to be a linguistically or contextually difficult reading to one scholar may not necessarily be difficult to another. Furthermore, two readings may often be equally difficult and two others may be equally easy. 2. Lectio brevior. The logic behind the rule of the lectio brevior/ brevis potior (“the shorter reading is to be preferred”) is that ancient scribes were more prone to add details than to omit them.28 This rule seems perfectly logical, yet its raison d’être has often been criticized.29 3. Assimilation to parallel passages (harmonization). This criterion was formulated by Barthélemy as follows: Some variant forms of text arose because ancient editors, scribes, or translators, assimilated the text of one passage to that of a similar or proximate passage, usually with the apparent purpose of attaining greater consistency.30

This criterion can be taken as a subcategory of the lectio difficilior, for the assimilated reading is the “easier” one, and the other reading the more “difficult” one. Thus, when in two different texts some manuscripts of text a agree with text b, while other manuscripts of that text differ from b, the first mentioned group of manuscripts of a is suspected of having been assimilated to b. Assimilation to parallel passages is a valid rule for evaluation, but it pertains to a small number of instances. III. Conclusions The aforementioned rules represent the most frequently used criteria for textual evaluation. In sum, the following faults are found in the application of the rules. 28 Klein, Textual Criticism, 75: “Unless there is clear evidence for homoioteleuton or some other form of haplography, a shorter text is probably better. The people who copied manuscripts expanded the text in several ways: they made subjects and objects of sentences explicit whereas they were often only implicit in the original text; they added glosses or comments to explain difficult words or ideas; and when faced with alternate readings in two or more manuscripts they were copying, they would include both of them (conflation) in a serious attempt to preserve the original. While some scribes may have abbreviated from time to time, we believe that the interpretation of a shorter reading as abbreviation should only be chosen as a last resort.” 29 Tov, Textual Criticism, 278. 30 Barthélemy, Report, xi (“factor 5”).

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(a) The logic underlying certain rules is questionable (lectio difficilior, lectio brevior). (b) The application of abstract rules cannot make the evaluation of readings objective. The procedure remains subjective. (c) Textual rules can be applied to only a small fraction of the readings that need to be evaluated. (d) Textual rules are limited to internal evidence. No commonly accepted or valid external rules exist in the textual criticism of Hebrew Scripture. These criticisms pertain only to the application of textual rules and do not imply that such rules are incorrect or should be abandoned. The rules should be used sparingly and with full recognition of their subjective nature. Furthermore, it must be realized that even if there are objective aspects to the rules, the very selection of a particular rule remains subjective. For example, a given reading can be characterized as a lectio difficilior, a transcription error, or as an exegetical element; these evaluative options necessarily lead to different conclusions. This judgment leads to some general reflections on the nature of textual evaluation and the use of guidelines within that framework. The quintessence of textual evaluation is the selection from among the different transmitted readings of the one that is the most appropriate to its context. Within the process of this selection, the concept of the “context” is taken in a broad sense, as referring to the language, style, and content of both the immediate context and of the whole literary unit in which the reading is found. This procedure necessarily allows the scholar great liberty and, at the same time, burdens him or her with the responsibility of finding a way through a labyrinth of data and considerations. The upshot of this analysis, then, is that to a large extent textual evaluation cannot be bound by any fixed rules. It is an art in the full sense of the word, a faculty that can be developed, guided by intuition based on wide experience. Therefore, it is the choice of the contextually most appropriate reading that is the main task of the textual critic. This procedure is as subjective as can be. Common sense is the main guide, although abstract rules are sometimes also helpful.31 In modern

31 A. E. Housman, “The Application of Thought to Textual Criticism,” Proceedings of the Classical Association 18 (1922): 67–84.

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times, scholars are often reluctant to admit the subjective nature of textual evaluation and, as a consequence, an attempt is often made to create an artificial level of objectivity by the frequent application of abstract rules. For that reason, we often find such rules mentioned and exemplified in introductions. If these rules are of little help in textual praxis, textual theories are even less beneficial.32 In the textual comparison of readings, our main guides are common sense, experience, and knowledge. Or, in the words of McCarter,33 the textual critic needs training, experience, and a good master. This leaves the assumption of the original text as the only theory relevant to textual praxis, not so much as an aid in the decision-making process, but as a theory on which we need to take a stand.

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On the other hand, handbooks usually give an optimistic view of what can be achieved with the aid of the mentioned guidelines. For example, the influential book of Würthwein (The Text of the Old Testament, 76) notes: “There is no precisely defined method for Old Testament textual criticism. Further, it is indeed questionable whether one is possible, because the tradition is so varied, that an effective procedure for one problem would not be appropriate for another. But there are certain fundamental principles which are widely recognized, at least in theory if not in practice, and which are designed to keep textual criticism on a sound basis, avoiding the excesses of arbitrariness and subjectivity” (my italics). The same optimistic tone is heard in Steck, Old Testament Exegesis, 40–47 = Barth and Steck, Exegese, 37–44. This optimism is perpetuated in the influential introduction by Eissfeldt, who, when speaking about “the evaluation of the evidence for textual criticism,” simply refers to BH and Würthwein rather than discussing the issues himself: O. Eissfeldt, The Old Testament, An Introduction, Including the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, and also the Works of Similar Type from Qumran: The History of the Formation of the Old Testament (trans. P. R. Ackroyd; Oxford: Blackwell, 1965), 721. O. Kaiser and W. G. Kümmel (Exegetical Method: A Student’s Handbook [rev. ed.; New York: Seabury Press, 1981], 5–11) describe the procedure of textual criticism and textual evaluation as if the student and scholar can practice this discipline well with the guidance of a handbook. 33 See n. 4 above.

SEA, STORM, TRAGEDY, AND ETHNOGENESIS: LIVING THE BLUES AND (RE)BUILDING COMMUNITY IN POST-KATRINA AMERICA AND EARLY ISRAEL* Hugh R. Page, Jr. Overview Three of the Hebrew Bible’s earliest purported compositions (Exodus 15, Psalm 29, and Judges 5) make allusions to the destructive capacity, creative potential, and cultural significance of sea and storm. Within this subset of Early Hebrew poetry, waters are a dominant trope through which the social dynamics associated with Israel’s emergence are expressed. In spite of the celebratory tone prevalent within each individual poem—a tenor reinforced by canonical framing strategies in the Pentateuch, Former Prophets, and Psalter—one detects, nonetheless, an implicit anxiety within these works over the persistence of the tragic in community formation and dissolution. A reading of this literary corpus aimed at excavating and assessing the significance of such evocative resonances promises to yield a more nuanced understanding of intellectual and emotional life in early Israel and greater appreciation for the role that modern crises play in shaping our reading of Scripture and other ancient texts. This essay will utilize selected post-Katrina Blues music and poetry in a sociopoetic re-engagement of three of the Bible’s most ancient texts and modern Africana life. This excavation will amount to a transgressive experimental reading in which artifacts whose genre and Sitz im

* It is a pleasure to contribute this essay to a Festschrift honoring James VanderKam: a colleague, mentor, and friend. He has been an invaluable conversation partner about issues related to the traditions of early Israel and a stalwart supporter of my scholarly endeavors for close to two decades. Earlier versions of this essay were presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Schools for Oriental Research (New Orleans, LA—November 2009) and in a Black History Month forum at DePauw University (17 February 2010). I benefitted immeasurably from comments made by attendees at each of those events. I wish to thank, in particular, Drs. Theodore Burgh (University of North Carolina, Wilmington) and Leslie James (DePauw University) for their helpful insights.

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Leben are in some way resonant are brought into creative conversation with one another. The aim of such an approach is to enable reasoned comparison through what might be termed a hermeneutics of empathy. Toward these ends, post-Katrina Blues art will be utilized as an interpretive lens. The resulting analysis aims to contribute to the emerging literature on contextual theology and biblical hermeneutics, as well as the ongoing conversation about early Hebrew poetry.1 Artists and the Post-Katrina Setting Many popular and performing artists expressed chagrin regarding our Federal Government’s responsiveness to the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina. Perhaps the most highly publicized was Kanye West’s outburst during a telethon on September 3, 2005, in which he asserted that “George Bush doesn’t care about Black People,” and that government officials had received “permission to go down and shoot” African-American residents.2 West’s comments, clearly injudicious and rendered in the heat of the moment, typify the strong emotions expressed by numerous artists in the storm’s wake. In genres as disparate as painting, rock, blues, and poetry, artists responded to and reflected upon Katrina and its aftermath. While his may well have been the most highly publicized voice of discontent, others—albeit less ballyhooed—were equally poignant. One of the more evocative was that of musician Ben Harper, in the song “Black Rain”: You left them swimming for their lives Down in New Orleans Can’t afford a gallon of gasoline With your useless degrees and contrary statistics This government business is straight up sadistic Now you don’t fight for us But expect us to die for you You have no sympathy for us But still i cry for you

1 For an overview of recent scholarship on contextual theology see Angie Pears, Doing Contextual Theology (London: Routledge, 2010). 2 See the Associated Press story on the incident, “Rapper Blasts Bush Over Katrina,” n.p. [cited 21 November, 2009]. Online: www.cbsnews.com/stories/2005/09/03/ katrina/main814636.shtml.

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Now you may kill the revolutionary But the revolution you can never bury Don’t speak to us like we work for you Selling false hope like some new dope we’re addicted to I’m not a desperate man but these are desperate times at hand This generation is beyond your command And it won’t be long ‘til the people flood the streets To take you down One and all A black rain is gonna fall3

The abandonment of the Crescent City is woven into a selective litany of offenses against the African-American community, actions that will seed clouds of discontent until the “black rain” of revolution washes away an abusive regime. Katrina’s winds and surge are mere prelude to the social cataclysm emerging in their aftermath. Crisis and tragedy, in other words, become the foundation for the birth of a new social order. Needless to say, both West’s outburst and Harper’s searing yet melodic apocalyptic vision of the future received their share of criticism. One commentator went so far as to raise doubt as to Harper’s embrace of the Christian faith, given his prophetic prediction of popular uprising.4 However, scholars must be careful neither to ignore nor relegate to the margin twenty-first century rhetorics of dissent. To do so is to deprive our work of a key contextual lever that can be used in selfdiscovery and our efforts to interpret ancient literature—poems in particular. While paleographic, orthographic, lexicographic, syntactic, and structural interventions help one to reconstruct the history and social location of such texts as artifacts, a different set of tools is needed to comprehend the inner terrain that is their life’s blood, their animating force. One could even go so far as to suggest that peeling away the layers of any society’s cultures of artistic expression so as to gain access to this hidden landscape requires evocative methodologies

3

These lyrics are from http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/benharper/blackrain.html. This is the position of Mike Adams in a 2007 article entitled “Does Ben Harper Want a Race War?” n.p. [cited 21 November, 2009]. Online: http://townhall.com/ columnists/MikeAdams/2007/01/02/ does_ben_harper_want_a_race_war. 4

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that are resonant with the objects being studied.5 In the case of ancient poetry, written in and/or reflecting circumstances of crisis, recourse to poems derived from comparable settings can help one to live, read, and write with scholarly empathy. In other words, such an approach helps one become a poet able to resonate emotionally with other poets; or, in the words of Michelle Ailene True, a poet writing in the wake of Katrina: The true poet experiences the world in a way only another poet could possibly understand.6

The embrace of the reflexive is one of the foundations of the so-called new ethnography.7 The authorial voice has found something of an uneasy home within biblical studies, where there is considerable angst about it possibly promoting narcissistic self-indulgence.8 However, there is something to be said in favor of those charged with the duty of reading and making sense of the past—and its physical remains— being fully in tune with those factors shaping their identity and the

5 One can see traces of this kind of work in earlier scholarship on the Hebrew Bible. For example, Hermann Gunkel, in his now classic treatment on legends in Genesis, writes movingly of the poetic nature of this genre and the need for an evocative hermeneutic (Gunkel, The Legends of Genesis: The Biblical Saga and History [trans. W. H. Carruth; New York: Schocken Books, 1964], 10–11). He says: . . . legend is by nature poetry, its aim being to please, to elevate, to inspire, and to move. He who wishes to do justice to such narratives must have some aesthetic faculty, to catch in the telling of a story what it is and what it purports to be. And in so doing he is not expressing a hostile or even skeptical judgment, but simply studying lovingly the nature of his material. Certainly, one way to develop the capacity to which Gunkel refers is through the kind of lived experience that enables one to read and interpret with scholarly affection. 6 Michelle Ailene True, “The True Poet,” in In Katrina’s Wake: An Anthology of Inspirational Poetry (ed. Michelle Ailene True; Raleigh: N. C.: Lulu, 2005), 11. 7 H. L. Goodall provides a very succinct description of the conventions governing this approach to writing about culture in Writing the New Ethnography (Walnut Creek, Calif.: Alta Mira, 2000), 7–14. 8 Interesting is the balance sought by William Dever in his recent treatment of folk religion in Israel. Although critical of postmodernism and certain manifestations of feminism, he nonetheless situates himself as a scholar in his “Introduction” and openly acknowledges the shortcomings of Eurocentric scholarship; see his Did God Have a Wife? Archaeology and Folk Religion in Ancient Israel (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), x–xv, 311–12.

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worldview out of which their endeavors grow. After all, where we read influences how we read.9 Therefore, there is something quite salutary in engaging—at the very least—part of the corpus of post-Katrina poetry as a prelude to re-reading, re-thinking, and re-interpreting those biblical poems purported to come from Israel’s formative period. Leaving aside for the time being the contentious issue of whether philological data support their claim to antiquity, my focus will instead be on identifying selected tropes within a sampling of post-Katrina poetry written in the period between 2005 and 2009 and their use as interpretive lenses through which to view the earliest stratum of Hebrew poetry. Those poems selected are located in anthologies that have Katrina as their focus. A conscious effort has been made to highlight those pieces in which the storm serves as imaginary landscape for their authors, the communities they represent, and the audiences they seek to address. I have focused on five non-randomly selected works: Katrina: Poetry in Two Distinct Voices by C. C. J. Spencer; In Katrina’s Wake: An Anthology of Inspirational Poetry, a compilation edited by Michelle Ailene True; When Will the Sky Fall?: Hurricane Katrina, A Documentary in Poetry by Brad Bechler; Post-Katrina Blues by Mac McKinney; and Hurricane Blues: Poems about Katrina and Rita, edited by Philip C. Kolin and Susan Swartwout.10 In reading them I had one question in mind: How do these poets come to terms with Katrina as cataclysmic force and its role in shaping social life? My goal was to see if the answers given might provide critical and contextual insights that would contribute to a more nuanced reading of the earliest stratum of Hebrew poetry.

9 See, for example, the account of the debate between John Collins and Burke Long about the legacy of William F. Albright and his scholarly offspring in Burke Long, Planting and Reaping Albright: Politics, Ideology, and Interpreting the Bible (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997), 3–6. 10 Cee Cee Jay Spencer, Katrina: Poetry in Two Distinct Voices (Lincoln, Nebr.: iUniverse, 2007); True, In Katrina’s Wake; Bechler, When Will the Sky Fall? Hurricane Katrina, A Documentary in Poetry (Baltimore: PublishAmerica, 2009); McKinney, Post-Katrina Blues (Onancock, Va.: San Francisco Bay Press, 2009); Kolin and Swartwout, eds., Hurricane Blues: Poems about Katrina and Rita (Cape Girardeau, Mo.: Southeast Missouri State University Press, 2006).

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Within the aforementioned anthologies, Katrina is, for the most part, center stage. Its presence is often quite pronounced. On occasion it is the background for musings about nature, family, or social change. Within Spencer’s collection of poems in two voices, Katrina is an active force that: generates diaspora; makes known the governing deity of the cosmos; creates community; elicits awe; and reveals the fate commonly shared by humanity and nature itself. One piece, “The Gathering,” gives voice to the pain elicited by the latter: Strangers searching, calling, wondering, crying Animals stranded, abandoned, wounded, dead Seagulls squawking, walking, not able to fly against the winds and rains Searching for cover, searching for quiet, searching for peace

True’s anthology contains poems for which both the 2004 Tsunami in the Indian Ocean and Katrina were sources of inspiration. Several of its authors call attention to realia arising from the 2005 hurricane such as: amnesia and selective memory; hyper-vigilance; courage; consolation; recognition of the horror, immediacy, and tactile realities of death; the strengthening and dissolution of social bonds; comparisons between the fight against natural cataclysms and war; the development of new poetics and understandings of both poetry and the vocational parameters for poets; forgiveness; renewed appreciation of the natural world; the re-mythologization of nature; heightened awareness of evil; and profound feelings of isolation.11 Bechler’s poetic documentary touches on the following as flowing out of the Katrina experience: retrospective thinking about the Africana experience in the Americas; the inscription of new sacral boundaries; invisibility; reconnection to the Middle Passage (the maafa), plantation life, and dancing in Congo Square; resignation; recognition of the social maelstrom ongoing in American life; refugee status; foreboding and dread; social disjunction; the forgotten and anonymous dead; darkness as a living trope; the prevalence of fear; survivor’s guilt; the crisis of Katrina representation; the commodification of tragedy; the ambiguities in/of both catastrophe and recovery; and the uneasy

11 True, In Katrina’s Wake, 2–4, 11–12, 14, 31, 36, 75–76, 82, 88, 94, 98–100, 114– 15, 128.

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calm that exists in the midst of inequitably distributed prosperity.12 Concerning the latter, he offers biting commentary in the concluding lines of one piece entitled “Three Years Later”: Miles from sun drenched earth, swollen levees, and remnants of an angry storm, thoughts of melancholy faces, distended bellies, crumbling attics, once refuge to mothers and their brood, and fading trumpet sounds, life swarms about itself, and the privileged ones who sip gingerly on their Cappucinos’ and Lattes celebrate, privately at their being on higher ground. In contrast, somewhere in the Easy city, the hollowed sound of a drum makes its way through salty air—quiet, ominous, and without direction. At this precise moment, those on higher ground renew their partnership with the brew the Barista has just prepared. And, then a funny thing happens: a Spanish tune belts out of the aging Bose Speakers overhead: La Vida Pasa (Life Goes On). The private smile I managed was mine to keep, my secret, my offering.13

McKinney points to several haunting byproducts of Katrina’s rage. These include: FEMA trailers; remnants of homes; devastation in the Lower Ninth Ward; home reclamation by activists in defiance of demolition orders; real estate speculation; a new symbolic/esoteric language—in the form of the rescuer’s “X”; emigrants and immigrants; storm-induced urban surrealism; a (relatively) pristine French Quarter; disaster tourism; new commercial pirates inheriting the mantle of Jean LaFitte; predatory capitalists; and a new calendar cipher—8/29/2005.14 Finally, in the collection Hurricane Blues, we see, among other things, a re-engagement of biblical figures such as Noah, biblical allusions to the flood, and mention of biblical institutions such as that of prophecy. We also see nature anthropomorphized. Natural and social byproducts of Katrina are also highlighted. These byproducts include: the “storm surge”; silence in the aftermath of horror; compassion fatigue (for those outside of harm’s way); human snakes— upright serpents that capitalize on opportunities generated by crisis; renewed discourse about race in America; anger; and charity—viewed 12 Bechler, When Will the Sky Fall?, 14–17, 22, 36, 42–43, 52–53, 62, 67, 111, 120, 123–24, 128, 131, 135. 13 Ibid., 137. 14 McKinney, Post-Katrina Blues, 3, 12, 24–25, 37–38, 46, 48, 51, 56–57, 127, 129, and back cover.

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as investment against future disaster.15 The issue of race receives poignant treatment by Stanley Banks in a piece entitled “After Katrina: The Bodies are Rising” For him, the storm has brought old issues to the surface: Unjust death can never be contained in a crypt. Bodies rising tend to expose the truth about the remains of Jim Crow days. Atrocities are historic in Louisiana. Ghosts of old Creoles are again trying to speak: “Where have y’all been?” “Why did y’all leave us?” We are witnessing the sins of the last century as mulattoes, quadroons, and octoroons rise. Anti-Civil Rights Dixiecrats never wanted anyone to bother with the horrors that lie just under the surface. How many times will America allow the ugly issue of skin color to hemorrhage in our hearts.16

These poems point to many of those things one would expect to see in the aftermath of natural disaster: despair, social disruption, endurance, the apparent absence of a providential divine force, and rebirth. One also finds painful musings on elements particular to the experience of the poor and dispossessed in American life—including concerns about loss of home and livelihood; forced relocation; and fears about predation in the process of urban and rural reconstruction. Moreover, some of the vexing and heretofore unresolved problems common to Africana life in North America also receive attention. These include feelings of abandonment, disenfranchisement due to race, and coming to grips with the legacy of the slave trade and its impact on life in New Orleans and elsewhere in the United States. Taken together, these poems suggest that Katrina stripped away part

15 Kolin and Swartwout, Hurricane Blues, 23, 28–29, 35–36, 45, 103, 123, 137, 156, 159–60, 168. 16 Ibid., 156.

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of the patina used to conceal some of our most painful collective memories. They ennoble the strong emotions that frequently accompany truth-telling and reporting devoid of “spin.” They remind us that our responses to natural disasters often reveal related anxieties we have about pre-existing, ongoing, and projected upheavals in political and social arenas. Hurricanes, floods, diasporas—forced, voluntary, or imagined—and upheavals in government: all are storms to be endured, tempests that fuel the human poetic impulse. Early Hebrew Poems in Light of Post-Katrina Poetics The late David Noel Freedman identified Exodus 15, Psalm 29, and Judges 5 as poems emerging from a twelfth-century b.c.e. setting in which the theological underpinnings for a new faith were established.17 He classified it as the era of “Militant Mosaic Yahwism.”18 The first is a celebratory hymn memorializing the march of an “ethnically diverse assemblage” (Exod 12:38) from slavery to freedom.19 That escape included a miraculous rescue at the Reed Sea when an Egyptian military contingent is consigned to a watery grave by the action of a providential Divine Liberator (Exod 15:1, 9–10). The second is a poetic retrospective placed on the lips of the prophetess/mother Deborah (Judg 4:4; 5:7) describing some of the highs and lows of the social aggregates constitutive of the early Israelite confederation. The language of myth is deftly interwoven with that of epic in painting a portrait of a world in which the God of Israel marches to war (Judg 5:4), monarchs are armed for conflict (5:19), two tribes—Dan and Asher—decline the call to join the tribal militia and remain in the safety of a coastal enclave (5:17), and the wife of a blacksmith fells the community’s archenemy with a hammer and tent peg (5:26). The third is a poem celebrating the storm as manifestation of Yahweh’s voice and reinforcing his supremacy over the flood (Ps 29:10)—a powerful 17 See the following essays of David Noel Freedman in his self-edited volume, Pottery, Poetry, and Prophecy: Collected Essays on Hebrew Poetry (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1980): “Divine Names and Titles in Early Hebrew Poetry,” 78, 118–19; “Early Israelite History in the Light of Early Israelite Poetry,” 139, 160–66; “Early Israelite Poetry and Historical Reconstructions,” 176–78. 18 “Divine Names,” 78. 19 My translation of the Hebrew phrase assumes, in agreement with Freedman (“Early Israelite History,” 146), that the entirety of the community is a non-homogeneous blend of disparate peoples.

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symbol of chaos and disorder subdued. That this poem appropriates Baal imagery has long been beyond doubt.20 Reading such a corpus in light of gleanings from post-Katrina poems will not help to resolve existing debates about the age of the poems, the historical veracity of the allusions contained therein, or the origins of early Israel.21 It does, however, offer a set of interesting questions with which to interrogate them—questions that promise to shed light on the Zeitgeist within which they may have taken shape. For example, should one read more into the imagery of storm and sea than has heretofore been the case? Is the calamity that befalls the Egyptian army at the sea more than a simple reflex of the Baal Myth? Might it refer to a set of complex processes by which Egyptian political hegemony is subdued by social dynamics at home and elsewhere within its imperial holdings? Could Yahweh’s sitting upon “the flood” in Ps 29:10 be an allusion to the stifling of competing alliances by a single family or other entity as the messy and asymmetrical particulars of power sharing were negotiated in early Israel? As for Judges 5, embedded as it is within a narrative framework that celebrates boundary transgression as survival strategy, could it be the de jure charter for a community in which those who work with metal (e.g., Heber the Kenite—Judg 5:24), improvised weapons (e.g., Jael—Judg 5:24–27) or words (e.g., Deborah and Barak—Judg 5:1) ensure that social chaos— in this instance represented by unchecked centralized authority in any form—is held at bay? If such were the case, the refrain “in those days, Israel was without a king” (Judg 17:6; 18:1; 19:1; 20:27; 21:5) might have been an intentionally “indecent” anti-monarchic affirmation utilized by redactors to justify folding the Song of Deborah, as well as 20 Initial credit for the identification of such imagery in this psalm belongs to H. L. Ginsberg, “A Phoenician Hymn in the Psalter,” in Atti del XIX Congresso Internazionale degli Orientalisti (1935). Though not readily accessible, Freedman and Hyland (1973: 1 and footnote 1) offer a brief synopsis of that article’s major points and subsequent publication history. 21 Though dated, there is much still to commend the pioneering efforts of Frank Moore Cross and David Noel Freedman (Early Hebrew Orthography [AOS 36; New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1952]; Studies in Ancient Yahwistic Poetry [2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997]), as well as that of David A. Robertson (Linguistic Evidence in Dating Early Hebrew Poetry [SBLDS 3; Missoula: Scholars, 1972]), on the linguistic features of early Hebrew poetry. With regard to Israelite origins and the relationship between the archeological record and biblical sources, William G. Dever’s measured conclusions represent a reasonable starting point for future inquiry (Who Were the early Israelites and Where did They Come From? [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003], 204–208, 223–41).

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other archaic poems and “fragments,”22 into the Pentateuch, Prophets, and Writings—a strategy aimed at challenging and problematizing other voices (e.g., those of Priestly and Deuteronomistic tradents) that are predominant within the canon.23 Closing Thoughts The taproot of poetry is found in the ups and downs, the rhythms and irregularities of daily life. Major crises that disrupt or punctuate the normalcy of the everyday—i.e., storms and the birth of new coalitions (whether actual or imagined)—elicit poems that probe the length and breadth of experience common to all of humankind and wrestle with the particular dilemmas faced by individuals and groups whose lives are especially vulnerable. Those who produce such works derive their inspiration, at least in part, from the crises to which they seek to respond. Their reminiscences can, and often do, capture the imaginations of others. On occasion they, or their works, are preserved and achieve renown. Such was the case with those poems that make up Israel’s earliest poetic corpus. The issue yet to be resolved is whether the inspired musings of those who lived through—and in the wake of—Katrina will be afforded comparable status. Certainly, they deserve to be. Perhaps by bringing them into conversation with biblical and other forms of sacred literature generated in crisis, we can ensure that they will continue to be heard, and that our appropriations of texts that shape our common life as people of faith and citizens of an emerging global cosmopolis honor the concerns they raise.

22 The smaller pieces identified by Freedman are: Exod 17:16; Num 6:24–26; 10:35– 36; 12:6–8; 21:17–18, 27–30; Deut 34:7b; Josh 10:12–13 (“Early Israelite Poetry,” 169 n. 6). 23 The concept of “indecent theology” is a relatively new one that Angie Pears situates within the larger universe of liberation theologies (Doing Contextual Theology [London: Routledge, 2010], 123–31). Taking the lead from its intellectual architect, the late Marcella Althaus-Reid, and her critique of patriarchy and the “mixture of clericalism, militarism, and the authoritarianism of decency” (Indecent Theology: Theological Perversions in Sex, Gender, and Politics [London: Routledge, 2000], 1) in Argentina and other Latin American contexts, I propose that the presence of Exodus 15, Psalm 29, and Judges 5 raises issues about power, leadership, personhood, and established orthodoxies—both political and theological—that may have been construed as “indecent” when measured against Deuteronomistic or Priestly standards of normalcy.

CAIN’S LEGACY: THE CITY AND JUSTICE IN THE BOOK OF GENESIS* Sejin (Sam) Park According to the book of Genesis, the city has dubious, all too human origins. Not unlike Rome, the city is founded in the aftermath of a fratricide in which Cain kills his brother Abel (Gen 4:8); the murderous sibling then either goes off and founds a city and names it after his son Enoch, or, more likely, fathers a son (namely Enoch), who builds the first city (Gen 4:17).1 With such an unpromising beginning, it does not come as a surprise to discover that the book of Genesis takes a strictly negative stance towards the city.2 This study will examine why this is so. It will argue that in the book of Genesis there is an implicit critique of the city as a fundamentally unjust institution without the covenant and the stipulations of the law to govern life within it.3 In the absence of the covenant, any human organization or institution

* I would like to take this opportunity to offer my sincerest congratulations to Professor VanderKam on his 65th birthday. 1 Many scholars challenge the traditional reading that Cain was the builder of the first city. In their view, the text as we have it is corrupt and should be read as indicating that Enoch was the first builder and named the city after his son Irad. See the discussion in the following commentaries: Claus Westermann, Genesis: A Commentary (trans. John J. Scullion; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984), 326–27; Umberto Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Genesis (trans. Israel Abrahams; 2 vols.; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1961), 1:229–30; Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis (2 vols.; WBC; Dallas: Word, 1987, 1994), 111; see also the discussion by Patrick D. Miller, “Eridu, Dunnu, and Babel: A Study in Comparative Mythology,” in Israelite Religion and Biblical Theology: Collected Essays (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 130–31. This is certainly an attractive reading, since it does smooth out some peculiarities in the text. For one thing, Cain’s curse was to wander and be a fugitive (Gen 4:12–16), which does not cohere well with his founding a city. Also, as many have noted, right up until the last phrase of Gen 4:17 (‫)בנו חנוך‬, one would naturally presume that the builder of the city was Enoch, not Cain. Furthermore, the word “city” (‫ )עיר‬makes best sense as having been based on the name of Enoch’s son, Irad (‫)עירד‬, which is very similar. 2 As should be immediately clear, this study is primarily literary-theological rather than historical-archaeological. For a historical survey of the city in ancient Israel, see Volkmar Fritz, The City in Ancient Israel (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995). 3 See the interesting philosophical reading of Leon R. Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom: Reading Genesis (New York: Free Press, 2003), 144–48, 217–43. One of his main arguments is that Genesis is a prelude to the law in the sense that it shows human beings why the law is necessary (p. 9).

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(especially the city) larger than the family unit, which is governed by a single patriarch, will inevitably be a locus of injustice and a source of conflict.4 While much of this study will focus on the city in the book of Genesis, it is important to note at the outset that this does not mean that the critique is necessarily limited to that of urban life as such. The city comes into disrepute in the book of Genesis because it epitomizes human civilization; that is, civilization is construed as a shared existence of a large number of human beings who, in the book of Genesis at least, cannot be guided by divine law since it simply has not been given yet. There are, of course, other forms of human organization (e.g., nomadic tribes that are made up of multiple family units) that also require a shared understanding of justice in order to function properly, but consideration of these is not included. It is precisely the inclination of human beings to organize themselves into larger groups that is at issue here; without the covenant and the law, such large human institutions must inevitably result in injustice and conflict. Thus, the traditional view that the book of Genesis reflects a dichotomy between the farmer/city-dweller and the shepherd/nomad, and that the nomadic life is idealized in contradistinction to city life, is not in view here.5

The family unit in question would be the ‫“( בית אב‬the house of the father”). On family terminology in the Hebrew Bible, see Daniel I. Block, “Marriage and Family in Ancient Israel,” in Marriage and Family in the Biblical World (ed. Ken M. Campbell; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2003), 33–102, esp. 35–40; human relationships which get any larger than this typically lead to conflict of some kind in the book of Genesis. 5 For a useful review of traditional exegesis of the key narratives in Genesis 1–11, see Cameron Wybrow, “The Significance of the City in Genesis 1–11,” Interpretation 26 (1998): 1–20, esp. 1–9. In the second part of the article, Wybrow takes the traditional view to task, vigorously defending the actions and motivations of Cain, Nimrod, and the people at Babel, though not always convincingly. See also, James L. Kugel, Traditions of the Bible: A Guide to the Bible as It Was at the Start of the Common Era (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998), 145–70, 227–42. Kass (The Beginning of Wisdom, 129–32) makes too much of this dichotomy, as does Gerhard Wallis in “Die Stadt in den Überlieferungen der Genesis,” ZAW 78 (1966): 133–48. At the same time, it is important not to deny a connection between the fact that Cain is a farmer and that various descendants of his establish the first city and introduce innovations that are important to the development of human civilization, nor to deny that at some level all of this reflects a bit of nostalgia on the part of the biblical authors for their roots in a nomadic existence. 4

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That the book of Genesis takes a negative stance towards the city seems certain.6 Not only is there the Cain narrative and the story of the tower of Babel, but at just about every point in the narrative where a city comes into view in anything more than a passing reference, bad things happen, leaving the reader with the distinct impression that cities, at least in the book of Genesis, are bad places, or at the very least, good places to avoid. The following essay provides a brief survey of the various relevant texts, highlighting the salient features that, taken together, demonstrate that the city is viewed in a highly negative light in the book of Genesis. I. The City as a Locus of Injustice in the Book of Genesis The Cain Narrative The first instance of the Hebrew word for “city” (‫ )עיר‬is found in Genesis 4:17. In all, this word is found forty-eight times in forty-one verses in the book of Genesis.7 At its most basic, it appears to refer to a fixed settlement which is rendered inaccessible to assailants by a wall and/or other defense works. This usage of the term “city” makes no distinction as to size, and includes within its scope a simple fortified enclosure which constituted a refuge for rural inhabitants in time of emergencies, as well as the larger city with more elaborate defense works.8

The city appears to be primarily a place of refuge from enemies. In context, this is fitting. The first murderer, Cain, was in fear of his life and lived a nomadic existence in stark contrast to his original occupation as a farmer, fleeing those who might take vengeance on him; his son, Enoch, no doubt wishing to avoid a life of wandering, would

6 The fact that later in the Bible the city of Jerusalem is at times idealized as Zion, the home of Yahweh and his cult, is irrelevant in that this is possible only as one of the consequences of the ratification of the covenant and the giving of the law. It is precisely the city in the absence of covenant and Torah that is at issue, and this situation pertains only to the book of Genesis and the first half of Exodus. 7 This is out of a total of 1092 times in the entire Hebrew Bible. 8 Frank S. Frick, The City in Ancient Israel (Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1977), 30. See also, E. Otto, “‫עיר‬,” TDOT, 11:51–67, esp. 54–55. A. R. Hulst (“‫עיר‬,” TLOT, 2:880–83) qualifies the general definition of a fortified settlement with the caveat that it does not always fit with what is known through archaeological excavations in the Near East.

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build a fortified city so that he would have no need to fear anyone as his father did. A key aspect of this critique of the city is implicit rather than explicit. Human civilization, of which the city is the embodiment par excellence, is depicted as being an innovation of a murderer and his descendants. Since Cain was originally a farmer, it is appropriate that the innovation of the city comes through him in the form of his son Enoch’s founding of the first city.9 Not only is Cain’s son Enoch the founder of the first city, but one of his descendants, Lamech, fathers three sons who introduce advances important to the development of human civilization.10 Through his wife Adah he fathers Jabal, who is the first to live in tents and keep livestock, and Jubal who is the first to play musical instruments, namely the lyre and pipe. Through his wife Zillah, Lamech fathers Tubal-cain, who is the first to forge tools made of bronze and iron. The innovations of the sons of Adah comfortably fit a nomadic existence (tents, herds, and music), while the innovation of the son of Zillah (metalworking) paves the way for a more settled existence.11 This is an indication that a simple dichotomy or conflict between nomadism and sedentary (i.e., city) life is not a fundamental issue in the book of Genesis, but at most a subsidiary one.12 As Sarna puts it:

9 The historical connection between agriculture and the first human civilizations is by now well established. Farming implies a sedentary existence, which means one cannot simply flee from danger like a nomad can. Homes, farmland, produce must all be protected. Thus walled cities become a necessity. Whether this fact is being highlighted in this particular text is perhaps debatable, but given the list of innovations introduced in the near context (4:19–22), it is not an unreasonable link to make here. 10 The names of all three sons of Lamech appear to be a derivation of the word ‫יבול‬ (“produce”). See Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Genesis, 1:234–35. 11 Nahum M. Sarna (Genesis [The JPS Torah Commentary; Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1989]), who argues that the three sons of Lamech produce innovations which are the three pillars of seminomadic culture (p. 31), also notes that metalworking “constitute[s] a revolutionary advance in the progress of civilization, allowing the development of new and more efficient tools and weapons” (p. 38). 12 Kass (The Beginning of Wisdom, 129–32, 144–50) sometimes tries too hard to fit his reading of the text into his philosophical framework. This is particularly evident in his analysis of the occupational differences between Cain (farmer) and Abel (shepherd). While there must be something to the fact that Cain was a farmer and that his son founds the first city (Kass reads Cain as the founder of the city), he makes too much of the fact that farming is a sedentary lifestyle that necessarily leads to building of cities. For one thing, Cain was not the first farmer, Adam was (Gen 2:5, 15, 18; 3:17–19). Second, Cain’s descendants created innovations that presuppose a nomadic lifestyle.

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This narrative has often been interpreted as a reflection of the traditional conflict between the farmer and the nomad, and its supposed bias in favor of the latter is seen as representing a nomadic ideal in Israel. This is unlikely. The evidence for such an ideal in biblical literature is extremely flimsy. Further, there is not the slightest suggestion in the text of any comparative evaluation of the vocations of Cain and Abel, nor is there the slightest disparagement of the tiller of the soil. On the contrary, agriculture is regarded as the original occupation of man in the Garden of Eden as well as outside it. The sentence upon Cain is restricted to him alone; his sons are not made into vagrants or stigmatized in any way. Finally, the three pillars of seminomadic culture, as set forth in verses 20–22, are actually said to have originated with the descendants of Cain.13

Rather, the issue is how human beings will live together in a community. The city may represent the pinnacle of human community, but even the nomadic lifestyle did not preclude organization into large tribes or even supra-tribal organizations.14 All of these innovations are important contributions to human civilization, whether or not they are specifically associated with the city itself. This emphasis on the human origins of civilization is in stark contrast to the view of the city’s origins in the ancient Near East. The importance of the city in Mesopotamian mythology is unmistakable. In texts such as the Enuma Elish, the Eridu Genesis, and the Theogony of Dunnu, the gods are intimately associated with the founding of cities.15 In the Enuma Elish, upon defeating Tiamat and providing the blueprint for the creation of human beings to ease their workload, the gods build the city of Babylon and its temple, Esagil, in honor of Marduk.16 In the Theogony of Dunnu, there is a tale of incest, patricide, and matricide among the descendants of the god Harab who founded the city Dunnu. His descendants, also gods, take turns killing each other off, marrying a close relative, and taking rule of the city. In the Eridu Genesis, the goddess Nintur guides human beings from a nomadic existence to life in cities, provides for their welfare, and institutes kingship. These myths provide a consistent picture of

13

Sarna, Genesis, 31. See the discussion of nomadic tribes in Ernst Axel Knauf, “Bedouin and Bedouin States,” ABD 1:634–38; idem, “Ishmaelites,” ABD 3:513–20. 15 See the discussion in Miller, “Eridu, Dunnu, and Babel,” 128–30. 16 Enuma Elish, tablet VI, lines 48–73. 14

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the importance of the city in Mesopotamian thought.17 The city was a divine blessing, founded and cared for by the gods, and governed by rulers who were often depicted as divine figures themselves. An important parallel to the innovations introduced by Cain’s descendants can serve to further highlight this difference in perspective. Eusebius quotes Philo of Byblos (following Sanchuniathon) who narrates the discovery of the necessities of human civilization (food, fire, clothing, and the like).18 Philo, who is a euhemerist, attributes these innovations to human beings. As Albert Baumgarten notes, however, [t]he key to understanding these fragments . . . is provided by the discussion of Chousor. Philo makes Chousor and his brother(s) humans, the inventors of iron-working and other crafts, while the Ugaritic epics have taught us that Chousor was the craftsman god. Philo, in his characteristically Euhemeristic fashion, has turned a god into a mortal and the sphere of divine activity into the mortal’s invention. This analysis suggests that all the inventors and inventions in this section would be described as gods and their functions by a non-Euhemerist.19

Thus, in Phoenician religion, the innovation of metalworking and the other aspects of human civilization are all gifts from the gods. This is in clear contrast to the biblical text which attributes these inventions to human beings. The human origins of human civilization are consistently indicated throughout the text of Genesis. Nimrod and Babel The dubious nature of the city is highlighted in the stories of Nimrod and the tower of Babel. In Gen 10:8–12 there is the account, embedded in a genealogy, of the founding of the first empire by Nimrod, who is given the epithet ‫“( גבר ציד‬mighty hunter”). The beginning of his kingdom is Babel in the land of Shinar. This empire is presumably

17 E. Otto (“‫עיר‬,” TDOT 11:53) notes that in Sumerian and Akkadian hymns, cities such as Kish, Babylon, Nippur, Arba’il, and Ashur are extolled and come close to being deified. In the one possible example of a negative view of the city (Erra and Ishim, tablet I, lines 46–60) that Otto cites, it appears that it is not so much a critique against the city per se, but rather an exhortation to the warrior Erra to go out to the battlefield himself, rather than hide from battle in the city. 18 See Eusebius, Praeparatio evangelica, 1.9–10 for the relevant portion of text. 19 Albert I. Baumgarten, The Phoenician History of Philo of Byblos: A Commentary (Leiden: Brill, 1981), 140. On the god Chousor, see D. Pardee, “Koshar ‫כשר‬,” in DDD, 490–91.

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founded by conquest. It is apparently an attempt to reverse the spreading out of the descendants of Noah (Gen 10:32). Possibly as a result of Nimrod’s actions, Babel is depicted as a universal city, in which all the inhabitants are united. In the wake of the flood, it is certainly understandable that the people would want to create a tower that could reach into the heavens. Such a tower would serve as a fine refuge in the event of another flood, God’s promises to the contrary notwithstanding. It turns out, however, that their motives are ultimately rooted in pride and an aversion to being scattered over the surface of the earth (Gen 11:4). This universal city represents some sort of threat to the divine order. Such a large group of people who are not guided by justice and righteousness are capable of anything, including monstrous injustice and impiety. At the least, such a universal city would need to be governed by a centralized bureaucratic state such as is depicted in Exod 1–2 and 1 Kings 9 and 12, which are notable for their oppressive nature.20 Such a huge building project as this tower represents certainly recalls those narrative contexts. At any rate, it is clear that God does not want them to build upward, but to spread outward, and he thus confounds the people’s languages (Gen 11:6–8) so that they are dispersed as originally intended (Gen 1:28). The story certainly explains the proliferation of various languages and population groups throughout the earth, but it also scatters them into smaller kinship-based groups, making it possible for the narrative to shift focus onto one particular patriarch and his dependents who will generally live a life of isolation, with only occasional contacts with outside groups. In a world without knowledge or understanding of a divine standard of justice, a life of isolation seems to be the best fit. The Patriarchal Narratives From the universal city, there is an abrupt transition to a focus on one particular patriarch and his family. From this point on, the implicit critique of the city is rather muted but nonetheless discernible. With only a few minor exceptions, whenever a patriarch comes near a city in the book of Genesis, conflict and injustice ensue.21

20 In this regard, it is perhaps as a result of this that slavery first appears in the narrative world (Gen 12:16; note that it is only a future prediction in Gen 9:25–27). 21 On patriarchs and their problems with cities, see Wallis, “Die Stadt,” 144–46.

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Lot in Sodom and Gomorrah. After the conflict between Abram’s and Lot’s herders, Lot chooses to settle in Sodom (Gen 13:12), which is, the reader is immediately informed, a wicked place (Gen 13:13). This city, along with Gomorrah, is eventually destroyed because of its abhorrent treatment of strangers (Genesis 18–19). The Rape of Dinah at Shechem. In Gen 33:18–34:31, Jacob settles near Shechem and his daughter pays the price. Even after the slaughter of all the inhabitants, Jacob is still fearful that his neighbours will take vengeance on him (Gen 34:30), which turns out to be unfounded (Gen 35:5). Joseph in Egypt. On the advice of Joseph, and subsequently under his direction, all the food from the seven good years is stored in Egyptian cities (Gen 41:35, 48). Joseph uses this opportunity, however, to enslave all the Egyptians (Gen 47:13–26), during the course of which he removes all of them to the cities (Gen 47:21), thereby storing them up as commodities, just like he previously did with grain. This foreshadows the enslavement of the Israelites in the generations following Joseph’s death (Exodus 1).22 Joseph and his brothers in Egypt. Joseph falsely imprisons his brother Benjamin just outside the city (Gen 44:4) in order to test his brothers, in complete disregard to his father’s feelings. It demonstrates the dangers that lurk for the patriarchs and their families when they stray near large concentrations of people.23

22 Joseph creates a situation where the Pharaoh following Joseph’s death sees that all his own people are his slaves but the increasingly numerous Israelites are not. Is it any wonder that he enslaves the Israelites when his own people, the Egyptians, are his slaves? Thus, the seed of the Israelites’ own slavery is planted by Joseph himself. On the Joseph narrative see Yiu-Wing Fung, Victim and Victimizer: Joseph’s Interpretation of His Destiny (JSOTSup 308; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000); Ron Pirson, The Lord of the Dreams: A Semantic and Literary Analysis of Genesis 37–50 (JSOTSup 355; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002); Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom, 550–659. 23 There are several passing references to cities in the narrative: editorial type insertions describing the origins of the cities of Beersheba (Gen 26:33) and Bethel (Gen 28:19), and cities associated with the descendants of Esau (36:32, 35, 39). This leaves two narratives: Abraham’s purchase of a burial plot from the Hittites which occurs at the gates of the city (Gen 23:10, 18), and Abraham’s servant’s visit to the city of Nahor to find Isaac a wife (24:10–13) in which conflict is avoided in the context of a city. Nonetheless, in both cases, it is clear that these encounters are delicate matters that require deft diplomacy.

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II. The Necessity of Covenant and Law for Human Civilization In addition to these episodes where the word ‫“( עיר‬city”) explicitly appears, there are also narratives where the patriarchs visit kingdoms. Such is the case in the episodes where the patriarch’s wives are compromised: Abram and Sarai in Egypt (Gen 12:10–20), Abraham and Sarah in Gerar (Genesis 20), and Isaac and Rebekah in Gerar (Genesis 26). Since Egypt is ruled by a Pharaoh and Gerar by a king named Abimelech, we may presume that the reader is to understand that the patriarchs were visiting cities in each instance, even if the precise terminology is not used. In each of these stories, the patriarch feels threatened by his wife’s beauty and passes his wife off as his sister, thereby creating a situation where the king can take them into his harem. The problems that the patriarchs have when they come into contact with people outside of the immediate family go to the heart of this implicit critique of cities in particular, and human civilization in general in the book of Genesis. The book of Genesis demonstrates above all that when disparate groups of people come into contact with each other, injustice and conflict are an ever present possibility.24 This has been true right from the beginning. Cain’s fratricide shows that conflict even among immediate family members can escalate to murder. Eventually, this fratricidal violence extends to all the inhabitants of the earth in the time of Noah (Gen 6:5–13). The covenant God makes with Noah proves unable to change things appreciably for the better (Gen 8:20–9:17; cf. 6:18), as is shown in the account of Nimrod’s empire and the story of the tower of Babel.25 Since a universal covenant such as the one with Noah does not work, God turns to an individual patriarch and his family to institute justice and righteousness.26 In the book of Genesis, it is the family, the ‫“( בית אב‬the father’s house”) which is the basic political unit that has the best potential to avoid at least conflict, if not always injustice.27 That this is so can be 24 Compare this with Aristotle’s comments on justice and the city or community in Politics, book 1, chapter 2 and the Nicomachean Ethics, book 5, chapter 1. 25 Cf. also the “fall” of Noah in Gen 9:18–27 which exhibits several parallels to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. 26 See Kass, The Beginning of Wisdom, 239–42. 27 Cain is an exception, of course. But since there was no explicit law against murder, Cain is spared from the punishment of death stipulated for murder in the Noahic covenant (Gen 9:5–6), which comes later.

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best illustrated in the story of Jacob stealing his father’s blessing from Esau upon the urging and aid of his mother Rebekah (Genesis 27). Upon the successful subterfuge, Esau vows to kill Jacob, but, crucially, he decides to wait until he himself is a patriarch in his own right; that is, he decides to wait until his father Isaac is dead (Gen 27:41). While Esau is under the authority of his father, he feels constrained by tradition or consideration for his father or some such, to avoid direct conflict with Jacob. The patriarchal family, at least as viewed from this limited perspective, is generally unproblematic as a basis for a stable society. The real problem comes when sons become patriarchs in their own right.28 It is in such circumstances that the potential for fratricidal conflict escalates. The reason for this is related to the fact that disputes within a household can be resolved by the authority of the patriarch who is the head of the family. His word is law, as far as that family goes. The authority of a patriarch is rarely if ever challenged.29 Conflicts between two patriarchs, however, even those who are brothers, are fundamentally irresolvable unless there is some shared basis upon which the two patriarchs agree to conduct themselves. In other words, one must know what justice and righteousness are before they can be practiced. Furthermore, there must be a shared commitment in place to follow the dictates of justice and righteousness. The Pentateuch taken as a whole shows that this shared basis must be the covenant ratified at Sinai and its attendant stipulations.30 In the patriarchal narratives, there are at least two examples of conflict between the sons of a patriarch as they begin to emerge from under their father’s shadow:

28 Thomas L. Pangle, “The Hebrew Bible’s Challenge to Political Philosophy: Some Introductory Reflections,” in Political Philosophy and the Human Soul (ed. Michael Palmer and Thomas L. Pangle; Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1995), 67–82, esp. 72–73. 29 Cf. Ham and Noah (Gen 9:18–27) where Noah immediately and severely punishes Ham through a curse on his son Canaan. 30 In a series of writings, Calum Carmichael argues that biblical narratives like those in Genesis influenced the formulation of the law. See Calum M. Carmichael, The Origins of Biblical Law: The Decalogues and the Book of the Covenant (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992); Law and Narrative in the Bible: The Evidence of the Deuteronomic Laws and the Decalogue (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1985); The Spirit of Biblical Law (Athens, Ga.: The University of Georgia Press, 1996). Cf. also James K. Bruckner, Implied Law in the Abraham Narrative: A Literary and Theological Analysis (JSOTSup 335; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001).

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Esau and Jacob. These two brothers’ rivalry begins in the womb (Gen 25:22–26). The rivalry begins in earnest with Jacob swindling Esau out of his birthright (Gen 25:29–34) and flares into outright murderous hatred when Jacob steals Isaac’s blessing from Esau (Genesis 27). Esau decides to wait until Isaac’s death before taking action. Upon hearing of Esau’s plan, Rebekah sends Jacob away to her brother Laban (Gen 28:1–5). In the end, the estranged brothers are able to resolve their differences without bloodshed (Genesis 32–33), though Jacob still does not entirely trust his brother (Gen 33:12–20). Joseph and his brothers. Joseph, who is his father’s favorite, is the object of his brothers’ jealousy (Gen 37:3–4). They contemplate murdering him, but due to the intervention of first Reuben and then Judah, Joseph is spared and sold into slavery instead (Gen 37:18–28). This is all done without Jacob’s knowledge, but the brothers, in an implicit acknowledgement of Jacob’s authority, devise a ruse to trick Jacob into thinking that his favorite son has been killed by a vicious animal (Gen 37:31–35). Once Joseph rises to power, he plays a rather cruel trick on his brothers (not to mention his father), exacting a measure of revenge as well as testing his brothers’ devotion to Benjamin (and by extension, to their father Jacob who loves him desperately at the expense of the rest of them), a test which Judah passes spectacularly (Genesis 42–44). After revealing himself, Joseph arranges for his entire family to settle in Egypt (Genesis 45–47). Throughout this narrative the sibling rivalry simmers but truly comes to a head only when Jacob dies (Gen 49:28–50:14). Upon the burial of Jacob, his brothers are terrified that Joseph, now a patriarch in his own right and no longer under the authority of his father Jacob, might finally take his revenge. In other words, they are worried that Joseph was merely biding his time as Esau was (Gen 27:41). It is on this note that the book of Genesis ends: although the brothers are reconciled to Joseph, the possibility of fratricidal bloodshed introduced by Cain re-enters the narrative one last time, even if it is only to show that it can be avoided.31

31 One might also note the example of Ishmael and Isaac. According to Gen 21:9– 10, Sarah sees Ishmael laughing either with or at Isaac and feels threatened concerning Isaac’s future inheritance. Here, the potential conflict between two nascent patriarchs is averted in advance. On the possibility that Ishmael’s actions were malevolent, see Victor P. Hamilton, The Book of Genesis (2 vols.; NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990, 1995), 2:78–79; Bruce K. Waltke with Cathi J. Fredricks, Genesis: A Commentary (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2001), 294; and Wenham, Genesis, 2:82. On the view that Ishmael was playing innocently with Isaac, see John Skinner, A Critical and

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In addition to these examples of sons, there are also the examples of subordinate relatives who are emerging from the shadows of the patriarchal head to become patriarchs of their own while the senior patriarch is still alive. Subordinates, in attempting to (prematurely?) exercise authority in their own right as patriarch of their own household, can stir up discord in these situations. In these narratives, the potential for conflict is typically indicated explicitly, as the following examples illustrate. Abram and Lot. In order to preempt any potential further conflict between their herdsmen, Abram suggests to his nephew Lot that they separate and gives him first choice of where to settle (Gen 13:1–13). Here Lot, who is also wealthy and can thus support himself, emerges as a patriarch in his own right, with complete autonomous authority over his own household. Of course, since Lot settles in the city of Sodom, it all ends disastrously for him. Good patriarchs avoid cities if they know what is good for them. Laban and Jacob. Jacob, who has joined Laban’s household and married both his daughters (Genesis 29–30), decides to flee Laban when Laban becomes jealous of Jacob’s wealth (Genesis 31). When Laban finally tracks down Jacob, everything is eventually resolved peacefully thanks to a dream sent to him by God. Laban officially releases Jacob, and as a newly minted patriarch, Jacob agrees to the covenant proposed by Laban (Gen 31:44–54). This covenant between Laban and Jacob points to a potential solution for the problem of conflict and injustice between patriarchs and their dependents. In Genesis, there are, broadly speaking, two types of covenants; those between God and a patriarch (i.e., Noah in Genesis 9, Abraham in Genesis 15 and 17), and those between two patriarchs.32 Each instance of the latter type of covenant serves as a guarantee that the terms of a recently settled dispute will live on perpetually.33 The Sinai covenant will incorporate elements of both types. While the Sinai covenant is certainly a covenant between God and his people, it is fundamentally different in that it alone involves a covenant between God Exegetical Commentary on Genesis (2nd ed.; ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1930), 322; E. A. Speiser, Genesis: Introduction, Translation, and Notes (AB 1; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1964), 155; and Westermann, Genesis, 339. At any rate, Sarah senses a threat and deals with it preemptively. 32 In a couple of instances, the patriarch is also a king named Abimelech. 33 In Gen 21:22–33 Abraham and Abimelech resolve a dispute over a well, and in Gen 26:12–33 Isaac and Abimelech resolve several disputes over a series of wells.

cain’s legacy

61

and a group of patriarchs, in a manner of speaking. As such, the Sinai covenant binds these numerous patriarchs into a single unified nation with a divine constitution, and instructs these patriarchs in how to live a just and righteous life, a substantial part of which involves living together harmoniously. Such a covenant must be made with God since the stipulations that flow from it would have to be above any and every human being, including and especially a king, who would otherwise oppress those under him and rule as a tyrant (cf. Deut 17:14–20). Until the covenant at Sinai can bind the descendants of Jacob into one nation, however, the family of the chosen one must necessarily remain a single household.34 This explains why in the book of Genesis, the chosen is always one single patriarch and his siblings are excluded. In each generation, all but one of the sons is excluded from the future nation of God. Abraham has two sons, Ishmael and Isaac, but the younger Isaac is the one who is chosen to become the son of the covenant.35 Isaac in turn has two sons, Esau and Jacob, and again it is his younger son Jacob, against the explicit wishes of Isaac himself, who is the chosen one. In each of these cases, Ishmael and Esau go on to become the founders of nations, but they are also cut out of the lineage that leads to the formation of the people of God.36 It is only when the sons of Jacob are born that this pattern stops. At some point, all the sons must be allowed to remain in the future covenant, or the people of God will always remain a single family and not a nation that embodies justice and righteousness rightly understood.37 The Joseph narrative however, demonstrates that once multiple (potential) patriarchs are in the picture they have a disturbing

34 One major problem with isolating the family from outside contact as much as possible is the issue of marriage. In the book of Genesis, this is somewhat addressed by marriage within the parameters of the clan (‫)משפחה‬, one effect of which is to reduce the likelihood of conflict (Gen 12:10–20; 20; 26; 34). Cf. the comments of Victor P. Hamilton on endogamous marriage (“Marriage: Old Testament and Ancient Near East,” ABD 4:559–69, esp. 564). 35 Of course, Abraham later goes on to have many sons through his concubine Keturah (Gen 25:1–11), but clearly the narrative focuses on Ishmael and Isaac as his choices as heirs. Furthermore, those other sons were sent away from Isaac and given no part of the inheritance (Gen 25:6). Here it should be mentioned that the narrative introduces Lot as well as Abraham’s servant as possible heirs, but both are discarded as possibilities rather early on (Gen 13:8–9; 15:3–4). 36 So also Lot, who goes on to be the ancestor of the nations of Moab and Ammon (Gen 19:37–38). 37 Thomas L. Pangle, Political Philosophy and the God of Abraham (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003), 182–83.

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tendency to do what is right in their own eyes.38 Thus, the book of Genesis introduces the rest of the Pentateuch in the sense that it shows the necessity of the Sinai covenant and the laws which flow from it. With the ratification of the covenant and the giving of the law, the city as an institution is no longer problematic since there is now a codified understanding of what justice is. Thus, Moses can declare to the Israelites as they are ready to enter the Promised Land: 10

Then it shall come about when the Lord your God brings you into the land which He swore to your fathers, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to give you, great and splendid cities which you did not build, 11 and houses full of all good things which you did not fill, and hewn cisterns which you did not dig, vineyards and olive trees which you did not plant, and you eat and are satisfied, 12 then watch yourself, that you do not forget the Lord who brought you from the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.39 (Deut 6:10–12)

It turns out cities can be a blessing after all, if there is a code of laws to govern life within them. Eventually, Jerusalem will be idealized as the home of Yahweh and the Jerusalem cult. Yahweh has thus transferred his abode from Mt. Sinai to Mt. Zion.40 The various epithets for Jerusalem indicate that it is idealized: “city of David” (2 Sam 5:2), “holy city” (Isa 48:2; 52:1; Neh 11:1, 18; cf. Dan 9:24, 26), “city of Yahweh” (Ps 101:8; Isa 60:18), “city of God” (Ps 46:5; 48:2, 9). Furthermore, Jerusalem is often discussed in terms of Yahweh’s election of it (Ps 48:9; 1 Kgs 8:16; 11:13, 32, 36; 14:21; 2 Kgs 21:7; 23:27; 2 Chr 6:5; 12:13; 33:7). Prophets, however, like Amos, Micah, Isaiah, and Jeremiah can unleash scathing critiques on cities, including and especially Jerusalem, when they fall short of living in accordance with justice and righteousness as outlined by the covenant and its stipulations.41 While the

38

Jacob, who is largely absent from the goings on in this narrative, is an authority figure to be reckoned with in the sense that he cannot simply be forgotten or ignored (cf. Gen 37:31–35; 44:16–34), but he is definitely in the background. In one sense, he has nearly lost complete control of his sons, perhaps partially because they are so numerous. Also a factor is God’s stated intent to make Jacob and his progeny the nation of Israel. The subtext of this narrative is which son will take leadership in the new nation. 39 nasb 1995 translation. 40 On this theme, see Jon D. Levenson, Sinai and Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1985). 41 On the prophets’ anti-urban critique, see Frick, The City in Ancient Israel, 209–31.

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63

covenant and the law theoretically address the issue of conflict and violence among numerous other failings inevitable among humans when they live in community, they are no guarantor that justice and righteousness will reign. Even these moral failings on the part of God’s people, however, are an improvement on the situation in Genesis, where no one can be sure exactly what justice is or what a righteous human being looks like, and where Cain can murder his brother Abel and essentially escape unscathed simply because murder had not yet been definitively forbidden. Post-Sinai, the standard is clearly delineated, and people and institutions can be held accountable, which makes it possible for justice and righteousness to flourish in the city and redeem it from its inauspicious origins.

THE BIBLICAL MANUMISSION LAWS: HAS THE LITERARY DEPENDENCE OF H ON D BEEN DEMONSTRATED? John S. Bergsma Because three of the major corpora of biblical law—the Covenant Code (CC), the Holiness Code (H), and Deuteronomy (D)—each have laws concerning the manumission of slaves, comparisons of these manumission laws have functioned prominently in discussions of the development of biblical law and the order of dependence among the various codes.1 Many of the most renowned scholars of the Pentateuch and biblical law have contributed to this debate at some point in their career.2 Nonetheless, the precise nature of the relationship between the biblical manumission laws, as well as the biblical legal corpora generally, remains a disputed question. Recently, some have claimed to have resolved the issue of the priority of D vis-à-vis H by demonstrating the direct literary dependence of the manumission laws of H on those of D.3 It is claimed that, apart from considerations of historical or cultural development, the priority of D over H can be conclusively proven through literary analysis alone. If this claim were shown to be true, it would represent a significant

1 For the purposes of this essay, “H” will refer only to Leviticus 17–27, the Holiness Code proper with its epilogue (ch. 27), and “D” will refer to the Deuteronomic Code proper, Deuteronomy 12–26. 2 For an overview of the older literature, see John S. Bergsma, The Jubilee from Leviticus to Qumran: A History of Interpretation (VTSup 115; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 9 nn. 23–24. 3 For example, see Bernard Levinson, “The Manumission of Hermeneutics: The Slave Laws of the Pentateuch as a Challenge to Contemporary Pentateuchal Theory,” in Congress Volume Leiden 2004 (ed. André Lemaire; VTSup 109; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 281–324; Jeffrey Stackert, Rewriting the Torah: Literary Revision in Deuteronomy and the Holiness Legislation (FAT 52; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 113–64; and, to a lesser extent, Christophe Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of the Book of Leviticus (FAT 2/25; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 496– 535; and Eckart Otto, “Innerbiblische Exegese im Heiligkeitsgesetz Levitikus 17–26,” in Levitikus als Buch (ed. H.-J. Fabry and H.-W. Jüngling; BBB 119; Berlin: Philo, 1999), 125–96. I have responded in detail to Levinson’s arguments in Bergsma, The Jubilee from Leviticus to Qumran, 138–42. The arguments of Levinson and Stackert have been endorsed recently by Mark Leuchter, “The Manumission Laws in Leviticus and Deuteronomy: The Jeremiah Connection,” JBL 127 (2008): 635–53.

66

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advance in the study of biblical law. It is the purpose of this paper to evaluate whether this claim will withstand scrutiny. 1. Criteria for Detecting Literary Dependence At the outset, it is necessary clearly to distinguish literary from conceptual dependence. For present purposes, literary dependence will describe one text’s (the hypertext’s) use of the very words of an earlier text (the hypotext); conceptual dependence will describe the use of the hypotext’s concepts.4 In this paper we are focusing solely on the question of literary dependence narrowly construed, which may be stated as follows: does either H or D show evidence of borrowing the other’s words? Several scholars, including Richard Hays, Dennis MacDonald, and David Carr, have proposed criteria for detecting the presence of literary dependence within the biblical text.5 I do not disagree with the criteria of any of these scholars. Since the relationship of H and D is disputed, I would like, however, to propose two complementary commonsense criteria for detecting literary dependence, stated in a form more amenable to quantitative statistical analysis than the criteria of Hays, MacDonald, and Carr. My hope in doing so is to place the discussion of the relationship of H and D on a more objective foundation. Therefore, I wish to propose that two texts show evidence of literary dependence if they exhibit one of the following: shared low-frequency vocabulary and/or shared low-frequency word sequences (strings of words).6 “Frequency” refers to how often the word occurs within the

4 For hypo- and hypertext, see Dennis R. MacDonald, The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 1–9. The distinction between conceptual and literary dependence is not my own novum: see Nihan, From Priestly Torah, 430; and Michael A. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (LHB/OTS 507; New York: T&T Clark, 2009), 61, 65. I realize others may, for good reason, wish to take a broader definition of “literary dependency,” but for the sake of clarity, I will consistently employ a narrow definition in this study. 5 See Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), 29–32; MacDonald, Homeric Epics, 8–9; and David Carr, “Method in Determination of Direction of Dependence: An Empirical Test of Criteria Applied to Exodus 34, 11–26 and Its Parallels,” in Gottes Volk am Sinai: Untersuchungen zu Ex 32–34 and Dtn 9–10 (ed. M. Köckert and E. Blum; Gütersloh: Gütersloh Verlaghaus, 2001), 107–40, esp. 126. 6 My criteria here would fall under Hays’ categories “volume” and “recurrence” and MacDonalds’s categories “density,” “order,” and “distinctiveness.”

the biblical manumission laws

67

relevant literary tradition. For present purposes, the relevant literary tradition is the MT. “Low frequency” words are uncommon in the MT, and “high frequency” words are common. The rationale for these criteria should become apparent upon reflection. Literary dependence is, after all, one text’s reuse of the language of another text. Therefore, for literary dependence to be demonstrated, the two texts must show similarity of language, and not just any similarity of language, but a greater similarity than can readily be explained by other factors—such as common subject matter, common literary tradition, a common source text on which both subject texts depend, or simple coincidence. The similarity of language between the two texts must be unusual, i.e. statistically improbable; thus the stress is on low-frequency (statistically improbable) phenomena. The first criterion states that shared low-frequency vocabulary is an indicator of literary dependence. If a text employs terms that are relatively rare in the common discourse of its literary tradition but are characteristic of a particular earlier text, a case can be made for literary dependence.7 If it is sufficiently rare, a single lexeme may be sufficient to identify literary dependence. Using an example from American popular culture, the term “shazbot” is so uncommon in American English that any text employing the word is almost certainly making an allusion to—and is, therefore, in some sense literarily dependent upon—Robin Williams’ late-1970s TV comedy “Mork and Mindy.” Moving to a biblical example, the Hebrew term ‫מרצע‬, “awl,” occurs only in Exod 21:6 and Deut 15:17 and nowhere else in Biblical Hebrew. This shared low-frequency term is good evidence of literary dependence between Deut 15:17 and Exod 21:6. To constitute evidence of literary dependence, vocabulary must necessarily be lowfrequency, since high-frequency words—“blue,” “sun,” “water”—occur in so many texts that it would be impossible for the reader to identify dependence on any particular text. The second criterion holds that shared low-frequency sequences are evidence of literary dependence.8 For example, none of the words in the sequence “By the dawn’s early light” are themselves low-frequency English lexemes, but the sequence itself is so uncommon that, were it to be found in a written text, it would almost surely indicate liter-

7 8

Cf. MacDonald’s “distinctiveness” (Homeric Epics, 8–9). Cf. MacDonald’s “order” (Homeric Epics, 8–9).

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ary dependence on the American national anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Likewise, the sequence “blood of the covenant” (τὸ αἷμα τῆς διαθήκης), while composed of common biblical words, is sufficiently rare that one may confidently identify its occurrences in Matt 26:28 and Mark 14:4 as examples of literary dependence on Exod 24:8. Sequences provide the best evidence of literary dependence when they appear verbatim and contiguously (identically inflected and uninterrupted) in both texts. However, sequences may be modified by, among other things, (1) insertion, (2) deletion, (3) inversion (reversing the order of sequence), (4) substitution of synonyms, (5) change of inflection (person, gender, number, case, etc.), and (6) selective rearrangement of elements. These modifications weaken, however, the case for literary dependence. The more the sequences of a source text are modified, the more difficult it becomes to identify dependence. To state the issue more accurately, if there are only weak hints of a common sequence between two texts, it is impossible to determine whether the shared weak sequence is an instance of literary dependence with extensive modification, or merely a coincidence. I submit that these two criteria are necessary but not always sufficient to demonstrate literary dependence understood as the reuse of the language of a hypotext. After the identification of shared lowfrequency lexemes and sequences—especially if the frequency is not very low and the sequence is short or only approximate—it is still necessary to apply higher-order criteria, such as MacDonald’s “intelligibility” or “interpretability” and Hays’ “thematic coherence” and “satisfaction” to determine whether one really can identify literary dependence.9 Nonetheless, it is difficult to imagine a situation in which it would be possible to demonstrate the presence of literary dependence (understood as the hypertext’s reuse of the language of a hypotext) in the complete absence of either shared low-frequency words or sequences. At best, one might argue for conceptual dependence between the two texts in such a situation. 2. Some Examples of the Criteria Applied In order to put the literary relationship of the manumission laws of H and D in its proper context, it is appropriate to precede the discussion 9

Hays, Echoes, 30–32; MacDonald, Homeric Epics, 9.

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69

of these laws with some examples of widely-recognized literary dependence elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible. 2.1. The Dependence of the Chronicler on the Deuteronomistic History In the following example, despite a lack of low-frequency vocabulary, more than one identically inflected, low-frequency sequence can be observed between the two texts, providing indisputable evidence of literary dependence:

1 Kings 3:5–6

2 Chronicles 1:7–8

‫בגבעון נראה יהוה אל שלמה בחלום‬ ‫הלילה ויאמר אלהים שאל מה אתן‬ ‫לך ויאמר שלמה אתה עשית עם‬ ‫ ותתן לו‬. . . ‫עבדך דוד אבי חסד גדול‬ ‫בן ישב על כסאו כיום הזה‬

‫בלילה ההוא נראה אלהים לשלמה‬ ‫ויאמר לו שאל מה אתן לך ויאמר‬ ‫שלמה לאלהים אתה עשית עם דויד‬ ‫אבי חסד גדול והמלכתני תחתיו‬

At Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon in a dream by night; and God said, “Ask what I shall give you.” And Solomon said, “Thou hast shown great and steadfast love to thy servant David my father, . . . and hast given him a son to sit on his throne this day.10

In that night God appeared to Solomon, and said to him, “Ask what I shall give you.” And Solomon said to God, “Thou hast shown great and steadfast love to David my father, and hast made me king in his stead.

There are two contiguous, identically-inflected sequences, one of six, the other of seven Hebrew words in length, both of which are only to be found in these two passages in all of the MT. 2.2. Ezekiel’s Dependence on the Holiness Code11 It has long been recognized that Ezekiel demonstrates a close literary relationship to the Holiness Code, as in this example:

10

English translations are my own modifications of the rsv. The direction of dependence between Ezekiel and the Holiness Code is in dispute, but Lyons’ work From Law to Prophecy has, in my view, resolved the issue in favor of Ezekiel’s dependence on H. For further discussion see Bergsma, Jubilee, 177–90. 11

70

john s. bergsma Leviticus 26:5b–6

‫ואכלתם לחמכם לשבע וישבתם‬ ‫לבטח בארצכם ונתתי שלום בארץ‬ ‫ושכבתם ואין מחריד והשבתי חיה‬ ‫רעה מן הארץ וחרב לא תעבר‬ ‫בארצכם‬ And you shall eat your bread to the full, and dwell in your land securely. And I will give peace in the land, and you shall lie down, and none shall make you afraid; and I will remove evil beasts from the land, and the sword shall not go through your land.

Ezekiel 34:25

‫וכרתי להם ברית שלום והשבתי‬ ‫חיה רעה מן הארץ וישבו במדבר‬ ‫לבטח וישנו ביערים‬ I will make with them a covenant of peace and banish wild beasts from the land, so that they may dwell securely in the wilderness and sleep in the woods.

The five-word, identically inflected sequence ‫והשבתי חיה רעה מן‬ ‫הארץ‬, “I will banish wild beasts from the land,” is extremely low frequency, occurring only in these two passages of the Hebrew Bible. A second sequence in Lev 26:5b, ‫וישבתם לבטח בארצכם‬, “You shall dwell in safety in your land,” seems to have been modified by Ezekiel into ‫וישבו במדבר לבטח‬, “and they shall dwell in safety in the wilderness.”12 2.3. The Dependence of the Holiness Code on the Covenant Code An example from the Holiness Code and the Covenant Code:

Exod 23:10

‫ושש שנים תזרע את ארצך ואספת‬ ‫את תבואתה‬ For six years you shall sow your land and gather in its yield . . .

12

Lev 25:3

‫שש שנים תזרע שדך ושש שנים‬ ‫תזמר כרמך ואספת את תבואתה‬ Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in its yield . . .

For further discussion, see Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 74–75.

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71

In this example, Lev 25:3 employs two verbatim sequences from Exod 23:10: ‫שש שנים תזרע‬, “Six years you shall sow,” and ‫ואספת את‬ ‫תבואתה‬, “You shall gather in its yield.”13 These are the only two passages of the Hebrew Bible where these sequences occur. Furthermore, the shared word ‫ תבואה‬is somewhat low-frequency, occurring fewer than fifty times in the MT. 2.4. The Dependence of Deuteronomy on the Covenant Code Many have studied the relationship of Deuteronomy to the Covenant Code, perhaps most notably (in recent years) Bernard Levinson.14 The manumission laws of both legal corpora show evidence of literary dependence, probably from CC to D.15

Exod 21:2

‫כי תקנה עבד עברי שש שנים יעבד‬ ‫ובשבעת יצא לחפשי חנם‬ If you buy a Hebrew slave, he shall serve six years, and in the seventh he shall go out free, for nothing.

Deut 15:12

‫כי ימכר לך אחיך העברי או‬ ‫העבריה ועבדך שש שנים ובשנה‬ ‫השביעת תשלחנו חפשי מעמך‬ If your 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.

The two texts share low-frequency vocabulary: ‫“( עברי‬Hebrew,” thirtyfive times in the MT) and ‫“( חפשי‬free,” seventeen times in the MT) are uncommon. Furthermore, the sequence of lexical units in Exod 21:2, although modified by the substitution of synonyms and an inversion, is still recognizable in Deut 15:12:

13 John Van Seters is perhaps the only dissenter on the direction of dependence here. See most recently his “Law of the Hebrew Slave: A Continuing Debate,” ZAW 119 (2007): 169–83. 14 Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998). 15 Again, pace Van Seters, “Law of the Hebrew Slave”; nevertheless, Van Seter’s arguments are thought provoking and ought not to be dismissed out of hand.

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john s. bergsma

‫לחפשי‬

‫יצא‬

‫ובשבעת‬

‫יעבד‬

‫שש שנים‬

free

he will go out

and in the seventh

he shall serve

six years

‫חפשי‬

‫תשלחנו‬

‫ועבדך‬

you shall send him away

‫ובשנה‬ ‫השביעת‬

‫שש שנים‬

free

six years

and he serves you

in the seventh year

‫עבד עברי‬

‫תקנה‬

Hebrew slave you buy

‫ כי‬Exod if

21:2

‫ כי ימכר לך אחיך העברי‬Deut ‫או העבריה‬ is sold if 15:12 your brother a Hebrew or Hebrewess

to you

Finally, although many of the lexemes are high-frequency taken by themselves, the cluster of lexemes observable in these two verses (‫שש‬, ‫שבע‬, ‫שנה‬, ‫עבד‬, ‫עברי‬, ‫ )הפשי‬is low-frequency, occurring only in these two passages and in Jeremiah 34, which is dependent on Deuteronomy 15. The case for the dependence of Deut 15:12 on Exod 21:2 is weakened by the lack of verbatim repetition of the source text (Exod 21:2) by the Deuteronomist. Still, what Dennis MacDonald would call the “density,” “order,” and “distinctiveness” of the parallels provide enough evidence to produce a reasonable argument. The four examples of literary dependence among different sources within the Hebrew Bible have been cited above in order to serve as a contrast with the comparison of the manumission laws of H and D below. The kind of clear evidence for literary dependence present in the examples above will be found to be lacking between Lev 25:1–55 and Deut 15:1–18. 3. The Criteria Applied to Manumission Laws of H and D It remains to apply the criteria described above to the manumission laws of H and D. To increase the likelihood of discovering literary dependence, we will include the closely related seventh-year laws of H (Lev 25:1–7) and D (Deut 15:1–11) along with the manumission laws and define the texts to be compared as Lev 25:1–55 and Deut 15:1–18.16

16 Stackert also combines these laws for the purpose of comparison (Rewriting the Torah, 113–64).

the biblical manumission laws

73

3.1. Low-Frequency Vocabulary For our purposes we will define “rare” lexemes as those occurring fewer than ten times in the MT, and “uncommon” as fewer than fifty times. Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1–18 share about fifty-two lexemes.17 The number of shared terms between these texts is probably higher than the average number of shared terms of two randomly-selected texts of similar size, although not dramatically so—for example, the randomlyselected texts Prov 22:1–23:8 and Exod 30:2–31:18 have about fifty lexemes in common. Moreover, of the fifty-two lexemes in common between Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1–18, thirty-four are found in the analogous slave- and seventh-year laws of the Covenant Code (Exod 21:2–11; 23:10–11). Since the Covenant Code is widely acknowledged as a source for both Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1–18, the presence of these thirty-four lexemes in Leviticus 25 could be explained as dependence on CC rather than D. That leaves only eighteen lexemes in common between Deut 15:1–18 and Leviticus 25 that are not found in the CC, and of these eighteen, three are basic parts of speech (‫מן‬, ‫זאת‬, ‫)את‬ and one is the divine name (‫)יהוה‬. Of the fifty-two lexemes Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1–18 share in common, none are rare and only two, ‫“( שכיר‬hired man,” eighteen times in the MT) and ‫“( די‬enough, sufficient,” thirty-nine times in the MT) are uncommon. The lexeme ‫ שכיר‬occurs six times in the Holiness Code (Lev 19:13; 22:10; 25:6, 40, 50, 53) but only twice in Deuteronomy (15:18; 24:14). Thus, the word seems more characteristic of the Holiness Code than of Deuteronomy. It is common in intertextual studies to argue—when a locution is characteristic of text A but rare in text B—that text B is the borrowing, or dependent, text. If this principle were applied to the present discussion, one would conclude that in Deut 15:18, D has borrowed H’s characteristic term ‫שכיר‬.18 17 See Appendix. Ambiguity about the exact number arises because of the difficulty in deciding whether some phonemes should be considered lexemes or bound morphemes, for example, the conjunction ‫ ו‬and the enclitic prepositions ‫ ב‬and ‫ל‬. I have counted them as lexemes but would defer to others on the issue. 18 The common use of ‫ שכיר‬in Deuteronomy 15 and Leviticus 25 has been employed by Japhet in a complex argument to support the priority of H to D (“Relationship between the Legal Corpora,” 83–86), and by Stackert in a complex argument to support the priority of D to H (Rewriting the Torah, 148–49). In the midst of the polemics, it is easy to lose sight of the fact that we are dealing with a single shared lexeme,

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In my opinion, however, this argument is weak. A close perusal of the relevant passages shows that aside from the use of the word itself, there is no corroborating lexical evidence in the near context of Deut 15:18 of literary dependence on any of the four occurrences of the word in Leviticus 25 (vv. 6, 40, 50, 53). Twice in Leviticus 25 (vv. 6, 40), ‫ שכיר‬is employed as part of the word pair ‫שכיר ותשב‬, “hired man and resident alien”, which appears to be a characteristic word pair in the Priestly/Holiness tradition (cf. Exod 12:45; Lev 22:10). This word pair does not occur in Deuteronomy. The other uncommon lemma that Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1–18 share is ‫די‬, “sufficient, enough,” but again, a comparison of its occurrences in context (Deut 15:8; Lev 25:26, 28) shows no clear corroborating signs of literary dependence of one text on the other. To summarize, Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1–18 share no rare words and only two uncommon ones, and when they are examined in context the two shared uncommon terms do not appear to be instances of literary dependence. This situation is not due to a dearth of low-frequency vocabulary. Deuteronomy 15:1–18 includes twenty-eight lexemes of fewer than fifty occurrences in the MT, of which nine are rare. For its part, Leviticus 25 boasts about forty-two uncommon lexemes, of which fourteen are rare. If either text consciously employed the other as a source, one would expect at least a few of these distinctive terms to be shared. In particular, if the Holiness author were employing Deut 15:1–18 as a source, one would think he would have found the following lowfrequency terms useful for his sabbatical-year and manumission laws:

Hebrew Lemma

Meaning

Frequency of Occurrence in MT

‫אמץ‬ ‫חסר‬ ‫חפשי‬ ‫מחסור‬ ‫משה‬ ‫נגש‬

to be strong to lack, decrease free need loan to oppress

41 25 17 13 1 23

admittedly uncommon but not terribly so (eighteen times in the MT), deployed in formally dissimilar contexts in the two texts. In actuality, neither Japhet nor Stackert are engaging primarily in formal literary analysis, but are rather proposing plausible lines of conceptual development from one text to the other.

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Table (cont.) Hebrew Lemma

Meaning

Frequency of Occurrence in MT

‫נשה‬ ‫עבט‬ ‫ענק‬ ‫שכר‬ ‫שמט‬ ‫שמטה‬

to forget, lend to take or give a pledge to provide liberally wages to let drop, release remission

13 6 3 28 9 5

The comparison of Lev 25:3 and Exod 23:10 above demonstrates that H has, so to speak, no objection in principle to the verbatim reproduction of the diction of its source(s); why then does H not reproduce any of the characteristic lexemes of Deut 15:1–18, or vice versa? 3.2. Common Low-Frequency Sequences The common sequences shared by Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1–18 are never more than two Hebrew words in length. For the sake of brevity, we will omit discussion of the following two-word sequences that are either already present in the CC, or else are so common in the Hebrew Bible that no serious argument for literary dependence could be based on them: ‫שש שנים‬, ‫ארץ מצרים‬, ‫יהוה אלהים‬, ‫שבע שנים‬. The following sequences merit some discussion: 3.2.1. ‫ובשנה השביעת‬, “and in the seventh year.” The exact phrase ‫ ובשנה השביעת‬occurs in Deut 15:12 and Lev 25:4, and, without the initial conjunction, in Lev 25:20. However, aside from the use of this sequence, there are no other signs of literary dependence on Deut 15:12 in either of these verses. Moreover, the exact phrase (although with plene orthography) occurs also in 2 Kgs 11:4, 2 Chr 23:1, and (without the initial conjunction) in Ezek 20:1. The occurrence of ‫ובשנה השביעת‬ appears to be a natural coincidence resulting from the fact that both Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code employ seven-year patterns in their legislation.19 The shared concern for the seventh year—a concern

19 Curiously, although ‫ ובשנה השביעת‬occurs in both Lev 25:4 and Deut 15:12, Stackert argues that the use of the phrase in Lev 25:4 is an exegetical development of ‫ השביעת‬in Exod 23:11—indeed, a “Holiness innovation” that “highlights the analogy between its seventh-year law and the Sabbath day command”—rather than a borrowing from Deut 15:12 (Rewriting the Torah, 118).

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already present in the Covenant Code (Exod 21:2; 23:11)—is better discussed as an example of possible conceptual dependence between the texts rather than literary dependence. 3.2.2. ‫אחד אחים‬, “one of (your) brothers.” The sequence ‫אחד אחים‬ occurs in Deut 15:7, in the form ‫מאחד אחיך‬. The slightly different phrase ‫ אחד מאחיו‬occurs in Lev 25:48; however, the contexts of the phrase in Deut 15:7 and Lev 25:48 are quite different. The use of the term ‫ אח‬to refer to a fellow Israelite could be discussed as a possible instance of conceptual dependence between the H and D generally, but there are insufficient grounds to see direct literary dependence between Deut 15:7 and Lev 25:48. The closest parallel to Lev 25:48’s construction ‫ אחד מאחיו‬in the MT is the phrase ‫אחד מאחי‬, “one of my brothers,” in Neh 1:2. 3.2.3. ‫נמכר לך‬, “is sold to you.” Deut 15:12 employs the phrase ‫ימכר‬ ‫ לך‬and Lev 25:39 has the similar construction ‫ונמכר לך‬. This is probably the closest significant linguistic parallel between the two texts. These are the only two instances in the Hebrew Bible where the nip’al of ‫ מכר‬is followed immediately by ‫( לך‬although the inflection of the verb is different in each case). Also, the subject of ‫ מכר‬in both instances is ‫אחיך‬, “your brother.”

Deut 15:12

‫כי ימכר לך אחיך העברי או העבריה‬ ‫ועבדך שש שנים ובשנה השביעת‬ ‫תשלחנו חפשי מעמך‬ If your brother, a Hebrew or Hebrewess, is sold to you, he shall serve you six years and in the seventh year you shall send him away from you free.

Lev 25:39

‫וכי ימוך אחיך עמך ונמכר לך לא‬ ‫תעבד בו עבדת עבד‬ If your brother who is with you grows poor, and sells himself to you, you shall not make him work like a slave.

Unlike the other instances in which we have found sequences in common between Deuteronomy 15 and Leviticus 25, here there is some similarity in context. Both texts address the issue of the “brother” being sold to “you.” While this could be an example of literary

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dependence,20 the following factors should be considered before reaching that conclusion: The use of the term ‫ אחיך‬in Lev 25:39 and Deut 15:12 cannot be an instance of direct, specific dependence of one of these verses on the other. The term appears in Lev 25:39 as part of the phrase ‫כי ימוך‬ ‫אחיך‬, which is employed four times in Leviticus 25 as part of its systematic response to four progressively worse stages of impoverishment of an Israelite paterfamilias (see vv. 25, 35, 39, 47; and below). It is misleading and too facile to juxtapose, as many scholars have done, only Lev 25:39 and Deut 15:12 with one another for comparison, in isolation from the larger literary context of Lev 25:39. Such a limited juxtaposition creates the impression that ‫ אחיך‬in Lev 25:39 could be a direct borrowing from Deut 15:12 (or vice versa) and obscures the fact that ‫ אחיך‬is part of a unique and characteristic H locution, ‫כי ימוך אחיך‬, which has no close analogue in D, and which the H author has employed twice previously (vv. 25, 35) and will employ once subsequently (v. 47) in lengthy sequences that have no parallel in D. One cannot discuss the literary origin of the phrase ‫ כי ימוך אחיך‬in Lev 25:39 apart from discussion of its use in these other passages. The common use of ‫ אחיך‬in both Lev 25:25–48 and Deut 15:12–18 has been at the center of several arguments for literary dependence in one direction or the other; since it is a larger issue than simply a direct relationship between two verses (Lev 25:39 and Deut 15:18), we will bracket the discussion of ‫ אחיך‬for now and return to it later.21 The specific parallel unique to Lev 25:39 and Deut 15:18 consists of the sequence ‫נמכר לך‬. This shared sequence has often been urged as evidence of the dependence of H on D. However, given that the nip’al of ‫ מכר‬occurs nine times in the Holiness Code but only once in all of Deuteronomy (Deut 15:18) and never in DtrH, one might expect scholars to argue that in Deut 15:18, D is borrowing language characteristic of H.22 Remarkably, however, this literary parallel is typically 20 In fact, it is the parade example of literary dependence cited by Otto, “Innerbiblische Exegese,” 171; Levinson, “Manumission of Hermeneutics,” 316–17; Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 144–48; and others. 21 For example, see Japhet, “Relationship of the Legal Corpora,” 74–82; Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 145; Levinson, “Manumission of Hermeneutics,” 317–18. 22 Lev 25:23, 34, 39, 42, 47, 48, 50; 27:27, 28. Like Milgrom, I take Leviticus 27 to be an appendix to the Holiness Code written by the Holiness author(s).

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cited as evidence or even proof of H’s dependence on D. This points to a certain inconsistency in the way criteria for determining literary dependence are usually applied to the relationship of H and D. Generally, criteria that would support the dependence of H on D are emphasized, and criteria that do not support this direction of dependence are neglected. In my view, however, arguments for literary dependence in either direction based on this common usage of ‫ מכר‬carry little weight because the verb ‫ מכר‬is the only Hebrew word for “to sell,” and its use can scarcely be avoided in a legal text dealing with the topic of slave sale. The verb, including the nip’al form, is widely attested throughout the MT in the context of the sale of human beings, both literal and metaphorical. In fact, about half its total occurrences are in such contexts.23 It already occurs in the Covenant Code in both the qal and nip’al referring to the sale of persons (Exod 21:7, 8, 16 qal; 22:2 nip’al); its occurrence in both Leviticus 25 and Deuteronomy 15 is scarcely unusual given the subject matter of these texts. As was remarked above, to be considered evidence of literary dependence, shared locutions need not only to exhibit similarity, but greater similarity than can be explained by other factors, such as common subject matter, a common literary tradition, etc. In the absence of any more specific lexical parallels or rare vocabulary, the shared sequence ‫ נמכר לך‬can be explained as a spontaneously arising parallel due to common subject matter and a second-person form of address characteristic of both H and D as well as parts of CC. We return now to the issue of the term ‫אחיך‬, “your brother,” and whether it constitutes evidence of literary dependence between H and D. Sara Japhet has argued that D is dependent on H for the concept of ‫ אחיך‬as “fellow Israelite,” whereas other commentators have argued

23 See Gen 31:15 (qal); 37:27 (nip’al); 37:28 (qal); 37:36 (qal); 45:4 (qal); 45:5 (qal); Exod 21:7,16 (qal); 22:2 (nip’al); Deut 21:14 (qal); 24:7 (qal); 28:68 (hitpa’el); 32:30 (qal); Judg 2:14 (qal); 3:8 (qal); 4:2, 9 (qal); 10:7 (qal); 1 Sam 12:9 (qal); 1 Kgs 21:20, 25 (hitpa’el); 2 Kgs 17:17(hitpa’el); Isa 50:1 (nip’al & qal); 52:3 (nip’al); Jer 34:14 (nip’al); Joel 4:3 (qal); 4:6,7,8 bis (qal); Amos 2:6 (qal); Zech 11:5 (qal); Pss 44:13 (qal); 105:17 (nip’al); Esth 7:4 bis (nip’al); Neh 5:8 (qal once; nip’al twice). Thus, about forty of a total eighty-nine occurrences in the MT are in the context of the literal or metaphorical sale of human beings.

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that the term is more characteristic of D and has been borrowed by H in Leviticus 25.24 In this debate, three facts have been lost to view. First, the assumption that all Israelites are descendants of a common ancestor—which necessarily implies that all Israelites are kin (‫ ;אחים‬cf. Exod 2:11; 4:18; 32:29; Lev 10:6; Num 20:3; 32:6; etc.)—is so widely diffused in the sources and literary strata of the Hebrew Bible that it is strained to argue that H must be dependent on D for this concept (or vice versa), rather than on the tradition generally. For example, one of the major burdens of the Joseph cycle (Genesis 37–50) is to emphasize the familial bonds of all Israel, that all the tribes are “brothers.” Statistically, this cycle has one of the highest concentrations of the lexeme ‫ אח‬per thousand words in the Hebrew Bible, and it may not be coincidental to the present discussion that the plot of the Joseph cycle revolves around the sale of a brother (‫)אח‬, a son of Israel (‫)בן ישראל‬ as a slave (‫)עבד‬. Secondly, the first use of ‫ אחיך‬in Leviticus 25 occurs in v. 25, not coincidentally the same verse in which the term ‫גאל‬, “kinsmanredeemer,” first appears; and the last use of ‫ אחיך‬occurs in v. 47, in the midst of the discussion of the kinship redemption process. The Holiness author contextualizes the Jubilee within the ancient Israelite kinship redemption system, for which it forms the last “safety net” (see v. 54). The context of kinship redemption by itself is sufficient to explain the concentration of the term ‫אחיך‬, “kinsman,” in Lev 25:25– 47 (as opposed to other parts of the Holiness Code) without superfluous appeals to dependence on D. After all, one of the burdens of H in this passage is to exhort its addressees, the Israelite patres familias, to perform their duties of kinship redemption toward their ‫אחים‬, “kinsmen” (see v. 25, 48–49). Thirdly, D and H do not employ the term ‫ אחיך‬in the same manner. As intimated above, in Leviticus 25, the force of the term can be rendered “your kinsman,” and, as I have shown elsewhere based on the work of Karel van der Toorn, the referent is assumed to be a male landed Israelite head of household.25 Leviticus 25 must be compared with Leviticus 18, in which it is also clear that, as even Christophe Nihan acknowledges, the laws “appear to be addressed to the paterfamilias of

24 Japhet, “Relationship of the Legal Corpora,” 74–82; Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 145; and Levinson, “Manumission of Hermeneutics,” 317–18. 25 See Bergsma, Jubilee, 100–101.

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a ‫“( בית אב‬father’s house”), that is, a kin-related group composed of three to five generations and living in close quarters.”26 Furthermore, it is clear that in Lev 25:25–47, ‫ אחיך‬is the sociological equal of the addressees of the legislation, i.e. a fellow Israelite paterfamilias; observe, for example, that he is assumed to have children (vv. 41, 54) and title to ancestral property (vv. 25, 27, 28, 41).27 In contrast, ‫ אחיך‬in Deuteronomy 15:12–18 is clearly not an Israelite paterfamilias or his sociological equal, and is not even necessarily male. Instead, ‫ אחיך‬in Deut 15:12 is a Hebrew (which is not necessarily synonymous with an Israelite)28 of either gender (possibly an ‫עבריה‬, “Hebrewess,” Deut 15:12), landless, without a kinsman-redeemer, without an ancestral inheritance, thus in need of provisioning when he is set free (Deut 15:13). Furthermore, in the rest of Deuteronomy, the term ‫ אח‬is employed rather freely, even to refer to an Edomite (a fact frequently overlooked: Deut 2:4, 8; 23:7), whereas the Holiness author(s) employs ‫ אח‬much less often and, in Lev 25:25–47, with a significantly more restricted range of meaning. If one had to ask which usage was more likely to have preceded the other—H’s “‫ ”אחיך‬as a fellow landed Israelite male kinsman, or D’s “‫ ”אחיך‬extended to include landless Hebrew slaves of either gender—one would conclude H’s usage is more basic and literal, whereas D’s usage is more developed.29 In D, the concept of one’s ‫ אח‬is broadened to include groups that may not have been considered as such previously. Examining both passages in their larger context, the evidence of literary dependence between Deut 15:12 and Lev 25:39 is not compelling. In Lev 25:25–55, the Holiness author is, in my opinion, developing his legislation according to his own logic, working systematically 26

Nihan, From Priestly Torah, 433. See further Bergsma, Jubilee, 100–101. 28 See Gen 14:13: Abraham is an ‫ עברי‬and therefore all his descendants are as well (including Edomites, Ishmaelites, etc.); but it would be completely anachronistic to call him an Israelite (‫)בן ישראל‬. See also 1 Sam 14:21, where “Hebrews” are clearly distinguished from “Israelites.” It is remarkable that a close analysis of this term (‫)עברי‬, which is uncommon in the MT and shows a decidedly peculiar pattern of usage, has not been undertaken by any of the major participants in the debates over the manumission laws. See the extensive discussion in Bergsma, Jubilee, 43–45. 29 Japhet makes a similar argument (see “The Relationship of the Legal Corpora,” 74–82). While ultimately I agree with Japhet in her understanding of the relative dating of H and D, I disagree with her that ‫ אח‬in Leviticus 25 is simply a synonym for ‫בן ישראל‬. Leviticus 25:46 (“but over your kinsmen, sons of Israel, you shall not rule . . .”) is reminding the addressees that their male kinsmen are fellow Israelites and therefore have a certain status before God. Nonetheless, the primary force of ‫אחיך‬ throughout the passage is “your kinsman,” not simply “an Israelite.” 27

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through the various stages of impoverishment of the landed Israelite head of household: (1) sale of ancestral property, (2) complete insolvency, (3) self-sale to a kinsman, and (4) self-sale to a foreigner. ‫כי ימוך אחיך ומכר מאחזתו‬ ‫וכי ימוך אחיך ומטה ידו עמך‬ ‫וכי ימוך אחיך עמך ונמכר לך‬ ‫וכי תשיג יד גר ותושב עמך‬ ‫אחיך עמו ונמכר לגר תושב‬

If your brother becomes poor and sells some of his property . . . (v. 25) If your brother becomes poor and cannot maintain himself with you . . . (v. 35) If your brother becomes poor and sells himself to you . . . (v. 39) If a stranger or sojourner with you becomes rich, and your brother beside him becomes poor and sells himself to the stranger or sojourner . . . (v. 47)

When the author reaches the stage of self-sale to a kinsman (v. 39), he linguistically “crosses paths” with the Deuteronomist, who in Deut 15:12 address the situation of sale of a Hebrew to an Israelite, resulting in a similar but not identical turn of phrase (‫ )נמכר לך‬in Deut 15:12 and Lev 25:39. 3.2.4. ‫יצא מעמך‬, “depart from you,” is found in Deut 15:16 and Lev 25:41, although ‫ יצא‬is inflected differently in each passage. The same sequence appears in Exod 8:25. The three passages are provided here for comparison, along with the related usage of ‫ יצא‬in a passage from the Covenant Code:

Deut 15:16

‫והיה כי יאמר אליך‬ ‫לא אצא מעמך כי‬ ‫אהבך ואת ביתך‬ But if he says to you, “I will not depart from you, for I love you and your house,” . . .

Lev 25:40–41

‫עד שנת היבל יעבד‬ ‫עמך ויצא מעמך‬ ‫הוא ובניו עמו‬ Until the year of the jubilee he shall work for you; then he shall depart from you, he and his children with him . . .

Exod 8:25

‫ויאמר משה הנה‬ ‫אנכי יוצא מעמך‬

And Moses said, “Behold, I am departing from you,” . . .

Exod 21:2

‫כי תקנה עבד עברי‬ ‫שש שנים יעבד‬ ‫ובשבעת יצא לחפשי‬ ‫חנם‬ If you buy a Hebrew slave, six years he shall serve and in the seventh he shall depart for free, for nothing.

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The following ten instances of the verb ‫ יצא‬+ the compound preposition ‫ מעם‬elsewhere in the MT demonstrate that this construction is not peculiar or unprecedented: Gen 48:12 (attributed to E); Exod 8:8, 25MT (29ET), 26MT (30ET); 9:33; 10:6,18; 11:8 (all attributed to J); 2 Sam 3:26; Job 1:12; Isa 28:29. Although Milgrom and Stackert both argue that ‫ עמך‬is employed in the manumission laws of H and D with the technical meaning “under your authority,” in all the passages outside of these slave laws (see above) where the construction ‫יצא מעם‬ appears, it simply means “depart from the presence of (someone),” and there seems to be no good reason to render it any differently in Deut 15:16 and Lev 25:41.30 What does one make of this data? From a purely formal perspective, the use of the phrase ‫ יצא מעמך‬in Deut 15:16 is no more similar to its use in Lev 25:41 than to Exod 8:25—in each case, the inflection of ‫יצא‬ is different while ‫ מעמך‬remains the same. Conceptually and structurally, the strongest parallel is between Lev 25:41 and Exod 21:2; both cases legislate for the slave to “depart” (‫ )יצא‬in a sacred year:

Exod 21:2

‫ובשבעת יצא‬

but in the seventh, he shall depart . . . Lev 25:40–41

‫ויצא מעמך‬

‫יעבד‬

‫שש שנים‬

he shall work

six years

‫יעבד עמך‬

then he shall he shall work with depart from you . . . you,

‫עד שנת היבל‬ until the year of jubilee

The only affinity between the otherwise dissimilar diction and context of Deut 15:16 and Lev 15:41 is the common use of ‫ מעמך‬after a form of the verb ‫יצא‬. This could possibly betray literary dependence in either direction.31 However, the scenario—in which the Holiness author, modifying his presumed Covenant Code source text concerning the departure of slaves (Exod 21:2), suddenly reaches into the text of Deuteronomy 15 (lying open before him?) in order to borrow an unremarkable prepositional phrase (‫ )מעמך‬out of a conceptually antithetical context (v. 16, the refusal of departure!) because he could not come up with a suitable prepositional phrase on his own—strains

30

Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 150; and Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27: A New Translation and Commentary (AB 3b; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 2256. 31 See Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 150–51.

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credibility. In other words, it fails MacDonald’s criterion of “interpretability” and Hays’ “satisfaction.” On the other hand, as we have seen, the construction ‫ יצא מעם‬is attested in several literary strata of the MT (E, J, DtrH, Job, Isaiah), and by itself does not arouse undue suspicion of intentional imitation. The second-person, masculine, singular suffix on ‫ מעם‬in both Deut 15:16 and Lev 25:41 is a function of the second-person form of address found in all the biblical law codes. 3.2.5. (. . . ‫שמר ועשה )את מצוה‬. Variations of the sequence ‫ שמר ועשה‬or ‫ שמר לעשות‬with reference to the commands of God (,‫ משפטים‬,‫מצות‬ . . . ‫ הקות‬,‫ )חקים‬are very common (at least one hundred instances) in the MT, especially in the Holiness Code, Deuteronomy, DtrH, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. Variations of the phrase occur in Lev 25:18 and Deut 15:5:

Deut 15:5

‫רק אם שמוע תשמע בקול יהוה אלהיך‬ ‫לשמר לעשות את כל המצוה הזאת‬ “If only you will obey the voice of the Lord your God, being careful to do all this commandment . . .”

Lev 25:18

‫ועשיתם את חקתי ואת משפטי‬ ‫תשמרו ועשיתם אתם‬ “Therefore you shall do my statutes, and keep my ordinances and do them . . .” (v. 18)

It has been claimed that the statement of Lev 25:18 is “distinctively Deuteronomistic terminology,”32 but this is inaccurate. In fact, the diction of Lev 25:18 is peculiarly and identifiably characteristic of the Holiness Code, since the entire statement ‫ועשיתם את חקתי ואת‬ ‫ משפטי תשמרו ועשיתם אתם‬is merely a slight variation on the statements in Lev 19:37 and 20:22, with further close parallels in Lev 18:4, 5, 26, 30; 20:8, 31; 26:3.33 Comparison with these passages makes it clear that the author of Lev 25:18 is employing a stock H locution and not deriving his diction from the quite different phrase in Deut 15:5.34 32

Nihan, From Priestly Torah, 526.

‫“ ושמרתם את כל חקתי ואת כל משפטי ועשיתם אתם‬And you shall keep all my statutes and all my ordinances, and do them . . .” (Lev 19:37); ‫ושמרתם את כל חקתי‬ ‫“ ואת כל משפטי ועשיתם אתם‬You shall therefore keep all my statutes and all my ordinances, and do them . . .” (Lev 20:22). 34 Characteristic of H is the combination of 2mpl ‫ שמר‬and ‫ עשה‬with direct objects ‫ חקותי‬and ‫משפטי‬, in that order. Also characteristic of H is the seemingly redundant 33

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3.2.6. An Overview of Characteristic Locutions. What arises from careful study of the verbal sequences of both these passages is not an impression of commonality but of divergence. Particularly striking are the numerous occasions where Deut 15:1–18 exhibits a word or phrase that would have been useful to the author of Leviticus 25, but instead, the Holiness author(s) uses a lexically distinct but semantically similar word or phrase. The following is a partial list:

To express the concept:

Deut 15:1–18 employs:

But Lev 25 exhibits:

assurance of the Lord’s blessing of His people

‫ברך יברכך‬

‫וצויתי את ברכתי לכם‬

“He will surely bless you” (v. 4)

“I will command my blessing for you” (v. 21)

the year of (debt) forgiveness

inherited property prohibition of social injustice among Israelites

the necessity of obedience to the Lord’s law

‫שמטה‬

‫דרור‬, ‫יובל‬

shemittah, “release” (v.1, 2, 9)

yobel, “Jubilee,” (v. 10 et passim) or deror, “liberty” (v. 10)

‫נחלה‬

‫אחזה‬

“inheritance” (v. 4)

“possession” (v. 13)

‫לא יגש את רעהו ואת‬ ‫אחיו‬

‫אל תונו איש את אחיו‬

“Let not a man oppress his neighbor or his brother” (v. 2)

‫רק אם שמוע תשמע‬ ‫בקול יהוה אלהיך‬ ‫לשמר לעשות את כל‬ ‫המצוה הזאת‬

“Do not wrong one another” (v. 14)

‫ועשיתם את חקתי ואת‬ ‫משפטי תשמרו ועשיתם‬ ‫אתם‬

“Therefore you shall do “If only you will obey my statutes, and keep the voice of the Lord my ordinances and your God, being perform them . . .” (v. 18) careful to do all this commandment . . . (v. 5) harsh rule appropriate for Gentiles

‫ומשלת בגוים רבים‬

‫לא תרדה בו בפרך‬

“You shall rule (mashal) over many nations” (v. 6)

“You shall not rule (radah) over him with harshness” (v. 43, 46, 53)

concluding expression ‫( ועשיתם אתם‬Lev 19:37; 20:8, 22; 22:31; 25:18; 26:3). There are similar phrases in D and DtrH, but both prefer the constructions ‫ שמר לעשה‬or even ‫ לשמר לעשה‬as in Deut 15:5 (the infinitive forms never appear in H) and the objects ‫ מצות‬and ‫( הקים‬masculine), which are rare in H.

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Table (cont.) To express the concept: the poor brother

exhortation to support the needy brother

Deut 15:1–18 employs:

But Lev 25 exhibits:

‫אחיך אביון‬

‫כי ימוך אחיך‬

“your needy brother” (v. 7, 9)

“If your brother grows poor” (v. 25, 29, 47)

‫פתח תפתח את ידך‬ ‫לאחיך לעניך ולאבינך‬ ‫בארצך‬

‫וכי ימיך אחיך ומטה‬ ‫ידו עמך והחזקת בו גר‬ ‫ותושב וחי עמך‬

“. . . You shall open “And if your brother wide your hand to your becomes poor, and brother, to the needy cannot maintain himself and to the poor, in the with you, you shall land.” (v. 11) maintain him; as a stranger and a sojourner he shall live with you.” (v. 35) freedom redemption

remembrance of slavery in Egypt

Land of Israel

‫חפשי‬

‫דרור‬

“free” (v. 12)

“liberty” (v. 10)

‫פדה‬

‫גאל‬

“redeem” (v. 15)

“redeem” (v. 25 et passim)

‫וזכרת כי עבד היית‬ ‫בארץ מצרים ויפדך‬ ‫יהוה אלהיך‬

‫כי לי בני ישראל עבדים‬ ‫עבדי הם אשר הוצאתי‬ ‫אותם מארץ מצרים‬

“Remember that you were a slave in the Land of Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you” (v. 15)

“For to me the sons of Israel are servants; they are my servants whom I brought forth from the Land of Egypt” (v. 55)

‫הארץ אשר אני נתן לכם בארץ אשר יהוה אלהיך‬ ‫נתן לך נחלה לרשתה‬ “The land which I am “In the land which the Lord your God is giving you (sg) as an inheritance to possess it.” (v. 4; cf. v. 7)

giving you (pl).” (v. 2)35

35 There are at least a hundred verses in the MT that exhibit variation of the sequence “the land which [some designation for the Lord] gives/gave to [some designation of the people of Israel],” in other words, (‫הארץ אשר )יהוה( נתן ל )בני ישראל‬. Therefore, even though Deut 15:2 and Lev 25:2 share this four-word, non-contiguous sequence, it is not significant for establishing literary dependence. Both H and D have their own distinctive versions of this conventional phrase.

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These examples demonstrate that, even when expressing nearly identical concepts, the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy employ significantly distinct diction. Such data does not support the hypothesis of literary dependence in either direction. 4. Conclusions This study has carefully scrutinized the seventh-year and manumission laws of the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy, looking for the linguistic phenomena that provide the strongest evidence of literary dependence: common low-frequency vocabulary or low-frequency sequences. We have discovered that these two textual units share no rare lexemes and only two uncommon ones, and the context of the two uncommon terms in each text did not provide any clear corroborative evidence of literary dependence. This is despite the fact that both texts display a wealth of low-frequency vocabulary. The longest identically-inflected contiguous sequence shared by Deut 15:1–18 and Leviticus 25 was found to be ‫ובשנה השביעת‬. This phrase is found in other texts of the MT that discuss events “in the seventh year,” so it is not a unique parallel between Deut 15:1–18 and Leviticus 25. Strikingly, there are no contiguous, identically-inflected sequences of any length that are unique to Leviticus 25 and Deut 15:1– 18 (i.e. not found elsewhere in the MT). The shared sequences ‫נמכר‬ ‫ לך‬and ‫יצא מעמך‬, although differently inflected in each text, could be examples of literary dependence, or else examples of the kind of parallels one would expect to arise periodically due to similarity in subject matter of the two texts. Has the literary dependence of H on D (or vice versa) been demonstrated in the case of the seventh-year and manumission laws? While literary dependence can be maintained as a possibility in a few instances, to claim there is conclusive proof for it is to go beyond the textual evidence. There are simply not enough shared locutions between the two texts to establish literary dependence at all, much less prove its direction. The few similarities of diction between the texts are perhaps even less than what one might have expected to have arisen spontaneously between two ancient Israelite scribes independently addressing the same basic legal issues. The fact that the scholarly arguments about literary dependence of these manumission laws have all been based on the shared use of phrases composed of very

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common Hebrew vocabulary (e.g. ‫יצא‬, ‫מכר‬, ‫מעם‬, ‫ אח‬etc.), while avoiding entirely the lexemes that are truly unique to each passage, should tell us something about the literary (non-)relationship of these laws. As Bernard Levinson recognizes, “if D were responding to H, it would be expected to adopt some of [H’s] distinctive vocabulary.”36 But the lack of shared distinctive vocabulary is a double-edged sword; therefore, Weinfeld is also correct to observe, “had P been dependent on D—as Wellhausen assumed—then we should be able to discern this dependence in verbal . . . parallels, but no such dependence has yet been convincingly demonstrated.”37 The literary relationship of H and D (or lack thereof ) in the texts examined here stands in stark contrast to what was observed between the Chronicler and DtrH; Ezekiel and the Holiness Code; the Holiness Code and the Covenant Code; and Deuteronomy and the Covenant Code. In each of these other cases it was possible to identify lowfrequency, identically inflected vocabulary or sequences, sometimes lengthy, between the two texts, pointing clearly to literary dependence in one or the other direction. These phenomena cannot be found between the seventh-year and manumission laws of H and D. Of particular importance is the fact that these phenomena are observable in at least some instances between H and CC, and D and CC, and these instances provide examples of how H and D employ their source(s). If either H or D is dependent on the other in the case of the manumission laws, one would expect to see between them at least some instances of the clear literary parallels that both these documents show toward the Covenant Code. Of course, there are many issues that have not been addressed in this study, e.g. the numerous arguments for conceptual dependence between these texts, and claims that have been advanced for seeing literary dependence of Lev 25:1–55 on other passages of D outside of Deut 15:1–18. Furthermore, the criteria advanced here for determining literary dependence, while (in my view) important and even essential, are not exhaustive, and they have only been applied to the

36

Levinson, “Manumission of Hermeneutics,” 319. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 180. Weinfeld does not distinguish between P and H. Here he is speaking of the relationship of the Priestly traditions (P and H) vis-à-vis D generally, but his observations also apply specifically to the manumission laws. 37

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manumission and seventh-year laws in H and D. It would be desirable to continue the application of these criteria to the rest of H and D in order to establish a complete statistical picture of the literary relationship between the two legislations, and to determine to what extent the limited literary similarities between the manumission and seventh-year laws are characteristic of the relationship between the codes in general. Nonetheless, the basic finding of this study is that the manumission and seventh-year laws of H and D share almost none of each other’s unique lexical and syntactical features, a fact which is interesting in itself and must be accounted for by whatever theory of the relationship of H and D one wishes to adopt. In addition to what has been discussed above, this finding has the following implications: First, at least with respect to the manumission and seventh-year laws, the direction of dependence between H and D cannot be determined based on formal literary analysis alone (i.e. excluding arguments concerning conceptual or historical development). Secondly, it cannot be maintained that the Holiness Code, at least in the case of the manumission laws, appropriates the diction of Deuteronomy with hostile intent in order to subvert it. In other words, it is not possible to conceive of the literary relationship of H and D (at least with respect to the manumission laws) in the same way that Bernard Levinson conceives of the relationship between D and CC.38 While D reuses enough of the lexical treasury of the CC to render possible Levinson’s contention that D intends to borrow CC’s authority (through its diction) while subverting its ideology, in the case of H and D, there are simply not enough literary affinities between the two to argue that H is cloaking itself with D’s diction while undermining its agenda. As the table above of contrasting phrases demonstrates, if H is employing D as a source, one would have to conclude that H is hiding that fact rather than calling attention to it. Thirdly, this study renders implausible the suggestion that H is employing Jer 34:8–22 as a source in the formulation of its legislation in Lev 25:8–55.39 Jeremiah 34:8–22 is heavily dependent on

38

As argued in Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation. Pace, for example, Leuchter, “The Manumission Laws in Leviticus and Deuteronomy.” 39

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Deut 15:12–1840 but also shares some rare lexemes and sequences with the Holiness Code.41 Significantly, none of the locutions shared by Jeremiah 34 and Deuteronomy 15 are present in Leviticus 25. It is standard methodology in literary criticism, when faced with a text that conflates the diction characteristic of two literary sources, to conclude that the conflating text is later than, and dependent on, those literary sources.42 Jeremiah conflates diction characteristic of D and H. Therefore, as Moshe Weinfeld argued long ago,43 Jeremiah is dependent on H and D.44 If H was dependent on Jeremiah in Lev 25:8–55, these jubilee laws would reflect at least some of Jeremiah’s Deuteronomic locutions: D’s language would have been mediated to H through Jeremiah.

40 See Nahum Sarna, “Zedekiah’s Emancipation of Slaves and the Sabbatical Year,” in Occident and Orient: Essays Presented to C. H. Gordon on the Occasion of his SixtyFifth Birthday (ed. H. A. Hoffner, Jr.; AOAT 22; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1973), 143–49, esp. 145–46. 41 See Moshe Weinfeld, “Sabbatical Year and Jubilee in the Pentateuchal Laws and Their Ancient Near Eastern Background,” in Law in the Bible and Its Environment (ed. Timo Veijola; Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society/Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1990), 39–62, here 41–42, esp. 41 n. 8. See also discussion in Bergsma, Jubilee, 163–70. The shared sequences are ‫קרא דרור‬, “proclaim liberty” (Jer 34:8, 15, 17; Lev 25:10), and ‫חלל שמי‬, “profane my name” (Jer 34:16; never in D, but frequent in H: Lev 18:21; 19:12; 20:3; 21:6; 22:2, 32). 42 For example, see David Carr’s sixth criterion (“Method of Determination,” 126). 43 Weinfeld, “Sabbatical Year,” 41: “The writer of Jer 34,12ff. . . . interpreted the liberty which the king proclaimed as based on the law of Deuteronomy but was also to a certain extent dependent on the priestly law.” Weinfeld did not typically distinguish between H and P. 44 For more discussion see Bergsma, Jubilee, 160–70.

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john s. bergsma APPENDIX: THE COMMON LEXEMES OF LEV 25:1–55 AND DEUT 15:1–12, WITH FREQUENCY IN LEVITICUS 25 AND THE MT

The first number is the frequency in Leviticus 25, the number in parentheses (for selected terms) is the frequency in the MT. The eighteen lexemes not found in the analogous CC laws (Exod 21:2–11 and 23:10–11) are marked with an asterisk.

‫ או‬or = 6 ‫ אח‬brother = 10 (638) * ‫ אחד‬one (m) = 1 (977) * ‫ אל‬to, toward = 10 ‫ אלהים‬God = 7 ‫ אם‬if, whether = 5 ‫ אמה‬female servant = 3 (322) ‫ אמר‬to say = 3 ‫ ארץ‬land, earth = 20 ‫ אשר‬which = 14 ‫( את‬direct object marker) = 28 ‫ את‬with = 3 * ‫ ב‬in, at, with = 40 ‫ בית‬house, receptacle = 6 * ‫ גוי‬nation = 1 * ‫ דבר‬to speak = 2 * ‫ די‬enough = 2 (18) * ‫ ה‬the = 46 ‫ היה‬to be = 22 ‫ ו‬and = 105 ‫ זאת‬this (f.) = 1 * ‫ יד‬hand, part, penis = 7 * ‫ יהוה‬LORD, Yahweh = 6 * ‫ יום‬day = 4 ‫ יצא‬to go out = 9 (1076) ‫ ירש‬to possess, inherit, dispossess = 1 (232) * ‫ כ‬as, like = 6 ‫ כי‬that, because, when = 18 ‫ כל‬all, whole, everyone, everything = 4 ‫ ל‬to = 72

the biblical manumission laws

‫ לא‬no, not = 25 ‫ לקח‬to take = 1 (976) ‫ מכר‬to sell = 13 (85) ‫ מן‬from = 24 * ‫ מצרים‬Egypt, Mizraim = 3 (682) * ‫ נתן‬to give, put, set = 6 (2000+) ‫ עבד‬to work, serve = 3 (317) ‫ עבד‬servant, slave = 8 (860) ‫ עולם‬forever, everlasting, age = 3 (439) ‫ עין‬eye, spring = 1 (932) ‫ על‬upon, over, above = 3 ‫ עם‬with = 18 ‫ עשה‬to do, make = 3 (2000+) ‫ צוה‬to command = 1 (496) * ‫ קרא‬to call = 1 (891) * ‫ רב‬great, many = 1 (645) * ‫ שכיר‬hired = 4 (18) * ‫ שביעי‬seventh = 3 (98) ‫ שבע‬seven = 4 (642) * ‫ שמר‬to keep, watch, preserve = 1 (479) ‫ שנה‬year = 37 (933) ‫ שש‬six = 2 (215)

91

THE HISTORY OF PENTECONTAD TIME UNITS (I) Jonathan Ben-Dov In 1942 Hildegard and Julius Lewy published a monograph-length article about “The Origin of the Week and the Oldest West Asiatic Calendar.”1 In this article, spanning from early second millennium b.c.e. Mesopotamia to Late Antiquity and beyond, they claimed that already in the Old Assyrian period the year was constructed as a series of fifty-day units. Having connected this practice with the count of seven weeks in Leviticus 23 and 25, the Lewys also detected a similar division of the year in the calendar of the Nestorian Church of Late Antiquity, in the folklore of twentieth-century Palestinian Arabs, and in the calendar of the Beta Israel in Ethiopia. They finally concluded that a steady stream of calendrical traditions maintained a fifty-day based agricultural calendar throughout the history of the ancient Near East (ANE). This calendar, Amorite in origin, prevailed in West Semitic circles, while subject to various developments. This idea exerted enormous influence on the study of calendars in the Bible, the Pseudepigrapha and the Dead Sea Scrolls. It gained further strength with the publication of the Scrolls, especially the Temple Scroll in 1977 (preliminarily in 1967), with the additional, counts of fifty days incorporated into its festival calendar (11QTa 17–23). The pronounced agricultural traits of this festival calendar prompted Yigael Yadin (albeit in a very careful way) to describe it as a link in the ancient tradition depicted by the Lewys:2 1 HUCA 17 (1942–1943): 1–152. I am grateful to my assistant, Niva Dikman, for her help in collecting the material and preparing the article for publication. Wayne Horowitz (Jerusalem) and Simeon Chavel (Chicago) read earlier drafts and offered valuable comments. Gerhard Rouwhorst (Utrecht) supplied valuable bibliographic help. 2 Y. Yadin, The Temple Scroll (3 vols.; Jerusalem: The Israel Exploration Society, 1983), 1:121–22. This notion had earlier been suggested by Joseph Baumgarten, who considered the pentecontad calendar to be a foundation of the sectarian tradition; see int. al. J. M. Baumgarten, “The Counting of the Sabbath in Ancient Sources,” and “4QHalakaha 5, the Law of Hadash, and the Pentecontad Calendar,” collected in Studies in Qumran Law (SJLA 24; Leiden: Brill, 1977), 115–23, 131–42; “Some Problems of the Jubilees Calendar in Current Research,” VT 32 (1982): 485–89; “The Calendar of the Book of Jubilees and the Temple Scroll,” VT 37 (1987): 71–78. Baumgarten, in

94

jonathan ben-dov Of the studies in this subject, first and foremost is that of H. and J. Lewy, who tried to show that there was a festival calendar, based on seven periods of ḫamuštum in ancient Assyria. . . . In summary, it can be said that the calendric system of the scroll is not original in its fundamental approach and has a long history in the calendars of the ancient Near East. However, it remains unique in its details, terminology and the purport of the Feasts.

Some commentators of Leviticus followed suit when commenting on Leviticus 23 and 25.3 All the more so after Julius Lewy’s 1958 article, in which he connected the pentecontad count with the mīšarum remission acts of ancient Mesopotamia, claiming again for an Amorite tradition of recurring pentecontad acts of manumission, in Assyrian and Babylonian sources as in Leviticus 25.4 It has been since then widely accepted that the Jewish priestly tradition and its apocalyptic trajectory (as presented in the Temple Scroll) continue an ancient West Semitic calendrical tradition. In his informative yet prudent essay on the calendar in the Anchor Bible Dictionary, James VanderKam was careful to downplay the importance of the pentecontad calendar in the biblical and Jewish frameworks.5 I am honored to dedicate this article to Jim, a great scholar of ancient calendars and a role model of scholarly conduct. It is my aim here to cast doubt on the early attestations of the pentecontad calendar. After summarizing the Lewys’ argument, I shall first recollect the consensus rejection of their view by Assyriologists. The head of the pantheon of Assyriology, Benno Landsberger, called it “eine kalendarische Kuriosität,” noting that Julius Lewy himself did not promote it anymore.6 Further, the texts in Leviticus do not reflect a full-fledged pentecontad calendar, nor do the calendars of Jubilees and the Temple Scroll. Rather, pentecontad calendars were the fruit of a later history of development, which departed from the seven-based thinking of the priestly sources of the Pentateuch. The pentecontad

turn, was preceded by J. Morgenstern, “The Calendar of the Book of Jubilees, Its Origin and Its Character”, VT 5 (1955): 34–76. Most of this article reiterates the Lewys’ argument with utter support. 3 E.g. J. E. Hartley, Leviticus (WBC 4; Dallas: Word Books, 1992), 373. 4 J. Lewy, “The Biblical Institution of Derôr in the Light of Akkadian Documents,” Eretz-Israel 5 (1958): 21*–31*. 5 James C. VanderKam, “Calendars,” ABD 1:810–20; repr. with revisions in idem, Calendars in the Dead Sea Scrolls: Measuring Time (London: Routledge, 1998), 3–14. 6 B. Lansberger, “Jahreszeiten im Sumerisch-Akkadischen—Concluded,” JNES 8 (1949): 273–97, here 291.

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year is a product of the late Hellenistic or early Roman period in certain Jewish circles, mainly in the apocalyptic tradition and in Philo’s Pythagorean-minded thinking. It then continued in various trajectories of this environment: in some Christian communities of Late Antiquity, in some Jewish sects, and even in the Middle Eastern agricultural folklore. Since this span of sources is too wide to be studied sufficiently here, the present paper shall survey mainly the early stages and leave the later sources to be pursued elsewhere. 1. The Lewys’ Argument and its Main Trajectories The monograph by H. and J. Lewy conveys a long and intricate argument, with lengthy digressions and sub-arguments. It is the joint work of two scholars, who each made immense contributions to the study of the ANE, but this particular article is largely outdated.7 The article is a typical product of that heroic age in the early twentieth century, in which scholars had perfect command of all Semitic and Classical languages, and in which the linguistic and intellectual map of the ANE was still significantly veiled, a fact which permitted the scholars a certain degree of speculation. The general line of the article seeks to stress the interrelation between time-reckoning and the weather conditions required for agriculture. Its argument will be summarized here, with the main points examined critically in the following sections. A short first chapter discusses the definition of the time unit “day,” claiming that in the ANE the day was often defined not by the rising and setting of the sun, but rather by the blowing of specially designated winds at dawn and dusk—hence the double meaning of the Sumerian UD (=Akkadian ūmum) as both “day” and “storm (demon).”8 A second chapter is titled “The Time Unit Week and its Relation to the Heptads in Cosmology and Theology.” In it, the authors point to what 7 See e.g. G. Eisser and J. Lewy, Die altassyrischen Rechtsurkunden vom Kültepe, I–II (MVAG 30, 35/3; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1930, 1935); H. Lewy, “Anatolia in the Old Assyrian Period; Assyria c. 2600–1816 B.C.,” CAH I/2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 707–70. 8 The Lewys interpret the biblical phrase ‫( עד שיפוח היום‬Song 4:6) as marking the day by the blowing wind at dusk. This is the origin of the Hebrew term ‫נשף‬, which means “dawn” but also “dusk,” while relating to the wind that blows at the beginning and end of the day; on this word see R. Gordis, The Book of Job: Commentary, New Translation and Special Studies (New York: JTS, 1978), 35.

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they consider to be a pristine cosmological system of seven winds, standing as a symbol for the entire cosmos. They cite a series of texts— by 1942 newly published or still unpublished—which underscore this sevenfold, rather than fourfold, division of the cosmos. Thus they make much of the seven winds of destruction in Enuma Eliš IV, 41–47, claiming that the fourfold matrix of šār erbetti in II, 41–43 is a later modification (p. 9). In addition they discuss the so-called “Babylonian Map of the World,” (pp. 11–12) with the then-prevalent interpretation that the map depicts seven nagû zones and a sevenfold division of the cosmos. They note the occasional use of the logogram VII to designate the Akkadian word kiššatum, “totality, world” (p. 16).9 Thus they posit a system which preceded the standard fourfold division of the cosmos, and regarded the seven winds, rather than the sun’s rising and setting, as the main orientation points (p. 19). They continue to examine mythological features of the winds and the storms, and their association with the number seven. Chapter three of the article studies various attestations of the Divine Heptad sometimes called (d)Sibbitu, the Seven (Gods), with special emphasis on the manifestation of this heptad as a collection of winds (p. 40). Some ritual texts assigned seven such gods to each of the seven sacred cities of Babylon, thus yielding the number of forty-nine gods; adding one more god to this sum, one could reach the number of fifty gods, representing the entirety of the world (p. 45).10 This figure, connecting (by implication) the gods, the winds, and the spatio-temporal dimensions of the world, completes the infrastructure for the discussion of fifty throughout the rest of the article. Section IV, called “The Pentecontad Calendar in Assyria,” is dedicated to the use and interpretation of the calendrical term ḫamuštum (pl. ḫamšātum, henceforth h.) in the Old Assyrian caravan texts from Kültepe. It should be noted that the study of Old Assyrian (OA) texts remains difficult even today; thus, to be sure, in 1942 it was certainly

9 For this matter see CAD K, 457; W. Horowitz, Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1998), 216. The Lewys point out that kiššatum is sometimes designated by 7 and sometimes by 50, with both numbers supporting their numerical thesis. They fail to mention, however, the spelling of kiššatum with the logogram 40 (see CAD K, 457). All of these spellings, however, are rather uncommon, since the word is commonly spelled with “textual” logograms, not numbers, but this comes in a Sumerian context. 10 For the use of the number fifty as designation of a god, see CAD H, 81, s.v. ‘hanšā’.

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in a rather preliminary stage. The Lewys declare the meaning of h. to be “a period of fifty days, a pentecontad” (p. 47). Further, “The Old Assyrian merchants . . . used simultaneously two calendars, one based upon the fifty-day-period as time-unit and a second reckoning after months and eponymy-years,” and even “It is self-evident that a year comprises seven full pentecontads” (p. 49). From the OA use of the h. in combination with the term šapattum (=full moon, fifteenth day of the month), they deduce that the šapattum in OA texts denotes an intercalation period(!) of fifteen days, which, if added to seven periods of fifty days, together comprises a year of 365 days. Since the word h. is often modified by agricultural terms, such as h. ṣibit niggallim (h. of the seizing of the sickle), h. qitip karānim (picking of grapes) or h. ša tīnātim (of the figs), they conclude that the pentecontad calendar interacted with the agricultural schedule. The Lewys even offer (p. 65) a table coordinating the modern Gregorian year with the OA year, as divided into seven h. agricultural seasons.11 Furthermore, the Lewys allow for an intercalation practice for their reconstructed OA calendar (p. 69), despite the fact that no names of intercalary months are actually mentioned in the texts. In addition, they posit the existence of a period of fifty h.s, equaling 7 and 1/7 years, as well as the square of that period, measuring “approximately fifty years.” Chapter V of the article seeks traces for a pentecontad count outside Assyria. In Babylonia, the authors point out the term sibūtum (in their transliteration sibûtum), which in their opinion designates oneseventh of the year, implying that the Babylonians of the Old Babylonian period divided their year into seven like their Assyrian counterparts (p. 77). Based on the Amorite origin of the first Babylonian dynasty, the authors conclude that the seven-fold division of the year originated in Amorite practice in the west and penetrated into Old Babylonian practice and terminology. The authors take up other “western” attestations of the fifty-day count, notably the biblical count in Lev 23:10–16. They construe the word ‫ שבת‬in the phrase ‫ ממחרת השבת‬as reflecting their own understanding of the Old Assyrian šapattum (“a period of days intercalated between two pentecontads”) and present the implications of this

11 Notably, not all of the seven seasons in the table have names, and some of the seasons have double names.

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idiosyncratic view.12 This scheme, in turn, is aligned with the calendar of the flood in Genesis 7–8 and agrees with the Israelite practice of counting weeks throughout the harvest season (Jer 5:24). Evidence for the grammatical formulation of the numerals 7, 1/7, 5, 50, 1/5 etc. are marshaled from as far as Ethiopic and Syriac morphology (p. 93), demonstrating that not only h., but also the Hebrew term ‫ שבוע‬may designate a fifty-day unit of time (p. 96). The ancient West Semitic pentecontad calendar which was based on winds and weather is still reflected in the present-day Palestinian folklore by the Arabic term ḥ amsin (pl. el-ḥ amsînāt).13 This term, which classical Arabic authors used to designate the biblical count of Lev 23:15, is used by Palestinian farmers to denote the fifty days of harvest, which are characterized in the Levant by devastating heat and dry east winds. Finally, the pentecontad year is reflected in the liturgy of the Syrian Nestorian church, which divides its year into seven fiftyday periods called ‫שבוע‬. The last section of chapter V (pp. 107–109) describes the modifications that were applied to the ancient Amorite pentecontad calendar until it reached its ramification in the calendar of the book of Jubilees. Chapter VI represents other potentially important sources, commencing with the pentecontad festivals celebrated by the Ethiopian Jewish community, known as the Falasha or Beta Israel. The discussion requires, however, significant updating according to the information available today.14 A further important field raised by the Lewys pertains to the pentecontad festivals in Philo’s account of the Therapeutae.15 Following their treatment, some writers noted a pertinent

12 For a discussion of the meaning of ‫שבת‬, see J. van Goudoever, Biblical Calendars (Leiden: Brill, 1961), 19–29; Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27 (AB 3b; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 2056–63. 13 Their discussion relies on the report by the Palestinian writer Taufik Cana’an, “Der Kalender des Palästinensischen Fellachen,” ZDPV 36 (1913): 266–300. Note, however, that this article rests almost entirely on the practices of Christian Palestinian Arabs, and thus most of its finds could be related to eastern Christian thought rather than to ancient pre-Hellenistic models. Dalman (cited by Morgenstern, “The Calendar,” 46) reports that Muslim countrymen indicate the Christian pentecontad festivals as the markers of the agricultural year, since their own purely lunar reckoning does not agree with the agricultural seasons. 14 E.g, Y. Ziv, Halachot Shabbat of Beta Israel according to Te’ezaza Sanbat (Ph.D. diss., Bar-Ilan University, 2009), 16 and bibliography cited there. 15 Goudoever, Biblical Calendars, 26; Baumgarten, “4QHalakaha 5, the Law of Hadash, and the Pentecontad Calendar,” 134–37. The new material accumulated on this topic in Philo’s writings requires a separate discussion.

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passage from the Cairo Genizah, ascribed to the Kitab al-tamyiz of R. Sa’adia Gaon, in which the writer ascribes to “Judah the Alexandrian” a statute about celebrating harvest festivals (in addition to the cereal festival mentioned in Leviticus); these festivals stand fifty days apart in the calendar.16 New and substantial evidence for the pentecontad hypothesis arose from the finds at Qumran starting the late 1950s. The occurrence of a “Festival of Oil” in the fragment 4Q394 1–2 (then called Mišmarot Eb), noted by Milik as early as 1956, as well as the subsequent discovery of new harvest festivals in the Temple Scroll, led scholars to a new view of the pentecontad tradition.17 Joseph Baumgarten carried the argument forward by connecting the “Festival of Oil” with the evidence of 4Q251 Halakhah A frg 9 (olim frg 5).18 To sum up, examples for a pentecontad year (or elements of this type of year) were claimed to appear in a wide range of sources, from early second millenium b.c.e. Assyria to the early first millennium c.e. in the Levant, as well as in later trajectories. This paper shall dwell on the early links in this chain, aiming to prove that a pentecontad year did not exist in the early textual sources. Rather, it grew as an elaboration of earlier traditions and was primarily performed by the Jewish—biblical, apocalyptic, philosophical—numerical ideology in the Hellenistic-Roman period. 2. The Early Mesopotamian Evidence 2a. ḫamuštum Scholars of early time-reckoning find particular interest in studying the units of time shorter than one month, which are sometimes represented as various versions of “the Week.” The Old Assyrian 16 For this passage see Annie Jaubert, La date de la Cène. Calendrier biblique et liturgie Chrétienne (Paris: Gabalda, 1957), 43; Goudoever, Biblical Calendars, 27; Yadin, The Temple Scroll, 119, and earlier literature cited there. The most recent discussion of this material, although in passing, is by Y. Erder, The Karaite Mourners of Zion and the Qumran Scrolls. On the History of an Alternative to Rabbinic Judaism (Tel-Aviv: Haqibbutz Hame’uhad, 2004), 170 [Hebrew]. 17 J. T. Milik, Dix ans de découvertes dans le désert de Juda (Paris: Cerf, 1957), 24–25; Goudoever, Biblical Calendars, 28; Y. Yadin, “The Temple Scroll,” BA 30 (1967): 135–39. 18 Baumgarten, “4QHalakaha 5, the Law of Hadash, and the Pentecontad Calendar,” 131–42.

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time-reckoning system is especially interesting, since this remote society seems to have employed highly independent units and measurements. The h. is of course a central expression of this uniqueness. Of the scholars who have studied this issue, however, the Lewys stand alone. Landsberger, who was the first to study the term h., construed it as a unit of five days.19 This position, supported also by K. Balkan, was ultimately adopted in CAD.20 On the other hand, von Soden construed it as “Fünftelmonat, 6-Tagewoche,” i.e. a six-day week.21 More recently, Klaas Veenhof, the foremost expert on this difficult field of study, made a good case for his previous claim that h. stands for a seven-day week.22 Due to the special interest of this interpretation for biblical scholars, it is worthwhile to dwell shortly on the possibilities raised in this direction. Both Balkan and Veenhof base their opinions on a cuneiform tablet (kt g/k 118) which they call “the ḫamuštum-almanach”; this tablet enumerates the number of h. contained in a single year. While Balkan reconstructed sixty-six lines in this tablet, hence sixty-six “weeks” in a year, other scholars reconstructed a number between forty-five and fifty, and Veenhof calculated the number to be fifty to fifty-two “weeks” per year, yielding a seven-day week.23 Needless to say, this is a very suggestive figure for any scholar who is trained in the Jewish priestly-apocalyptic tradition, especially the book of Jubilees (see the specification of “fifty-two weeks” in Jub. 6:30). Yet, it must be remembered that the fifty-two-week year in OA texts is based on reconstruction and is by no means certain. Further, even if the tablet enumerates 19 B. Landsberger, Der Kultische Kalender der Babylonier und Assyrer (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1915), 98; cf. Landsberger (above, n. 6). Robert Englund addressed the possibility that a five-day week in OA texts reflects the earlier use of this unit in archaic texts, but rejected it because the archaic attestation for this unit is insufficient: R. K. Englund, “Administrative Timekeeping in Ancient Mesopotamia,” JESHO 31 (1988): 161. 20 Kemal Balkan, “The Old Assyrian Week,” in Studies in Honor of Benno Landsberger on his Seventy-Fifth Birthday (ed. H. G. Güterbock and T. Jacobsen; Assyriological Studies 16; Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1965), 159–74, and previous bibliography cited there; cf. also CAD H, 74–75. 21 AHw 1:319. Von Soden adopts a previous proposal by N. H. Tur-Sinai, “Sabbat und Woche,” BiOr 8 (1951): 14–24. See also William W. Hallo, “New Moons and Sabbaths: a Case-Study in the Contrastive Approach,” HUCA 48 (1977): 1–18, here 13. 22 Klaas R. Veenhof, “The Old Assyrian Hamuštum Period: A Seven-Day Week,” JEOL 34 (1995/96): 5–26. This view was accepted by C. Michel, Correspondance des marchands de Kaniš au début du IIe millénaire avant J.-C. (Paris: Cerf, 2001), 227 and passim. 23 Balkan, “The Old Assyrian Week,” 165–68; Veenhoff, “The Old Assyrian Hamuštum Period,” 10.

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fifty-two weeks in a year, it never mentions the seven-day unit. Finally, Veenhof is unable to account for the etymology of the word h., which according to his interpretation has no bearing on the number “five” (p. 25), a rather serious disadvantage. Veenhof ’s proposal emphasizes the pressing need of a comprehensive study of seven-based practices and symbolism in the ancient Mesopotamian literature. However, it certainly does not support the Lewys’ ideas of a pentecontad year. Their theory requires that the calendrical term šapattum indicates not only “the 15th day of the month” but also “an intercalary period of 15 days.” This purported meaning cannot be maintained, however, either in OA texts or in Akkadian in general.24 Further, the present stage in the study of the OA calendar does not permit any conclusion with regard to the connection between the h. and lunar phases (i.e. how the h.s and the šapattum were aligned), despite many attempts at doing so.25 The h. was primarily an administrative calendrical device, similar in scope to the Assyrian eponym system and to other administrative systems like the Athenian Prytanies or the mishmarot in the Qumran calendars. The Lewys suggested that the OA year was a full-fledged pentecontad year, which comprised seven h. periods plus one additional period of fifteen days. However, the current knowledge of the OA texts does not support this theory. The authoritative monograph by Mark Cohen on calendars in the ANE dedicates a detailed chapter to the OA period, and to some modifications which took part in the calendar along this period, but does not refer to any pentecontad trait.26 It remains debated whether the lunar year in OA times was intercalated to fit the solar year, but the h. periods are not part of the overall plan of the lunar year.27

24 See Landsberger, “Jahreszeiten,” 291 n. 145; Veenhof, “The Old Assyrian Hamuštum Period,” 12, 16. A similar and equally problematic proposal is the idea that the biblical Jubilee constitutes an intercalary period of forty-nine days, inserted after each seventh year of release (Sidney Hoenig, “Sabbatical Years and the Year of Jubilee,” JQR 59 [1969]: 222–36, and earlier literature collected there). This proposal was justly rejected by commentators of Leviticus 25 (e.g., Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 2250). 25 Veenhof, “The Old Assyrian Hamuštum Period,” 15–20. 26 Mark E. Cohen, The Cultic Calendars of the Ancient Near East (Bethesda, Md.: CDL Press, 1993), 237–47; Yigal Bloch, “Middle Assyrian Lunar Calendar and Chronology,” in Living the Lunar Calendar (ed. J. Ben-Dov, W. Horowitz and J. Steele; Oxford: Oxbow Books, forthcoming). 27 As indicated quite clearly by Veenhof, “The Old Assyrian Hamuštum Period,” 13 and passim.

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jonathan ben-dov 2b. Babylonian Terms and Sources

The Lewys claimed to have identified pentecontad ideology also outside Assyria, which they explain by the Amorite identity of the Hammurabi dynasty in Babylonia. They put great emphasis on Babylonian terms derived from the number seven, such as sibūtum, which in their opinion designates one-seventh of the year (p. 77). However, this calendrical term is now perfectly well understood as designating the seventh month. This was already argued by Landsberger in 1915, followed by the Akkadian dictionaries. In his important essay on Old Babylonian calendars, Samuel Greengus proved that this month, despite the original meaning of the Akkadian name, served as the first month of the year in OB Sippar.28 To quote Mark Cohen:29 The month is named Sibūtu, “seventh,” or Sibūt šattim “seventh (month) of the year.” The term sibūt šattim occurs also without the month determinative, raising the possibility that the term Sibūt šattim may refer to a specific observance during that month. . . .

The similar term sebūtu indicates the seventh day of the month (CAD S, 206). The day called in OB texts by the suggestive term sebūt sebîm does not indicate a pentecontad unit, but rather “The 7th Day of the 7th Month,” a day of extraordinarily unfavorable nature, as attested in various Mesopotamian texts.30 The treatment of the Babylonian Map of the World in the Lewys’ article cannot be considered reliable anymore, since it is not entirely clear whether in the map the world is surrounded by seven nagû or rather by eight.31 Thus, while the number seven attained some

28 Samuel Greengus, “The Akkadian Calendar at Sippar,” JAOS 107 (1987): 209–29, here 213, 217. 29 Cohen, Cultic Calendars, 276. 30 R. Labat, Hémerologies et Ménologies d’Assur (Paris: Maisonneuve, 1939), 114–16, 172–74, 178; Cohen, Cultic Calendars, 391–92; Daniel E. Fleming, Time at Emar: The Cultic Calendar and the Rituals from the Diviner’s House (Mesopotamian Civilizations 11; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2000), 74 n. 104. 31 Wayne Horowitz (Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography, 30) reconstructs eight nagû zones. This recognition diminishes the value of the Babylonian Map of the World for understanding the division of the cosmos in 1 Enoch 77, as indicated already by James C. VanderKam, “1 Enoch 77,3 and a Babylonian Map of the World,” RQ 11 (1983): 271–78. Note, however, that in a recent publication Horowitz reconstructed seven nagû in the drawing: W. Horowitz, “A Late Babylonian Tablet with Concentric Circles from the University Museum (CBS 1766),” JANES 30 (2006): 38–53, esp. 51. Interestingly enough, the map seems to feature seven islands in the drawing but eight islands in the verbal description (Horowitz, private correspondence).

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religious and symbolic significance (see below), there is no evidence that the Babylonian religious institutions maintained a pentecontad calendar, nor any heptadic device of time-reckoning. 2c. The Symbolism of the Number Seven The parts of the Lewys’ article discussing the special significance of the number seven are representative of early scholarly explorations into Babylonian cosmology and symbolism, which were innovative in their time but are now generally considered to be outdated.32 In these handbooks, special attention is given to the sacredness of numbers, especially the number seven.33 It may indeed be the case, as the Lewys and others have claimed, that the sacredness of the number seven was not a Hebrew invention but was rather commonplace in the earlier Mesopotamian tradition. Indeed, traces of the significance assigned to “seven” can be seen in Mesopotamian ritual and cosmological speculation, throughout various parts of Mesopotamia and various periods in its rich history.34 This material awaits the hand of a trained cuneiform scholar for a critical assessment. Until then, there is no “unified theory” for the role of seven in Mesopotamia, and certainly no sign that the heptadic template produced a forty-nine-day sevenfold template. This kind of numerical speculation might have been achieved in the numerical-mystical activity of the commentaries and first millennium scholastic work, but not in the second millennium b.c.e. and not in public religious practice.

32 See for example Peter Jensen, Die Kosmologie der Babylonier (Strassburg: Teubner, 1890); Alfred Jeremias, “The Ancient-Eastern Doctrine and the Ancient-Eastern Cosmos,” in The Old Testament in the Light of the Ancient East (trans. C. L. Beaumont; London: Williams & Norgate, 1911), 1–82; A. Langdon, Babylonian Menologies and the Semitic Calendars (Schweich Lectures 1933; London: The British Academy, 1935). 33 Alfred Jeremias, “The Sacred Numbers,” in The Old Testament in the Light of the Ancient East, 62–69; Johannes Hehn, Siebenzahl und Sabbat bei den Babyloniern und im Alten Testament (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1907). 34 For some occurrences of the religious meaning of the number seven in Mesopotamian literature, see: William W. Hallo, “Information from Before the Flood: Antediluvian Notes from Babylonia and Israel,” Maarav 7 (1993): 173–81; Fleming, Time at Emar, 63–76. Fleming concludes that “The origin of the seven-day division in ritual time remains obscure. Israel’s adoption of the unit to make the week a new regular division of sacred time more likely derives from occasional ritual use than vice versa, since the ritual interval is older and more widespread in the Ancient Near East” (75). Seven-based calculations sometimes appear in scholarly texts employing musical theory; see Richard Dumbrill, “Is the Heptagram in CBS 1766 a Dial?” The Archeomusicological Review of the Ancient Near East 1 (2008): 47–50.

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jonathan ben-dov 2d. An Amorite Origin?

A unifying thread of the Lewys’ argument is the assumption that the pentecontad template for time-reckoning is the product of Amorite thought, which, in turn, filtered into the Old Assyrian and Old Babylonian milieus by way of the ruling dynasties. The Amorite connection links the early Mesopotamian evidence with the biblical material, as well as with later sources which are all connected one way or another with the Levant. It thus serves as a bridge for various overarching theories. However, the identification of Amorite material in indigenous Mesopotamian literature is a moot possibility which is often criticized. In fact, J. Lewy suggested a very similar notion in another influential article, where he claimed that the biblical institution of deror, akin to the Assyrian and Babylonian (an)durāru, originated with Amorite ideas, which influenced both the Assyrian and Babylonian states and the early Israelite culture in the second millennium.35 This notion was rightly criticized by Finkelstein, pointing out that the institution of Release “was already an accepted procedure in Sumer by the middle of the 3rd millennium B.C., and rooted in Mesopotamian Cosmology.”36 No evidence for the Release year and the pentecontad calendar was ever found in an actual Amorite text. In fact, the very geographical and religious existence of “Amurru” seems in some historical periods to have been a phantom of the ancient Mesopotamians.37 Where actual Amorite material is extant, precisely in calendrical matters, the evidence does not agree with the Lewys. For example, Greengus has isolated a unique variety of month names in middle Mesopotamia of the first half of the second millennium b.c.e., and Mark Cohen went further by claiming that this special collection represents “The Amorite Calendars.”38 This set of month names was used in such cities as Ešnunna, Tel Rimah and Chagar Bazar, and penetrated the Assyrian

35 J. Lewy, “The Biblical Institution of Derôr,” esp. 29*. Lewy buttresses his idea with the connection between the pentecontad Israelite Jubilee-count and the “Amorite” pentecontad practice. 36 J. J. Finkelstein, “Ammiṣaduqa’s Edict and the Babylonian ‘Law Codes,’” JCS 15 (1961): 91–104, quotation from 104 n. 19. 37 See P. -A. Beaulieu, “The God Amurru as Emblem of Ethnic and Cultural Identity,” in Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia: Proceedings of the 48e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Leiden 2002 (ed. W. H. van Soldt; Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, 2005), 31–46. 38 Greengus, “The Akkadian Calendar at Sippar”; Cohen, Cultic Calendars, 248–68.

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documentation in the times of the king Šamši-Adad.39 However, it did not leave any stamp on the official Assyrian calendar outside this period of time, and even then it was not applied throughout the correspondence.40 Furthermore, due to recent excavations and publications in the Amorite domain, we are now more knowledgeable about calendrical practices in Syrian cities in the second millennium b.c.e., as for example the detailed study by Daniel Fleming of calendars and Festivals at Emar. In this textual corpus an interest in seven-day rituals is clearly apparent, and a festival was held once every seven years(!).41 However, there is no trace of a pentecontad cycle in the Emar texts. To conclude this section, it is clear that a pentecontad calendar did not exist either in Old Assyria or in Old Babylonia. Nor did it exist in the Amorite culture, as reflected in cuneiform evidence. There is no unit of fifty days in Akkadian terminology. There certainly was an interest with seven-day, maybe even with seven-year, schemes, but this was part of the general folklore, maybe even scholarly thought, rather than a full-fledged calendrical principle. 3. The Evidence from the Hebrew Bible 3a. The Count of “Weeks of Harvest” The following pages will survey some heptad and pentecontad counts in the Hebrew Bible. It should be stressed at the outset that in this literary corpus there is no evidence that the pentecontad principle ever developed into a full-fledged “calendar.” Whatever we know of the year in biblical times—and a lot remains to be explored—it was not a pentecontad year in the full sense. There was an ancient custom among the early Israelites and probably also their surrounding cultures to execute a ceremonial count of the weeks of harvest. While some earlier scholars assumed that this practice is a schematic legal construct, invented by the priestly legislators of P and H, we have ample evidence that it existed as a popular custom in non-priestly circles. Thus we read in Jer 5:24:

39 40 41

Greengus, “The Akkadian Calendar at Sippar,” 222–23. See esp. Greengus, “The Akkadian Calendar at Sippar,” 223 n. 55. Fleming, Time at Emar, 63–76.

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jonathan ben-dov ‫לנו‬-‫ שבעות חקות קציר ישמר‬/ ‫הנתן גשם יורה ומלקוש בעתו‬ (YHWH) who gives the early and late rain in its season, Who preserves for us the appointed weeks of harvest

The meaning of ‫ שבעות‬here is “weeks,” not “oaths”; thus it does not create any redundancy with the following word ‫חקות‬, as some earlier commentators suggested.42 The word-pair ‫ שבעות חקות‬is admittedly not smooth in Biblical Hebrew but still gives the combined reading “appointed weeks.”43 Note that this kind of cumulative syntax appears also in the parallel hemistich ‫גשם יורה ומלקוש‬. The word ‫ חקה‬here means “a prescribed habit, a law of nature,” as in Jer 33:25 ‫חקות שמים‬ ‫( וארץ‬cf. Job 38:33; Sir 43:7). The weeks of harvest are understood here as a fixed mechanism, part of the rules of nature, coming in prescribed times. The parallelism presents them as an equivalent to the natural force of the early and late rains, thus emphasizing the importance of this time-measuring device. The poetic line in Jeremiah does not specify how many weeks are counted for the harvest, so one must deduce this detail by recourse to other counts in the Hebrew Bible. Another non-priestly source which mentions ‫“ שבעות‬weeks” with regard to the harvest is Exod 34:22, which commands a celebration of the Feast of Weeks at the time of the wheat harvest. While this source had been considered in past research as part of the older sources of the Pentateuch (source J), it is now fairly clear that it went through an intensive reworking to realign its message with that of later sources of the Pentateuch.44 The use of the name ‫ חג שבעות‬in this verse thus reflects awareness of either the priestly statutes of week counting, or the Deuteronomic name for this festival in Deut 16:10, but not an early Israelite practice.

42 A. B. Ehrlich, Randglossen zur hebräischen Bibel (1901; repr. Hildesheim: Olms, 1968), 4:254, followed by BHS. The Septuagint reading πληρώσεως understands the Hebrew as written with ś, denoting the root ‫שבע‬, satiety. This reading is preferred by P. Volz, Studien zum Text des Jeremia (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1920), 40–41. 43 I see no reason to follow W. McKane by deleting the word ‫( חקות‬W. McKane, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Jeremiah [ICC; 2 vols.; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1986], 1:131). McKane claims that this word was added later in the spirit of Deuteronomic legislation because he considers the word ‫ חקה‬to reflect the meaning “law, statute.” This is unnecessary, however, since the word conveys here the non-Dtr meaning of “a habit, a law of nature.” 44 For the view of the festival legislation in Exodus 34 as a late reworking, see S. Bar-On, “The Festival Calendars in Exodus XXIII 14–19 and XXXIV 18–26,” VT 48 (1998): 161–95.

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The reason for the popular count of weeks at harvest time (as in Jer 5:24) is never explicit, but I am inclined to think, with Milgrom, that it had an apotropaic aim. Need was felt to protect the wheat in the critical stage before the harvest, when the Palestinian climate entails on the one hand the perils of extreme heat, and on the other hand the chance of occasional showers (1 Sam 12:17). “Covering” this period of time by means of a sacred matrix of weeks can obliterate the dangers and demons which are due to appear just then. Two passages in the Pentateuch endorse a count of seven weeks during harvest time: Deut 16:9 and Lev 23:15–16. The question of the relation between these two passages, and of the diachronic order of the sources H and D in general, is a difficult question that cannot be settled here.45 Instead, attention will be drawn to several aspects that are meaningful for the later pentecontad-heptadic calendrical thought. A significant difference should be noted between the count of weeks in Deuteronomy 16 and Leviticus 23. While the former only counts “seven weeks,” the latter requires “seven Sabbaths,” and even further ‫שבע שבתות תמימות‬, “seven whole Sabbaths.”46 That is, the Deuteronomic law does not interconnect the count of weeks with specific days of the week, while the Priestly source specifically requires that the seven counted weeks would be “full,” i.e. that they will begin on Sunday and conclude with the Sabbath day, as in the first, perfect week of creation. Deuteronomy thus allows a more nominalistic view of the week, while Leviticus 23 insists that a week is defined by the Sabbath day, as it was instituted at the creation. These differences between the biblical authors, in turn, constituted major legal disputes in Second Temple times.47 They also found expression in the construction of

45 For a recent extensive survey of the relation between D and H, see Jeffrey Stackert, Rewriting the Torah: Literary Revision in Deuteronomy and the Holiness Legislation (FAT 52; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 1–18. Stackert’s own opinion is that H depended on D, but the debate will probably not cease with that. 46 Admittedly, it would be more reasonable to argue, with Christophe Nihan (From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch: A Study in the Composition of the Book of Leviticus [FAT 2/25; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007], 505–7) that H was reworking the ‫ שבועות‬law of Deut 16:9–12, rather than the other way round (contra Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 1999). 47 For the continuity of this debate, see S. Naeh, “Did the Tannaim Interpret the Script of the Torah Differently from the Authorized Reading?,” Tarbiz 61 (1992): 401–48 [Hebrew]; cf. E. Regev, “Priestly Dynamic Holiness and Deuteronomic Static Holiness,” VT 51 (2001): 243–61. For more specific definitions of the term Šabbat see Baruch J. Schwartz, “šabuaʿ, šabuʿot, and Seven Weeks,” Tarbiz, 65 (1996): 189–194 [Hebrew].

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pentecontad units of time in apocalyptic literature and beyond. But this does not change the fact that the biblical passages about harvest festivals do not construct a pentecontad “calendar” but rather a single period of seven weeks of harvest. The presence of this practice in the Holiness Code is not surprising, since the authors of this pentateuchal source allowed for popular cultic elements to penetrate into the institutional implementation of the cult in the central temple.48 In Leviticus 23 this can clearly be seen on compositional grounds; while the H list of festivals in Leviticus 23 generally follows that of the P list in Numbers 28–29, the harvest festivals (Lev 23:9–22) are not attested in the P list and must be conceived as an addition by H. These added verses, replete with typical H terminology, refer specifically to agricultural matters and exceed the cultic interests of the P writer.49 The motivation for H’s intensive treatment of the harvest season must have been his attraction to popular customs and practices relating to this crucial stage in the agricultural year. It may also be the case that the pentecontad outlook of this pericope was not created by the initial H author, but rather by a later H redactor. But the elucidation of this possibility exceeds the scope of the present study.50

48 On this aspect of H, see mainly Y. Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 8–45, esp. 25–26, 36–40, 45. His main example is the popular laws of building booths and the collection of plants in the festival of Sukkoth (Lev 23:39–43), which Knohl sees as an addition, appended to the chapter by an H editor. I see the mention of weeks in Deut 16:10 as a popular element accepted by the D legislators. However, A. Rofé claims that D legislators actually opposed the popular festival practices relating to agriculture and fertility (Deuteronomy: Introduction and Supplementary Chapters [Jerusalem: Academon, 1988], 38–45 [Hebrew]). 49 I follow Knohl’s view on the relation between Leviticus 23 and Numbers 28–29; see Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence, 8–14 (contra the classical analysis, represented recently by B. A. Levine, Numbers 21–36 [AB 4A; New York: Doubleday, 2000], 394–95). Milgrom accepted Knohl’s analysis and carried it further (Leviticus 23–27, 2054–56). A more nuanced proposal was put forward by Nihan (From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch, 498–504); he distinguishes the addition in vv. 39–43 from the text of vv. 9–22, which he considers to precede the H editor. 50 See Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 1987, 1993–96, 2059; idem, “The Firstfruits Festivals of Grain and the Composition of Leviticus 23:9–21,” in Tehillah le-Moshe: Biblical and Judaic Studies in Honor of Moshe Greenberg (ed. Mordechai Cogan et al.; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1997), 81–89. Based on some stylistic inconsistencies, Milgrom attempted to detect throughout Lev 23:9–22 the editorial activity of a late interpolator or editor, whom he calls “The Sunday Pentecontalist.” It was this editor who enforced on the count of the Omer the kind of strict “sabbatarianism” that later engendered the growth of sectarian calendars in the Hellenistic period. Earlier versions of this pericope were not so strict on the sabbatarian traits of the count, but

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The Pentateuch, and seemingly also Jeremiah, count one period of seven weeks around the grain harvest. There is no sign of an additional count of harvest periods, as in the Temple Scroll, and accordingly no sign for a pentecontad “calendar.” The only possible hint in the Hebrew Bible for a series of consecutive harvest festivals appears in Neh 13:31 (cf. 10:35). In this verse Nehemiah states that the Wood Sacrifice and the first fruits were offered ‫“ לעתים מזומנות‬in prescribed times,” whatever the exact meaning of this phrase may be.51 Once again it was Milgrom who pointed out how this verse—presumably an additional “popular” practice of harvest festivals—dictated the prescription of these festivals in some priestly sources of the later Second Temple period.52 The count of seven weeks of harvest was thus well-rooted in the Israelite agricultural practice and gradually found its way into the legal codes of H and D. Especially the priestly writers—or possibly editors— strengthened the sabbatarian aspects of this count, which never formed a full-fledged pentecontad year. 3b. The Seven-Week Count of Years in Leviticus 25 The law of the Jubilee Year in Leviticus 25 is by far the closest example in the Hebrew Bible to a pentecontad calendar, inasmuch as it dictates a cyclical, ever-recurring pentecontad cycle of time. The fifty-year cycle in Leviticus 25 is based on the basic unit of seven years (Lev 25:2–7), the latter, in turn, taken from the šemitah law of the Covenant Code (Exod 23:10–11).53 Generally speaking, the old laws are applied here with a new taste, befitting of the priestly ideology and style. The rest of the chapter (25:8–55) propagates a sevenfold multiple of the above

rather required a count of fifty days or of seven “nominalitic” weeks, as in Deut 16:9 or Jer 5:24. 51 See James C. VanderKam, “The Temple Scroll and the Book of Jubilees,” in Temple Scroll Studies (ed. G. J. Brooke; JSPSup 7; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1989), 223. 52 J. Milgrom, “Qumran’s Biblical Hermeneutics: The Case of the Wood Offering,” RQ 16 (1994): 449–56; idem, Leviticus 23–27, 2071–76. For the pre-Israelite background of firstfruit festivals see John S. Reeves, “The Feast of the First Fruits of Wine and the Ancient Canaanite Calendar”, VT 42 (1992): 350–361. 53 On the rewriting of the šemitah law in Leviticus 25 from a stylistic point of view, see M. Paran, Forms of the Priestly Style in the Pentateuch: Patterns, Linguistic Usages, Syntactic Structures (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1989), 29–34 [Hebrew]; more comprehensively in Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 115–25, 137–38; Stackert claims that the šemitah passage in Lev 25:2–7 depends not only on Lev 23:10–11 but also on Deut 15:17–18.

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unit by extrapolating the basic seven-year scheme. Thus, Leviticus 25 is a crucial locus for the formation of heptadic units of time in the entire ANE literature. What is the origin of this sevenfold septenary structure? Opinions are divided whether the fifty-year (or better the forty-nine-year) cyclical act of remission represents an early, pre-monarchic Israelite institution, or rather a late priestly arithmetical construct. This question is highly relevant for our understanding of the formation of pentecontad time periods. However, the important question of time frameworks has often been confused with the question whether the overall remission practiced in the yobel is an ancient practice, rooted in ANE law, or rather an idealistic and late Jewish priestly construct.54 Regardless of the outcome of the latter question, it must be admitted that there is no indication of a remission period of fifty years in ANE law, nor is there any good evidence for a cyclical occurrence of royal acts of remission.55 Let us now conclude the discussion of the Leviticus evidence. Priestly writers of the Holiness School (H) employed two pentecontad time periods: the count of the Omer sacrifice and the Jubilee. The former is an old agricultural custom which accumulated priestly embellishments, notably the identification of the counted weeks (Jer 5:24, Deut 16:9) as “seven full Sabbaths” (Lev 23:15). In contrast, the count of fifty for the Jubilee period does not reflect an older agrarian practice, but rather a priestly elaboration on the earlier institution of the seven-year šemitah. It may be that the pentecontad trends in these two

54 John S. Bergsma (The Jubilee from Leviticus to Qumran: A History of Interpretation [VTSup 115; Leiden: Brill, 2007]) pointed out the tribal reality reflected in Leviticus 25, as well as the purported antiquity of the unusual term ywbl, and thus concluded that the Jubilee was an ancient institution represented anew. A similar view was expressed in passing by M. Weinfeld, Social Justice in Ancient Israel and in the Ancient Near East (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 175–78; cf. Milgrom, Lev 23–25, 2243. In contrast, other writers view the legal construction of Leviticus 25 as a later development in the history of biblical law. Thus recently Nihan, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch, 534–35, pointing out the presentation of the Land of Israel as a temple community, to which no acts of transfer could be applied; and Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 129–41, who traces the development of the šemitah law throughout the various literary sources. 55 R. Westbrook, “Social Justice in the Ancient Near East,” in Social Justice in the Ancient World (ed. K. D. Irani and M. Silver; Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1995), 149– 63, here 158–60; Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 2241, contra Finkelstein “Ammiṣaduqa’s Edict and the Babylonian ‘Law Codes’.” See also the opinions opposing Finkelstein, collected by Weinfeld, Social Justice, 175 n. 84.

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passages are the product of a late redactional layer (Milgrom). This way or another, they reflect the growing interest of priestly writers in sevenfold time frames, an interest that would increase quite considerably in the post-biblical period. However, within biblical literature— whether priestly or non-priestly—there is no sign for a full-fledged pentecontad calendar, i.e. there is no indication that recurring units of fifty days played a part in the definition of the year in ancient Israel. This is also the gist of the cogent summary of this issue by J. van Goudoever, who assigns most of the development of pentecontad periods to post-biblical times.56 4. Later Developments and Conclusion The present framework does not allow further tracing of the pentecontad theme throughout later stages, i.e. the time when a true pentecontad year was constructed. The discussion of such sources as the Temple Scroll, Philo’s account of the Therapeutae, and the Nestorian pentecontad cycles, as well as twentieth century Palestinian folklore, will likely find their places in a separate study. Presently one can summarize the pre-history of the pentecontad calendar as follows. While seven-based time units, and heptadic symbolism in general, existed in ancient Mesopotamia, this notion did not give rise to a 7 × 7 time-unit, nor did it produce any sort of pentecontad calendar. The Amorite calendrical practices, gradually revealed in recent scholarship, do not attest to pentecontad frameworks either. The Old Assyrian calendrical system, as attested in documents from Karum-Kaneš and Assur itself, is far from clear, and can thus hardly be used to support elaborate arguments on tradition-history. The unit of h. encompasses five, six, or seven days, but certainly not fifty days. A count of weeks of harvest-days existed in ancient Israel as a popular, non-priestly custom, probably for apotropaic purposes. This practice was merged into various strands of pentateuchal legislation. It was especially influential in H, where it interacted with the heptadic trends of these writers. Primary pentecontad counts were installed in Leviticus 23 (fifty days) and Leviticus 25 (fifty years), but no full-fledged pentecontad year existed in these sources.

56

Goudoever, Biblical Calendars, 29.

THE EGYPTIAN GODDESS MA‘AT AND LADY WISDOM IN PROVERBS 1–9: REASSESSING THEIR RELATIONSHIP* Steven Schweitzer Scholars of the Hebrew Bible have a long tradition of seeking out parallel texts and concepts in the surrounding cultures of the ancient Near East for use as comparative data or as precedents available to the authors of the Hebrew Bible. This is particularly true in descriptions of YHWH or in the depictions of mythological, or what appear to be mythological, entities. The presentation of Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 1–9 has been one of these entities to receive a large amount of attention. As with most issues, the significant amount of attention has produced a variety of positions on whether it is possible to trace this female character to a particular female deity in any of the surrounding cultures. This essay reassesses the relationship, which has been both accepted and denied in scholarship, between the Egyptian goddess Ma‘at as described in ancient Egyptian literature and the depiction of Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 1–9, with a particular focus on the description in Prov 8:22–31.1 Ma‘at According to Egyptologists Rather than begin with biblical scholarship, it is instructive to examine first the positions held by Egyptologists regarding the portrayal of the goddess Ma‘at in ancient Egyptian literature. Egyptologists stress repeatedly that Ma‘at (m3‘.t) is the word for both a goddess and a concept. There is some debate over whether Ma‘at was first a goddess

* It is my privilege to submit this essay in honor of James VanderKam, my professor, dissertation director, and colleague. This work originated in a seminar led by Jim on Wisdom Literature at the University of Notre Dame in Spring 2002. Jim’s attention to detail, his reasoned use of sources, his affirmation of family, and his demonstration of respect to everyone he meets have all contributed to my own development as a scholar, as an individual, and as one who seeks wisdom. 1 Ma‘at (m3‘.t) is variously spelled by scholars: Ma’at, Maat, and Ma‘at. The original spellings used by scholars will be retained in quotations, while I will use Ma‘at throughout this essay.

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whose qualities were subsequently abstracted into abstract principles or whether she became a goddess through the process of hypostatization.2 Whichever may be the case (and it is difficult to determine which is more probable), it is apparent that these two separate aspects are not distinguished in ancient Egyptian literature. Often it is unclear whether the goddess or the principles which she represents are intended in the ancient texts.3 A dictionary entry on Ma‘at defines her as: Daughter of Re and the incarnation of cosmic order and social justice. Ma’at was always portrayed as a woman with an ostrich plume on her head and often in miniature as offered by the king during the holy services to demonstrate his role as upholder of order. It was said that the gods ‘lived on’ Ma’at, as if partaking of her as their food. In that way they could maintain the cosmic order she represented. Ma’at is credited with giving mankind a code of ethics. She is among those goddesses regarded as the daughter of Re, and she had a cult place of her own in the precinct of Montu at Karnak and perhaps other important places. Juridical matters may well have been decided in these ‘temples of Truth.’4

The famous Egyptologist E. A. Wallis Budge concludes his definition by describing Ma‘at as “the personification of physical and moral law, and order and truth.”5 He provides more detail elsewhere: Maat, the wife of Thoth, was the daughter of Ra, and a very ancient goddess; she seems to have assisted Ptah and Khnemu in carrying out rightly the work of creation ordered by Thoth. There is no one word which will exactly describe the Egyptian conception of Maat both from a physical and from a moral point of view; but the fundamental idea of the word is “straight,” and from the Egyptian texts it is clear that maat meant right, true, truth, real, genuine, upright, righteous, just, steadfast, unalterable, etc. . . . Maat, the goddess of the unalterable laws of heaven, and the daughter of Ra, is depicted in female form, with the feather, emblematic of maat, on her head, or with the feather alone for a head, and the sceptre in one hand, and ankh in the other.6

2 Vincent A. Tobin (Theological Principles of Egyptian Religion [New York: Peter Lang, 1989], 79) argues emphatically that Ma‘at is a cosmic principle which only secondarily became a goddess through personification of this principle. 3 See the further discussion of this point by Tobin, Theological Principles, 77. 4 Barbara S. Lesko, The Great Goddesses of Egypt (Norman, Okla.: University of Oklahoma Press, 1999), 268–69. 5 E. A. Wallis Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians: Or Studies in Egyptian Mythology (2 vols.; New York: Dover Publications, 1904; repr., 1969), 1:417. 6 E. A. Wallis Budge, “Introduction,” in The Book of the Dead: The Papyrus of Ani (New York: Dover Publications, 1967; repr. from London: British Museum, 1895), cxix.

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Emily Teeter notes this connection with Thoth plus the notion of her being food for the gods and provides an additional point: “The deity Maat pervaded the world of the gods.”7 It is precisely her popularity and the sheer number of references to associated actions that lead to the conclusion that she was no minor deity but rather was at the center of Egyptian rituals, possibly second in importance only to Re himself.8 It is also this pervasiveness that allows for conclusions about the importance of those principles which she represents in the religious practice and ethics of the ancient Egyptians.9 Thus, Ma’at was . . . the basis for the unity of all things, the basis of cosmic order, of political order, of morality, of life itself, of art and science, and even of good etiquette in normal everyday affairs,10

and Maat is right order in nature and society, as established by the act of creation, and hence means . . . [that] which is right, what is correct, law, order, justice and truth. This state of righteousness needs to be preserved or established, in great matters as in small. Maat is therefore not only right order but also the object of human activity. Maat is both the task which man sets himself and also, as righteousness, the promise and reward which await him on fulfilling it.11

If Ma‘at is always represented positively, then its opposite is “[u]ntruth, falsehood, disorder, . . . that of which one dies, [which] makes life impossible . . . ; it is chaos, ‘the abomination of God,’ that which is perennially defeated in the order of the universe.12 Hence it is fatal for a man to identify himself with it.”13 The intertwining of the goddess, her characteristics, and the ethical code associated with her provide a

7 Emily Teeter, “Maat,” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Egypt (ed. D. Redford 3 vols.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 2:319–21, esp. 319. 8 Tobin, Theological Principles, 31, 80. 9 See Roland G. Bonnell, “The Ethics of El-Amarna,” in Studies in Egyptology: Presented to Miriam Lichtheim (ed. S. Israelit-Groll 2 vols.; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1990), 1:71–97 for further discussion of this point about ethics. 10 Tobin, Theological Principles, 77. 11 Siegfried Morenz, “Ethics and Its Relationship to Religion,” in Egyptian Religion (trans. A. E. Keep; Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1973), 110–36, esp. 113. 12 As argued by Vincent A. Tobin, “Ma’at and DIKH: Some Comparative Considerations of Egyptian and Greek Thought,” Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 24 (1987): 113–21. 13 Henri Frankfort, “The Egyptian Way of Life,” in Ancient Egyptian Religion: An Interpretation (TB 77; New York: Harper & Row, 1948; repr., 1961), 59–87, esp. 74–75.

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rich but complex semantic field whenever the term Ma‘at is used in ancient Egyptian literature.14 The failure to distinguish between the goddess and her characteristics, mentioned above, in addition to “[t]he prominence given to the actual deity Ma‘at in Egyptian religion, the fact that she is the object of a cult and the strong tendency to personify her seem to indicate that to the Egyptian mind Ma‘at was more than simply a personification of a principle of order.”15 This more comprehensive and accurate view of the goddess supplements the more conceptual, but well-articulated, statement by Assmann that “Ma‘at ist eine regulative Energie, die das Leben der Menschen zur Eintracht, Gemeinsamkeit und Gerechtigkeit steuert und die kosmischen Kräfte zur Gesetzmäßigkeit ihrer Bahnen, Rhythmen und Wirkungen ausbalanciert.”16 In Assmann’s earlier research he noted the great consistency of Egyptian religion over the millennia while allowing for an appropriate amount of conceptual development.17 Assmann’s claim, however, that Ma‘at was diminished in the personal piety of individuals during the period of Akhenaten’s reform can be easily refuted.18 It is highly significant that Ma‘at was the only deity to escape assimilation or rejection under the religious upheaval of Akhenaten’s monotheistic movement.19 When other deities were losing their identity or being “demythologized” this goddess remained intact; yet, some interesting shifts in thinking about her and the ethical code associated with her are discernible. “In the Amarna system the traditional idea of living 14 See the Appendix below for the text of selected examples from ancient Egyptian literature. 15 Assigned to the New Kingdom both by Miriam Lichtheim (“Maat in Egyptian Autobiographies,” in Maat in Egyptian Autobiographies and Related Studies [OBO 120; Freiburg: University Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992], 9–101, esp. 12); and by Teeter (“Maat,” 320). Cf. Tobin, “Ma’at and DIKH,” 120. 16 Jan Assmann, Ma‘at: Gerechtigkeit und Unsterblichkeit im Alten Ägypten (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1990), 163. “Ma‘at is a regulative power, which steers the life of men to harmony, mutuality, and justice, and balances the cosmic forces towards lawfulness in their paths, rhythms, and effects” [my translation]. 17 Jan Assmann, The Search for God in Ancient Egypt (trans. D. Lorton; Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2001), 149. 18 As articulated persuasively by Emily Teeter, The Presentation of Maat: Ritual and Legitimacy in Ancient Egypt (SAOC 57; Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 1997), 81–85. 19 David P. Silverman, “Divinity and Deities in Ancient Egypt,” in Religion in Ancient Egypt: Gods, Myths, and Personal Practice (ed. B. E. Shafer; Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1991), 7–87, esp. 82; Lichtheim, “Maat in Egyptian Autobiographies,” 61–65; and Tobin, Theological Principles, 85.

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by Ma’at was replaced by the requirement of living by the teaching of the king; . . . the acceptance of the teaching of Akhenaten was in essence the doing of Ma’at and hence the acceptance of truth.”20 While Akhenaten’s personal status was enhanced by this shift, however, it should be noted that, by requiring the obedience of all people to the principle of Ma‘at, Ma‘at was now directly accessible to all people rather than solely to the king.21 Thus, rather than being diminished, Ma‘at was the one deity who actually increased in the role of private religious piety during this and subsequent periods. This is confirmed by the number of non-royal inscriptions mentioning Ma‘at that come from this period in comparison to prior dynasties. Finally, the goddess Ma‘at is mentioned in the dual form (Maaty or Maati or “Two Truths” or “Double Maat,” in translations) in the judgment scene of the Book of the Dead and in other texts which have judgment as the immediate context.22 The early appearance of this dual form in the Pyramid Texts demonstrates that this form is not a later development, but an extremely early variant.23 In addition, the association of Ma‘at with the Solar Barque of Re occasionally mentions her in this dual form.24 Budge provides two different speculations regarding why this form is attested: (1) [i]n the judgement scene two Maat goddesses appear; one probably is the personification of physical law, and the other of moral rectitude,25

and (2) [a]s a moral power Maat was the greatest of the goddesses, and in her dual form of Maati, i.e., the Maat goddess of the South and the North,

20

Bonnell, “Ethics,” 83. Teeter (“Maat,” 321) notes that all the deceased make claims regarding their adherence to Ma‘at, and not only the king (as could be implied from the Pyramid Texts, which seem to concern only deceased pharaohs). 22 Pyramid Text 317; Coffin Text Spell 660; Book of the Dead 125.1, 125 A pl30 1–2; 125 A pl32 5b–7; Sarcophagus-Lid Inscription of Wennofer; Great Hymn to Osiris; Hymn to Re from Neferhotep. This judgment hall is called “The Hall of Ma‘at” (singular) on the Stela of Intef son of Sent 26. 23 R. O. Faulkner (“Preface,” in The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts [Oxford: Clarendon, 1969], v) dates the Pyramid Texts to the Fifth and early Sixth Dynasties, ca. 2300 b.c.e. 24 Coffin Text Spell 659, 660, 682, 693. The Coffin Texts are dated between ca. 2100 and ca. 1750 b.c.e. by Miriam Lichtheim, and some are direct descendants of the Pyramid Texts (Ancient Egyptian Literature: A Book of Readings [3 vols.; Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973], 1:xii-xiii, 131). 25 Budge, “Introduction,” cxix. 21

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steven schweitzer she was the lady of the Judgment Hall, and she became the personification of justice, who awarded to every man his due.26

Thus, Budge connects this dual form both with her dual function in creation and ethics and with her position as the goddess who unifies the Two Lands together in purpose and in politics.27 In light of both of these suggestions, it may be significant that she is the only goddess whose name is attested in both a singular and a dual form.28 In conclusion, Egyptologists view Ma‘at both as a goddess and as an ordering principle for life, neither of which is separable from the other. Ma‘at is also pervasive in Egyptian society: in the literature of its elite, in the inscriptions of its “middle-class,” in the ritual descriptions concerning the role of the king and the afterlife, in its consistent portrayal over millennia, and in the cultural milieu of its society has a whole.29 There is relatively little disagreement over how Ma‘at should be understood; Egyptologists tend to agree with the basic definitions and implications set out above.30 It is not difficult to come to an understanding of the function and importance of Ma‘at in ancient Egyptian society as depicted by these Egyptologists. The Relationship of Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom according to Hebrew Bible Scholars Far from this coherent picture of Ma‘at and the consensus opinion held by Egyptologists, scholars of the Hebrew Bible have a variety of opinions regarding not only how Ma‘at is presented but also whether (and how) she is connected to Lady Wisdom. These positions can be divided into a few larger groups: (1) Lady Wisdom is dependent on Ma‘at, but has distinct elements; (2) Lady Wisdom bears a vague

26

Budge, The Gods of the Egyptians, 1:418. The political function of this dual form is held by J. G. Griffiths, “Isis as Maat, Dikaiosunê, and Iustitia,” in Hommages à Jean Leclant (ed. C. Berger, G. Clerc, and N. Grimal 4 vols.; Cairo: Institut français d’archéologie orientale du Caire, 1994), 3:255–64, esp. 256. 28 Further speculation on this point will be offered in the section on Lady Wisdom below. 29 While “middle class” is clearly an anachronistic term, the presence of a social stratum between the elite and the poor in ancient Egypt is nonetheless accurate. 30 It also seems to me that, as a whole, these Egyptologists have used the primary texts in a conservative manner to construct their rather straightforward depiction of Ma‘at. 27

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resemblance to Ma‘at, but connections are not definitive; (3) Lady Wisdom bears a resemblance to Isis who has assimilated the functions and descriptions of Ma‘at, so any parallels are not authentically to Ma‘at; (4) Lady Wisdom in no way resembles Ma‘at. It is significant to note that no scholars hold to a direct relationship between the two figures. The views of representative scholars will be briefly summarized in chronological order within each category. 1. Lady Wisdom is dependent on Ma‘at, but has distinct elements which preclude a one-to-one relationship In her highly influential and controversial book, Christa Kayatz makes several claims regarding the relationship of Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom. First, she notes that while Lady Wisdom speaks, no parallel can be found for Ma‘at, and thus cannot be a “direktes Vorbild.”31 Second, she claims that in Coffin Text Spell 80 “Die Maat wird hier als Kind vorgestellt, als Kleines, das ‘vor’ dem Gott ist. In verschiedenen Wendungen wird dann das zärtliche Verhältnis zu dem Kind Maat umschrieben.”32 While Ma‘at is depicted before Atum (Re) as his daughter, she is not explicitly a “small child” and the relationship is barely what one would call “affectionate.” The language here is only the same “living, kissing, eating” that appears in numerous other texts. Third, she constructs a text from the Book of Opening the Mouth which happens to become a parallel text to Proverbs 8 by pulling out similar phrases, but not exact lines or even in the same order, from the ritual. It is from this reconstructed summary text that she concludes her argument for a relationship between Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom by stating “Die Ähnlichkeit der Vorstellungen läßt sich nicht übersehen.”33 While Kayatz has a good argument that Ma‘at may have served as a source for constructing Lady Wisdom, several aspects of her interpretation of the data are questionable if not simply incorrect based on the texts themselves.

31 Christa Kayatz, Studien zu Proverbien 1–9: Eine form- und motivegeschichtliche Untersuchung unter Einbeziehung ägyptischen Vergleichsmaterials (WMANT 22; Neukirchener-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1966), 87; she is correct in her claim of finding no parallel texts in which Ma‘at speaks. 32 Kayatz, Studien, 96: “Maat is here portrayed as a child, as a small child, who is ‘before’ the god. In different phrases, then, the affectionate relationship with the child Maat is circumscribed” [my translation]. 33 Kayatz, Studien, 98: “The similarity of the concepts cannot be overlooked” [my translation].

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Othmar Keel argues that the description of the “scherzenden” Wisdom playing before YHWH finds a parallel in Ma‘at, but not necessarily a “historische Abhängigkeit.”34 He provides thirty-four figures, several of which depict people “playing,” but none which pictures Ma‘at “playing.”35 His conclusion that a playing Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 8 is paralleled to Ma‘at in iconography is rather questionable. Gerhard von Rad notes the depiction of Ma‘at as a child as a “striking” parallel on which Lady Wisdom is probably dependent, but believes that as a whole Lady Wisdom “can be compared only with difficulty with the Egyptian concept Maat.”36 Roland Murphy notes that “There seems to be reason to claim that the figure of ma‘at had some influence on the description of Wisdom in Prov 1–9.”37 He adds [citing Kayatz] that Ma‘at does not speak, but Isis does.38 He also notes the possible connection between the amulet of Ma‘at worn by Egyptian officials and the statements of Prov 1:9; 3:22; 6:21.39 2. Lady Wisdom bears a vague resemblance to Ma‘at, but connections are not definitive Leo Perdue maintains an interesting, though highly suspect, position on this issue. The divine speeches made by goddesses, including Ma‘at, serve as the pattern for this literary form.40 He finally concludes, however, that Lady Wisdom is only “a literary personification to foil the fertility goddess depicted as Lady Folly.”41 His blatant misappropriation

34 Othmar Keel, Die Weisheit spielt vor Gott: Ein ikonographischer Beitrag zur Deutung des mesahäqät in Spruche 8,30f (Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1974), 67–68. 35 Figure 34 on p. 62 is the only picture that I have ever seen of Ma‘at sitting before Re. She is, however, clearly sitting and not playing, and this is from a relief from Dendera dated to around 100 c.e. (!). 36 Gerhard von Rad, Wisdom in Israel (Nashville: Abingdon, 1972), 153. 37 Roland E. Murphy, The Tree of Life: An Exploration of Biblical Wisdom Literature (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 161. 38 Murphy, Tree of Life, 161–62. I would argue that the connection between Ma‘at and Isis is particularly important in this discussion. 39 Murphy, Tree of Life, 162. 40 Leo G. Perdue, Wisdom and Cult: A Critical Analysis of the Views of Cult in the Wisdom Literatures of Israel and the Ancient Near East (SBLDS 30; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1977), 143, 151–52. He cites Kayatz for this point, but no primary text; in addition, he fails to mention Kayatz’ observation that Ma‘at does not actually speak. 41 Perdue, Wisdom and Cult, 153.

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of Kayatz is unfortunate, while his conclusion that one of these female entities is an actual goddess (implicitly, the evil Canaanite fertility goddess) while the other is merely a literary type (explicitly, the one created first by YHWH and through whom he created the world) seems arbitrary. Nili Shupak, drawing heavily on Kayatz, briefly highlights both the parallel and the dissimilar elements of the depictions of Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom; he concludes, rather simply, that they are “not identical.”42 John Collins states, without clarification, in his very brief discussion that “there is probably some influence from the Egyptian concept of Maat, which embodies truth, justice, and world order.”43 He makes no explicit claims about the goddess, only about the abstract concept.44 While he eventually rejects it, Richard Clifford admits that “The analogy is possible, but Wisdom in Proverbs displays a vigor and a personality in pursuit of her lovers that goes far beyond the abstract Egyptian goddess.”45 3. Lady Wisdom bears a resemblance to Isis who has assimilated the functions and descriptions of Ma‘at, so any parallels are not authentically to Ma‘at Wilfred Knox, in an influential article that contains much circular logic, argued that Proverbs 1–9 is to be dated to the third century b.c.e. and that the figure of Lady Wisdom parallels Isis. This connection is consistent with its dating to this period.46 Joseph Blenkinsopp dates Proverbs 1–9 to the third century b.c.e. and states that “there seems to be no good reason to deny the possibility of such a borrowing [from Isis].”47

42 Nili Shupak, Where Can Wisdom Be Found?: The Sage’s Language in the Bible and in Ancient Egyptian Literature (OBO 130; Fribourg: University Press; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), 402; see also pages 268–70 and his comments on pages 96 and 345. 43 John J. Collins, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (OTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 11; he is more confident of connections between Isis and the wisdom goddess Sophia in Sirach 24, but still hesitates to be specific (203–4). 44 Given the discussion of the Egyptologists above, Collins’ position seems to split inappropriately something that is united in the Egyptian literature. This is a common problem among biblical scholars on this issue in general. 45 Richard J. Clifford, The Wisdom Literature (Nashville: Abingdon, 1998), 34, 55. 46 Wilfred L. Knox, “The Divine Wisdom,” JTS 38 (1937): 230–37. 47 Joseph Blenkinsopp, Wisdom and Law in the Old Testament: The Ordering of Life in Israel and Early Judaism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 161.

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Michael Fox, in his detailed article on Ma‘at, states: The most important and frequent statements about Ma‘at, such as Re lives on Ma‘at, or that Ma‘at is the daughter of Re, or rites such as the daily offering of Ma‘at to Re, or images such as Ma‘at in the prow of Re’s boat, can have no meaning outside an Egyptian context. Only by stripping Ma‘at of its distinctive character can one even claim to find a parallel in Israel. Then, however, the parallel is not to Ma‘at but to a scholarly construct.48

Fox makes an important point that these explicitly Egyptian motifs are indeed missing in the depiction of Lady Wisdom. Fox also rejects the linkage between these two entities as “flawed” since Ma‘at never speaks and no evidence that she “plays” can be adduced.49 Fox also makes the strange, and I believe invalid, claim that “nowhere does a[n Israelite] sage discover truths about the moral realm by observing the workings of nature.”50 He then quickly concludes his article with the statement that “the Israelite sages could not have undertaken a survey of Egyptian texts of all genres and extracted a highly abstract, philosophical idea such as the world order and made that the basis of their own philosophy. The sages of Israel were not Egyptologists.”51 While they may not have had such training, it seems rather presumptuous to think that the ancient sages did not have access to a concept that was pervasive in Egyptian culture and that they were incapable of such philosophical and intellectual processes in creating new texts or constructing new concepts.52 In his recent commentary on Proverbs 1–9, Fox dismisses an authentic connection between Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom, stating that

48 Michael V. Fox, “World Order and Ma‘at: A Crooked Parallel,” JANES 23 (1995): 37–48, esp. 42. 49 Fox, “World Order,” 44. Fox is correct in rejecting Keel’s arguments that Ma‘at is depicted in the iconographic record as a playing child (46). He dismisses inappropriately, however, the evidence from Coffin Text Spell 80. While the line he claims to be a gloss probably is one, he fails to note that Ma‘at is mentioned at other points throughout this text in a variety of ways which do resemble Lady Wisdom. For Fox’s position to be valid, all of these statements must be glosses, which is not possible given the context of the Spell. 50 Fox, “World Order,” 48. 51 Ibid. 52 The pervasiveness in Egyptian culture can be seen by the positions of the Egyptologists on this issue and on the basis of the primary literature itself, both in terms of quantity and its consistency over millennia.

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Ma‘at (both as the concept of truth/justice and as its divine hypostasis) was the foundation principle of Egyptian society and was deeply embedded in Egyptian religion. Unlike some other Egyptian deities (notably Isis), Ma‘at never developed an international persona. It is doubtful that ancient sages, Egyptian or Israelite, could have extracted the concept of Ma‘at from scattered Egyptian cultic and mortuary texts and grafted it on to an Israelite figure of wisdom.53

While Fox changes “could not” to “doubtful,” he still dismisses the notion that sages (even Egyptian ones this time!) could undertake such a “scholarly” venture. In addition, Ma‘at’s failure to appear explicitly outside Egypt is actually only an argument from silence. Fox follows Kloppenborg’s arguments about Isis and Wisdom in Sirach.54 He concludes that “if Wisdom resembles any Egyptian goddess, it is Isis—not so much in her native Egyptian form (which would not be accessible to a foreign audience) as in the universalistic, international persona she acquired in Hellenistic times, when she became the most popular goddess in the Near East and the Aegean.”55 Fox’s conclusion regarding Ma‘at and Isis is not the only option that can explain this issue of the “international persona.”56 4. Lady Wisdom in no way resembles Ma‘at Helmer Ringgren does not clearly reject the influence of Ma‘at, as he affirms a mythological reading of Proverbs 8.57 He rather stresses that Lady Wisdom is a “hypostatization of a divine function” thereby avoiding foreign influence in Wisdom’s depiction.58 R. B. Y. Scott does not address Ma‘at as a distinct parallel, but does reject the idea of a child who plays before the deity and concludes that Wisdom is

53

Michael V. Fox, Proverbs 1–9 (AB 18A; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 336. John S. Kloppenborg, “Isis and Sophia in the Book of Wisdom,” HTR 75 (1982): 57–84. 55 Fox, Proverbs 1–9, 336. 56 In Coffin Text Spell 1095, Isis is explicitly associated with Ma‘at; this is a very early connection if it is not a gloss. It does seem that further associations are not explicit until some point just prior to or during the Hellenistic period; this may explain why only Isis (who takes on Ma‘at’s characteristics, and not vice versa) shows up in Greek cults and literature. 57 Helmer Ringgren, Word and Wisdom: Studies in the Hypostatization of Divine Qualities and Functions in the Ancient Near East (Lund: Håkan Ohlssons Boktryckeri, 1947), 104, 132–33. 58 Ringgren, Word and Wisdom, 149. 54

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only “a poetic personification” rather than a hypostatization or even a distinct being.59 Roger Whybray does not accept any connections between Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom.60 Rather, he concludes that “wisdom in Proverbs is fundamentally a divine attribute which in the process of personification has been endowed with secondary mythological characteristics . . .” and he follows the suggestion of Ringgren “that it originated from the belief, expressed in Isa. 31.2, that Yahweh is wise.”61 John Currid does not mention any connection whatsoever to Lady Wisdom in his discussion of Ma‘at. Instead, he focuses on the concept of order and the connection to Pharaoh as a challenge to Pharaoh’s power in the plagues from Exodus.62 K. A. D. Smelik abruptly, without any evidence to support his claim, concludes his article: “The suggestion that the goddess Ma‘at would have been an equivalent of, or model for, the biblical concept of Lady Wisdom, has to be rejected.”63 The Portrayal and Associations of Ma‘at in Ancient Egyptian Literature The evidence for Ma‘at is contained in a variety of genres and for all time periods in ancient Egypt. The oldest ritual text seems to be the Book of Opening the Mouth from ca. 2600 b.c.e.64 The earliest corpus of texts is the Pyramid Texts from ca. 2300 b.c.e.65 The Coffin Texts are dated between ca. 2100 and ca. 1750 b.c.e.66 The Book of

59 R. B. Y. Scott, “Wisdom in Creation: The ’AMÔN of Proverbs VIII 30,” VT 10 (1960): 213–23, here 214, 223. 60 Roger N. Whybray, Proverbs (NCBC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 128. 61 Roger N. Whybray, Wisdom in Proverbs: The Concept of Wisdom in Proverbs 1–9 (SBT; London: SCM Press, 1965), 83. 62 John Currid, Ancient Egypt and the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1997), 118–20, 205–7. 63 K. A. D. Smelik, “Ma‘at,” in DDD, 534–35, esp. 535. 64 This text describes a ritual designed to cause the deity, originally Osiris, to indwell his statue, so that the statue will “speak” for the deity with an “open mouth.” References to the Book of Opening the Mouth are page numbers in Budge’s edition (he does not provide any clear method of citation for the text). 65 Written on the walls of Pyramids from the Fifth and Sixth Dynasties these texts describe the hopeful journey of the deceased king to the afterlife; they make reference to the Book of Opening the Mouth. 66 Misnamed, these texts are found both on papyri and on sarcophagi. They are incantation spells designed to assist the deceased in his journey into the afterlife. They clearly develop ideas from the Pyramid Texts and bear a remarkable resemblance to

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the Dead appears to have originated at some point between these two, but full versions exist only from ca. 1500 b.c.e. and beyond.67 Other texts include ritual hymns of praise to the gods, scribal literature, and numerous inscriptions, mostly from high officials.68 Throughout this vast literature, particular phrases and concepts associated with Ma‘at are found repeatedly. They can be placed into four categories: Titulary Language, Ritual Language, Ethical Language, and Both Ritual and Ethical Language. 1. Titulary Language The first category of Titulary Language reflects the belief that the gods—especially the high gods Ptah, Re, Aten, Osiris—rule in conjunction with the principle of Ma‘at, of order and justice. Also, in the inscriptions, different labels using the term “Ma‘at” are applied to the Pharaoh, the representative of the gods on earth, who is, for example, “the Lord of Ma‘at.” The phrase “content with Ma‘at” seems to function in a similar way, for both kings and high officials. The office of “prophet of Ma‘at” seems to reflect the idea that advisors to the king, just as the king himself, can speak on behalf of the goddess and the principles which she represents. This titulary language is surely connected with the fourth category, which I suggest associates ruling both ritually and ethically with the principles of Ma‘at (see below). 2. Ritual Language The second category of Ritual Language concerns the presentation of Ma‘at to the deity, typically Ptah, Re, or Osiris. First, in this ritual action, the king (later a high official) carries a statue in the form of Ma‘at before the statue of the high god and lifts it up. This offering is accompanied by beer and bread. Ma‘at is understood as the substance

the famous Greek Magical Papyri from a much later period; the Book of Opening the Mouth is reflected or alluded to in Coffin Text Spells 816, 1099. 67 This is an elaborate description of the judgment of the dead and the process of attaining a good afterlife; it is related, in a very complicated way, to the previous three texts. 68 The hymns are mostly in praise of Osiris, Re, or Aten and are mostly from high officials or from temple liturgies. The scribal literature is a large category, including the Instructions and Complaints, which were transmitted conservatively by scribes across the centuries.

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on which the gods live; they nourish themselves on Ma‘at.69 Order and justice are the responsibilities of the gods and they can perform them only when they are “full” of Ma‘at. Second, Ma‘at has a clear relationship with the sun-god Re. As his daughter, she guides his boat through the sky every day and guides the deceased through the afterlife as well. Re’s boat can be depicted with several gods and goddesses, but often can be represented with only the figure of Ma‘at or even only by her characteristic feather in the boat. Third, the individual speaker in the Coffin Texts claims an association with Ma‘at which will give him an advantage in the afterlife and the judgment. The individual claims to be Ma‘at, just as he also claims to be Thoth, Re, Osiris, and other gods. This “personal” association demonstrates that Ma‘at is not restricted to an abstract concept; she is a real goddess, just like other deities. This point is further supported by the fact that she is explicitly addressed with the vocative in Coffin Texts.70 While Ma‘at does not speak, she clearly is expected to act on behalf of her petitioner. Fourth, the explicit connection between Ma‘at and Thoth, scribe of the gods, combined with the language of scribalism in several texts highlights the association of Ma‘at with scribes and with a wisdom tradition. Egyptian sages and scribes clearly saw themselves as officials serving Ma‘at. This association is further supported by the amulet of Ma‘at worn around the neck by these high officials. Fifth, language of desire is used concerning Ma‘at: Re is to kiss her, she loves Re and those who love him, she is content, and those who love Re also implicitly love Ma‘at. It should be noted that nothing is said of her pursuit for lovers, but she clearly does have them and clearly responds to them. 3. Ethical Language The third category of Ethical Language clearly associates doing Ma‘at (that which the goddess demands; what is just and consistent with the order of creation) with the appropriate life of the sage and of the king himself. Re was able to bring order to the universe because Ma‘at

69

On a theological note, the Eucharistic overtones of these “presentation of Ma‘at” texts are striking, especially when compared to the language of the Bread of Life discourse in John 6. 70 Coffin Text Spell 624, 634, 660, 939.

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was present prior to creation; Ma‘at herself takes no active role in this process but somehow facilitates the actions of the other gods in their work in creation and in the contemporary world. These texts form the absolute core of wisdom literature from the sages of Egypt. There is no higher good than to “do Ma‘at”—to do what is right and just, ritually, ethically, socially, and politically.71 Ma‘at pervades and guides all of life’s actions in these texts. 4. Both Ritual and Ethical Language The fourth category of both Ritual and Ethical Language demonstrates again how the concept of Ma‘at unites all of life in Egypt. Ma‘at is at the core of religious, political, and social values. Because it is the center of ritual activity, it is necessary for navigating the afterlife. Because it is the center of ethics, its performance and internalization in the heart of the individual are weighed at the final judgment against the cosmic standard, which is Ma‘at herself, in the balance before the high god. Thus, achieving Ma‘at is the goal of life and is the key to eternal blessing in the afterlife. If Ma‘at is not observed, then chaos, disorder, and calamity of both a physical and moral nature will result. When Ma‘at is reestablished, then order is restored on both a cosmic and a local scale. Connections to Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 1–9, especially 8:22–31 This brief survey of Ma‘at in ancient Egyptian literature provides key elements with which to compare the description of Lady Wisdom in Proverbs 8. Their relationship is obviously complex. It is clear that there is not a one-to-one relationship between the two. Several connections, however, can easily be made between them. First, Ma‘at is associated with the wisdom and scribal traditions in Egypt just as Lady Wisdom is with the Israelite scribal enterprise.72

71 While Hebrew has many words with fluid and overlapping semantic ranges to indicate this order of the world, life, and relationships (for example, shalom, tsedekah, mishpat, emet, tov), the older Egyptian concept of “ma‘at” contains them all and unifies them into a single holistic term extending to all areas of life. 72 This observation is made on the basis of Proverbs 1–9 as a whole, and not just chapter 8.

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Second, Lady Wisdom is both the goal and the one who provides instruction on how to live. Seeking Lady Wisdom in order to actualize her values and commands in everyday life is equivalent to doing Ma‘at. Third, just and responsible kingship is dependent on Ma‘at and on Wisdom (Prov 8:15). Fourth, both Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom are present at creation but do not actually create the universe; instead, they have some unspecified role which enables creation to occur in an orderly manner with a coherent result (Prov 8:22–31). Of course, certain features are not perfectly parallel. First, the description of Ma‘at holding the ankh and the scepter could be paralleled by Lady Wisdom having “riches and honor” (Prov 8:18) and specifically “long life and riches and honor in my hands” (Prov 3:16). Such a claim is possible and not a direct correspondence. Second, Ma‘at is deeply involved in the final judgment of the individual, whereas the role of Lady Wisdom is unspecified in this regard. Lady Wisdom may provide the pattern or standard by which human actions are judged (and then only as regards retribution in this life and not an afterlife), but the elaborate and consistent descriptions associated with Ma‘at find no parallels in Proverbs 1–9. Third, Ma‘at is the only deity to appear also in a dual form, Maaty. It is possible, and I believe probable, that such a connection may account for the otherwise inexplicable use of the plural form ‫( חכמות‬wisdoms) for ‫( חכמה‬wisdom) in a few texts in Proverbs and Psalms.73 As noted, however, much dissimilarity also exists. First, Lady Wisdom speaks in the first person and cries out openly in the streets (Prov 8:1, 4), while Ma‘at never speaks. Second, Lady Wisdom is not clearly YHWH’s daughter while, of course, Ma‘at is clearly the daughter of Re. The ambiguity of two keys words in Prov 8:22–31 complicates understanding the relationship between YHWH and Lady Wisdom.74

73

Prov. 1:20; 9:1; 24:7; Ps 49:3. It is significant that the first two passages clearly refer to personified Lady Wisdom, while the third and fourth occur in the context of living the life guided by wisdom which preserves one in times of judgment and retribution in this life. This could possibly derive from the “Hall of Maaty” as the place of judgment. 74 The relationship between YHWH and Lady Wisdom could suggest that Lady Wisdom was an independent goddess in ancient Israel. Contemporary arguments for a recovering of the Feminine Divine often incorporate the image of Lady Wisdom in Proverbs and Sophia in Sirach 24 and Wisdom of Solomon. The relationship between Lady Wisdom and Ma‘at is important, not only on a historical or cultural basis developed from comparative mythology, but also for constructive theology in our current contexts.

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The root ‫ קנה‬in verse 22 can mean several things: acquire, create, get, give birth to; and the variety of suggestions for ‫ אמון‬in verse 30 allow interpretations of the passage to become extremely idiosyncratic very quickly. It is not clear at all how this second word should be taken, and its translations have included “master workman,” “little child,” “architect,” “guide,” “living link.”75 The Egyptian literature surveyed provides a clear statement that Ma‘at was created by Re before the rest of creation, but the picture of Ma‘at as a playing child is even less certain than is the case for Lady Wisdom as one playing before YHWH (Prov 8:30–31).76 Third, the statement that Wisdom “rejoices before him always” in verse 30 finds no parallel in the statements concerning Ma‘at. Fourth, the repeated appearance of Ma‘at in connection with judgment in the afterlife in Egyptian texts is completely absent in Proverbs 1–9. Proverbs evinces no evidence of belief in an afterlife, let alone indications that any type of judgment will occur in such a setting nor what type of standards will be invoked. Conclusion In conclusion, there are a number of similarities which link Lady Wisdom to Ma‘at, especially in the larger function of both serving as guides to living according to the order of the universe. There is, however, no direct borrowing of Ma‘at without significant revision and adaptation for a Yahwistic setting.77 The ambiguity of the vocabulary in Prov 8:22–31 may obscure another possible connection to Ma‘at, but it certainly cannot be blamed for a “demythologizing” portrayal of an Egyptian goddess. The best conclusion is that there is, or at least there was, a limited connection between the Egyptian goddess Ma‘at and Lady Wisdom, with the latter possibly being enhanced by (yet not completely constructed on) the former. According to Michael Fox, “Lady Wisdom does not speak or behave much like Ma‘at; she is therefore probably not modeled on her.”78 This conclusion is only partially accurate; the further statements that he makes regarding the 75

See the list and criticisms by Scott, “Wisdom in Creation,” 213–23. As previously noted, Keel’s suggestions for iconographic depictions of Ma‘at as a playing child are not able to be supported and should be rejected. 77 This seems to be one of Fox’s points (“World Order,” 42), but the evidence from which he made similar remarks is not valid. 78 Fox, “World Order,” 46. 76

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connection with Isis during the later Hellenistic period, the view of the natural order by Israelite sages, and the inability of ancient sages even possibly to construct such a parallel should all be rejected. In addition, his conclusion should be nuanced to reflect a slightly more fluid relationship: while Lady Wisdom does not act or speak completely like Ma‘at, she does share a number of characteristics that place both entities solidly in scribal circles concerned with wisdom, everyday life, and creation. Therefore, Ma‘at could have been the initial motivation for thinking about an entity like Lady Wisdom without being solely responsible for her subsequent description as articulated by professional Israelite sages. The Israelite understanding of Lady Wisdom has a possible, and I would say probable, connection to the goddess Ma‘at, but no direct correspondence to Ma‘at without some adaptation can be demonstrated on the basis of the known evidence.

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APPENDIX The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts. Translated by R. O. Faulkner. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969. Pyramid Text 317 (Utt 260): I the orphan have had judgement with the orphaness, the Two Truths [Maat in dual: Maaty] have judged, though a witness was lacking. The Two Truths [Maaty] have commanded that the thrones of Geb shall revert to me, so that I may raise myself to what I have desired. Pyramid Text 1219a (Utt 519): You [a god, possibly Re] will cause me to sit because of my righteousness [Maat] and I will stand up because of my blessedness. Pyramid Text 1482b–1483 (Utt 573): Commend me to him who is greatly noble, the beloved of Ptah, the son of Ptah, that he may speak on my behalf and that he may provide supplies for my jarstands(?) which are on earth, / because I am one of [with] these four gods, Imsety, Hapy, Duamutef, Kebhsenuf, who live by right-doing [Maat], who lean on their staffs and watch over Upper Egypt. Pyramid Text 1582–1583 (Utt 586): May you [the deceased] shine as Re; repress wrongdoing [Isfet], cause Maat to stand behind Re, shine every day for him who is in the horizon of the sky. / Open the gates which are in the Abyss. The Ancient Egyptian Coffin Texts. Translated and edited by R. O. Faulkner. 3 Vols. Warminster, England: Aris & Phillips, 1973, 1977, 1978. Coffin Text Spell 80 (II, 32–36a): Thus said Atum: Tefenet is my living daughter, and she shall be with her brother Shu; “Living One” is his name, “Righteousness” [Maat] is her name. . . . Nu said to Atum: Kiss your daughter Ma‘at, put her at your nose, that your heart may live, for she will not be far from you; Ma‘at is your daughter and your son is Shu whose name lives on. Eat of your daughter Ma‘at; it is your son Shu who will raise you up. I indeed am one who lives, son of Atum; he fashioned me with his nose, I have gone forth from his nostrils; I put myself on his neck and he kisses me with my Ma‘at. [vol. I] Coffin Text Spell 165 (III, 5–6): [Spell for eating bread from upon the offering-tables of Re, giving oblations in On] O you who are content with what you have done—four times—and who send Ma‘at to Re

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daily, the liver of Re is flourishing because of Ma‘at, and he partakes of the meal of the Great Goddess. [vol. I] Coffin Text Spell 376 (V, 39): The bleared eyes of the Great One fall on you and Ma‘at will examine you for judgement. [vol. II] Coffin Text Spell 540 (VI, 135–136): [To become the scribe of Hathor] I have received the four reed wands and the reed pens of Ma‘at. [136] I received them from her fingers, I moisten(?) them. . . . It is the great ones, the Lords of their tribunal, who know the names of the wands and pens of Ma‘at; I know them by their names. I bring what is good [. . .]; I cause Ma‘at to enter in, I reduce the two Warriors to order, I detest him who will not see wrong [Isfet], whom the crew of Re, the Eldest in sky and earth, make impotent; . . . I am the scribe of Hathor, the writing materials of Thoth are opened for me, and I am his helper. [vol. II] Coffin Text Spell 654 (VI, 275): I have come rejoicing, a scribe of Ma‘at. [vol. II] Coffin Text Spell 659 (VI, 280): Spell for landing [the bark of Re]. Hail to you, Bull of the West, Lord of fayence in the festivals of the two Ma‘ats [Maaty]! [vol. II] Coffin Text Spell 660 (VI, 282): I am a king who probes(?), and the two Truth-goddesses [Maaty] have laid their hands on me, being hungry on the day of . . . in the Sokar-bark of the two Truth-goddesses [Maaty]. [vol. II] Coffin Text Spell 939 (VII, 150): O Ma‘at, in front of the place of complaint in the tribunal, I am he who was pleasing to the god [one of several deities addressed—Thoth, Ptah, Horus]. [vol. III] Coffin Text Spell 1095 (VII, 379): This is Isis who is before him [proper name] as Ma‘at, she shows him the paths when crossing the sky, that he may imitate what Re does. [vol. III] E. A. Wallis Budge. The Book of the Dead: The Papyrus of Ani. London: British Museum, 1895; repr., New York: Dover Publications, 1967. Book of the Dead 105: O Weigher on the scales, may maat rise to the nose of Re that day! Do not let my head be removed from me! Book of the Dead 125: I live in maat, I feed my heart upon maat. I have done that which men commanded, the gods are satisfied thereat. I have appeased God by [doing] his will. . . . I have done maat. O lord of maat, I am pure, my breast is washed, my hinder parts are cleansed, my interior [hath been] in the pool of maat, without a member in me lacking.

FROM NAME TO BOOK: ANOTHER LOOK AT THE COMPOSITION OF THE BOOK OF ISAIAH WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO ISAIAH 56–661 J. Todd Hibbard I In an insightful and influential essay originally published in 1978, Peter Ackroyd asked, “Why is there so substantial a book associated with the prophet Isaiah?”2 Ackroyd was, of course, not the first person to ask this question, and he was not the last. The composition and formation of the book of Isaiah continues to attract research and hypotheses because of the issue’s complexity and significance. The modern critical discussion about the formation of the book of Isaiah has its apparent beginning in the late eighteenth century when J. C. Döderlein and J. G. Eichhorn both argued on historical grounds that Isaiah 40–66 must have originated later than the time of the eighth century prophet for whom the book is named, during the exilic period (sixth century).3 A little over a century later, B. Duhm’s classic commentary on the book formulated the now familiar division of the book into three parts: Proto-, Deutero-, and Trito-Isaiah (or, First, Second, and

1 It is a pleasure to offer this essay in honor of Jim VanderKam, from whom I have learned much. His grace and dignity have served as a model for many students and colleagues, myself included, and his expertise and rigor provide an example of scholarly capability for us all. 2 Peter R. Ackroyd, “Isaiah 1–12: Presentation of a Prophet,” in Studies in the Religious Tradition of the Old Testament (London: SCM, 1987), 79–104; repr. from Congress Volume, International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament (VTSup 29; Leiden: Brill, 1978), 16–48; cf. also Christopher R. Seitz, Zion’s Final Destiny: The Development of the Book of Isaiah (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 39–45. 3 J. G. Eichhorn, Einleitung in das Alte Testament (2d ed.; Leipzig: Weidmann, 1787), 3.52–102. For surveys of modern studies of Isaiah, see J. Vermeylen, “L’Unité du livre d’Isaïe,” and G. I. Davies, “The Destiny of the Nations in the Book of Isaiah,” both in The Book of Isaiah—Le Livre d’Isaïe (ed. J. Vermeylen; BETL 81; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1989), 11–53 and 93–120 respectively; D. Carr, “Reading for Unity in Isaiah,” JSOT 57 (1993): 61–80; and H. G. M. Williamson, The Book Called Isaiah (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), 1–18.

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Third Isaiah).4 His primary contribution with respect to the book’s formation was to argue, minimally, that the last eleven chapters of the book should be viewed as compositionally and structurally separate from the sixteen chapters that precede it because they reflect a later religious and historical context. His argument was based primarily on historical grounds. The influence of Duhm’s position on subsequent critical Isaiah studies has been substantial to say the least, but it leaves several questions unresolved and raises others.5 For example: How did these three sections of Isaiah come to be associated with one another? What is the relationship between Isaiah 1–39 and 40–66? Between 40–55 and 56–66? What was the shape of Isaiah 1–39 when Isaiah 40–55(66) was written or attached to the book? Did chapters 40–55 exist independently at any point? What is the meaning, if any, of the “final form” of the book? Who was responsible for the final redaction of the book? These questions and others continue to require exploration and clarification as scholars seek to understand the formation of the book of Isaiah. Attempts to address these questions still rely heavily on historical- and redaction-critical approaches. At the same time, other scholars have sought to explain the growth of the book through a tradition-historical or thematic approach that accepts the main outlines of the tripartite structure of the book, but which explores certain unifying or at least broadly represented themes. These approaches often examine exegetical trajectories within the book as clues to its development. Robert Carroll, for example, has argued that the theme of “the blind” constitutes a recurring motif in the book6 and J. J. M. Roberts has argued that the “Holy One of Israel” is a unifying title throughout the book.7 Others have argued that Zion/Jerusalem is a unifying theme in the book as a whole.8 While all of these suggestions in this highly selective survey have merit to one degree or another, it

4

Bernard Duhm, Das Buch Jesaia (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1892; 4th ed., 1922). 5 For one survey of Duhm’s legacy in Isaiah studies, see Seitz, Zion’s Final Destiny, 1–32. 6 Robert P. Carroll, “Blindsight and the Vision Thing: Blindness and Insight in the Book of Isaiah,” in Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah (ed. C. C. Broyles and C. A. Evans; 2 vols.; VTSup 70; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 1.79–93. 7 J. J. M. Roberts, “Isaiah in Old Testament Theology,” in Interpreting the Prophets (ed. James Luther Mays and Paul J. Achtemeier; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 62–74. 8 Ronald E. Clements, “Zion as Symbol and Political Reality: A Central Isaianic Quest,” in Studies in the Book of Isaiah (ed. J. van Ruiten and M. Vervenne; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1997), 3–17.

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is also clear that no single one explains the formation of the book in its entirety. The present study aims to make a contribution to this discussion by arguing that later tradents of Isaiah took their cue from the name of the prophet, ‫ישעיהו‬, which means “YHWH is salvation” or “YHWH has saved,”9 or, most simply, “YHWH saves,” and expanded the book by developing the theme of YHWH’s salvation in the exilic and postexilic periods.10 The idea occurs throughout all parts of the book of Isaiah and is connected closely with the way the book uses the term ‫ישע‬, although it is not limited to this.11 The idea is also closely connected with the book’s interest in the fate of Jerusalem/Zion, a theme which, as noted above, also occurs frequently in the book.12 As will be shown, outside of the much discussed account involving three symbolically-named children in Isaiah 7–8, the idea is rare in what may be plausibly identified as material associated with the eighth century prophet. On the other hand, the idea and its corresponding language blossom in the material reflected in the contexts of the sixth century and later.

9 For a discussion of the two different possibilities, see H. G. M. Williamson, Isaiah 1–5 (ICC; London: T&T Clark, 2006), 12–21. Interestingly, Isaiah is one of two eighth century prophets whose name is built on this Hebrew stem. The other, of course, is Hosea, whose name is probably a shortened form meaning “YHWH has delivered” (‫)הושע‬. The term and theme are much less developed in Hosea, however, as it occurs only five times (1:7[2x]; 13:4, 10; 14:3), mostly near the end of the book. 10 This idea has been put forward briefly by P. Ackroyd, “Isaiah 1–12: Presentation of a Prophet,” 16–48; and Philip R. Davies, Scribes and Schools (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 116. 11 Other lexemes contribute to the book’s portrayal of deliverance, salvation, and safety, including ‫ נצל‬and ‫עזר‬. 12 Davies has suggested that one explanation of the book’s development and canonization may be connected with these two matters. He writes, “The grounds for allocating material to Isaiah may have been because of its content: the theme of Jerusalem (“Zion”) and its “salvation” (befitting the name of the prophet, which means “Yahweh saves”) are characteristic of the original collection.” See Davies, Scribes and Schools, 116. On the book’s interest in Jerusalem/Zion, see Brevard S. Childs, Isaiah and the Assyrian Crisis (SBT 2:3; London: SCM, 1967); Ronald E. Clements, Isaiah and the Deliverance of Jerusalem ( JSOTSup 13; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1980); idem, “Zion as Symbol and Political Reality: A Central Isaianic Quest,” and H.-J. Hermisson, “Die Frau Zion,” both in Studies in the Book of Isaiah: Festschrift Willem A.M. Beuken (ed. J. van Reuiten and M. Vervenne; BETL 132; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1997), 3–17 and 19–39, respectively.

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In a recent study, Joseph Blenkinsopp calls attention to the fact that there is virtually no direct connection between the prophet Isaiah and the oracles in the book bearing his name, a situation that produces some tension in the prophetic profiles of Isaiah.13 The prophet is never mentioned after chapter 39, and the vast majority of the references to his name in Isaiah 1–39 occur in superscriptions (1:1; 2:1; 13:1) and narratives (chs. 7, 20, and 36–39; see below). Scholars agree that the superscriptions are secondary additions to the book, and many would argue that the narratives of chapters 20 and 36–39 are later as well.14 This leaves only the one mention of Isaiah’s name in Isa 7:3, part of the so-called Isaiah Denkschrift.15 While many scholars are prepared to argue that Isa 6:1–8:18, or parts thereof, originated with the prophet himself, others are unconvinced.16 The acceptance of the view that most or all of the references to the name of the prophet are themselves later additions signifies that one aspect of the early growth of the book

13 Joseph Blenkinsopp, “The Prophetic Biography of Isaiah,” in Mincha: Festgabe für Rolf Rendtorff zum 75. Geburtstag (ed. Erhard Blum; Neukirchener-Vluynen: Neukirchener Verlag, 2000), 13–26. 14 Blenkinsopp (“Prophetic Biography,” 19) argues that Isaiah 20 is, like the majority view regarding Isaiah 36–39, of Deuteronomistic origin; cf. idem, Isaiah 1–39 (AB 19; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 320–23. 15 The notion of an Isaiah Denkschrift covering all or parts of Isa 6:1–9:6[7], was developed first in Karl Budde, Jesaja’s Erleben: Eine gemeinverständliche Auslegung der Denkschrift des Propheten (Kap. 6,1–9,6) (Gotha: L. Klotz, 1928). A relatively recent assessment of the theory and its problems can be found in Jörg Barthel, Prophetenwort und Geschichte (FAT 19; Tübingen: Mohr, 1997), 37–65. On the exegetical development of this text in Isaiah, see Ronald E. Clements, “The Immanuel Prophecy of Isaiah 7:10–17 and its Messianic Interpretion,” in Old Testament Prophecy: From Oracles to Canon (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 65–77, esp. 66–67; repr. from Die Hebräische Bible und ihre zweifache Nachgeschichte: Festschrift R. Rendtorff zum 65. Geburtstag (ed. E. Blum et al.; Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990), 225–40; idem, “The Prophet as Author: The Case of the Isaiah Memoir,” in Writings and Speech in Israelite and Ancient Near Eastern Prophecy (ed. Ehud Ben Zvi and Michael H. Floyd; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000), 89–101. For a critique of the Denkschrift view, see Otto Kaiser, Isaiah 1–12 (2d ed.; OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983), 114–17. The argument that 6:1–9:6 has been assembled to reflect Isaiah 36–39 is presented by Marvin Sweeney, Isaiah 1–39 (FOTL 16; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 480. 16 E.g., Kaiser (Isaiah 1–12, 136–45) argues that Isa 7:1–9 evinces Deuteronomistic theology and should be considered a retrospective reflection on the events it narrates designed to encourage those affected by the catastrophe of 586 b.c.e.

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included references to the prophet by name.17 Several factors may have led to the incorporation of the prophet’s name as an important element of the book, but one consequence was that, in light of the meaning of the prophet’s name, it enabled later readers and contributors to think about the content of the book in a way that emphasized YHWH’s salvation. Given the heavy emphasis on critique and judgment in many of the oracles that are associated with the ostensible eighth century context of the prophet himself, this would have represented a new departure for the book.18 In order to understand more fully how the idea of YHWH’s salvation was developed in the book in association with the prophet’s name, it will be helpful first to examine where and how the book uses the term ‫ישע‬.19 Different forms of the root occur seventy-two times in the book:20 twenty times as a verbal form21 and fifty-two as a nominal form.22 Moreover, the term occurs in all three parts of the book: thirty-three times in First Isaiah,23 twenty-four in Second Isaiah,24 and fifteen in Third Isaiah.25 Of the uses in First Isaiah, nearly half are connected with the prophet’s name, while the majority of the remainder all occur in passages that are arguably late (see below). That forces the 17 Blenkinsopp (“Prophetic Biography,” 24–26) argues that this was one method that later tradents adopted to fill out a prophetic biography of Isaiah that stood in some tension with the putative prophetic voice of the book. 18 This is not to suggest, as some have in the past, that the eighth century prophets were only prophets of critique and judgment, while the message of hope emanated exclusively from later periods. There can be no doubt that prophets were capable of both emphases. However, the evidence in Isaiah is best explained, in my view, along the lines presented here. 19 For a discussion of the use and meaning of this term in the Hebrew Bible, see John F. A. Sawyer, Semantics in Biblical Research: New Methods of Defining Hebrew Words for Salvation (SBT 24; Naperville, Ill.: Alec R. Allenson, 1972). He puts the issue in a way that resonates with the present study: “[W]e are not concerned, in defining meaning, only with what the original author meant, but also with how his original audience or readers understood him” (5). This recognition gives us some way into exploring how later readers/writers of Isaiah used the terminology as a lens through which to develop the theme of salvation. 20 That this is a high number is apparent from a comparison with the uses of the same term in Jeremiah (18x) and Ezekiel (3x), where it occurs far less frequently. Data are based on the MT. 21 This includes 16x as Hiphil and 4x as Niphal. 22 Forms include ‫מושיע‬, ‫תשועה‬, ‫ישע‬, ‫ ישועה‬and ‫ישעיהו‬. 23 1:1; 2:1; 7:3; 12:2, 3 (3x); 13:1; 17:10; 19:20; 20:2, 3 (2x); 25:9 (2x); 26:1, 18; 30:15; 33:2, 6, 22; 35:4; 37:2, 5, 6, 20, 21, 35; 38:1, 4, 20; 39:3, 5, 8, 20. 24 43:3, 11, 12, 35:8, 15, 17, 20–22 (3x); 46:13 (2x); 47:13, 15; 49:6, 8, 25, 26; 51:5, 6, 8; 52:7, 10. 25 56:1; 59:1, 11, 16, 17; 60:16, 18; 61:10; 62:1, 11; 63:1, 5, 8, 9; 64:5.

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conclusion that the majority of the passages in Isaiah that use this term should be considered exilic or later.26 Obviously, this does not account for every addition to the book, but it does offer a hermeneutic that explains much in the later formation of the book that cuts across all three major divisions of the book. The basis for the argument is not limited to the use of ‫ישע‬, however. The following additional points must be noted: (1) The book contains three other names that bear symbolic theological weight in Isaiah 7–8: Shear-jashub (7:3); Immanuel (7:14); and Maher-shalal-hash-baz (8:1, 3).27 In the historical context assumed by Isaiah 7–8, these children’s names are the symbolic foundation for a message of hope and confidence that Judah and the Davidic dynasty will survive the political turmoil of the late 730s and 720s b.c.e., a point made explicitly by Isa 8:18.28 Names, then, are symbolically significant in Isaiah. Of more relevance for this study, however, is the observation that two of these names are specifically reinterpreted elsewhere in the book. In the first instance, Immanuel is reused in Isa 8:8 and 8:10 in two different additions. The first contains an ominous sounding connotation about the Assyrian invasion, while the second appears to be a much later addition that informs that nations that their plans against Jerusalem will come to naught because “God is with us” (‫ ;עמנו אל‬cf. Ps 46).29 Additionally, Ronald Clements has demonstrated that the Immanuel child is also alluded to in Isa 9:1–6 so as to suggest an interpretive association with Hezekiah.30 A second reinterpretation, one which has not produced as much comment, revolves around Shear-jashub. Apart from its initial appearance in Isaiah 7, the name is invoked again in Isa 10:21 and 10:22 in what is part of an “on 26 This matches the overall usage of the term in the literature of the Hebrew Bible. John F. A. Sawyer notes that there is a “significant concentration” in the period of the Babylonian exile, and that its usage in the Psalms and exilic compositions accounts for 85% of the term’s total appearances in the Hebrew Bible; see John F. A. Sawyer, “‫ישע‬,” TDOT 6:446–47. 27 See Ackroyd, “Isaiah 1-12: Presentation of a Prophet,” 97. That another putative eighth century prophet, Hosea, also includes three symbolically-named children is interesting as well. 28 See J. Høgenhaven, “Die symbolischen Namen in Jesaja 7 und 8 im Rahmen der sogenannten Denkschrift des Propheten,” in The Book of Isaiah—Le Livre d’Isaïe (ed. J. Vermeylen; BETL 81; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1989), 231–35. 29 On these texts as later interpretations emphasizing the Immanuel theme, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 240–41. 30 Clements, “The Immanuel Prophecy of Isaiah 7:10–17,” 65–77.

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that day” (‫ )ביום ההוא‬addition commenting on the status of the remnant.31 These two exegetical comments take up the status and welfare of the remnant, but develop them in differing directions.32 Since there is precedent for the symbolic importance of names elsewhere in the book itself, is it not plausible that other tradents saw themselves acting on Isaian precedent by offering theological reflection inspired by the prophet’s name? (2) The reference to the “vision of Isaiah son of Amoz” (‫חזון‬ ‫ )ישעיהו בן אמוץ‬in 2 Chr 32:32 recalls the opening superscription of the book of Isaiah, which uses identical terminology to identify the book.33 The Chronicler portrays the prophet as a historian who recorded the deeds of Hezekiah.34 If we are to connect this in any way with some form of the present book of Isaiah, it calls to mind Isaiah 36–39, since this is the only place in the book of Isaiah that mentions Hezekiah (outside the superscription of 1:1). The relevance of this for the purpose of this study is this: this portion of Isaiah is also a section where the theme of YHWH’s salvation is developed (cf. Isa 37:20, 35; 38:20). As such, it stands in some tension with the voice of the oracles. Additionally, if the thesis that Isaiah 36–39 originates outside the book of Isaiah in the Deuteronomistic History is correct, then we are again dealing with a later portrait of the prophet that paints a different picture.35 Parsing out the details of the Isaiah-Chronicles connection is not our focus here, however, it permits us to suggest that the prophet Isaiah was associated at the time of the Chronicler with a tradition in which he articulated a message of salvation (see also 2 Chr 32:20, 22).36

31 The full context is Isa 10:20–27a, which comprises multiple prose comments using several earlier Isaian themes and topoi. Additionally, the passage draws heavily on Isa 28:14–22. Cf. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 257–58. 32 See Hans Wildberger, Isaiah 1–12: A Commentary (trans. Thomas H. Trapp; CC; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 434–38. 33 On the connection between Isaiah and Chronicles on this issue, see Joseph Blenkinsopp, Opening the Sealed Book: Interpretations of the Book of Isaiah in Late Antiquity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 1–13, esp. 5 and 12. 34 Isaiah is mentioned by name three times in 2 Chronicles, twice as some kind of author (26:22; 32:32). In 2 Chronicles 26 he is the historian of the reign of Uzziah. 35 Although a majority of scholars argue that most of Isaiah 36–39 originates in 2 Kings 18–20 and was only secondarily brought over into Isaiah, a minority argue the reverse. On the contours of the debate see Seitz, Zion’s Final Destiny. 36 Writing a couple of centuries later, Sirach also invokes Isaiah exclusively as one who offered a message of hope, salvation and comfort, not judgment. See Sir 48:17–25.

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(3) The book contains several references to inscribed messages that are to be interpreted later (8:1–4, 16–18; 29:11–12; 30:8). Williamson has argued that the material in chapters 8 and 30 played a significant role in offering a warrant for later addition to the book. In particular, he argues, Isaiah 30 suggests that the inscribed scroll would only be opened after the prophet’s death. He maintains that this later unsealing of the document was sufficiently suggestive enough to ground the argument for the author of Deutero-Isaiah to augment the book with his own material.37 The details of Williamson’s argument are not our concern here, but his position does offer a plausible scenario for understanding how and why Isaiah was supplemented with later material. For our purposes we note only that one of those “written” contexts inviting later reflection revolves around the last of the symbolicallynamed children mentioned in Isaiah 7–8, the importance of which has already been discussed (see above). These considerations suggest that the idea that Isaiah’s name may have functioned as an impetus for the continued development of the book has lines of continuity with other areas and matters in Isaiah. While a complete presentation and evaluation of this study’s thesis would require a thorough investigation of the entire book (which is not possible in this context), the present study will focus narrowly on Isaiah 56–66, Trito-Isaiah, to explore the evidence for viewing this as a lens through which to see the formation of the book.38 In the process, I will pursue three questions: (1) How is the theme of YHWH’s salvation present in these chapters? (2) How does the use of this theme illuminate our understanding of the book’s growth? and (3) Is this theme a kind of Fortschreibung of Second Isaiah?39

37

Williamson, Book Called Isaiah, 94–115. With respect to Proto-Isaiah, Ackroyd argues that this theme helps frame the way the prophet is presented in the first major section of the book, chapters 1–12. In his view, the three uses of ‫ ישע‬in Isaiah 12 should be understood as interpretive comments on the image of the prophet found in chapters 1–11, “drawing out in a final poetic statement the broadest significance of the prophet’s person and message.” He wonders if “for certain stages of the Isaiah tradition, may we not see here an element in the process by which this one prophet of the eighth century acquired a status which owed something to theological reflection, and thus contributed, alongside other elements, to the eventual primacy of position which he occupied?” See Ackroyd, “Isaiah 1–12: Presentation of a Prophet,” 97. 39 This idea has been developed extensively by Odil H. Steck. See the various essays on this theme in his Studien zu Tritojesaja (BZAW 203; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1991), 49–213. For a recent survey of this idea in Isaiah studies, see Peter Höffken, Jesaja: Der 38

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III The theme of YHWH’s salvation appears prominently in the opening passage of Third Isaiah, signaling its importance in the last eleven chapters of the book. Isaiah 56:1 reads, Thus says YHWH: Maintain justice (‫ )משפט‬and act with righteousness (‫)צדקה‬ for my salvation (‫ )ישועתי‬is soon to come, and my deliverance (‫ )צדקתי‬to be revealed.

Rolf Rendtorff has argued that this passage plays an important role in the formation of the book.40 His argument focuses on the way in which it brings together two different understandings of ‫צדקה‬/‫ צדק‬in the book of Isaiah. In the present study, however, our focus is on the way the text (re-)introduces the idea of salvation (‫ )ישע‬into the last portion of the book. Rendtorff argues, among other things, that the verse resumes the theme of ‫ צדק‬from Second Isaiah and announces its importance for Third Isaiah.41 The same can be said for its use of salvation (‫)ישועה‬, which is described as coming (‫ )לבוא‬or appearing (‫ )להגלות‬soon. The idea of YHWH’s coming salvation recurs in 62:11: “See, your salvation comes; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.” Grammatically, this passage uses the second and third person, whereas Isaiah 56 uses the first person, but otherwise the

Stand der theologischen Diskussion (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 2004), 93–96. 40 Rolf Rendtorff, “Isaiah 56:1 as a Key to the Formation of the Book of Isaiah,” in Canon and Theology (trans. Margaret Kohl; OBT; Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1993), 181–89. More broadly on the topic of the development and redaction of Isa 56–66 see, in addition to the standard commentaries, Seizo Sekine, Die Tritojesajanische Sammlung (Jes 56–66) redaktionsgeschichtlich untersucht (BZAW 175; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1989); Steck, Studien zu Tritojesaja; Wolfgang Lau, Schriftgelehrte Prophetie in Jes 56–66 (BZAW 225; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1994); and Paul A. Smith, Rhetoric and Redaction in Trito-Isaiah: The Structure, Growth and Authorship of Isaiah 56–66 (VTSup 62; Leiden: Brill, 1995). 41 John N. Oswalt (“Righteousness in Isaiah: A Study of the Function of Chapters 55–66 in the Present Structure of the Book,” in Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah [ed. Craig C. Broyles and Craig A. Evans; VTSup 70; Leiden: Brill, 1997], 177–91) argues that the last eleven (or twelve) chapters of the book unify the preceding material in the book and that the focus revolves around the differing understandings of ‫ צדק‬in the various parts of the book. Cf. also J. J. Scullion, “SEDEQ-SEDAQAH in Isaiah cc. 40–66 with special reference to the continuity in meaning between Second and Third Isaiah,” UF 3 (1971): 335–38; Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66 (AB 19B; New York: Doubleday, 2003), 130–43.

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idea is presented similarly. The first person announcement of YHWH’s coming salvation occurs one other time in the last eleven chapters of the book, in Isa 63:1, where it has reference to YHWH’s salvation in the destruction of Edom (on which see below). Taken together, these three passages suggest that YHWH’s salvation is conceived in Third Isaiah as an expectation, and it would not be incorrect to relate this idea to the hopefulness that characterized the early stages of the restoration in the late sixth and early fifth centuries. There is earlier in Isaiah a text that sounds this theme using language that is very similar to Isaiah 56 and 62, Isa 35:4, which reads “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.’” Like Isaiah 62, YHWH comes with vengeance and retribution, indicating that salvation for the restoration community has as its correlate punishment for their oppressors (cf. Isa 33:1–2). As many others have noted, Isaiah 35 should be read in association with Isaiah 40, and, in fact, it may have originated as a text that links the first part of the book with the second.42 Additionally, Isaiah 62 should also be associated with Isaiah 40 (both develop the theme of the built up highway, both speak of divine retribution; see below).43 Moreover, Isaiah 62 is itself usually regarded as part of the literary and theological core of Third Isaiah, generally taken to be chapters 60–62.44 That the idea of YHWH’s salvation occurs in each of these redactionally and theologically significant chapters in the book (we could add Isaiah 12 to this; see above) permits the provisional conclusion then that we are dealing here with an important theme not just in Third Isaiah, but throughout the book in a series of associated texts.45 Returning to Isa 56:1, we note this text introduces several important ideas developed in Third Isaiah, including YHWH’s salvation and

42 Rolf Rendtorff, “Zur Komposition des buches Jesaja,” VT 34 (1984): 295–320, esp. 300–301. 43 For more on the links between Isaiah 60–62 and 40–55, see Carol J. Dempsey, “From Desolation to Delight: The Transformative Vision of Isaiah 60–62,” in The Desert Will Bloom: Poetic Visions in Isaiah (ed. A. Joseph Everson and Hyun Chul Paul Kim; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2009), 217–32, esp. 230–31. 44 See, e.g., Claus Westermann, Isaiah 40–66 (OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1969), 296; John N. Oswalt, The Book of Isaiah: Chapters 40–66 (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 534. 45 Sekine argues that salvation (Heil) is the central theme of Isaiah 60–62; see Sekine, Die Tritojesajanische Sammlung, 188–90.

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deliverance, as well as the ideas of justice and righteousness, all of which are announced as part of the coming restoration. Indeed, as others have demonstrated, justice (‫ )משפט‬and righteousness/vindication (‫צדקה‬/‫ )צדק‬are themselves important themes in Third Isaiah46 but for the present purposes it is necessary to note their occurrence in conjunction with the notion of salvation (‫ )ישע‬at the outset of the last part of Isaiah. For example, in addition to Isa 56:1, Third Isaiah associates justice with YHWH’s salvation in 59:11, part of a communal lament. Here, the community (note the first person plural, “we”) has waited for justice (‫ )משפט‬and salvation, but both have failed to materialize because of their transgressions (59:12–13; cf. 25:9; 33:2; 51:5; 59:9). A much closer association exists between ‫ ישע‬and ‫צדקה‬/‫ צדק‬in Third Isaiah. These ideas are conjoined also in several texts in addition to Isa 56:1, including 59:16, 17; 61:10; 62:1; 63:1; and perhaps 64:4.47 The first answers the confession of sin in the communal lament mentioned above, which notes YHWH’s displeasure over the community’s inability to remedy its situation. The text portrays YHWH dressed as a warrior, except the military clothing is symbolic: righteousness becomes the breastplate, salvation becomes the helmet on his head, etc. (59:17). It is, in fact, YHWH’s own arm, viz., his strength, that brings victory for the community, or “saves” them (‫)תושע‬. The imagery of clothing and salvation occurs again in Isa 61:10, where Jerusalem notes that YHWH has garbed it with garments of salvation as part of a brief psalm of praise (61:10–11). Jerusalem/Zion is the object again in Isa 62:1, where its salvation and vindication (‫ )צדק‬are announced again. These passages demonstrate that the association between YHWH’s salvation and righteousness/vindication is a key element of Third Isaiah. As Rendtorff has shown, precedent for this is found in Second Isaiah, where the ideas are also joined in several texts (45:8, 21; 46:13; 51:5, 6, 8). It does not appear, however, that they are used in the same fashion in the two parts of the book, except for their common deployment with respect to the restoration of Zion/Jerusalem (51:1–8). The same is not the case when one examines the manner in which Third Isaiah portrays YHWH’s salvation through the imagery of the baring of the divine arm or hand. The passages using this

46 47

In addition to Isa 56:1, see 58:2; 59:9, 14. This last reference is textually problematic, which makes it difficult to evaluate.

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imagery—59:1, 16; 63:5—focus on YHWH’s power and strength in dealing out punishment to those who oppose him or who fail to render justice and righteousness. In most cases, the texts argue that it was necessary for YHWH to bare his arm because the community was incapable of achieving its own vindication. The precedent for this idea is clearly found in Isaiah 40–55. Both Isa 51:5 and 52:10 use this imagery in ways that are strikingly similar to the texts mentioned above. For example, both Isaiah 51 and 59 envision YHWH’s arm as manifest to the coastlands (‫ )איים‬and Isaiah 52 speaks of it as visible to “the ends of the earth” (‫)אפסי ארץ‬. Additionally, in the fuller context of all three texts ones notes that the purpose of YHWH baring his arm is to benefit Zion (51:3; 52:7–9; 59:20). Perhaps more significantly, the idea of YHWH’s arm yielding benefit for Jerusalem is found at the outset of Second Isaiah. Isaiah 40:9–10 reads, Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, ‘Here is your God!’ See, the Lord GOD comes with might and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.

Indeed, the link with Isa 40:9–10 and the theme of YHWH’s salvation is established in another way when Isa 62:11 quotes 40:10: “his reward is with him, and his recompense before him” (‫הנה שכרו אתו ופעלתו‬ ‫)לפניו‬. The surrounding contexts of both Isaiah 62 and 40 demonstrate connections in other ways, e.g., through the common imagery of the built up highway (62:10; cf. 40:3) and the command for a prophet to proclaim a message of hope to Jerusalem (62:6, 11; cf. 40:3, 6). Consequently, it seems rather clear that this is a case of Third Isaiah developing the idea of YHWH’s salvation in a manner that builds on texts in Isaiah 40–55. Interestingly, Isaiah 51 and 59 share another connection revolving around YHWH’s salvation: that of waiting (‫ )קוה‬on YHWH. Isaiah 59:11 notes in the lament that the community has waited on justice and salvation, but it is far from them because of their transgressions (‫ )פשעים‬and sins (‫)חטאות‬. This stands in direct contrast to Isa 51:5,

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which notes that the coastlands wait for YHWH and his salvation which has already gone forth (‫ )יצא‬without delay. The text from the third portion of the book uses similar language but the imagery is utilized to portray the opposite point. Instead of the swift revelation of YHWH’s salvation which all await in Isaiah 51, chapter 59 points to its delay. A similar collection of ideas and imagery is found in one of the few texts from chapters 1–33 that exhibits similarities to those under discussion in this study: Isa 33:2. This passage is part of a brief psalm (33:2–6)48 in the voice of the community, much like Isaiah 59 (e.g., note the similar use of the first person plural in both texts). Here, instead of noting delay in YHWH’s salvation as part of lament, the community emphasizes that they are waiting for him and his salvation, and asks for YHWH to “be our arm every morning” (‫היה זרעם‬, lit. “their arm”), recalling the group of texts mentioned above that utilize the imagery of YHWH’s arm. Dating Isaiah 33 is difficult, a fact that counsels caution in arguing for any influence or dependence of this text on any portion of Isaiah 40–66. Nevertheless, the similarity of language and theme is striking. Finally, Isa 25:9, part of a psalmlike text that speaks about an eschatological banquet in which death (‫ )מות‬is swallowed up, is also reminiscent of Isaiah 51 and 59. At this indeterminate point in the future, it is said that the community (note again the first person plural) will proclaim that God, for whom they have waited, has revealed himself in order to save them. The salvation delayed by sin that occasions lament in Isaiah 59 is here placed in the eschatological future (‫ )ביום ההוא‬and awaited with hopeful expectation. It is a cause for rejoicing (‫)נגילה ונשמחה‬. In these various texts, then, it is apparent that the theme of YHWH’s salvation could be paired with the notion of waiting for him. It appears that the hope and excitement aroused in those who expected a glorious future during the closing decades of the exile gradually gave way to pessimism and even despair in the failure of the restoration to result in renewed moral and religious commitment. This in turn developed into an eschatological hope. Third Isaiah develops the notion of salvation in another way that builds directly on Second Isaiah: through the use of the title ‫מושיע‬,

48 On the role of Isaiah 33 in the book of Isaiah as a whole, see W. A. M. Beuken, “Jesaja 33 als Spiegeltext im Jesjabuch,” ETL 67 (1991): 5–35; and H. Gunkel, “Jesaia 33, eine prophetische Liturgie,” ZAW 42 (1924): 177–208.

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“Savior.”49 This title appears twice in the last eleven chapters of the book. In Isa 63:8, which is part of a long communal lament (63:7– 64:12), it occurs as part of the recollection of YHWH’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt at the Exodus (63:7–9). The text recalls that YHWH was moved by the fact that his own people were in distress and so became their savior and redeemed them (‫)גאל‬.50 Of course, as is widely recognized, the exodus imagery is used typologically for the return from Babylon in Isaiah 40–55, where it is theologically influential.51 For the present purposes, it is sufficient to note the collocation of this imagery with the idea that YHWH’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt through the Reed Sea constituted an act of redemption.52 Emphasis on YHWH redeeming his people is found in Third Isaiah, often in the form of another title, ‫גואל‬, “Redeemer” (cf. 59:20; 60:16; 63:16) which is also picked up from Second Isaiah. It is used with respect to Jerusalem in most cases. Additionally, in two texts, Isa 60:16 and 63:9, the idea is explicitly connected with the object of this study, YHWH’s salvation. In fact, Isa 60:16—the second use of the ‫ מושיע‬title in Third Isaiah—is a quotation of 49:26: “I, YHWH, am your Savior and your Redeemer, the Mighty One of Jacob.”53 In Isaiah 49 this revelation is made to “all flesh” (‫)כל בשר‬, but in chapter 60 it is made to “you,” a reference to the inhabitants of restored Zion. Sawyer has drawn attention to the this title’s forensic usage in Second Isaiah and that seems to be the sense in which it is re-used in Isaiah 56–66.54 It is clear, then, that we are dealing with an explicit example of later tradents of Isaiah

49 In Isaiah 40–55, ‫ מושיע‬occurs in 43:3, 11; 45:15, 21; 49:26; cf. 19:20 (the only appearance of the title in Isaiah 1–39). For a full discussion of this term’s history and use, see John F. A. Sawyer, “What was a mošiaʿ?” VT 15 (1965): 475–86. 50 Isaiah 63:9 continues the theme and uses the language of saving (‫)ישע‬, but it is textually difficult. It is unclear if the text is speaking of YHWH himself saving the people, in distinction to his angel, or if it indicates that the angel of presence saved them. See Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 253–54. 51 The imagery is used extensively in Isaiah 40–55; cf. e.g., 43:14–21; 48:20–21; 51:9–10. See Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 40–55 (AB 19A; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 111–12. 52 The idea that return from exile and restoration constitute acts of YHWH’s redemption is quite prominent in Isaiah 40–55; see 41:14; 43:1, 14; 44:6, 22–24; 47:4; 48:17, 20; 49:7, 26; 51:10; 52:3, 9; 54:5, 8; cf. Isa 35:9. 53 On the impact of Isaiah 49 on Isaiah 60 generally, see Odil H. Steck, “Der Grundtext in Jesaja 60 und sein Aufbau,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 83 (1986): 261–96, esp. 291–96; repr. in Studien zu Tritojesaja, 49–79, esp. 75–79. 54 Sawyer, “What is a mošiaʿ?,” 482–83.

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re-using material from an earlier period of the book’s compositional history to extend its message in the post-exilic context. Closely related to the idea of YHWH’s salvation expressed as a title is the tendency in Third Isaiah to name or rename things symbolically, in many cases using the language of salvation. For example, in Isa 59:17, a passage discussed above, YHWH dresses as warrior, but the military uniform is theologically symbolic: righteousness as a breastplate, helmet of salvation, garments of vengeance, fury as a mantle.55 In Isa 61:10 one reads another account of symbolically-named clothing that includes a reference to salvation. In this case the clothed is the speaker of the psalm (likely Jerusalem) who is decked out in imagery that combines royal investiture with wedding garments, as the following chapter makes reasonably clear (62:3–5).56 One final example also focuses attention on restored Jerusalem: Isaiah 60:18, part of the euphoric description of Zion’s return to prominence, proclaims that the city walls will be renamed “Salvation” (‫ )ישועה‬and the gates, “Praise” (‫)תהלה‬.57 One final example of renaming involving the city of Jerusalem and its inhabitants is found in Isa 62:12, although no explicit reference to salvation is found in the symbolic names (although see 62:11). Third Isaiah’s penchant for symbolically renaming things, especially Jerusalem, does not have a direct and explicit antecedent in chapters 40–55.58 We may take from this that this is one of the innovations in this part of the book, although it appears in combination with verbal expressions and ideas that do find an analogue in those chapters (cf. e.g., 52:2–4). Of course, the importance of renaming has to do with the establishment of new identity and new beginnings, and this is precisely the point being made about Jerusalem in the post-disaster period. That Jerusalem’s new identity and beginning are expressed via the idea of salvation is also not surprising. The imagery drives home the ideological point in a visual manner.

55 Though the imagery is different, Odil Steck emphasizes correctly that this passage is closely linked with Isa 63:1–6. See Odil H. Steck, “Jahwes Feinde in Jesaja 59,” BN 36 (1987): 51–56. 56 Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 231. 57 The term ‫תהלה‬, “praise” is found only in Isaiah only in chapters 40–66, indicating its importance as a theological motif in the exilic and post-exilic periods. See Isa 42:8, 10, 12; 43:21; 48:9; 60:6, 18; 61:3, 11; 62:7; and 63:7. 58 The appearance of symbolic names also recalls Isaiah 7–8, mentioned earlier. Is it possible that we are dealing here again with a literary and theological expansion made possible by these chapters?

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So we come full-circle to Acroyd’s question: Why is there so substantial a book associated with the prophet Isaiah? This study has attempted to articulate one possible answer to that question by suggesting that later tradents took their cue from Isaiah’s name and developed the idea of YHWH’s salvation. In particular, this essay has focused on Third Isaiah’s contribution to the book and argued that it can be viewed, at least partly, as an elaboration of this idea. It has been demonstrated that this theme is a core part of these chapters’ message. Beyond this, I have also sought to show that the idea is derived from and builds on Isaiah 40–55. Whether or not the present study supports the conclusion that Isaiah 56–66 comes either from the same author as Isaiah 40–55 or his disciples (the servants?), it does demonstrate another aspect of the close theological and literary connection between these two portions of the book. Additionally, the idea is redactionally and theologically associated with late texts in Isaiah 1–39, but not in early texts. Situating texts historically in First Isaiah is difficult, so caution is warranted. Nevertheless, it appears clear that to the degree there is any connection between the texts in Third Isaiah and First Isaiah on this theme, it is in late passages (e.g., Isaiah 12, 25, 33). Finally, the idea is focused especially on Jerusalem/Zion and the depiction of its restoration, as is much else in Isaiah 56–66. This study concludes with two observations. First, as the preceding has attempted to demonstrate, the expression of the theme of YHWH’s salvation in Isaiah 56–66 is drawn primarily from Isaiah 40–55. This raises a question: Does the heavy reliance of Third Isaiah on Second Isaiah for this theme suggest that the initial association of this theme and the prophetic tradition associated with Isaiah was made by Second Isaiah? Moreover, would this have been one important aspect of the expansion of the book into the exilic period?59 Second, the reader will notice that the theme of YHWH’s salvation is absent from Isaiah 65–66, the last two chapters of the book. Does this suggest that in the final stages of book’s formation represented in these last chapters

59 The argument has been made before that the author of Second Isaiah is responsible for one important stage in the formation of the book, Isaiah 1–55*, but not on the basis presented here. See Williamson, The Book Called Isaiah.

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the idea had faded and hope was diminished?60 Given that some have argued for a strong redactional connection between Isaiah 1 and chapters 65–66,61 the absence of this theme in any appreciable way from those chapters is noteworthy.

60 I would not want to push this too far, since Isaiah 65–66 does contain uplifting words about Jerusalem (65:17–25; 66:7–14). Nevertheless, internecine conflict is apparent as well (65:8–16; 66:1–5, 14). Additionally, the closing image in the book of decaying corpses and unquenchable fire combined with new heavens and new earth suggests not YHWH’s salvation as it has been seen in the previous chapters of the book, but the transition to apocalyptic thought and imagery which will flourish in the later Second Temple period. 61 For two different perspectives on this issue, see David M. Carr, “Reading Isaiah from Beginning (Isaiah 1) to End (Isaiah 65–66): Multiple Modern Possibilities,” in New Visions of Isaiah (ed. Roy F. Melugin and Marvin A. Sweeney; JSOTSup 214; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 188–218; and Marvin A. Sweeney, “Prophetic Exegesis in Isaiah 65–66,” in Writing and Reading the Scroll of Isaiah, (ed. C. C. Broyles and C. A. Evans; 2 vols.; VTSup 70; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 1.455–74.

LXX ISAIAH OR ITS VORLAGE: PRIMARY “MISREADINGS” AND SECONDARY MODIFICATIONS* Donald W. Parry A number of factors associated with biblical Hebrew manuscripts during the last centuries before the Common Era presented distinct challenges for copyists and translators. These challenges included rare words (esp. hapax legomena), difficult-to-read bookhands, graphically similar characters and words, irregular or inconsistent orthography, incomprehensible scribal notations, irregular or inconsistent orthography, lack of vocalization, and more. Because of these and other factors, scribes and copyists made various (mechanical, unintentional) errors when making new copies of a text, as did translators when creating translations from the Hebrew. Examples of such errors exist in scriptural texts from Qumran, in Masoretic Text(s), in the Greek translation of the Hebrew, and in other translations. This paper will deal with first-level errors in the Septuagint book of Isaiah that resulted in secondary modifications to various instances of parallelismus membrorum. By first-level errors in LXX Isaiah, I mean the inadvertent errors, or the so-called mechanical mishaps, that occurred during the translating process. Various handbooks, based on long-established text critical principles and methodologies, have set forth the categories of mishaps that have occurred during the transmission of texts.1 These include issues that are associated with the following general categories: pluses (e.g., dittography, conflation of readings), minuses (e.g., haplography, homoioteleuton, homoiarcton),

* This article is written in honor of Professor James C. VanderKam, whose scholarship has enlightened so many of us and whose friendship deserves praise. 1 The most complete and up-to-date study of biblical Hebrew textual criticism is Emanuel Tov’s Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992). See also Christian D. Ginsburg, Introduction to the Massoretico-Critical Edition of the Hebrew Bible (London: Trinitarian Bible Society, 1897; repr. with prolegomenon by Harry M. Orlinsky, New York: Ktav, 1966); J. Weingreen, Introduction to the Critical Study of the Text of the Hebrew Bible (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982). Compare also the more brief treatments of the subject by Julio Trebolle Barrera, The Jewish Bible and the Christian Bible (trans. W. G. E. Watson; Brill: Leiden, 1998), 367–421; and Ernst Würthwein, The Text of the Old Testament (trans. Erroll F. Rhodes; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995), 107–22.

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changes (e.g., misdivision of letters or words, ligatures, graphic similarity), and differences in sequence (interchange of letters or metathesis and transposition of words). This paper will not deal with other textcritical categories, such as exegetical pluses or late editorial additions, harmonizations, morphological smoothing, morphological updating, updating the vocabulary, euphemistic or dysphemistic changes, orthographic variants, and phonetic differences. Nor is this paper concerned with translators’ stylistic approaches to the text, idiosyncrasies, and conventions. Examples of alleged, hypothetical, or assumed mechanical errors in LXX Isaiah include the following: 1. Misreadings occurred when there was confusion about what constituted the correct Hebrew triconsonantal root letters (or the Hebrew morpheme), especially when one or more root letters were absent from the inflected forms (i.e., hollow verbs, I-yod, I-nun, III-he, doubly weak verbs, metathesis of sibilants in Hitpael, and so forth). Examples from the LXX as reconstructed into Hebrew include Isa 19:5; 23:1–2[2]; 28:26; 29:1, 14; 30:4, 20; 32:3; 63:14; 63:19[64:1]; 64:6[7]. 2. In a couple of instances, the translator erred through dittography of graphically similar words (Isa 3:10) or of a single character (Isa 8:14). 3. The translator at times erred when a letter was misread because of its likeness to another letter. Examples of graphically similar Hebrew letters include the following: bet/mem or bet/final mem (Isa 11:15; 40:29); bet/pe (Isa 34:4; 40:8[7]; 47:2); dalet/he (Isa 10:18); dalet/resh (Isa 5:17; 8:9; 8:20; 15:4; 16:11; 17:2; 23:10; 25:2, 4–5; 28:9; 33:14; 40:15; 44:14; 45:16 bis; 47:10; 53:10); he/khet (Isa 5:17; 21:15 bis; 22:1; 34:17; 47:2); he/ayin (Isa 41:24); he/resh (Isa 64:1[2]); vav/ resh (Isa 24:1; 28:10, 13); zayin/nun (Isa 30:12); zayin/resh (Isa 25:4; 50:11); yod/resh and khet/tav (Isa 44:24); kaf/pe (Isa 53:10); samek/ final mem (Isa 30:4); and sin/shin (Isa 7:20; 19:10, 13; 28:1, 3; 65:15; 66:9). 4. The translator read the correct Hebrew letters but understood a different root meaning than the one intended. Examples include Isa 5:13; 9:15[16]; 28:10; 47:10. 5. The translator read the correct Hebrew letters but misinterpreted the intended vocalization. Examples include Isa 1:27; 5:13, 18; 9:7[8]; 17:11; 24:23 bis; 25:5; 28:24; 32:2; 33:1 bis; 33:2; 41:24; 42:10; 44:11; 48:14; 60:21; 62:7; 63:11; 66:5; 66:10.

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6. Occasionally the Hebrew letters or words were divided improperly, thus creating an error in the translation. See, for example, Isa 8:16; 16:1; 24:14; 40:1–2. 7. Some errors occurred during the course of the translation through the metathesis of letters. See, for instance, Isa 8:16; 18:2; 22:8; 32:6?; 33:4?; 33:9. 8. Phonetically similar letters infrequently triggered errors during the translation process. Examples include phonetically comparable palatals (Isa 8:15) and sibilants (Isa 23:3). A representative list of more than 150 first-level misreadings in LXX, based on variants set forth by textual critics, is presented in the Appendix.2 First-Level Errors Result in Secondary Modifications The first-level, inadvertent errors that were caused by the LXX translator (or the errors that existed in his Vorlage) frequently resulted in secondary modifications to the passage. When the translator misinterpreted a word and consequently mistranslated that word, sometimes he would then alter the clause or sentence in order to clarify the passage that had been disrupted because of the first-level misreadings. These secondary modifications subsequently created one or more of the following: disruption of the parallelismus membrorum, creation of peculiar readings, variation of the syntax, a plus, a minus, or other alterations to the passage. Our interest for the purposes of this paper pertains to the modifications to the text that disrupted the parallelismus membrorum. The following five examples illustrate this idea. 1. ‫(—ונשתו‬Isa 19:5). Isaiah 19:1–18 consists of a judgment against Egypt, containing elements concerning the devastation of Egypt’s people, leaders, and deities. According to the judgment, Egypt will

2 Examples originate from a number of publications, including Moshe H. GoshenGottstein, The Book of Isaiah (The Hebrew University Bible; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1995); Emanuel Tov, The Text-Critical Use of the Septuagint in Biblical Research (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1981); idem, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible; Eugene Ulrich, et al., DJD 15; Eugene Ulrich and Peter Flint, DJD 32; Hans Wildberger, Isaiah 1–12 (Continental Commentary; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1991); idem, Isaiah 13–27 (Continental Commentary; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997); idem, Isaiah 28–39 (Continental Commentary; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002). See also other works that provide critical apparatuses.

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experience internal confusion, perhaps civil war, and eventually the rule of an external tyrant (Isa 19:1–4). Egypt will also encounter economic upheaval when the Nile and irrigation ditches dry up, negatively affecting the farmers and the fishing, flax, and weaving industries, causing Egypt’s inhabitants to suffer (Isa 19:5–10). Egypt’s economic structure, of course, was connected to the great Nile River. Isaiah may be speaking symbolically in v. 5 and in the following five verses, referring to the economic collapse that Egypt will suffer, or the prophecy might refer to an actual drought that will cause economic disintegration in Egypt. Verse 5’s parallelism in MT, “The waters of the river will dry up (‫)ונשתו‬, and the riverbed will be parched and dry,” features the following synonymous readings: “waters of the river”//“riverbed” and “dry up”//“parched and dry.”3 The first line of this bicolon has the verb ‫ונשתו‬, “to be dry” via √‫נשת‬, a rare verb attested only three times in the Hebrew Bible (Isa 19:5; 41:17; Jer 51:30), once as a Niphal and twice as a Qal. The translator of LXX apparently confused the root letters of ‫ נשת‬and translated it as καὶ πίονται, “to drink,” via √‫שתה‬. LXX reads: “And the Egyptians will drink the water that is by the sea, but the river will fail and be dried up.”4 This reading of ‫ נשת‬resulted in two main alterations to the passage. First, the parallelistic structure is disrupted by the fact that “dried up” in the first line of the MT is not in the LXX rendering of the verse and therefore has no synonymous equivalent. Second, “Egyptians,” LXX’s subject in line one, is a modification to the verse. In order to avoid putting “waters” as a subject, thus avoiding the awkward statement, “the waters will drink,” the translator added “Egyptians” to make sense of the reading. The greater context allowed for this secondary plus. In the first four verses of the pericope, ‫מצרים‬ (“Egypt” or “Egyptians”) is explicitly mentioned eight times. Thus, adding “Egyptians” to verse 5 naturally follows a pattern of several well-attested readings in the pericope. There are two other components in the immediate context that may have encouraged a translator to add this new subject (“Egyptians”). In verse 5, the word yam, generally translated as sea, refers to the Nile (cf. also Isa 18:2; Nah 3:8).5 The words of the Roman scholar Pliny 3

English translations of passages from the MT are from the niv. English translations of passages from LXX are from nets. 5 As a point of comparison, yam in Jer 51:36 refers to the Euphrates River. See Wildberger, Isaiah 13–27, 207. 4

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support this concept: “in the Nile, whose water looks similar to that of the sea” (Nat. 35:11); also, “it settles down in a continuous expanse of water with the appearance of a wide, muddy sea” (Natural Questions IVA.2; cf. Herodotus 2.97).6 In verse 6 the singular of the word ‫ יארי‬is sometimes translated “stream” or “stream of the Nile.”7 Both of these words—yam and ye’or—may have made the translator feel justified in adding “Egyptians” as the subject. All of these changes to verse 5 in the LXX have altered the meaning of the verse. With them the LXX translator ironically has Egyptians drinking the water (a positive element!) rather than these waters drying up (as in the reading of MT). 2. ‫(—לקיר חרש‬Isa 16:11). This passage is set in the context of a prophecy of judgment against Moab. The prophet Isaiah first uttered a prophecy of Moab’s destruction (ch. 15) and followed with a description of her refugees’ flight for safety (Isa 16:1–5). In Isa 16:6–11, Isaiah’s words are in the form of a lamentation, bewailing Moab’s destruction. The lamentative terms of the section include “wail” (used twice), “lament” and “grieve” (Isa 16:7), “weep” (used twice), “I drench you with tears” (Isa 16:9); there is no gladness or joy, no singing or joyful shouting—none of the expected rejoicing that occurs at harvest time (Isa 16:10), so that even the “heart” and “inmost being laments” for Moab’s destruction (Isa 16:11). Interwoven into the prophecy are images of Moab’s grape industry, including the terms “fields,” “vines,” “ripened fruit,” “orchards,” “wine,” “vineyards,” “shoots,” and “harvests.” Isaiah’s prophecy of the destruction of Moab and her agricultural industry should be taken literally, but it appears that Isaiah also uses the grapes and plants to refer to Moab’s inhabitants. The prayers of Moab’s inhabitants (Isa 16:12–13) to their gods will not stop the decreed destruction, which will occur within three years (Isa 16:14) from the time the prophecy is uttered. Isaiah 16:6 explains that Moab is destroyed because of her “pride” (used three times), “conceit,” “insolence,” and “boasts.” The MT of the verse under discussion reads, “My heart laments for Moab like a harp, my inmost being for Kir Hareseth (‫)לקיר חרש‬.” This verse features the synonymous elements “heart”//“inmost being” and 6

Cited in Wildberger, Isaiah 13–27, 230. Note also that in this verse the niv translates yam as “river” rather than “sea.” 7 Francis Brown, S. R. Driver, Charles A. Briggs, A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), 384.

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“Moab”//“Kir Hareseth.” Kir Hareseth was one of Moab’s principal cities. For this place name, the LXX translator read a dalet (ὃ ἐνεκαίνισας = “which you have made new”) in place of the resh; or, alternatively, in view of the fact that at least two Hebrew manuscripts read ‫ חדש‬rather than ‫חרש‬,8 it is possible that LXX’s Vorlage recorded a dalet. Reading ‫“( חדש‬to renew” or “to make new”), rather than the place name that is attested in MT, persuaded the translator to render ‫ לקיר‬differently, because there would be no expectations that this word was part of a compound name. This resulted in the translation of ‫ קיר‬as “wall,” thus creating the reading “like a wall that you have made new.” The verse in LXX then reads: “Therefore my belly will resound like a lyre upon Moab, and my inward parts will be like a wall that you have made new.” LXX’s reading of the dalet instead of resh transformed the parallelistic structure. “Belly” and “inward parts” correspond, but the remaining parts of the poetic unit lack the correspondences that are evident in MT. 3. ‫החמה‬/‫(—הלבנה‬Isa 24:23a). This verse is set in the greater context of a section known as the Isaiah Apocalypse (Isaiah 24–27). The more immediate setting features the earth (‫ארץ‬, sixteen times in Isaiah 24), the earth’s reaction to her inhabitants’ iniquities (vv. 4–6; 16–20), and her destruction by the Lord (vv. 1, 3, 21). Verses 3–6 serve as a précis for the Apocalypse, exhibiting the manner in which the earth will be laid waste because of her inhabitants’ disobedience and violation of the everlasting covenant: The earth will be completely laid waste, and totally plundered, for the LORD has spoken this word. The earth dries up and withers, the world languishes and withers. The exalted of the earth languish. The earth is defiled because of its people; they have disobeyed the laws, violated the statues and broken the everlasting covenant. Therefore, a curse consumes the earth, its people must bear their guilt. Therefore, earth’s inhabitants are burned up and very few are left.

Although “earth” is a primary content word in Isaiah 24, other cosmic elements are also part of this chapter’s framework. In verse 18, the author refers to ‫ארבות ממרום‬, possible reference to heaven (cf. niv “the floodgates of the heavens”) and verse 23 in MT refers to the moon

8 According to Wildberger, Isaiah 13–27, two Hebrew manuscripts read ‫חדש‬ “make new/to renew.”

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and sun.9 The two words under discussion, ‫ הלבנה‬and ‫החמה‬, serve as the subjects of the following synonymous parallelism: “The moon (‫ )הלבנה‬will be abashed, the sun (‫ )החמה‬ashamed.” The context of earth and other cosmic elements seems to support MT’s vocalization of these two words to read the “moon” and the “sun.” Additionally, “moon” and “sun” fit the immediate context of Isa 24:23b. In comparison with the glory and brilliance that will surround the Lord when he reigns on mount Zion, the light of the sun and the moon will pale and be “abashed” and “ashamed.” It will be the glory of the Lord that will light the city of Zion (cf. Isa 60:18–21; Rev. 21:23). ‫ לבנה‬and ‫החמה‬, vocalized in MT to read “moon” and “sun,” occur infrequently in the Hebrew Bible. ‫“ = ( לבנה‬moon”) appears in three passages (Isa 24:23; 30:26; Song 6:10) and ‫“ = ( החמה‬sun”) is attested six times (Isa 24:23; 30:26 twice; Ps 19:7; Job 30:28; Song 6:10). It is likely that their infrequent occurrences encouraged the Greek translator to misapprehend them, thus translating ἡ πλίνθος (“the brick” = ‫ ) ַה ְלּ ֵבנָ ה‬for ‫“( ַה ְלּ ָבנָ ה‬the moon”) and τὸ τεῖχος (“the wall” = ‫חוֹמה‬ ָ ‫) ָה‬ for ‫“( ָה ַח ָמּה‬the sun”). LXX thus resulted in the following bicolon: “Then the brick will be dissolved and the wall will fall.” The moon and sun have no place in the Septuagint’s rendering of this verse, and the parallelism is quite dissimilar from that of the MT. The LXX misreading of ‫ הלבנה‬and ‫ החמה‬produced, according to Joseph Blenkinsopp, an expression “which makes poor sense in the context.”10 But more than this, reading “the brick” and “the wall” resulted in a transformation of other components in the parallelism. The components “dissolved” and “fall” were not part of the original reading; rather they are changes which came about as a result of the misreading of ‫ הלבנה‬and ‫החמה‬. 4. ‫(—דעה‬Isa 28:9a). After declaring the apostasy of the Northern Kingdom’s inhabitants and then uttering a diatribe against drunken priests and prophets (Isa 28:1–8), Isaiah presents two rhetorical questions: “Who is it he is trying to teach knowledge (‫ ?)דעה‬To whom is he explaining his message?” The interrogative pronouns “who” and “to whom” parallel each other, as do the expressions “he is trying to teach” and “is he explaining his message.” For the word ‫דעה‬, the LXX

9 The problematic ‫ בארים‬in verse 15 may also be associated with the cosmos as it may refer to the stars. See the discussion in Wildberger, Isaiah 13–27, 492. 10 Joseph Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39 (AB 19; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 354.

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translator read a resh in place of a dalet, thus translating κακὰ (“evil” = ‫)רעה‬. The Greek retains the interrogatives but alters the direct objects to non-corresponding elements, “evil things” versus “knowledge,” thus reading, “To whom did we declare evil things, and to whom did we declare a message?” The synonymous parallelism that is part of MT’s tradition is lacking in the Septuagint, where “evil things” is out of place. Reading a dalet for a resh or vice versa is a common reading error of the Greek translator and occurs elsewhere in the following passages: Isaiah 5:17; 8:19; 8:20; 15:4; 16:11; 17:2; 23:10; 25:2; 33:14; 40:15; 44:14; 45:16; 47:10(?).11 5. ‫(—זרעם‬Isa 33:2b). Isaiah 33:2–6 features a prayer of the righteous, with verse 2a signaling the prayer’s opening with the vocative “O Lord.” Verse 2b forms a bicolon, “Be our strength (‫רוֹע‬ ַ ְ‫“ = ז‬arm”) every morning, our salvation in time of distress.” MT reads literally, “their” arm, but this pronoun lacks a referent. Critics therefore read the text as “our arm,” following several of the versions (V, S, and T).12 “Our arm” also corresponds to “our salvation,”13 in the first line of the parallelism. The cause of this error, if it is indeed an error, may be due to the Masoretic copyist misreading the suffixed pronoun. The suffix ‫נו‬- is graphically similar to final mem, especially when the nun and waw are joined together in a ligature.14 LXX has a variant for ‫זרעם‬. The translator evidently read the same root letters (‫ )זרע‬that are attested in MT and 1QIsaa but deduced a vocalization that is different from that of the Masoretes, reading ‫זרע‬ (σπέρμα = “seed”) in place of ‫“( זרוע‬arm”): “The seed of the disobedient came to destruction, but our salvation came in a time of affliction.” The second colon of LXX is equivalent to that of MT, but the first colon reads differently: “The seed of the disobedient came to destruc11 For the word ‫“( ודעתך‬your knowledge”) in Isa 47:10, the translator read καὶ ἡ πορνεία σου (“your sexual immorality”). Although reconstructing the Hebrew Vorlage

is not easy, it is possible that the translator read either ‫“( ודעתך‬your [sexual] knowledge”) or ‫“( ברעתך‬your wickedness”). If the latter reading represents the original, then 47:10 is yet another example where the translator read a resh for a dalet or vice versa. 12 But contrast Augustus Poynder (“ ‘Be Thou Their Arm Every Morning’: Isaiah 33:2,” Expository Times 13 [1901/02], 94), who maintains that “their arm” is the correct reading. 13 Many translators prefer “our strength” rather than MT’s “their strength.” See, for example, Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 437. 14 On this topic, see R. Weiss, “On Ligatures in the Hebrew Bible (‫)ם = נו‬,” JBL 82 (1963): 188–94.

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159

tion” (= LXX) versus “Be our strength every morning” (= MT). The variant of “seed” versus “arm” (= “strength”) is clearly manifest. On two other occasions in Isaiah, MT and LXX have variants where the root letters ‫ זרע‬are found. In Isa 28:24, MT reads ‫“( ִלזְ ר ַֺע‬to sow”) where LXX has σπόρον (“seed” = ‫)זֶ ַרע‬. And in Isa 48:14 MT attests ֺ ‫“( וּזְ ר ֺעו‬his arm”) while LXX reads σπέρμα (“seed” = ‫)זֶ ַרע‬. It seems that the translator of the LXX read “seed” for “arm.” But whence came the other variants of the Septuagint in this colon, especially the content words “disobedient” and “destruction”? For “destruction,” the Greek translator may have interpreted ‫ היה‬as the feminine noun ‫הוה‬, whereas it is vocalized by the Masoretes as an imperative (‫) ֱהיֵ ה‬. Although ‫הוה‬I means “desire,” ‫הוה‬II denotes “destruction” or “calamity,” as in other passages (e.g., Ps 57:2[Engl. 57:1]; 91:3; Prov 19:13; Job 6:2 [note the qere reading]).15 Another possibility exists for the source of “destruction” in the reading of the Septuagint. The word ‫בקר‬, attested in a rare plural form ‫( לבקרים‬cf. Ps 73:14; 101:8; Job 7:8; Lam 3:23) is often associated with the morning sacrifice of the ancient temple system (Exod 29:39, 41; Lev 6:13; Dan 8:13–14; 2 Chr 31:3). The Greek translator may have associated this word with destruction, since it relates to the slaughter or sacrifice of animals, although the context of Isa 33:2 does not promote this particular view. But whence came the LXX’s word for “disobedient”? The origin of this word is difficult to establish, but a stretch of the imagination settles on the feminine noun ‫( הוה‬but see the paragraph above) which takes on the nuance of “disobedience” in four of the psalms (Ps 5:10[9]; 52:9[7]; 55:12[11]; 94:20). Variants from Qumran and the Vorlage of LXX Inasmuch as we lack possession of the LXX Isaiah Vorlage, we cannot always be certain whether the errors that we allege to exist in LXX Isaiah were introduced by the translator himself or whether they existed in his Vorlage. With the discovery of the Qumran Isaiah scrolls, however, new evidence has emerged. A handful of readings from these scrolls suggests that the LXX translator was not always responsible for the mishaps but that these errors already existed in his Vorlage. The Qumran evidence of relevant textual variants may be divided into

15

BDB, 217.

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four chief categories: (1) MT = 1QIsaa ≠ LXX: this category constitutes the great majority of readings where an error exists in LXX; (2) MT ≠ 1QIsaa ≠ LXX: see below for two examples from this category; (3) MT ≠ 1QIsaa = LXX: see below for three examples from this category; (4) MT = 1QIsaa, 1QIsab ≠ LXX: see below for a single example of this category. (1) MT = 1QIsaa ≠ LXX. For examples of this category, see the Appendix. (2) MT ≠ 1QIsaa ≠ LXX (see Isa 16:1 and 33:1). In Isa 16:1, MT reads ‫“( כר משל־ארץ‬lamb [to the] ruler of the land”), but a copyist of 1QIsaa did not properly divide the words, reading ‫כרמשל ארץ‬. The Septuagint has the translation ὡς ἑρπετὰ ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν (“like creeping things on the land” = ‫)כרמש לארץ‬. It is possible that LXX’s Vorlage had a reading similar to 1QIsaa, hence the peculiar reading of “creeping things.” In Isa 33:1, as in 16:1, MT, 1QIsaa, and LXX present three different readings: MT has ‫( כנלתך‬via √‫ נלה‬meaning uncertain); 1QIsaa reads ‫( ככלותך‬via √‫“ כלה‬to complete, finish”); and LXX has καὶ ὡς σὴς (“like a moth” = ‫“ ?כתולעת‬like a worm”). All three readings (once LXX is reconstructed to Hebrew) are graphically similar, having kaf, lamed, tav in common; and all three have a representation of the long “o” vowel (1QIsaa and the reconstructed LXX have a vav and MT has the vocalized holem). (3) MT ≠ 1QIsaa = LXX. In Isa 21:15, 23:10, and 28:20, LXX’s Vorlage was identical to or similar to the readings of the Qumran scroll. In Isa 21:15, MT has ‫“( חרבות‬swords”) and LXX has the reading of τὸ πλῆθος (“the multitude” via √‫)רבב‬. The copyist of 1QIsaa first wrote ‫( רבות‬via √‫)רבב‬, but a then added a supralinear addition of the article he, thus reading ‫“( הרבות‬the many”). With the addition of the article, the reading of 1QIsaa is graphically similar to that of MT, with the difference being a he versus a khet. Both readings of the Hebrew witnesses are contextually and grammatically comprehensible, although 1QIsaa lacks parallelistic balance because “the many” does not correspond to “drawn sword” (MT’s reading parallels “swords” with “drawn sword”). Beyond the reading under discussion, LXX has several additions in this verse, built around the five-fold repetition of “multitude”: “because of the multitude of those who flee and because of the multitude of those who wander and because of the multitude of the dagger and because of the multitude of the poised arrows and because of the multitude of those who have fallen in war.”

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In both Isa 23:10 and 28:20, 1QIsaa and LXX share a particular reading versus that of MT. In Isa 23:10, MT reads ‫( עברי‬via √‫“ עבר‬to pass”). The reading of 1QIsaa is a graphically similar variant (via √‫עבד‬ “to work”), showing a dalet rather than resh. LXX agrees with the Qumran scroll, reading ἐργάζου (via √‫“ עבד‬to work”). In Isa 28:20, MT has ‫( מהשתרע‬via √‫“ שרע‬to extend”), versus ‫ משתריים‬in 1QIsaª (via √‫“ שרה‬to fight”). The Greek’s reading (μάχεσθαι via √‫“ שרה‬to fight”) supports the Qumran scroll’s reading. To sum up the three variants of Isa 21:15, 23:10, and 28:20, as set forth in this and the previous paragraph, MT ≠ 1QIsaa = LXX. (4) MT = 1QIsaa, 1QIsab ≠ LXX. Isaiah 25:4, when compared with 49:5, presents a unique case. In Isa 25:4, the word ‫ מעוז‬in MT has the following textual alignment: MT = 1QIsaa, 1QIsab ≠ LXX. All three Hebrew witnesses are in agreement, but the LXX translator likely erred and translated the graphically similar ‫“ = ( עזר‬helper”) with its translation of βοηθὸς. Isaiah 49:5, with regard to ‫עזי‬, has the configuration of MT = 1QIsab LXX ≠ 1QIsaa. Just as the LXX translator in Isa 25:4 apparently misread the Hebrew and created a textual variant, the copyist of 1QIsaa 49:5 produced a variant that is graphically similar, with its reading of ‫עזרי‬. Conclusion Scholars have long recognized inadvertent errors in LXX Isaiah, when compared with MT and other Hebrew witnesses. These errors include the customary mishaps that occurred during the transmission of a text or during the translation process. Various text critical handbooks have categorized these errors into basic groups, including pluses, minuses, changes, and differences in sequence. The first-level, inadvertent errors that were caused by the LXX translator (or the errors already in his Vorlage) frequently resulted in secondary modifications to parallelistic structures of Isaiah. When the translator misinterpreted and subsequently mistranslated a particular word, he sometimes altered the sentence in order to provide clarification for the passage that had been disrupted because of the error. In the end, LXX Isaiah has several misreadings in poetic parallelisms that have been ignored by scholars, commentators, and text critics. To appreciate and comprehend LXX Isaiah fully, these secondary modifications should be examined more closely.

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donald w. parry APPENDIX

The following Appendix catalogs more than 150 examples of probable accidental errors from the Septuagint of Isaiah. The majority of the errors, if not all, are considered to be inadvertent or mechanical, created as a natural result during the translation process; or, if certain errors existed in the LXX’s Vorlage, then they came about during the transmission of the Hebrew Bible over a long period of time. Many of these errors are alleged or hypothetical, because we lack full knowledge regarding the translation techniques of LXX’s translator(s); we do not possess the Vorlage of the Septuagint (rather, we rely upon Hebrew reconstructed readings in order to determine the text underlying the translation, which is at best, an imperfect system); and we do not know whether the community that brought forth the Greek translation possessed its own textual traditions of specific passages of Isaiah. If new Hebrew or Greek texts of Isaiah come to light in the future, our understanding of specific words or passages may be altered. Several of the examples below were discovered by the author, but most were derived from various publications pertaining to text-critical studies of Isaiah.16 The list of probable accidental errors in this Appendix is representative and not comprehensive.

Reference in Isaiah

MT Reading

LXX Reading with Hebrew Reconstruction

3:8 3:10

‫“( ושביה‬and her repentant ones”) ἡ αἰχμαλωσία αὐτῆς (“her captives” ‫)שביה‬ ‫“( והמכשלה‬and the ruin”) καὶ τὸ βρῶμα (“and the food” = ‫)?והמאכל‬ ‫“( עני‬eye”) ἐταπεινώθη (via √‫“ ענה‬to humiliate”) ‫( אמרו‬via √‫“ אמר‬to say”) εἰπόντες ∆ήσωμεν (via √‫“ אסר אמר‬to

4:5

‫“( וברא יהוה‬and the Lord will

καὶ ἥξει, καὶ ἔσται (“And he shall come,

5:13 5:17

create”) ‫“( מתי‬men of ”) ‫“( מחים‬fatlings” via √‫)מחח‬

νεκρῶν (“from/of the dead” via √‫)מות‬ τῶν ἀπηλειμμένων (via √‫“ מחה‬to wipe

1:27 3:6

say, to bind”) and it shall be” = ‫)ובא והיה‬

out”)

16

See footnote 2.

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163

Table (cont.) Reference in Isaiah

MT Reading

LXX Reading with Hebrew Reconstruction

5:17 5:18 6:11 7:20

‫“( גרים‬dwellers”) ‫“( העגלה‬cart”) ‫( תשאה‬via √‫“ שאה‬to lay waste”) ‫( השכירה‬via √‫“ שכר‬to hire”)

ἄρνες (“lamb, sheep” = ‫)גדים‬ δαμάλεως (“heifer” = ‫)עגלה‬ καταλειφθήσεται (via √‫“ שאר‬to leave”) μεμεθυσμένῳ (via √‫“ שכר‬to get drunk”;

8:9

‫( רעו‬via √‫“ רעה‬to have a

cf. 28:3) γνῶτε (via √‫“ ידע‬to know”)

8:14

companion”) ‫“( ולאבן‬and for a stone”)

καὶ οὐχ ὡς λίθου (“and not [like] a

8:15

‫( ונוקשו‬via √‫“ יקש‬to snare”)

καὶ ἐγγιοῦσιν (via √‫“ נגש‬to bring near/

8:16 8:16

‫“( תעודה‬testimony”) ‫“( בלמדי‬among my disciples”)

8:20 9:7[8] 9:10[11] 9:15[16]

‫“( שחר‬dawn”) ‫“( דבר‬word”) ‫“( רצין‬Rezin”) ‫( מאשרי‬via √1-‫“ אשר‬to go

10:10 10:18

straight”) ‫“( האליל‬the idol”) ‫“( וכבוד‬glory”)

10:32 11:11

‫“( כמסס נסס‬like a sick person wasting away”) ‫“( בנב‬at Nob”) ‫( לקנות‬via √‫“ קנה‬to purchase”)

11:15

‫( והחרים‬via √‫“ חרם‬to destroy”)

13:8 15:4 15:4 16:1

‫“( צירים‬pains” via √‫)צור‬ ‫“( חלצי‬equipped/armed [men]”) ‫( ירעה‬via √‫“ ירע‬to tremble”) ‫“( כר משל־ארץ‬lamb [to the] ruler of the land”) | ‫כרמשל ארץ‬

10:18

stone” = ‫)?ולא אבן‬

come near”) φανεροὶ (via √‫“ ידע‬to know”) τοῦ μὴ μαθεῖν (“that they might not learn” = ‫)בלי למד‬ δῶρα (“gifts” = ‫)שחד‬ θάνατον (“death” = ‫דבר‬, “pestilence”) ὄρος Σιων (“mount Zion” = ‫)הר ציון‬ μακαρίζοντες (via √2-‫“ אשר‬to be happy/ blessed”) ὀλολύξατε (via √‫“ ילל‬to wail”) ἀποσβεσθήσεται (via √‫כבה‬ “to extinguish”) φεύγων ὡς ὁ φεύγων (“the one who flees will be like the one who flees” via √‫)נוס‬ ἐν ὁδῷ (“in the way” = ‫)בנתיב‬ τοῦ ζηλῶσαι (via √‫“ קנא‬to be zealous/ jealous”) ἐρημώσει (via √‫“ ?חרב‬to make desolate”) οἱ πρέσβεις (“the old men” via √‫)ציר‬ ὀσφὺς (“waist” via ‫)חלצים‬ γνώσεται (via √‫“ ידע‬to know”; cf. 8:9) ὡς ἑρπετὰ ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν (“like creeping things on the land” = ‫)כרמש לארץ‬

1QIsaa 16:7

‫“( לאשישי‬for the raisen cakes”)

τοῖς κατοικοῦσιν (“for those who dwell”

16:11 17:2 17:11 18:2 18:2

‫( חרש‬Kirharesh) ‫“( ערי ערער‬the cities of Aroer”) ‫“( וכאב‬and pain”) ‫“( קו־קו‬line”/“to measure”?) ‫“( בזאו‬to divide”)

ἐνεκαίνισας (via √‫“ חדש‬to renew”) αἰῶνα (“forever” = ‫)עדי עד‬ καί ὡς πατὴρ (“and like father” = ‫)וכאב‬ ἀνέλπιστον (“without hope” via √‫)קוה‬ νῦν (“now” = ‫“ ?)ב(אז‬then”)

= ‫“ ?לאנשי‬to the men of ”)

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Table (cont.) Reference in Isaiah

MT Reading

18:7 19:5 19:10 19:13 21:2

‫“( קו־קו‬line”/“to measure”?) ‫( ונשתו‬via √‫“ נשת‬to be dry”) ‫“( שכר‬wages”) ‫( נשאו‬via √‫“ נשא‬to deceive”) ‫( צורי‬via √‫“ צור‬besiege”) | ‫צירי‬

21:15

‫“( חרבות‬swords”) | ‫ הרבות‬1QIsaª (“the many” via √‫)רבב‬ ‫“( חרב‬sword”) ‫“( חזיון‬vision”) ‫“( תשאות‬noise”; via √‫)שאה‬

1QIsaª 21:15 22:1 22:2

LXX Reading with Hebrew Reconstruction ἐλπίζον (√‫“ קוה‬to hope”) καὶ πίονται (via √‫“ שתה‬to drink”) τὸν ζῦθον (“beer” = ‫“ שכר‬strong drink”) ὑψώθησαν (via √‫“ נשא‬to lift up, exalt”) καὶ οἱ πρέσβεις (= ‫“ ציר‬ambassador”) τὸ πλῆθος (“the multitude” via √‫)רבב‬ τὸ πλῆθος (“the multitude” via √‫)רבב‬ Σιων (“Sion” = ‫)ציון‬ μάταια (“empty, vain” = ‫ שואות‬via

√‫)שוא‬

22:8 ‫“( היער‬the forest”) 23:1–2[2] ‫“( למו דמו‬to him/them. Be still” via √‫)דמם‬ 23:3 ‫“( שחר‬Sihor/Shihor”) 23:8 ‫“( המעטירה‬to crown, surround”) 23:10 ‫( עברי‬via √‫“ עבר‬to pass”) | ‫עבדי‬ 1QIsaa (via √‫“ עבד‬to work”) 24:1 ‫( ועוה‬via √‫“ עוה‬to twist, commit iniquity”) 24:9 ‫“( בשיר‬with the song”) 24:14 ‫“( מים‬from the sea”)

τῆς πόλεως (“of the city” = ‫)העיר‬ τίνι ὃμοιοι γεγόνασιν (“for whom is

24:23 24:23 25:2

‫“( הלבנה‬the moon”) ‫“( החמה‬the sun”) ‫“( זרים‬strangers”)

ἡ πλίνθος (“the brick” = ‫)הלבנה‬ τὸ τεῖχος (“the wall” = ‫)החומה‬ τῶν ἀσεβῶν (“of the ungodly” = ‫זדים‬

25:4 25:4 25:4

‫“( מעוז‬stronghold, strength”) ‫“( מעוז‬stronghold, strength”) cf. 49:5 where 1QIsaa reads ‫עזרי‬ ‫“( מזרם‬storm”)

25:5 25:5

‫“( בציון‬in a desert/dry place”) ‫“( זרים‬strangers”)

ἐν Σιων (“in Zion” = ‫)בציון‬ ἀσεβῶν (“of the ungodly” = ‫זדים‬

26:9 27:1 27:4[3] 27:4 27:10[9] 28:1

‫“( כאשר‬which”) ‫“( הקשה‬hard”) ‫“( חמה‬wrath, heat”) ‫“( שמיר‬thorn”) ‫“( כי עיר‬because a city”) ‫“( שכרי‬drunkards” via √‫)שכר‬

“proud”) φῶς (“light” = or ‫ ?אור‬or ‫)?אש‬ τὴν ἁγίαν (“the holy” = ‫)הקדשה‬ τὸ τεῖχος (“the wall” = ‫)חומה‬ φυλάσσειν (via √‫“ שמר‬to guard”) ὥσπερ δρυμὸς (“as a thicket” = ‫)כיער‬ μισθωτοὶ (“hired laborers” via √‫)שכר‬

like” = ‫ למי דמו‬via √‫)דמה‬

μεταβόλων (“of merchants” = ‫)סחר‬ ἣσσων? (“less” = ‫“ מעט‬few/little”) ἐργάζου (via √‫“ עבד‬to work”) καὶ ἀνακαλύψει (via √‫“ ערה‬to

uncover”)

ᾐσχύνθησαν (via √‫“ בוש‬to be ashamed”) τὸ ὕδωρ τῆς θαλάσσης (“the water of

the sea” = ‫)מי ים‬

“proud”) πόλει (“in the city” = ‫)?עיר‬ βοηθὸς (“helper” = ‫)עזר‬ πονηρῶν (“from the wicked” via ‫זדים‬

“proud”)

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165

Table (cont.) Reference in Isaiah 28:3 28:9 28:10 28:10 28:13 28:14

MT Reading

LXX Reading with Hebrew Reconstruction

‫“( שכורי‬drunkards” via √‫)שכר‬ ‫“( דעה‬knowledge”) ‫“( צו לצו צו לצו‬precept upon

μισθωτοὶ (“hired laborers” via √‫)שכר‬ κακὰ (“evil” = ‫)רעה‬ θλῖψιν ἐπὶ θλῖψιν (“affliction on

precept, precept upon precept” via √‫)צוה‬ ‫“( קו לקו קו לקו‬line upon line, line upon line” via √‫)קוה‬ ‫“( צו לצו צו לצו‬precept upon precept, precept upon precept” via √‫)צוה‬ ‫“( לצון‬scoffer” via √‫)ליץ‬

affliction” via ‫)צר‬ ἐλπίδα ἐπ᾽ἐλπίδι (“hope upon hope” via

√1-‫)קוה‬

θλῖψις ἐπὶ θλῖψιν (“affliction on

affliction” via ‫)צר‬ τεθλιμμένοι (via √2-‫“ צור‬to crush,

trouble”)

28:20

‫( מהשתרע‬via √‫“ שרע‬to extend”); μάχεσθαι (via √‫“ שרה‬to fight” = 1QIsaª) ‫ משתריים‬1QIsaª (via √‫“ שרה‬to

28:21 28:24 28:26 28:29 29:1

‫“( יהוה‬Lord”) ‫“( לזרע‬to sow”) ‫( יורנו‬via √‫“ ירה‬to teach, show”) ‫“( תושיה‬wisdom, success”) ‫( ספו‬via √‫“ יסף‬to add, to do

fight”)

again”)

30:4 30:4

‫ להפלה | להפליא‬1QIsaa (via √‫פלא‬ “to be wonderful”) ‫“( חנס‬Hanes”) ‫( יגיעו‬via √‫“ נגע‬to touch”)

30:12

‫( ונלוז‬via √‫“ לוז‬to turn aside”)

30:15 30:20

‫“( ונחת‬and rest, quiet” via √‫)נחת‬ ‫ מוריך‬. . . ‫“( מוריך‬your teachers . . . your teachers” via √‫)ירה‬ ‫“( ממגור‬terror”) ‫ מנוס | מנס‬1QIsaª (“standard,

29:14

31:9 31:9

32:2

banner”) ‫“( אשר‬which, who, that”) ‫ בציין | בציון‬1QIsaa (“dry place, desert”) ‫“( כצל‬like a shadow”)

32:3

‫( תשעינה‬via √‫“ שעה‬to gaze”)

31:9 32:2

καὶ ἔσται (via √‫“ היה‬to be”) σπόρον (“seed” = ‫)זרע‬ εὐφρανθήσῃ (via √‫“ רנן‬to rejoice”) ματαίαν (“empty, vain” via √‫)שוא‬ συναγάγετε (via √‫“ אסף‬to gather”) μεταθεῖναι (“to remove” via √‫“ פלה‬to be separate”) μάτην (“vainly” = ‫)חנם‬ κοπιάσουσιν (via √‫“ יגע‬to toil, grow weary”) καὶ ὅτι ἐγόγγυσας (via √‫“ לון‬to murmur”) στενάξῃς (via √‫“ אנח‬to groan, mourn”) πλανῶντές . . . πλανῶντές (“deceiving . . . deceiving” via √‫“ ?מרה‬to rebel”) χάρακι (“bulwark, fortress” = ‫)מצור‬ φεύγων (via √‫“ נוס‬to flee”) Μακάριος (“blessed, happy” = ‫)אשרי‬ ἐν Σιων (“in Sion/Zion” = ‫)בציון‬ ὡς ποταμὸς (“like a river” = ‫?צולה‬ “deep”; cf. 44:27 MT LXX) πεποιθότες (“trusting” via √‫“ שען‬to lean”)

166

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Table (cont.) Reference in Isaiah

MT Reading

LXX Reading with Hebrew Reconstruction τοῦ διασπεῖραι (“to scatter” via √‫)?רחק‬

33:1 33:2 33:4 33:9 33:14

‫“( להריק‬to make empty” via √‫)ריק‬ ‫“( לבגד‬to act treacherously”) ‫“( זרעם‬arm”) ‫“( כמשק‬rushing”) ‫( ונער‬via √2-‫“ נער‬to shake”) ‫ יגור‬. . . ‫( יגור‬bis via √‫גור‬ “to dwell”)

33:14 34:4

‫“( מוקדי‬burnings of ”) ‫ וכנבלת‬. . . ‫( כנבל‬bis via √‫נבל‬

34:17 40:1–2

‫“( להם‬to them”) ‫“( אלהיכם‬your God”)

40:8[7] 40:15 40:25

‫( נבל‬via √‫“ נבל‬to fade”) ‫“( כדק‬like the thin”) ‫( ואשוה‬via √‫“ שוה‬to be like,

40:29 41:2

‫“( עצמה‬strength”) ‫ יוריד | ירד‬1QIsaa (via √‫רדד‬

report, announce”) τὸν τόπον (“the place” = ‫)מקום‬ πεσεῖται . . . ὡς πίπτει (bis via √‫“ נפל‬to fall”) βόσκεσθαι (“to feed, graze” via √‫)לחם‬ ὁ θεός ἱερεῖς (“God. O priests” = ‫אל‬ ‫)?כהנים‬ ἐξέπεσεν (via √‫“ נפל‬to fall”) ὡς σίελος (“like spittle” = ‫)כרק‬ καὶ ὑψωθήσομαι (via √‫“ נשא‬to lift up, exalt”) λύπην (“grief, pain” via √‫)עצב‬ ἐκστήσει (via √‫“ חרד‬to amaze, confuse”)

41:24 41:24 42:10

‫“( מאין‬from nothing”) ‫“( מאפע‬from nothing”) ‫“( תהלתו‬his praise”)

42:21 43:14

‫)תחלתו‬ ‫( ויאדיר‬via √‫“ אדר‬to be glorious”) καὶ εἶδον ( = ‫ ואראה‬via √‫“ ראה‬to see”) ‫( והורדתי‬via √‫“ ירד‬to bring καὶ ἐπεγερῶ (‫ והעירתי‬via √‫“ עור‬to

44:11

‫“( חבריו יבשו‬his companions will ἐξηράνθησαν (via √‫ יבש‬or ‫“ חרב‬to dry

44:11

32:6

“to fade, wither”)

compare”)

ἐπὶ ἱματίου (“on a garment” = ‫)לבגד‬ σπέρμα (“seed” = ‫)זרע‬

συναγάγῃ (via √‫“ ?קשש‬to gather”)

φανερὰ ἔσται (“to be known” = ‫)?נודע‬ ἀναγγελεῖ . . . ἀναγγελεῖ (bis via √‫“ נגד‬to

“to subdue”)

44:14 44:24 45:16

πόθεν (“from where” ‫)מאין‬ πόθεν (“from where” = ‫)מאיפה‬ ἡ ἀρχὴ αὐτοῦ (“his beginning” =

down”)

awaken”)

be ashamed”)

up”)

‫“( וחרשים‬and engravers,

καὶ κωφοὶ (“and deaf ” = ‫)וחרש‬

craftsmen”) ‫“( ארן‬fir”)

‫מי אתי‬ ‫“( חרשי‬engravers”)

κύριος (“Lord” = ‫)אדן‬ τίς ἕτερος (“who else” = ‫)מי אחר‬ ἐγκαινίζεσθε (via √‫“ חדש‬to renew,

restore”)

45:16 47:2 47:10

‫“( צירים‬images”) ‫ חשפי | השופי‬1QIsaa (“to bare”); ‫ חשבי‬4QIsad (“to think”) ‫“( ודעתך‬your knowledge”)

νῆσοι (“islands” via √‫)איים‬ τὰς πολιάς (“gray hair” = ‫)השיבה‬ καὶ ἡ πορνεία σου (“your sexual

immorality” = ‫“ ודעתך‬your [sexual] knowledge” or ‫“ ברעתך‬your wickedness”)

lxx isaiah or its vorlage

167

Table (cont.) Reference in Isaiah

MT Reading

LXX Reading with Hebrew Reconstruction

47:11

‫( שחרה‬via √‫“ שחר‬to charm

βόθυνος (“ditch, pit” = ‫)שחת‬

48:14 50:11 51:18 53:8 53:10

away”) ‫“( וזרעו‬arm”) ‫( מאזרי‬via √‫“ אזר‬to gird”) ‫( מנהל‬via √‫“ נהל‬to guide, lead”) ‫“( למו‬to/for”) ‫“( דכאו‬to crush him”)

σπέρμα (“seed” = ‫)זרע‬ κατισχύετε (via √‫“ ?עזז‬to strengthen”) ὁ παρακαλῶν (via √‫“ ?נחם‬to comfort”) εἰς θάνατον (via √‫“ מות‬death”) καθαρίσαι αὐτὸν (‫ רפאו‬via √‫?רפא‬

“to heal”) 55:1 55:12

‫“( וחלב‬milk”) καὶ στέαρ (“fat” = ‫)חלב‬ ‫( תובלון‬via √‫“ יבל‬to bring, carry”) διδαχθήσεσθε (via √‫“ למד‬to teach”) | ‫ תלכו‬1QIsaa (via √‫“ הלך‬to go,

56:11 57:9

‫( רעים‬via √‫“ רעה‬to shepherd”) ‫( רקחיך‬via √‫“ רקח‬your

πονηροὶ (via √‫“ רעע‬to do evil”) τοὺς μακρὰν ἀπὸ σοῦ (via √‫“ רחק‬to be

perfumes”) 57:11 57:13

‫( ואת‬object marker) ‫( קבוציך‬via √‫“ קבץ‬to gather”)

far”) σύ ( = ‫“ את‬you”)

walk”)

57:18

‫( ואנחהו‬via √‫“ נחה‬to lead”)

58:4 58:12

‫“( רשע‬wickedness”) ‫( משבב‬via √‫“ שוב‬to return”)

58:12 59:14

‫( לשבת‬via √‫“ ישב‬to sit, dwell”) ‫( כשלה‬via √‫“ כשל‬to stumble”)

ἐν τῇ θλίψει σου (via √‫“ בצוק)י(ך‬in your

affliction”)

καὶ παρεκάλεσα αὐτὸν (via √‫“ נחם‬to

comfort”)

59:15 60:21 62:7 63:1 63:7 63:11 63:14 63:19 [64:1] 63:19 [64:1] 64:1[2]

ταπεινόν (via √‫“ רוש‬to be poor”) τοὺς ἀνὰ μέσον ( = ‫ ?מסבב‬via √‫“ סבב‬to

go around”) παύσεις (via √‫“ שבת‬to cease, stop”) καταναλώθη (via √‫“ כלה‬to use up, spend”) ‫“( מרע משתולל‬from evil/to make τὴν διάνοιαν τοῦ συνιέναι (“the thought oneself a prey”) from understanding” = ‫;)?מדע מהשכיל‬ cf. 28:9 ‫“( נצר‬branch, shoot”) φυλάσσων ( = ‫ נצר‬via √‫“ נצר‬to guard”) ‫“( דמי‬rest” via √2-‫)דמה‬ ὅμοιος (“like, similar” via √1-‫)דמה‬ ‫“( רב‬great, many” via √‫)רבב‬ καὶ κρίσιν (“and judgment” via √‫)ריב‬ ‫“( ורב‬and great” via √‫)רבב‬ κριτὴς (“judge” via √‫ )ריב‬cf. 63:1. ‫“( רעי‬to shepherd” as Qal m.p. ποιμένα (“shepherd” as noun = ‫)רעה‬ part.) ‫( תניחנו‬via √‫“ נוח‬to rest”) καὶ ὡδήγησεν αὐτούς (via √‫“ נחה‬to lead”) ‫“( ירדת‬to go down”) τρόμος (via √‫“ רעד‬to tremble”); cf. 33:14. ‫( נזלו‬via √‫“ זלל‬to quake”) καὶ τακήσονται (via √‫“ נזל‬to flow”)

‫“( המסים‬brushwood”)

κηρὸς (“wax” via √‫)?מסס‬

168

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Table (cont.) Reference in Isaiah

MT Reading

LXX Reading with Hebrew Reconstruction

64:1[2]

‫“( תבעה‬to boil”)

κατακαύσει ( = ‫ ?תבער‬via √‫“ בער‬to

64:4[5]

‫“( ונושע‬to deliver, save”)

ἐπλανήθημεν ( = ‫ ?ונפשע‬via √‫“ פשע‬to

64:6[7]

‫( ותמוגנו‬via √‫“ מוג‬to melt”)

καὶ παρέδωκας ἡμᾶς (via √‫“ מגן‬to

65:10 65:15 66:5

‫“( לנוה‬for a fold”) ‫“( לשבועה‬for an oath”) ‫“( אמרו‬they said”)

66:9

‫“( אשביר‬I will break”)

66:10

‫“( שמחו את‬to rejoice” + direct

66:19

‫“( משכי קשת‬those that draw the bow”) ‫ > קשת‬MMs ‫“( דראון‬abhorrence”) ὅρασιν (via √‫“ ראה‬sight, vision”)

burn”)

go astray”) cf. 46:8.

deliver”)

object marker) 66:24

ἐπαύλεις (“homes” via √‫“ ?לין‬to lodge”) εἰς πλησμονὴν (“for fullness” via √‫)שבע‬ εἴπατε (“say” imperative, impacted by

first imperative of passage? ‫)שמעו‬ προσδοκίαν (via √‫“ שבר‬to hope, inspect”) εὐφράνθητι (“rejoice” = ‫;שמחי את‬ reading object marker as 2f.s. pronoun) Μοσοχ (“Mosoch” = ‫“ משך‬Meshech”)

ISAIAH AND THE KING OF AS/SYRIA IN DANIEL’S FINAL VISION: ON THE RHETORIC OF INNER-SCRIPTURAL ALLUSION AND THE HERMENEUTICS OF “MANTOLOGICAL EXEGESIS”* Andrew Teeter A dense distribution of verbal borrowings from previous texts and traditions—above all, prophetic texts and traditions—unmistakably characterizes the final vision accounts in the book of Daniel. Most prominent in this regard are patterns of language and imagery associated with the prophet Isaiah.1 Commentaries on Daniel typically acknowledge this by indicating cross-references and noting parallel locutions; yet seldom is the significance of such connections examined in any depth. Despite wide recognition of the phenomenon, much remains unexplained regarding the nature and function of these verbal connections: are they purely aesthetic in character, or are they also semantically relevant? Are previous prophetic texts deliberately referenced, and if so, to what rhetorical or interpretive ends? Does the inventory of prior prophetic literature merely provide the linguistic or conceptual stock for the Danielic vision, its idiom serving almost inevitably as a lexical fund or literary palette for a latter-day epigone? Or are the verbal dependences more studied, strategic, and therefore exegetically productive than otherwise suggested? In short, why have specific texts been borrowed, and how were they designed to function in reuse? These by no means peripheral questions receive startlingly few answers in the commentary literature on the book of Daniel. Recent decades, however, have witnessed an upsurge of interest in these particular areas of textual inquiry. A range of studies has turned due attention to the analysis of inner-scriptural allusion in general, and

* To Jim VanderKam, with deepest respect and admiration. 1 This is literarily anticipated by the extent to which the account of the impartation of the vision to Daniel has been shaped according to the model of the Berufungsbericht of Isaiah (Isaiah 6). See G. G. Nicol, “Isaiah’s Vision and the Visions in Daniel,” VT 29 (1979): 501–5.

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to its function within the book of Daniel in particular.2 More sophisticated models have been developed to account for the various procedures for, and strategic functions of, text referencing in this literature, as have more precise analytical tools for their study. Inner-scriptural allusion and exegesis have come to rightful recognition both for critical importance as a textual strategy or rhetorical device within a compositional poetics—that is, for understanding the systematic working of this literature and its construction—and as central data for understanding the religious development of post-exilic Judaism itself. Yet despite this very definite progress, recognition of the importance of inner-scriptural allusion in Daniel has yet to produce broad agreement regarding some of the fundamental hermeneutical issues of the book, particularly as regards the character and function (exegetical or otherwise) of textual reuse and its corresponding religious background. In an effort to clarify some of these issues, the following study will examine one narrowly delimited set of locutions from the final vision of Daniel for how it might illuminate the hermeneutic character and poetics of inner-scriptural allusion in the book. The application of Isaiah’s distinctive language regarding Assyria to “northern” (Seleucid 2 Recent studies of the phenomenon in general include B. Sommer, A Prophet Reads Scripture: Allusion in Isaiah 40–66 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1998); R. Schultz, The Search for Quotation: Verbal Parallels in the Prophets (JSOTSup 180; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999); B. Levinson, “The Phenomenon of Rewriting within the Hebrew Bible: A Bibliographic Essay on Inner-Biblical Exegesis in the History of Scholarship,” in Legal Revision and Religious Renewal in Ancient Israel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 95–181; M. A. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy: Ezekiel’s Use of the Holiness Code (LHBOTS 507; New York: T&T Clark, 2009); G. B. Lester, “Inner-Biblical Allusion,” Theological Librarianship 2.2 (2009): 89–93. For Daniel in particular, see M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 458–524; J. Blenkinsopp, Opening the Sealed Book: Interpretations of the Book of Isaiah in Late Antiquity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 1–27; M. Knibb, “ ‘You are Indeed Wiser than Daniel’: Reflections on the Character of the Book of Daniel,” in The Book of Daniel in Light of New Findings (ed. A. S. Van Der Woude; BETL 106; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1993), 399–411; G. B. Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah: The Rule of the Nations in Apocalyptic Allusion-Narrative (Ph.D. diss., Princeton Theological Seminary, 2007); M. Henze, “The Use of Scripture in the Book of Daniel,” in A Companion to Biblical Interpretation in Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, forthcoming). Among earlier works, note especially H. L. Ginsberg, “The Oldest Interpretation of the Suffering Servant,” VT 3 (1953): 400–4; idem, ‫ הוספות ותיקונים‬:‫דניאל‬, in Encyclopedia Biblica: Thesaurus rerum Biblicarum ( Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1954), 2:949–52; and I. L. Seeligmann, “Voraussetzungen der Midraschexegese,” in Congress Volume: Copenhagen (ed. G. W. Anderson et al.; VTSup 1; Leiden: Brill, 1953), 150–81 (esp. 171); idem, The Septuagint Version of Isaiah: A Discussion of Its Problems (Leiden: Brill, 1948; repr., Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 82–83.

isaiah and the king of as/syria

171

Syrian) kings of a much later period in Daniel 11 brings the issues into sharp focus. The fact that this particular theme has received such sparse attention until recently is remarkable in view of I. L. Seeligmann’s judgment over half a century ago that it represents perhaps “the finest example of biblical interpretation within the Bible itself.”3 Indeed, as such, it would appear to offer an auspicious opportunity to reflect on the character of strategic scriptural reuse within the composition of Daniel and, by extension, other literature of the period as well. 1. Isaiah and the King of As/Syria in Daniel 11 While the final chapters of Daniel quite clearly draw upon a wide variety of textual sources in their depiction of the end, the book of Isaiah proves to have been of singular importance.4 Repeated evocation of Isaianic idiom punctuates these chapters, and references to specific passages in Isaiah can be seen to provide the structural scaffolding for the narrative whole.5 Texts from Isaiah supply the basic plotline of events and inform the depiction of the major characters in this

3 “Eine Reihe von Danielstellen . . . an denen die markantesten Ausdrücke aus Jesajah mit Anspielungen auf Numeri- und Habakuk Texte verweben sind, liest sich wie ein aktualisierender Kommentar zu Jesajah’s Prophetie über Assur (sie bildet wohl das schönste Beispiel von Bibelerklärung innerhalb der Bibel).” Seeligmann, “Voraussetzungen,” 171; cf. idem, Septuagint Version of Isaiah, 82. 4 To emphasize the centrality of Isaiah is not to suggest that Isaiah is the only model or that other sources were unimportant. Other well-recognized resonances include Jeremiah’s depiction of the king of the north (as a flood in 47:2), the depiction of Gog from Ezekiel 38–39 (cf. Num 24:7), the “ships of the Kittim” (Num 24:24) of Balaam’s oracles, the “appointed time of the end” of Hab 2:3 and the picture of the arrogant Babylonian oppressor that follows. See F. F. Bruce, “The Earliest Old Testament Interpretation,” in The Witness of Tradition (OtSt 17; Leiden: Brill, 1972), 37–52; Ginsberg, Studies in Daniel, 78 n. 21; Henze, “Use of Scripture in Daniel,” 18–19; Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 98 n. 12. 5 For the notion of allusive “scaffolding” as derived from a literary template or model (Vorbild), see especially W. Tooman, “Transformations of Israel’s Hope: The Reuse of Scripture in the Gog Oracles,” in Transforming Visions: Transformations of Text, Tradition, and Theology in Ezekiel (ed. M. A. Lyons and W. A. Tooman; PTSMS 127; Eugene, Ore.: Wipf and Stock / Pickwick Publications, 2010), 50–110. This concept of evoked Vorbilder should be distinguished from the notion of “structural allusion” developed by J. A. Hughes, Scriptural Allusions and Exegesis in the Hodayot (STDJ 59; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 54–55, inasmuch as the former is not limited to structural features alone, but also includes substance (themes, topics, plot, etc.).

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plot.6 This is seen most clearly in the portrait of the final “kings of the north,” for which the language of Isaiah served as a decisive model. Six examples illustrate this claim. 1.1. Isaiah 8:8 In the depiction of the political and military exploits of Seleucid kings of “the north,” one recurrent image in the visionary representation of Daniel 10–12 is that of an overflowing river. The figure clearly derives from the dramatic depiction of the onslaught of the king of Assyria and his forces as the floodwaters of a swollen river in Isaiah 8:7 Isa 8:7–8 (cf. Isa 28:15–22) 7 Therefore, the Lord is bringing up against it the mighty flood waters of the River—the king of Assyria and all his glory; it will rise above all its channels and overflow all its banks; 8 and it will sweep on into Judah, it will overflow and pass through (‫שטף‬ ‫)ועבר‬, it will reach even to the neck; and the spread of its wings will fill the breadth of your land (‫)ארצך‬, O Immanuel.

6

Dan 11: 10, 22, 26, 40 10

And his sons will mobilize and assemble a multitude of great forces; and one of them will keep on coming (‫ )ובא בוא‬and overflow and pass through (‫)ושטף ועבר‬, that he may again wage war up to his very fortress. 22

And the forces of the flood will be flooded away (‫ )השטף ישטפו‬before him and shattered, and also the prince of the covenant. 26 And those who eat his choice food will destroy him, and his army will overflow (‫)ישטוף‬, but many will fall down slain.

Regarding this plotline and the particular importance of Isaiah 10 for its structure, see Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 237; regarding character, see ibid. 93, 140–59, and Ginsberg, “Oldest Interpretation.” On the larger constellation of ideas from Isaiah in the book of Daniel, see F. F. Bruce, “Daniel and the Qumran Community,” in Neotestametica et Semitica (ed. E. E. Ellis and M. Wilcox; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1969), 221–35 (esp. 228 n. 17); Rex Mason, “The Treatment of Earlier Biblical Themes in the Book of Daniel,” PRSt 15 (1988): 81–100 (esp. 91); Henze, “Use of Scripture in Daniel”; Blenkinsopp, Opening the Sealed Book, esp. 14–18; and Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 55–92; 159–85. 7 As P. Machinist has demonstrated, this Isaian use of flood imagery in connection with Assyria finds close parallels in Assyrian royal rhetoric (“Assyria and Its Image in the First Isaiah,” JAOS 103 [1983]: 719–37).

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173

40 And at the time of the end the king of the South will collide with him, and the king of the North will storm against him with chariots, with horsemen, and with many ships; and he will enter lands (‫)ארצות‬, overflow and pass through (‫)ושטף ועבר‬.

The exact phrase “overflow and pass over” (‫ )שטף ועבר‬occurs within the Hebrew Bible only here in Isa 8:8 and Dan 11:10, 40.8 In Isaiah, the depiction of Assyria as an inundating flood is consequent upon rejection of the “gently flowing waters of Shiloh” (8:6). Within the sequence of chapters 6–9, this “rejection” refers to the response of the Judean leadership (Isaiah 7) and people (Isaiah 8) to the Syro-Ephraimite crisis. Despite the philological difficulty of 8:6, it is clear that the Assyrian image is depicted as a destructive consequence about to fall upon Judah for rejecting Yhwh (vv. 6–7; cf. ch. 7, esp. 7:17b).9 In Daniel, the image expresses the uncontrolled rage of latter-day kings of “the north” as they endlessly wage war against “the south” in their struggle for power. According to modern consensus, v.10a alludes historically to the activities of two sons of Seleucus II Kallinikos (246–26 b.c.e.), Seleucus III Soter (226–23 b.c.e.) and Antiochus III the Great (223–187 b.c.e.), while 10b refers to the latter alone.10 Verses 22, 26, and 40 all pertain to the exploits of Antiochus IV Epiphanes (175–64 b.c.e.). In view of the usage in Isaiah, it is striking that the

8 Ginsberg, ‫ הוספות ותיקונים‬:‫דניאל‬, 949. The basic connection to Isaiah 8 and the Assyrian invasion is routinely noted in the commentaries on Daniel, but typically without further comment (e.g., R. H. Charles, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Daniel [Oxford: Clarendon, 1979], 285; J. J. Collins, Daniel [Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993], 378; M. Delcor, Le Livre de Daniel [SB; Paris: J. Gabalda, 1971], 225; J. A. Montgomery, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Daniel [ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1927], 436. The collocation (‫ שט״ף‬and ‫)עב״ר‬ occurs in two additional passages. The first is a fascinating reversal of Isaiah’s imagery in Nah 1:8 to describe Yhwh’s destructive judgment of Nineveh/Assyria (‫ובשטף עבר‬ ‫)כלה יעשה מקומה ואיביו ירדף חשך‬. The second is Ps 124:4 (‫אזי המים שטפונו נחלה‬ ‫)עבר על נפשנו‬. Though this Psalm of Ascent is similar in a number of respects to Isaiah 8, the text is ambiguous and difficult to date (cf. A. Weiser, The Psalms [OTL; Louisville, Kent.: Westminster John Knox], 755; C. A. Briggs, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Psalms [ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1907], 2.452). 9 On the interpretive crux ‫ ומשוש‬see, in addition to the commentaries (e.g., Wildberger, Isaiah 1–12, 340–41; Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 240), M. Sweeney, “On ûmeśôś in Isaiah 8.6,” in Among the Prophets: Language, Image, and Structure in the Prophetic Writings (ed. D. J. A. Clines et al.; JSOTSup 144; Sheffield: JSOT, 1993), 42–54. 10 Collins, Daniel, 378–79; Montgomery, Daniel, 432–33.

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precise locution ‫ שטף ועבר‬is consciously restricted to vv. 10 and 40, where Judea itself is in question, in contrast to the use of ‫ שט״ף‬alone in vv. 22 and 26, which depict activities elsewhere.11 Thus the image of a disastrous, overflowing river, originally depicting an Assyrian invasion in the eighth century (Isaiah 8), is taken up and applied to Seleucid Syrian kings of the Hellenistic era in Daniel.12 1.2. Isaiah 8:14–15 Closely related to this evocative portrayal of the king and army of Assyria as a river that inundates the land of Judah is another cluster of terminology in Daniel 11 that likely derives from the same chapter in Isaiah: Isa 8:14–15 14

Then he shall become a sanctuary; and a stone to strike and a rock to stumble over to both the houses of Israel, a snare and a trap for the inhabitants of Jerusalem. 15 And many will stumble over them (‫וכשלו‬ ‫)בם רבים‬, and they will fall (‫)ונפלו‬ and be shattered (‫)ונשברו‬, and they will be snared and caught (‫)ונלכדו‬.

Dan 11:18–19; 26; 33–35 18

Then he will turn his face to the coastlands and capture many (‫ולכד‬ ‫)רבים‬. But a commander will put a stop to his scorn against him; moreover, he will repay him for his scorn. 19 So he will turn his face toward the fortresses of his own land, but he will stumble and fall (‫ )ונכשל ונפל‬and be found no more.

11 Ginsberg, ‫ הוספות ותיקונים‬:‫דניאל‬, 949; idem, “Oldest Interpretation,” 401; Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 97. From this, Ginsberg concludes, “The reader was expected to recognize the phrase and to infer that the events in question were the fulfillment of an Isaian prophecy about Assyria” (401). More subtly, Lester finds in this allusion the attempt to “contextualize these Seleucid inroads into Judea as part of the ongoing Isaian drama of Assyrian violence against Judah. . . . Together with two other allusions in Dan 11, the Assyria-evoking successes of these ‘last’ kings of the north will be seen as predictable episodes in the larger, doomed career of God’s ‘Assyrian’ commissionerturned-rebel” (99). 12 With respect to Dan 11:10, it should be noted that Isaiah is not the only influence on this verse. There are also several distinct connections with Hab 2:3–5, a text which supplies the thematic refrain of these chapters in Daniel: “For the vision is still for the appointed time (‫)כי עוד חזון למועד‬, it testifies to the end (‫ )לקץ‬. . .” (Hab 2:3). The “vision” in Hab as developed in v. 5. pertains to the fate of the arrogant Babylonian oppressor who “gathers all nations and peoples to himself ” (‫ויאסף אליו כל הגוים‬ ‫ויקבץ אליו כל העמים‬, v. 5). Note the parallel depiction of Assyria gathering (‫)אס״ף‬ all the peoples and their wealth in Isa 10:14. Imagery from both of these passages has been combined in Daniel to depict the military exploits of Syrian kings. Note also, in this connection, Lester’s perceptive comments on the function of Dan 8:19 in relation to Habakkuk and Isaiah (Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 120–21).

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175

22

And the arms of the flood will be flooded away before him and shattered (‫)וישברו‬, and also the prince of the covenant. 26

And those who eat his choice food will destroy him, and his army will overflow, and many will fall (‫ רבים‬. . . ‫ )ונפלו‬slain. 33

And those who have insight among the people will give understanding to the many (‫)לרבים‬, and they will stumble (‫ )ונכשלו‬by sword and by flame, by captivity and by plunder, for days. 34 Now when they stumble (‫ )ובהכשלם‬they will be granted a little help, and many will join with them in hypocrisy. 35 And some of those who have insight will stumble (‫)יכשלו‬, in order to refine, purge, and make them pure, until the end time; because it is still to come at the appointed time.

To be sure, verbs such as “to shatter” (‫)שב״ר‬, “to stumble” (‫ )כש״ל‬or “to fall” (‫ )נפ״ל‬are by no means rare in the Hebrew Bible and need not have derived from any particular text.13 Nonetheless, the dense clustering of this group of terms in both texts, in immediate relation to the destructive As/Syrian “river,” is quite striking and hardly coincidental. In its present context, the “stumbling” of Isa 8:14–15 is related to destruction at the hands of Assyria (Isa 8:1–8).14 In Daniel, this language is applied first to the destructive forays of one Hellenistic king (Antiochus III) (v. 18), then to his own demise (v. 19). Verse 26 employs the same verbal cluster to depict the downfall of a king of the south (usually referred to Ptolemy VI Philometor) at the hands of the final king of the north (Antiochus IV Epiphanes). Verses 33–34 likewise describe the fall of the “wise among the people” (‫)משכילי עם‬

13 Linguistic criteria for determining intentional allusion (particularly through repetition and distribution) are developed in H. Van Dyke Parunak, Linguistic Density Plots in Zechariah, The Computer Bible vol. XX (Ann Arbor: Biblical Research Associates, 1979), 11–51; and R. L. Schultz, The Search for Quotation, 210–39. Cf. Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 67–75. 14 On the entire passage, see A. J. Bjørndalen, Untersuchungen zur allegorischen Rede der Propheten Amos und Jesaja (BZAW 165; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1986), 211–18.

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of God at the hands of Antiochus IV. Thus, here too, terminology associated with Assyrian destruction in Isaiah has been applied to the activity of Seleucid kings of “the north” in Daniel. 1.3. Isaiah 10:23, 25 Yet another aspect of the depiction of the final Syrian king of the north in Daniel 11 quite conspicuously borrowed from Isaiah is the notion of a “determined destruction” (‫ )כלה ונחרצה‬and its correlate, the “end of wrath” (‫)כלה זעם‬. The source, Isaiah 10, is an oracle of doom against Assyria, and a text which proves to have been of decisive importance for the final vision of Daniel.15 Isa 10:22–26 22

For though your people, O Israel, may be like the sand of the sea, only a remnant of it will return; destruction is determined (‫)כליון חרוץ‬, overflowing (‫ )שוטף‬with righteousness. 23 For a determined destruction (‫כי‬ ‫ )כלה ונחרצה‬the Lord God of hosts will execute (‫ )עשה‬in the midst of the whole land. 24 Therefore thus says the Lord God of hosts, “O My people who dwell in Zion, do not fear Assyria who strikes you with the rod and lifts up his staff against you, in the way of Egypt. 25 For in a just a little while (‫ )כי עוד מעט מזער‬wrath will be finished (‫)וכלה זעם‬, and my anger will be unto their destruction. 26 And the Lord of hosts will arouse a scourge (‫ )שוט‬against him like the slaughter of Midian at the rock of Oreb; and his staff will be over the sea, and he will lift it up in the way of Egypt.

15

Dan 11:36 36

Then the king will do as he pleases, and he will exalt and magnify himself above every god, and will speak monstrous things against the God of gods; and he will prosper until the wrath is finished, for that which is determined will be executed (‫עד כלה‬ ‫)זעם כי נחרצה נעשתה‬. cf. Dan 9:26–27 6 Then after the sixty-two weeks the Anointed will be cut off and have nothing, and the people of the prince who is to come will destroy the city and the sanctuary. And its end will come with a flood (‫ ;)בשטף‬and to the end there will be war; desolations are determined (‫)נחרצת שממות‬. 27 And he will make a firm covenant with the many for one week, but in the middle of the week he will put a stop to sacrifice and offering; and on the wing of abominations will come one who makes desolate, even until a complete and determined destruction (‫ )ועד כלה ונחרצה‬is poured out on the one who makes desolate.

On other allusions to Isaiah 10 in the book of Daniel (e.g., Dan 7:8; 8:19, 23), see Lester Daniel, 108–40.

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Once again, the depiction of the king of Syria in Daniel is overtly aligned with Isaiah’s Assyria through distinctive phrases (‫כלה ונחרצה‬ and ‫ )כלה זעם‬which occur nowhere else in the Hebrew Bible.16 Isaiah 10:5–11 consists of an oracle of woe against Assyria, “the rod of [God’s] anger and . . . wrath” (v. 5). According to this text, God had sent Assyria against his own “profane nation” as an instrument of punishment for their sin. His purpose was to plunder them, but Assyria’s intentions were different (vv. 7–11).17 Therefore, after the Lord has finished his “work” against his people (v. 12a; cf. 28:21), he will punish the king of Assyria for his proud heart (vv. 12b–19). Only a remnant of Israel will return because yhwh is carrying out a decisive destruction “overflowing with justice” against her (vv. 20–23). But the inhabitant of Zion should not be afraid, for “in just a little while” the “wrath will be finished”—that is, Assyria will be destroyed in a manner analogous to the punishment of Egypt (vv. 25–26.). Isaiah 10 thus establishes an explicit analogy between Assyria and Egypt, the prototypical oppressive enemy of the exodus. The oracle thus pivots on a double entendre, for God’s wrath itself will be finished (i.e., his anger toward his people will come to an end), and the instrument of his wrath (Assyria) will be destroyed. Compare Isa 10:5, “Woe, Assyria, the rod of my anger, and the staff in their hands of my wrath” (‫הוי אשור שבט אפי ומטה הוא‬ ‫ )בידם זעמי‬with 10:25, “For in just a little while wrath will be finished and my anger (will be) unto their destruction” (‫כי עוד מעט מזער וכלה‬ ‫)זעם ואפי על תבליתם‬.18 Most commentators concur that the parallel texts in Daniel 11, which also feature Egypt and As/Syria under the guise of the “south” and the “north”, refer to the arrogance and destruction of Antiochus IV Epiphanes. The disagreement among commentators hinges on the meaning of the final two clauses of both verses, “until wrath is finished, when that which is determined is done.” Whose wrath is meant: the

16 Collins, Daniel, 358. Delcor, Le livre de Daniel, 28. Ginsberg, “Oldest Interpretation,” 401 (“Obviously [the author of Dan 11] was bound to indicate that all this applied to Seleucid Syria, specifically to Antiochus IV”); Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 490 (“the author . . . meant to suggest that the old text was spoken for his day”); cf. Seeligmann, Septuagint Version of Isaiah, 82; G. von Rad, Old Testament Theology (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), 2:314. 17 Isa 10:6 (‫)לשלל שלל ולבז בז‬. Note the clear connection to Isa 8:1 and 3 regarding the child/sign “Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz” (‫ )מהר שלל חש בז‬and the significance of his name (‫)ישא את חיל דמשק ואת שלל שמרון לפני מלך אשור‬. 18 Greek variants, Peshiṭta, and Saadia’s Tafsir all read “my wrath” (= ‫)זעמי‬, an assimilation to v. 5. Cf. Goshen-Gottstein, Book of Isaiah (HUBP; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1995), 42.

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punishing wrath of God, or that of the Seleucid king? Commentaries usually argue for one or the other.19 The source context in Isaiah might suggest, however, that these alternatives are not best seen as mutually exclusive, insofar as that oracle thematizes both conceptions of wrath; that of God (v. 5, v. 25b) and that of Assyria (v. 25bα). The end of divine wrath and the destruction of Assyria are inextricably linked.20 In any case, it is again transparent that, in Daniel, the Seleucid Syrian king Antiochus IV Epiphanes is depicted in Assyrian terms borrowed from Isaiah.21

19 Collins cogently argues for the latter option, since “[t]he alternative interpretation, that the wrath is the Lord’s anger against Israel, is not impossible but goes against the tendency of Daniel to place the blame for the turmoil on the king” (Daniel, 386). “It is possible that pagan dominion is viewed as ‘the rod of Yahweh’s anger,’ like Assyria in 10:5 (where ‫ זעם‬is also used). . . . In Daniel, however, the emphasis is on the sin of the gentile kingdoms, not that of Israel” (Daniel, 339). 20 For the development to the concept of “wrath” (‫ )זעם‬into a “quasi-technical term” for a period of divine anger or tribulation associated with the dominion of the nations, see Collins, Daniel, 339; cf. B. Duhm, Das Buch Jesaia (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1922), 102; Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 101; 114; 116–18. 21 These same segments just discussed yield another intriguing parallel: Isa 10:25 “For in a just a little while (‫ )עוד מעט מזער‬wrath will be finished (‫)וכלה זעם‬, and my anger will be unto their destruction” and Dan 11:34 “And when they stumble they will receive little help (‫)יעזרו עזר מעט‬, and many will join with them in hypocrisy.” Though the phrase in Dan 11:34 remains cryptic as to its reference (cf. Collins, Daniel, 386, contra Montgomery, Daniel, 458–59), it is worth observing the graphic similarity of the phrases “yet a little while” (‫ )עוד מעט מזער‬in Isaiah and “they will receive little help” (‫ )יעזרו עזר מעט‬in Daniel. Taken alone, that connection is not particularly strong, but the clear reuse of this very text in the following verse (Dan 11:36, ‫וכלה‬ ‫)זעם‬, piques curiosity. The context in Isaiah refers to the deliverance of “my people/ the inhabitant of Zion,” “who lean on Yhwh, the Holy One of Israel, in truth” (v. 20). These are urged not fear Assyria, for “the wrath” will be brought to an end by the Lord himself (v. 26). The “little help” that “the people who know their God”/“the wise among the people” receive in Dan 11:34 may conceivably relate to the phrase “just a little while” in Isaiah, which ostensibly does not fit the temporal program outlined in Daniel 11, which looks instead to “many days hence” (‫)לימים רבים‬. Note also Isa 31:3, regarding those who rely on Egypt: “The helper shall trip, and the helped one shall fall, and both shall perish together” (‫)וכשל עוזר ונפל ָﬠזֻ ר ויחדו כלם יכליון‬, in its conceptual connection to the similar idiom (‫כש״ל‬, ‫ )נפ״ל‬in Isa 8:14–15 discussed above, and 28:13, discussed below. In support of the possibility that the phrase in Dan 11:34 may indeed relate exegetically to Isa 10:25, it may be noted that similar exegetical methods are attested very early and become commonplace in the literature of the Second Temple period and following.

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1.4. Isaiah 7:7 (cf. 8:10) Another phrase in the final vision of Daniel that finds its source in Isaiah occurs in Dan 11:17 // Isa 7:7. Isa 7:5–7 5

Because Aram, Ephraim and the son of Remaliah have planned (‫)יעץ‬ evil against you, saying, 6 “Let us go up against Judah and terrorize it, and make for ourselves a breach in its walls, and set up the son of Tabeel as king in the midst of it,” 7 thus says the Lord God, “It shall not stand nor shall it come to pass” (‫לא תקום ולא‬ ‫)תהיה‬.

Dan 11:17 17

He shall set his face to come with the strength of his whole kingdom, and he shall bring terms of peace and perform them. In order to destroy the kingdom, he shall give him a woman in marriage; but it shall not succeed or be to his advantage (‫ולא‬ ‫)תעמד ולא לו תהיה‬.

Isa 8:10 10

Plan a plan and it shall be foiled (‫)עצו עצה ותפר‬. Speak a word and it will it shall not succeed (‫!)ולא יקום‬ For God is with us (‫!)כי עמנו אל‬

It is often noticed that this phrase “it shall not succeed or be to his advantage” in Dan 11:17 represents a slightly modified quotation of Isa 7:7.22 There, the phrase describes the doomed stratagems of the Syro-Ephraimite political alliance (vv. 4–6; note also the role of Aram/ Syria).23 The prediction of failure is followed by a warning to maintain trust (v. 9b, ‫)אם לא תאמינו כי לא ֵת ָא ֵמנוּ‬. Commentaries on Daniel do not generally observe, however, that the trope of the non-fulfillment of the plans of the nations also plays a key role within the presentation of Isaiah’s oracles elsewhere. In Isa 8:9–10, the phrase “plot a plot, it will be frustrated, speak a word, it will not stand” (‫)עצו עצה ותפר דברו דבר ולא יקום‬, addressed to “the peoples” and “all far away lands,” immediately follows the depiction

22

K. Marti, Das Buch Jesaja erklärt (KHC; Freiburg: Mohr Siebeck, 1900): “vgl. zu

‫ עמד‬und ‫ היה‬Jes 7:7, 14:24: ‫ קום‬und ‫היה‬.” (82); Montgomery, Daniel, 442; Collins: “The phrase echoes Isa 7:7: ‫לא תקום ולא תהיה‬. Daniel 11 typically uses ‫ קום‬instead of ‫( ”עמד‬Daniel, 381). 23 The grammatical subject of the feminine verbs (‫ תהיה‬. . . ‫ )תקום‬is the implicit “plot” (‫ ) ֵﬠ ָצה‬of vv. 5–6 (‫)יען כי יעץ עליך וכו״‬.

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of the Assyrian “flood” which has been so productive in Daniel 11.24 As in Isaiah 7, here too, in the present form of the text, the citation is followed by a call to faith (vv. 11–15, cf. v. 17 [‫ וקויתי לו‬. . . ‫]וחכיתי לי״‬ and v. 20). Thus, language referring to the local political crisis of the SyroEphraimite alliance and its failure (Isa 7:7) is reiterated in the following chapter of Isaiah as a response to the description of the catastrophic deluge of the Assyrian invasion itself. The suggestion that this constitutes a deliberate literary strategy becomes unavoidable in view of the explicit articulation of the theme in Isa 14 (vv. 24–27), another chapter of great consequence to the author of Daniel 11 (see below). 1.5. Isaiah 28:13–22 In view of the obvious borrowing of a cluster of unique locutions from Isaiah in the final vision of Daniel, it is important to note how the precise phrases of interest to Daniel 11 from chapters 7, 8, and 10 of Isaiah have all been combined and reused in Isaiah 28, a textual unit of great significance within the compositional development of that book:25

24 Assessments of the date of vv. 9–10 and their relationship to the remainder of the chapter vary radically, from authentic Isaianic to late post-exilic. See Procksch, Jesaiah I (KAT; Leipzig, 1930), 134: “Jesajanisch ist er in jedem Zuge (gegen Staerk, Hackmann, Marti, Budde), so daß Unechtheit ausgeschlossen ist”; cf. Wildberger, Isaiah 1–39, 351 (the “correct historical setting” of the passage is either during Sennacherib’s march or during “the second period of Isaiah’s activity, that is, the years 721–710”). Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 240–41: “The hymnic conclusion . . . is addressed to the nations at large at a much later time, inviting them to draw the appropriate conclusion from this old story of plotting at the Judaean court. . . . In all probability the hymnic conclusion to this paragraph comes from the same fervent Jerusalemite circles that have left their mark on the last eleven chapters of the book.” 25 On the role of Isaiah 28 in the compositional development of the book, see most recently R. G. Kratz, “Rewriting Isaiah: The Case of Isaiah 28–31,” in Prophecy and Prophets in Ancient Israel: Proceedings of the Oxford Old Testament Seminar (ed. J. Day; New York: T&T Clark, 2010), 245–66; cf. J. Barthel, Prophetenwort und Geschichte: Die Jesajaüberlieferung in Jes 6–8 und 28–31 (FAT 19; Tübingen: Mohr/ Siebeck, 1997); U. Becker, Jesaja–von der Botschaft zum Buch (FRLANT 178; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1997), 223–70; M. J. de Jong, Isaiah among the Ancient Near Eastern Prophets: A Comparative Study of the Isaiah Tradition and the Neo-Assyrian Prophecies (VTSup 117; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 83–122; G. Stansell, “Isaiah 28–33: Blest Be the Tie that Binds (Isaiah Together),” in New Visions of Isaiah (ed. R. Melugin and M. A. Sweeney; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 68–103; and H. G. M. Williamson, The Book Called Isaiah: Deutero-Isaiah’s Role in Composition and Redaction (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 184–239.

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Isa 28:15–22 14

// Isa 8:15

‫וכשלו בם רבים ונפלו ונשברו‬ ‫ונוקשו ונלכדו‬ // Dan 11:18–19, 26, 33–35

Isa 8:7–8 (cf. 10:16 ‫)שוט‬

‫שטף ועבר‬ // Dan 11:10, 22, 26, 40 // Isa 8:14

‫והיה למקדשׁ ולאבן נגף‬ // Isa 7:9 (cf. 8:13, 17)

‫אם לא תאמינו כי לא תאמנו‬

// Isa 7:7; 8:10; 14:24–27 ‫לא תקום ולא תהיה‬ // Dan 11:17

// Isa 10:23

‫כי כלה ונחרצה אדני יהוה‬ ‫צבאות עשׂה‬ // Dan 9:26–27; 11:36

So the word of the Lord to them will be, “Order on order, order on order, Line on line, line on line, A little here, a little there,” That they may go and stumble backward and be shattered and ensnared and caught (‫)וכשלו אחור ונשברו ונוקשו ונלכדו‬. 14 Therefore, hear the word of the Lord, O scoffers, who rule this people who are in Jerusalem, 15 Because you have said, “We have made a covenant with death, and with Sheol we have made a pact. The overwhelming scourge when it passes by (‫ )שוט שוטף כי עבר יעבר‬will not reach us, for we have made falsehood our refuge and we have concealed ourselves with deception.” 16 Therefore thus says the Lord God, “Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone for the foundation, firmly placed. He who believes will not be moved. 17 And I will make justice the measuring line, and righteousness the level. Then hail shall sweep away the refuge of lies, and the waters shall overflow (‫ )ישטפו‬the secret place. 18 And your covenant with death shall be canceled, and your pact with Sheol shall not stand (‫ ;)לא תקום‬When the overflowing scourge passes through (‫שוט‬ ‫)שוטף כי יעבר‬, then you be for trampling. 19 As often as it passes through (‫)עברו‬, it will seize you. For morning after morning it will pass through (‫)יעבר‬, day and night. And it will be sheer terror to understand what it means. 20 The bed is too short on which to stretch out, and the blanket is too small to wrap oneself in.” 21 For the Lord will rise up like Mount Perazim, he will arise as in the valley of Gibeon; To do his task—strange is his task! And to work his work—astonishing is his work! 22 And now, do not scoff, lest your bounds be tightened. For a determined destruction (‫כי‬ ‫ )כלה ונחרצה‬have I heard from the Lord God of hosts.

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The chapter opens with an oracle ostensibly addressed in the first instance to “the drunkards of Ephraim” (28:1, 3); but in v. 7, “these too” (‫)וגם אלה‬, appears to refer to the men of Judah.26 The destruction of Judah is thus brought into clear alignment with the earlier destruction of Israel at the hands of the Assyrians.27 This passage brings together a number of connections from oracles presented earlier in the book of Isaiah. From these earlier chapters, Isaiah 28 rearticulates the themes of (1) the inundating flood of judgment (‫שוט שוטף כי עבר יעבר‬, vv. [2], 14, 17, 18 —» 8:7–8); (2) the catastrophic stumbling (‫ ונשברו ונוקשו ונלכדו‬. . . ‫ וכשלו‬v. 13 —» 8:15); (3) the failure of human plans to materialize against the divine plan or purpose (‫ לא תקום‬v. 18 —» 7:7; 8:10; 14:24–27); (4) a divinely established “stone” (‫ אבן‬v. 16; cf. v. 13b);28 (5) the prospect of salvation conditioned upon faith (‫ אמ״ן‬v. 16 —» 7:9; 8:13, 17); and finally, these ideas are connected with the notion of (6) the “decisive destruction” (‫ כלה ונחרצה‬v. 22) of divine judgment (—»10:23).29 Of this cluster of themes and phrases reused in Isaiah 28 from the earlier oracles of Isaiah, it is striking that at least four are also the exact expressions selected for reuse by the author of the final vision of Daniel (those numbered 1, 2, 3 and 6).30 One might downplay this remarkable

26 Contrast vv. 1 and 3 with vv. 11 and 14; cf. 8:14, “for the two houses of Israel” (‫)לשני בתי ישראל‬. 27 “The oracle in vv. 1–4 serves to introduce a new corpus of oracles that are largely set at a subsequent period in Judah’s history after the Syro-Ephraimite crisis and that led ultimately to the Assyrian attack on Jerusalem in 701. The initial oracle in chapter 28 begins with judgment on the Northern Kingdom and summarizes the prophetic warning to the proud leaders of Ephraim before it draws the analogy between Israel’s destruction and Judah’s” (Childs, Isaiah, 206). Of course, it is not Assyria but Babylon who will ultimately take Judah captive (39:6–7). The relationship between Babylon and Assyria is a key interest of the editors of the book of Isaiah (cf. Isa 23:13; 14:22–27; chs. 36–39, etc.). 28 Note the discussion of Bjørndalen, Untersuchungen zur allegorischen Rede, 211– 18. 29 On directionality of dependence for this phrase, cf. R. E. Clements, “The Interpretation of Prophecy and the Origins of Apocalyptic,” in Old Testament Prophecy: From Oracles to Canon (Louisville, Kent.: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 182–88 (here 185–86). 30 The other two, the divine “stone” and salvation conditioned on faith, are arguably also key ideas in the book of Daniel as a whole. For the former, see Mason, “Themes in the Book of Daniel,” 91 (Isa 28:10 and Isa 2:2–4 in relation to Daniel 2); C. L. Seow, “From Mountain to Mountain: The Reign of God in Daniel 2,” in A God So Near: Essays on Old Testament Theology in Honor of Patrick D. Miller (ed. B. A. Strawn and N. R. Bowen; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 355–74; and Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 166–67.

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coincidence by the argument that the latter author may simply have depended upon the one text that brings all these themes together, Isaiah 28. Such an explanation is inadequate, however, as is quite clear from the language of the borrowed locutions.31 If we are to determine a source for the quotations in Daniel, then we must conclude that this entire network of texts—including Isaiah 28, which draws them together—has been influential. Stated otherwise, the interests of the author of the final vision of Daniel have been anticipated to a significant extent by the compositional activity reflected in Isaiah 28.32 1.6. Isaiah 14 One final connection requires mention in relation to this theme, though unlike the examples discussed thus far, the parallels between Daniel and Isaiah in this case are primarily conceptual rather than lexical. The links are, nonetheless, strong enough to warrant notice by nearly all commentators on Daniel.33 Isa 14:12–15 12

How you have fallen from heaven, O star of the morning, son of the dawn! You have been cut down to the earth, You who have weakened the nations! 13 But you said in your heart, “I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God, And I will sit on the mount of assembly In the recesses of the north. 14 I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.” 15 Nevertheless you will be thrust down to Sheol, to the recesses of the pit.

31 This is clear from at least three points: (1) The exact formulation ‫ שטף ועבר‬in Dan 11:10, 40 occurs in Isa 8:8 alone. (2) The full citation of Isa 7:7 (‫לא תקום ולא‬ ‫ )תהיה‬in Dan 11:17 (‫ )ולא תעמד ולא לו תהיה‬is not found in Isaiah 28. (3) In addition to the phrase ‫ כלה ונחרצה‬which occurs in both Isaiah 10 and 28, Daniel 11 uses the phrase ‫ כלה זעם‬which occurs only in ch. 10. 32 For the vexed problem of directionality of dependence between these chapters, see the excellent summary of Kratz, “Rewriting” (note 25 above). Numerous commentators have argued that Isaiah 28 preceded Isaiah 10, such that the latter is dependent upon the former (e.g., Duhm, Jesaia, 102; Marti, Jesaja, 106; Kaiser, Jesaja, 241–42, just as many have argued the opposite (Becker, Jesaja, 282–83; Kratz, “Rewriting,” 246–47). Lester’s argument (Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 135–40; cf. 186–87) that the dependence of Isaiah 10 upon 28 is evident on “internal grounds” based on “the manner in which the alluding text works a subtle change upon the language of the evoked text” (135) remains, in my view, inconclusive and unconvincing. 33 According to Collins, for example, Isaiah 14 provides a “clear biblical precedent” (Daniel, 332); cf. Montgomery, Daniel, 334. Lester collates various additional comments to this effect (Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 122 n. 66).

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andrew teeter Dan 11:36–39 The king will do as he pleases; he will exalt and magnify himself above every god, and he will speak astounding things against the God of gods. He will prosper until wrath is spent, for what has been decreed shall be accomplished. 37 He will not have regard for the god of his ancestors or for the one dear to women; he will not have regard for any god, but will magnify himself above all. . . .34

The Isaiah passage (14:4b–21) is a taunt song (designated a “parable” [‫ ]משל‬in v. 4) oriented in its present form toward “the king of Babylon”, though it is likely to have originally addressed Assyria.35 Verses 12–14 engage in a mocking contrast between the king’s boastful pretensions, depicted in their excess as reaching the heights of the heavens, and his present humble estate in the depths of Sheol. The texts in Daniel apply very similar language to the arrogance of Antiochus IV Epiphanes.36 As frequently discussed in the commentaries, both passages engage a mythic pattern, to some extent.37 For the purposes of understanding the reuse of this Isaianic oracle in Daniel 11, however, it is of crucial importance to consider the effect of the concluding coda in Isaiah 14. After declaring the resolve of God to destroy Babylon (“I will rise up against them—declares the Lord of Hosts—and will

34

Cf. Dan 8:10–13 and Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 122. Babylon is only named in the superscription in v. 4 and in the conclusion in v. 22, while the entire oracle concludes with a reference to Assyria’s destruction in 14:25 (‫)לשבר אשור‬, which ties into 14:5 (‫)שבר י״ מטה רשעים‬. See H. L. Ginsberg “Reflexes of Sargon in Isaiah after 715 b.c.e.,” JAOS 88 (1968): 47–53, though others are far less confident regarding the specific referent (cf. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 286–287; Childs, Isaiah, 123; Gray, Isaiah I–XXVII, 250–52). 36 The “close correspondence of theme and detail” has been outlined clearly by Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 125–26. 37 “The portrayal of Antiochus Epiphanes rising up ‘above every God’ is ‘a reuse of the old Canaanite myth of rebellion in the heavens which finds its reflex in such passages as Isa 14:3–21 and Ezek 28:1–19’ ” ( J. Collins, Daniel: With an Introduction to Apocalyptic Literature [FOTL 20; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1984], 100, citing Clifford, “History and Myth in Daniel 10–12,” BASOR 220 (1975), 23–26 [here 25]; cf. Collins, Daniel, 332; Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 123–27). Though it is reasonable to assume that such a myth indeed lies behind the language of Isaiah 14 (and Ezekiel 28) in traditio-historical terms, it is open to question whether the background of the myth itself provides the impetus for the reuse of the language in Daniel. Given the unmistakable interest of Daniel 11 in passages relating to Assyria from Isaiah, it seems likely that he has read this chapter of Isaiah less with reference to Canaanite myth than with reference to its role in Isaiah. Cf. G. Hölscher, Geschichte der israelitischen und jüdischen Religion (Giessen: A. Töpelmann, 1922), 155; Henze, “Use of Scripture in Daniel,” 14; Blenkinsopp, Opening the Sealed Book, 16. 35

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wipe out from Babylon name and remnant, kith and kin . . .” 14:22), the passage concludes: 24

The Lord of Hosts has sworn saying, “Surely, just as I intended, so it has happened, and just as I have planned so will it stand (‫כאשר דמיתי‬ ‫)כן היתה וכאשר יעצתי היא תקום‬, 25 to break Assyria in my land, and I will trample him on my mountains. Then his yoke will be removed from them, and his burden removed from their shoulder.” 26 This is the plan planned (‫ )העצה היעוצה‬against all the earth; and this is the hand that is stretched out against all the nations. 27 For the Lord of Hosts has planned, and who can frustrate (‫ ?)יעץ ומי יפר‬His hand is stretched out, and who can turn it back? (Isa 14:24–27)

Thus, a passage ostensibly addressing the fall of Babylon concludes in its present form with a comment regarding the destruction of Assyria.38 This brief but richly allusive conclusion takes up the repeated “outstretched hand” refrain from previous chapters of Isaiah,39 while also fully reversing the assurance of non-fulfillment of the nations’ plans in Isa 7:7 and 8:10 (7:7 ‫ ;לא תקום ולא תהיה‬8:10 ‫עצו עצה ותפר דברו‬ ‫—)דבר ולא יקום‬as noted above, a theme evoked in Dan 11:17. Childs aptly summarizes the strategic function of this conclusion in Isaiah 14, noting that it serves “to unite the destruction of Assyria with its latter counterpart Babylon, and to join in the one plan of God the destruction of the arrogant oppressor from both the eighth and sixth centuries.”40 The redactional placement of these verses in chapter 14 parallels the explicative addition of Isa 8:9–10 to the description of the Assyrian onslaught, an addition which declares the schemes of all “the peoples” (‫ )עמים‬to be doomed in their opposition to the plan of the God of Israel. Both passages (Isa 8:9–10 and Isa 14:24–27) mirror the depiction of Assyria and its fate in Isaiah 10, not coincidentally a passage of commanding interest for the author of the final vision

38

On the entire passage, see R. E. Clements, “Isaiah 14:22–27: A Central Passage Reconsidered,” in The Book of Isaiah, Les Oracles et leur Relectures: Unité et complexité de l’ouvrage (BETL 81; Leuven: Peeters, 1989), 253–62. 39 ‫( בכל זאת לא שב אפו ועוד ידו נטויה‬5:25; 9:11, 16, 20; 10:4). 40 Childs, Isaiah, 124. Cf. C. Seitz, “Isaiah, Book of (First Isaiah),” ABD 3.472– 88 (here 486): “By placing 14:24–27, an oracle of judgment against Assyria similar to material in 1–12 (e.g., 10:5–19) in the context of chaps. 13–14, the ‘breaking of Assyria’ (14:25) is to be understood as part of God’s broader work with Israel and the nations, now including Babylon and Persia (13:17–22). Assyria’s breakdown is analogous to Babylon’s centuries later, after both serve their respective purpose in God’s larger work with Israel.” Compare 14:25 (‫ )לשבר אשור‬with 14:5.

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of Daniel. Moreover, in Isa 14:22–27 Assyria and Babylon are united and ascribed to the same typological role; that of God’s outstretched hand of punishment against his people, an instrument itself ultimately destined for destruction.41 In depicting the destruction of the last “king of the north” in Dan 11:44–45, beyond Isa 14:25 (“. . . to break Assyria in my land”), the author has evidently taken a cue from the literarily related report of Sennacherib’s fate in Isaiah 37.42 In any case, as in all the passages above, texts pertaining to “Assyria” in Isaiah are applied to a Seleucid Syrian king in Daniel. 1.7. Summary The content of Isaiah 8, 10, 14, and 28 proves to have been of particular interest to the author of Daniel’s final vision. We have seen that all four of these passages in Isaiah—including the oracle against Babylon in Isaiah 14—pertain, in their present form, to Assyria either as instrument or object of divine judgment. Specific phrases and collocations occur here and nowhere else, such as ‫שטף ועבר‬, ‫ כלה ונחרצה‬, ‫כלה זעם‬, or the assurance of non-fulfillment ‫—לא תקום ולא תהיה‬all in relation to the king of Assyria, his role in God’s punishing “work” against Israel, his arrogance, cruelty, and ultimate downfall. The dense clustering of unusual locutions borrowed from specific, strategic locations in Isaiah demonstrates that the parallels are neither coincidental nor random, but deliberate and studied. As stated at the outset, while most of these connections between Isaiah and Daniel are routinely observed in the commentaries, one

41 To the depiction of Babylon in chapter 14, compare also Isa 10:12 (“the majestic pride and overbearing arrogance of the king of Assyria”) and Isa 37:23 (“Against whom have you made loud your voice and haughtily raised your eyes?”). This is not the only case of such “typological” representation of the enemy in the composition of Isaiah: “The insertion of chapter 34 reflects a post-exilic development of the identity of the enemy of God’s people (from Babylon to Edom, possibly viewed typologically) and owes its position to the desire to reinterpret the Babylon of chapter 13 in Edomic terms before the main ‘Babylonian’ section of the book in chapters 40–55 is read” (Williamson, The Book Called Isaiah, 220). 42 Note esp. Isa 37:7 ‫( ושמע שמוע‬// 2 Kings 19:7; cf. Isa 28:19) and Dan 11:44 (‫ ;)שמעות‬Ginsberg, “Earliest Interpretation,” 403; von Rad, Theology 2:314; Charles, Daniel, 321; Collins, Daniel, 389; Delcor, Daniel, 251, who also suggests, with Driver, the possible influence of Isa 10:28–34; cf. Bruce, “Earliest Interpretation,” 42; Lester Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 104.

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finds remarkably little discussion as to why these particular sections of Isaiah have been selected as model and source, or how these allusions are designed to function in Daniel.43 To be sure, more attention is given to such matters outside of the commentaries, yet even here much remains unaccounted for. The depiction of latter day kings of the north in the final vision of Daniel has been deliberately shaped after the image of Assyria in Isaiah; of this there can be no doubt. But why is this the case? On what basis have such connections been made and what is the intended semantic or rhetorical effect? By what itinerary does an eighth century prophecy about “Assyria” come to apply to a second century Seleucid ruler? And in this reapplication of language, what is presupposed or claimed about these earlier texts? To these questions we now turn. 2. Explanatory Models Several possibilities have been suggested—or implicitly assumed— to explain why the northern kings in Daniel 11 are shaped after the model of Isaiah’s Assyria. These solutions can be divided into two basic types: those emphasizing geopolitical or linguistic realities, and those foregrounding exegetical factors. 2.1. Geopolitical/Linguistic Some attribute the identification of Syria with Assyria to the wellattested fact that the two terms (“Syria” and “Assyria”) were used more or less interchangeably from the eighth century onward in a variety of linguistic contexts.44 Others emphasize the continuity between Assyria

43 A notable exception that proves this general rule is the use of Isa 26:19 in Dan 12:2–3. Here the implications of linguistic and conceptual dependence have been thoroughly explored, primarily owing to the intense interest of previous scholarship in concepts of resurrection and their development. For a review, see Collins, Daniel, 394–98. 44 A longstanding debate has centered on the linguistic relationship between the terms “Assyria” and “Syria.” In the late nineteenth century Th. Nöldeke demonstrated the essential interchangeability of “Assyria” and “Syria” in Greek sources beginning in the seventh century b.c.e. and argued that the latter is a simple linguistic corruption of the former (“ΑΣΣΥΡΙΟΣ ΣΥΡΙΟΣ ΣΥΡΟΣ,” Hermes 5 [1881]: 443–68). In this view, he was supported in further detail by E. Schwartz (“Einiges über Assyrien, Syrien und Koilesyrien,” Philologus 86 [1931]: 373–99 [= Gesammelte Schriften, 2.240–69]

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of Isaiah’s day and the subsequent kingdoms of “the north”: the Babylonians, the Persians, and eventually the Seleucid rulers of the Hellenistic period.45 This perceived continuity can be attributed to a variety of factors: linguistic, geographic, political, socio-cultural, or some combination of these.46 In any case, the equation Assyria=Syria is well and “Noch einiges über Assyrien und Syrien,” Philologus 87 [1932]: 261–63 = Gesammelte Schriften, 2.270–72], P. Helm (‘Greeks’ in the Neo-Assyrian Levant and ‘Assyria’ in Early Greek Writers [Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1980]), and R. Frye (“Assyria and Syria: Synonyms,” JNES 51 [1992]: 281–85). For Frye, the equation has an ethnolinguistic origin, while Nöldeke and Schwartz had held that the term was originally geopolitical in reference; but all attributed the development to Greek perceptions in a Greek-speaking context. Against this supposition, F. Hitzig had long ago asserted that “wenn assyrisch im Occident für syrisch gesagt wird, so muss dieser Sprachgebrauch vorher im Orient gegolten haben” (Die Psalmen [Leipzig: C. F. Winter, 1865], 2:194), an intuition that has been substantiated by various lines of evidence in recent research. S. Parpola has demonstrated the interchangeability in late seventhcentury Aramaic documents from Assyria (“National and Ethnic Identity in the NeoAssyrian Empire,” JAAS 18 [2004]: 5–22, at 16–17), while R. Rollinger has recently shown the same in an eighth-century bilingual Hieroglyphic Luwian and Phoenician inscription discovered in Çineköy. This proves to his satisfaction that “the original linguistic and historical context was not a Greek or Assyrian one but the multilingual milieu of southern Anatolia and northern Syria at the beginning of the Iron Age” (R. Rollinger, “The Terms ‘Assyria’ and ‘Syria’ Again,” JNES 65 [2006]: 283–87, here 286). R. Steiner and K.Th. Zauzich, on the other hand, conjectured a transmission to Greek through Demotic Egyptian channels (“’Iš(w)r denotes not only Assyria proper, but also Syria=Aram”) (R. C. Steiner, “Why the Aramaic Script was Called ‘Assyrian’ in Hebrew, Greek, and Demotic,” OrNS 62 [1993]: 80–82 [here 81], who notes the change occurs already in the sixth century, and also in Middle Persian [82]). In any case, beginning in the eighth century, both “Assyria” and the shortened form “Syria” are used, whether as a toponym or an ethnonym, “to designate all lands speaking Aramaic, which had become the official language of the Assyrian empire and its successors” (V.A. Hurowitz, “Assyria,” in EDSS 1:68–69 [here 68]; cf. Pauly-Wissowa, RCA ii:4, 1549–50.). 45 “Als Assyrien konnte man das Reich des Seleukos bezeichnen, sofern es von Babylonien seinen Ausgang nahm und das Perserreich fortsetzte, wie dieses das babylonische, letzteres das assyrische, dann insofern es die eben deshalb syrisch gennanten Küstenstriche mit umfaßte. Beides läuft in dem einen zusammen, daß das Reich der Seleuciden den größten Theil der Territorien umspannte, welche einst dem Scepter des Assyrerkönigs unterworfen gewesen waren. Insofern das Reich des Seleukos von Babylonien aus seinen Ursprung nahm, kann es Assur genannt werden, den das babylonische Reich selbst wird als Fortsetzung des assyrischen mit diesem Namen belegt und das persische Reich gab sich als Fortsetzung des babylonischen.” B. Stade, “Deuterozacharja,” ZAW 2 (1882): 275–309 (here 291–92); cf. Hitzig, Psalmen, 194; Montgomery, Daniel, 436 seems to assume a similar solution. 46 Linguistic grounds have included either the defining importance of Aramaic or the derivation of the name As/Syria. Geographic grounds cited include the approximately coextensive domain of Assyrian and Seleucid empires. Political grounds include the fact that subsequent empires present themselves as a continuation of former empire (cf. the Cyrus Cylinder, or the self-styling of Nabonidus or Antiochus III as “King of Assyria”). Socio-cultural factors might include common cultural identity on the

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documented in many sources, possibly including biblical sources outside of Daniel.47 Although Assyrian political power ended with the fall of Nineveh in 612 b.c.e., a second-century Seleucid ruler could still be considered a “king of Assyria.” Thus, from this viewpoint, historical, geopolitical and/or linguistic realities are taken to account for the fact that passages about Assyria (say, Isaiah 8) are applied to Seleucid Syria (e.g., Daniel 11), whether by naïve confusion or deliberate extension.48 2.2. Exegetical A different order of explanation is exemplified by what may be called “exegetical” approaches. According to one such account, the use of Isaiah’s Assyria in Daniel 11 to portray the final enemy is best explained under the conceptual rubric of “midrash,” understood in a broad sense as a mode of Jewish exegesis aimed at “actualizing” the ancient scriptural text by interpretively relating it to events in the time of the reader.49 Others

basis of language, values, religion, etc. S. Parpola argues for a profound perception of continuity with Assyrian identity during the Babylonian and Achaemenid periods, continuing also into the Hellenistic era: “[B]y 600 b.c. the entire vastly expanded country shared the Assyrian identity, which essentially consisted of a common unifying language (Aramaic) and a common religion, culture, and value system. This identity persisted virtually unchanged and was converted into an ethnic identity in the Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid periods (600–330 b.c.)” (Parpola, “National and Ethnic Identity,” 5). 47 M. Görg lists several passages under the label “die Fiktion Assur,” “eine noch nach dem Untergang A[ssyria]s verwendete Bezeichnung für Babel (Klgl 5,6), für Persien (Esra 6:22); vgl. auch Mi 7:12 und Sach 10,10f.” (“Assyrien,” in Neues Bibel Lexikon, eds. M. Görg and W. Röllig [Zürich: Benziger, 1991], 1:190–93, here 191). O. Kaiser considers Assyria in Isa 19:23–25 and 27:13 to be a designation of the Seleucid state (Jesaja Kap. 13–39 [1983] 90, 186); cf. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 319. B. Stade, “Deuterozacharja,” 292 and Hitzig, Psalmen, 194 (cf. Hitzig, Daniel, 213) also include Ps 83:9 in this category. On Ezra 6:22, where Darius, King of Persia, is referred to by the title ‫מלך אשור‬, see the comments of Williamson: “If it is correct . . . then we must regard the phrase as a stereotyped description of a foreign ruler. . . . Although it was eventually Babylon who came to have this symbolic value in apocalyptic literature and elsewhere . . .” (Ezra-Nehemiah, 85–86; note the interesting alternative explanation of Blenkinsopp, Ezra-Neh, 133). 48 It is perhaps worth noting, however, that the “king of the north” in Daniel 11 is never explicitly designated ‫מלך אשור‬, as one might expect if this were indeed the primary link. 49 Working with a very broad phenomenological notion of “midrash,” I. L. Seeligmann asserted that “Die jüdische Exegese wurzelt sich im Midrasch und das Ziel des Midrasch ist, den Bibeltext zu aktualisieren, d.h. zu zeigen, dass das alte Bibelwort sich bezieht auf geschichtliche Ereignisse in der Zeit des Erklärers” (“Voraussetzungen,” 170). In a similar way, H. L. Ginsberg argued that these chapters contain a “complete

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suggest the vision of Daniel 10–12 should be understood as a “pesher” of Isaiah—again, using the term vaguely to signify “fulfillment interpretation” of some kind.50 In either case, the basic connection between Isaiah and Daniel is textual and exegetical—regardless of any additional role played by geography, politics, or linguistic realities—and it proceeds from the assumption that the ancient prophetic oracles refer to the contemporary circumstances of the later author. Regarding the background of this mode of interpretation and the motives underlying its application, reference is frequently made to profound religious crisis and persecution.51 On this assessment, then, it was specifically the

midrash” concerned primarily with interpreting the book of Isaiah and showing that events and figures in the Hellenistic era represent the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. He labels this material “Midrash Maskilim” (Ginsberg, ‫ הוספות ותיקונים‬:‫דניאל‬, 949). Neither Ginsberg nor Seeligmann are speaking of formal characteristics of a “genre,” per se, but rather a mode of textual engagement, an interpretive phenomenon (contrast Collins, FOTL: Daniel, 9–10, 100). Note, however, Silberman’s perspective that a fundamental distinction between rabbinic midrash and Qumran pesher turns on precisely the matter of actualization: “The striking difference between the Midrash and the Pesher is found not in structure but in the absence of the contemporizing content in the former” (L. H. Silberman, “Unriddling the Riddle: A Study in the Structure and Language of the Habakkuk Pesher,” RevQ 3 [1961]: 323–64, here 329). 50 “Might not the presentation in Daniel 11 actually be described as a pesher of Isaiah?” (von Rad, Theology, 2:314); cf. A. Szörényi, “Das Buch Daniel, ein kanonisierte Pescher?” in Volume du Congrès: Genève 1965 (Leiden: Brill, 1966), 278–94 (esp. 282); A. Mertens, Das Buch Daniel im Lichte der Texte vom Toten Meer (SBM 12; Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 1971); 114–41; O. H. Steck, “Weltgeschehen und Gottesvolk im Buche Daniel,” in Kirche: Festschrift für Günther Bornkamm zum 75. Geburtstag, eds. D. Lührmann and G. Strecker (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1980) 53–78 (esp. 68). Clearly “pesher” is not intended by these authors as a formal, generic description when applied to Daniel 11. It seems to serve, rather, to describe content, motive, or interpretive assumptions. On the latter, see K. Elliger’s classic description of the “ganz bestimmtes hermeneutisches Prinzip” underlying the Pesharim: “1. Prophetische Verkündigung hat zum Inhalt das Ende, und 2. Die Gegenwart ist die Endzeit” (Studien zum Habakuk-Kommentar vom Toten Meer [BHT 15; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1953], 150). For reflections on and reservations regarding “pesher” as a literary genre, see Brooke “Qumran Pesher: Towards the Redefinition of a Genre,” RQ 10 (1979–81): 483–503, esp. 503, and the insightful discussion of S. L. Berrin, “Qumran Pesharim,” in Biblical Interpretation at Qumran (ed. M. Henze; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 110–33. 51 “Dieses Bestreben zu aktualisieren erhält seine besondere Ausprägung in Zeiten von Krisis und Religionsverfolgung, wenn das Ende aller Dinge bevorzustehen scheint” (“Voraussetzungen,” 170). Ginsberg, too, linked the proliferation of midrashic activity to persecution: “Midrash of this sort, which we can designate ‘last days midrash’ (‫)מדרש אחרית הימים‬, whose clearest characteristic is that it interprets the words of the prophets as regarding contemporary events, was widespread during the persecution of Antiochus. It appears . . . that exegeses such as these were produced in great measure” (Ginsberg, ‫ הוספות ותיקונים‬:‫דניאל‬, 951–52).

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distress of persecution that led the later Danielic author to “believe he was experiencing what the prophets had prophesied” and to create the exegetical connection between former and latter days. Another exegetical account, similar in many ways, posits that the interpretation of Isaiah in Daniel is best understood as “mantological exegesis”—i.e., as the application of a mantic mode of exposition closely related to Mesopotamian divinatory wisdom.52 By this account, ancient prophetic texts were received as opaque omina, not unlike entrails, latent with symbolic data about future days to be decrypted by the mantic skills of the later textual haruspex. The exegetical identification of Assyria with Syria is nothing less than the interpretive decoding of a prophetic enigma or mystery; there need be no obvious connection, therefore, between the early and late referents, between eighth-century Assyria and Hellenistic Syria.53 According to M. Fishbane, a mantic approach to Isaiah’s Assyria oracles was encouraged by their perceived non-fulfillment; and the fact that Isaiah is depicted as “sealing up” his material and awaiting its fulfillment (Isa 8:16–17) provided further encouragement for the Danielic author to decode the true fulfillment in relation to events in his own day.54 In this way, a Hellenistic Syrian king falls heir to the doom prophecies of Assyria. In all these accounts, Daniel 10–12—whether labeled “midrash,” “pesher,” or “mantological exegesis”—is understood as essentially 52 Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 443–505. On the general background of mantological exegesis, see James C. VanderKam, “Mantic Wisdom in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” DSD 4 (1997): 336–53; H.-P. Müller, “Mantische Weisheit und Apokalyptik,” in Congress Volume: Uppsala 1971 (VTSup 22; Leiden: Brill, 1972), 268–93. Cf. J. Koenig, L’Herméneutique analogique du Judaïsme antique d’après les témoins textuels d’Isaïe (SVT 33; Leiden: Brill, 1982), esp. 44–45. 53 On the role of language and word play in mantic interpretation, however, see S. B. Noegel, Nocturnal Ciphers: The Allusive Language of Dreams in the Ancient Near East (AOS 89; New Haven, Conn.: American Oriental Society, 2007). 54 “[I]t is clear that the author of the apocalyptic scenario in Dan. 11 saw in Syria the fulfillment of old doom prophecies concerning Assyria. If it was the geographical proximity of these two historical states which helped foster his exegetical association, this could hardly have been the decisive factor. More significant, one may presume, was the fact that the great Isaianic oracles against Assyria had not yet been fulfilled. Indeed, the very fact that the latter prophecies had been sealed up (‫ )חתום‬among Isaiah’s disciples (Isa. 8:16b) while the prophet himself ‘awaited (‫ )וחכיתי‬yhwh who has hidden his face’ (v. 17a) may have had special relevance for our apocalyptic author— ֻ ; also v. 4) for a future time, who also sealed up a set of prophecies (cf. 12:9 ‫חתמים‬ and praised those faithful ones who would ‘await’ (12:12, ‫ )המחכה‬their fulfillment amid the purifying tribulations of their suffering (12:10, cf. 11:35)” (Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 491).

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exegetical in nature; it is concerned with the resolution of interpretive problems and the application of ancient texts to the present. As described by Fishbane, the primary interpretive problem is the failure of prophecy, the tension between prediction and reality.55 This then required that the “true” or “actual meaning” of the text be construed as pertaining to the future. He describes this act of reinterpretation in psychological terms as a “coping mechanism” for the cognitive dissonance resulting when steadfast belief in the divine truth of the oracle met with failed expectations. It is, thus, “remedial exegesis” designed to resolve “theological crisis.”56 Naturally, there are grounds for debate regarding the psychological or theological motivations driving the production of this material.57 But in any case it is important to distinguish between underlying motivations and the actual mechanics of the discourse. And in this connection, it must be recognized that the vision in Daniel 10–12 is not overtly presented as exegesis at all.58 This is not to say that the vision fails to reflect interpretations of earlier texts. But the presence of a pattern of borrowed locutions and allusive language does not necessarily translate into a claim regarding the “true meaning” of the referenced texts. To be sure, allusion can serve as a strategy to explain, interpret, or resolve a problem with a source text, and tex-

55 See also J. Wellhausen, “Zur apokalyptischen Literatur,” in Skizzen und Vorarbeiten (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1899), 215–49, here 226–27; R. P. Carroll, When Prophecy Failed: Reactions and Responses to Failure in the Old Testament Prophetic Traditions (New York: Seabury Press, 1979); D. S. Russell, The Method and Message of Jewish Apocalyptic, 200 b.c.–a.d. 100 (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1964), 181–83; Knibb (“Wiser than Daniel,” 404–5) also emphasizes non-fulfillment of prophecy as the generative force behind “mantological exegesis,” though he allows for alternative possibilities as well. 56 Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 524. 57 E.g., B. S. Childs, “Retrospective Reading of the Old Testament Prophets,” ZAW 108 (1996): 362–77; Henze, “Use of Scripture in Daniel,” 26. 58 Henze, “Use of Scripture in Daniel,” 18. General reservations of this kind regarding Fishbane’s predominantly ‘exegetical’ approach are also found in B. Sommer, A Prophet Reads Scripture: Allusion in Isaiah 40–66 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1998), 23, 214; Schultz, Search for Quotation, 226–27. Compare also J. Bergsma’s excellent “The Persian Period as Penitential Era: The ‘Exegetical Logic’ of Daniel 9.1–27,” in Exile and Restoration Revisited: Essays in Memory of Peter R. Ackroyd (ed. G. Knoppers and L. Grabbe; New York: Continuum / T&T Clark, 2009), 50–64, regarding the much misread Daniel 9 and its “exegetical logic” in relation to Jeremiah. A. Bedenbender (“Jewish Apocalypticism: A Child of Mantic Wisdom?” Henoch 24 [2002]: 189–96) expresses objections specifically to the notion of “mantological exegesis” as applied to Daniel and questions the validity of the comparisons with Mesopotamian materials. Note, however, the critique of M. Knibb, “Enoch Literature and Wisdom Literature,” Henoch 24 (2002): 197–203, esp. 198–99.

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tual borrowing may thus serve as a potential marker of exegesis. But this is only one possibility among many; the motives for and functions of allusion are numerous and diverse.59 What is clear in the present case is that distinct locutions applying in the book of Isaiah to eighthcentury Assyria are borrowed by the author of Daniel to portray a ruler arising centuries later. The present and future are depicted in the idiom of the past. It is an enormous deductive leap to move from this depiction to the claim that “prophecy does not refer to the past, and never did,” or that the prophetic oracles are, by force of psychological or religious distress, suddenly reanalyzed as cryptic omina requiring mantic elucidation.60 The effect of all this is to urge caution when attempting to categorize the nature and function of Daniel 10–12 as exegesis on the basis of the oblique and often subtle indirections of its allusive discourse. 3. Assyria in the Book of Isaiah Though each of these explanations contributes a unique and important facet to understanding the use of Isaiah in Daniel, I would argue that an additional perspective must also be taken into account. Geopolitical or linguistic factors surely played some role in this equation, yet they fail entirely to explain why Isaiah’s specific oracles regarding eighthcentury political and military events were seen as being “fulfilled” in events many centuries later; they only point to a mechanism for relating “Assyria” and “Syria.” The interpretive explanations emphasizing actualization (whether under the guise of “midrash” or “pesher”) have focused most of their efforts on describing motives or social conditions under which exegetical reapplication of earlier prophecies presumably occurred. Fishbane goes further with his “mantological” explanation by arguing that it was specifically the conviction that prior oracles remained unfulfilled that led to the identification with later events. But again, why would, say, the Assyrian threat in Isaiah 8 be perceived as unfulfilled? These previous explanations, I submit, largely fail to take into account the presentation of these materials within the book of Isaiah itself. For, in

59 For some attempts at a typology, see Schultz, Search for Quotation, 192–202; Sommer, A Prophet Reads Scripture, 18–20; Lyons, From Law to Prophecy, 110–45. 60 Russell, Method and Message of Jewish Apocalyptic, 181.

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a word, the broader compositional function of the Assyrian materials within the literary structure of the prophetic book already anticipates many of the later interpretive developments in Daniel.61 In this connection, it is telling that Fishbane describes the author of Daniel 10–12 as an “inheritor” of an “Isaianic fragment in the times of Seleucid oppression”; each text is a hermetically sealed, ominous communication, “cut loose from its original textual moorings” and awaiting decipherment through mantic procedures.62 Yet it is quite clear from the attested usage that the author of Daniel 10–12 was not working with free-floating Isaianic “fragments,” but rather a prophetic book: a complex composition in which a vast array of disparate materials have been brought together and arranged within the framework of overarching structures, arguments, and strategies. The literary design of the whole composition of Isaiah extends God’s judgment upon the people by the hand of Assyria far into the future on the basis of continued sin, while promising ultimate destruction of the enemy and salvation for the righteous among Israel. Though space precludes anything approaching a full treatment here, several aspects of this extension of judgment and future hope warrant specific mention in relation to the concerns of the present essay. One important means by which the scope of Isaiah’s oracles has been extended beyond their initial referent is through the reports of their being written down and “sealed” for a progressively distant future. In 8:16–17, Isaiah and his “children” are depicted as faithfully awaiting the fulfillment of the written word, presumably within his own lifetime. Isaiah 29:11–12 declares that, owing to continued obduracy, “the vision of all this” (‫ )חזות הכל‬is to become as a sealed book— unreadable and incomprehensible to the literate and illiterate alike, until the revelation of its contents. Again, in 30:8, the writing down of prophecy aims for a distant future day (‫ )ליום אחרון‬when the scroll itself must function as a witness in the place of the prophet.63 It is not difficult to see how these depictions in Isaiah of prophetic writing and sealing for the future, combined with the progressive extension of the

61 On this general point, note especially the reflections of R. Clements, “Patterns in the Prophetic Canon,” in Old Testament Prophecy: From Oracles to Canon, 191–202. 62 Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 489. 63 H. G. M. Williamson, “Hope under Judgement: The Prophets of the Eighth Century b.c.e.,” EQ 72 (2000): 291–306 (here 296).

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future envisioned within the book, might have shaped and guided the reuse of Isaianic material in Daniel 10–12.64 Secondly, it is widely recognized that prophetic words originally attached to a specific historical situation are extended and given broader application through repetition in the book Isaiah.65 Indeed, entire plotlines can be developed in this manner. We have noted above the logical sequence of the “plan” theme as deployed in the early chapters of Isaiah, always in connection with the role and fate of Assyria. Thus, just as the “plan” (‫ )עצה‬of the Syro-Ephraimite alliance is declared doomed in Isa 7:7 (“it shall not stand nor come to pass,” ‫ )לא תקום ולא תהיה‬in view of the Assyrian invasion, so also will the Assyrian stratagems against the people ultimately fail—a lesson for all “peoples and far off lands” (8:10, “plot a plot, it will be frustrated, speak a word, it will not stand!” [‫)]עצו עצה ותפר דברו דבר ולא יקום‬. Finally, God’s purpose to “shatter Assyria” is extended globally in the declaration of Isa 14:26–27. To cite it once more: This is the plan planned (‫ )העצה היעוצה‬against all the earth; and this is the hand that is stretched out (‫ )יד הנטויה‬against all the nations. For the Lord of Hosts has planned, so who can frustrate (‫ ?)יעץ ומי יפר‬And it is his hand that is outstretched, so who can turn it back (‫וידו הנטויה‬ ‫?)ומי ישיבנה‬

This crucial coda to oracles against Babylon/Assyria also represents the culmination of the refrain “in all this, his anger did not turn back, and his hand is still stretched out” (‫בכל זאת לא שב אפו ועוד ידו‬ ‫ נטויה‬5:25; 9:11, 16, 20; 10:4), whose repetition punctuates these early chapters and serves as a connecting thread between disparate oracles. In every previous occurrence, the phrase refers to God’s unrelenting judgment upon his own people, the conclusion of which is celebrated in the song of those restored from exile (cf. 11:11–16): “Your anger has turned (‫ )ישב אפך‬and you have comforted me” (12:1). In 14:26– 27, the conclusion of the next major unit—which, not coincidentally, 64 A point rightly emphasized by both Fishbane (Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 491) and Blenkinsopp (Opening the Sealed Book, 1–27). 65 See, e.g., Clements, “Prophecy as Literature: A Reappraisal,” in Old Testament Prophecy: From Oracles to Canon, 203–16; “The Immanuel Prophecy of Isaiah 7:10–17 and its Messianic Interpretation” (ibid., 65–77); and “Apocalyptic, Literacy, and the Canonical Tradition” (ibid., 173–81, here 177); Williamson,“Hope under Judgement,” 292. Consider also the names of the children Shear-yashub (7:3; 10:20–22; cf. 11:11, 16) and Immanuel (7:14; 8:8, 10), which are taken to designate both judgment and deliverance.

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stands at the head of Isaiah’s oracles against the nations—God’s anger has shifted to the nations, and the destruction of Assyria is subsumed under a larger plot of divine judgment upon “all the nations.”66 What is accomplished here by explicit declaration is achieved elsewhere by a variety of indirect strategies.67 In chapter 10, for example, the depiction of Assyria’s destruction is concluded in vv. 33–34 with the global language of bringing low the haughty developed in Isa 2:9–22. Assyria is thereby absorbed into a larger pattern and its destruction becomes an exemplary instance from which to extrapolate the destruction of all the proud.68 Similarly, the repeated image of “thorns and thistles” (‫ )שמיר ושית‬in Isa 5:6; 7:23–25; 9:17, which is initially used to depict the devastation wrought by Assyria, becomes an image of Assyria’s destruction in 10:17, and then a model for any potential aggressor in 27:7.69 There are still further means by which oracles originally related to Assyria are extended or shifted in their application within the composition of Isaiah. A classic (if difficult) example is found in the comment in 23:13: (“Behold the land of the Chaldeans! This is the people; it was not Assyria” (‫)הן ארץ כשדים זה העם לא היה אשור‬.70 A similar shift from Assyria to Babylon is achieved not only by the apparent reapplication of an oracle against Assyria to address Babylon in ch. 14 (see above), but also quite clearly by means of the parallel narratives of Ahaz (chapters 7–9) and Hezekiah (36–39), an important concern of which is the deferral of destruction to a later period.71 66 Thus, in the Oracles against the Nations, the “historical judgment of the Assyrians against Judah and Jerusalem in the 8th century (1–12) is seen to foreshadow a much more decisive, global assault (12–27)” (Seitz, “Isaiah,” 482). Cf. Seitz, “The Divine Council: Temporal Transition and New Prophecy in the Book of Isaiah,” JBL 109 (1990): 229–47, here 243. Compare also Isa 19:11–12, 17ff; 23:8–9, which describe God’s “plan” against Egypt first and then Tyre. 67 The formulation of the following argument owes much to Michael Lyons. 68 Clements notes a similar example in Isa 29:5–9 (“Interpretation of Prophecy and the Origin of Apocalyptic,” in Old Testament Prophecy: From Oracles to Canon, 182–88, here 186). 69 Clements, “Beyond Tradition-History: Deutero-Isaianic Development of First Isaiah’s Themes” (ibid., 78–92; cf. 147). 70 Reading against the masoretic accents. 71 P. R. Ackroyd, “Isaiah 36–39: Structure and Function,” in Von Kanaan bis Kerala: Festschrift für J. P. M. van der Ploeg (ed. W. C. Delsman et al.; AOAT 211; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1982), 3–21; repr. in Studies in the Religious Tradition of the Old Testament (London: SCM, 1987), 105–20. See also Jer 50:18 “Assuredly, thus said the LORD of Hosts, the God of Israel: I will deal with the king of Babylon and his land as I dealt with the king of Assyria.”

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Finally, as Clements has argued, the concept of a “decisive destruction” against “all the land” (‫כלה ונחרצה‬, Isa 10:23; 28:22) is best understood as relating literarily to the commissioning of Isaiah in chapter 6, particularly the answer to his query regarding the temporal extent of judgment (6:11–13).72 This question of the extent of judgment and its correlate, the timing and character of restoration, are clearly among the central issues driving the formation of the book.73 The “decisive destruction,” coextensive with the “outstretched hand” of divine anger and judgment, will culminate in the “end of wrath” (‫)כלה זעם‬, when the yoke of the arrogant oppressor, the erstwhile “rod of [divine] wrath,” is shattered (9:3; 10:26–27; 14:5, 25).74 The fact that, within the larger composition of Isaiah, restoration is progressively deferred and judgment extended far beyond that initially envisioned by the prophet cannot but have had a similar effect on the interpretation of this “decisive destruction” and its relationship to Assyria’s oppressive “yoke” among early readers.75 In view of these strategies in the composition of the prophetic book, it is hardly surprising that the fall of the final enemy in Daniel 11 is depicted in terms of Isaiah’s Assyria. By literary design and by explicit decree (Isa 14:26–27), eighth-century Assyria has been absorbed— already in Isaiah—into a larger, typological role in its capacity as the rod of divine wrath that is itself destined for destruction. As the period of divine judgment is extended historically and restoration deferred, so also is the identity of the agent of wrath expanded—not merely shifted. 72

Clements “Origin of Apocalyptic,” 184. J. Stromberg, Isaiah after Exile: The Author of Third-Isaiah as Reader and Redactor of the Book (Oxford Theological Monographs; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), esp. 160–74. 74 Clements argues that “Assyria” in Isa 10:24–27 “no longer refers to the imperial power of that name but has become a hidden code name for some later oppressor of Judah. The original situation has been adapted to a later age, probably a very much later one” (“Origin of Apocalyptic,” 176, with reference on 256 n. 13 to O. Kaiser, Isaiah 1–12, 244: “Assyria has become a code name for the world power.”). This extension is certainly possible here, but it is difficult to prove. The obvious connection with 9:3 (cf. 14:25) still fails to remove ambiguity on this point. 75 Cf. especially Isa 10:20–27 and Clements, “Origin of Apocalyptic.” As K. Marti commented on Isaiah 8, “Für Jesaja war Immanuel das Zeichen für die Rettung in der syrisch-ephraimitischen Not und erst nach derselben folgte das Gericht durch Assur; für den Glauben und die Theologie des späteren Judentums [Marti refers here to the later editors of Isa. 7 and 8] ging dem Kommen des Messias und das Heils der letzte Ansturm der Völker voran” (Das Buch Jesaja erklärt [KHC; Freiburg: Mohr Siebeck, 1900], 86). As this last phrase indicates, one is clearly not far from the world of Daniel 10–12 in the editorial presentation of Isaiah’s oracles in the book of Isaiah itself. 73

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Under the conception of a single plan of God governing the judgment and deliverance of his people, the historical particulars of Assyria’s role and fate become features of an archetype, a figure or pattern capable of extension well beyond the seventh-century demise of that empire.76 This allows for multiple historical empires and personalities to be subsumed under a single rubric; and it paves the way for later authors to discover and articulate new literary correspondences with Assyria, based not on genealogy but on functional continuity within the “plan” of God. Thus, this theological postulate sponsors the production of literary analogies with Assyria in subsequent literature.77 Indeed, the author of Daniel was neither the first nor the last to utilize Isaiah’s Assyria as a model for later antagonists.78 By means of its deeply allusive texture, then, the depiction of Hellenistic kings of the north in Daniel 11 presents a theological portrait of the latter day enemies of “the people who know their God”—a portrait that is grounded in the literary strategy and theology of the book called Isaiah.79 Such features of the literary presentation of the prophet and his message strike me as supplying essential evidence for understanding why Isaianic “Assyria” language came to be reused in the manner we find in the book of Daniel. They suggest that the author of Daniel is following hermeneutical trajectories inherent in the composition of his

76 On narrative typology, see Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 372–79; Y. Zakovitch, ‫ מה בין מדרש פנים־מקראי למדרש חוץ־‬:‫צבת בצבת עשויה‬ ‫( מקראי‬Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 2009), 132–44. 77 “[I]n a God-ordered world, analogical linkage reveals the shape of history past and to come with the same authority as it governs the contours of the plot in fiction. . . . [T]he moral coherence of the series luminously shows the hand of the divine serializer” M. Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1987), 114. 78 Note, for example, the portrayal of Gog of Magog in Ezekiel 38–39, which clearly evokes the model of Isaiah’s Assyria (cf. Bruce, “Earliest Old Testament Interpretation,” 38–39; Fishbane Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, 477; Tooman, “Transformations,” 72); or the depiction of the “Kittim” in the War Scroll (e.g. 1QM 11:11, “From of old you foretold the moment of the power of your hand against the Kittim: ‘Assyria will fall by the sword of no one, and the sword of nobody will devour it,’ [Isa 31:8]”); cf. Bruce, Biblical Exegesis, 72; Fishbane, “Use, Authority and Interpretation of Mikra at Qumran,” in Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity. (ed. M. J. Mulder and H. Sysling; CRINT 2/1; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1988), 339–77 (esp. 374); Hurowitz, “Assyria,” 69. 79 For similar reflections, see Lester, Daniel Evokes Isaiah, 94–95. For an alternative view regarding the theological representation of Antiochus IV, compare J. C. H. Lebram, “König Antiochus im Buch Daniel,” VT 25 (1975): 737–72.

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source. Since the reuse of imagery in Daniel is often perceived as based on “atomistic” exegesis, little attention is typically given to the larger compositional design of the sources. At least with respect to Isaiah, however, the final vision of Daniel appears to represent a much more careful and deliberate engagement with its sources than is usually accounted for. Rather than “atomistic,” the exegetical impulse reflected here seems precisely the opposite. This appears to be the product of studied reflection on a prophetic book (not fragment), with specific attention to its compositional logic—i.e., its structures and patterns, the linguistic shape of individual oracles, their textual sequence, their connection to parallel material, and so forth.80 Such is obviously not what is usually meant by “mantological exegesis.” To be sure, there are transformative strategies at work in the presentation of oracles in the source composition, Isaiah; these transformations and semantic extensions may be considered “mantic” inasmuch as they seek to uncover extended applications in ancient oracles.81 But the object of inquiry for the Danielic author is clearly much larger than the individual oracle. In sum, the literary composition of Isaiah has exerted pressure on its interpretive construal; this pressure is certainly as real a factor for understanding the use of Isaiah in Daniel as the psychological, social, or religious pressures that have been emphasized in previous studies.

80 I take this to be rather strong evidence against assertions like that of J. Barton: “A reading which tries to treat a large and complex book such as Isaiah as forming a closed, unitary whole bears little resemblance at all to the way scriptural books were read in ancient times, and owes much more to modern literary criticism than to ancient modes of understanding Scripture” (Oracles of God: Perceptions of Ancient Prophecy in Israel after the Exile [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986], 150; and similar reflections in “What is a Book? Modern Exegesis and the Literary Conventions of Ancient Israel,” in Intertextuality in Ugarit and Israel, [ed. J. C. de Moor; Leiden: Brill, 1998], 1–14). In this connection, his declaration that “[t]he theology and thought-forms of Second Temple Judaism are not just slightly different from the theology and thought-forms of the Old Testament, they represent a radically different system articulated on quite fresh lines” and that “[a]nyone who thinks Enoch, or even Daniel, is anything like Isaiah or Amos must be living in a quite different world of thought” (151) must be reconciled somehow with the critical consensus that “the prophetic books are essentially or even entirely post-exilic compositions” (Blenkinsopp, A History of Prophecy in Israel [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996], 9) (emphasis mine). 81 See Clements (“Origin of Apocalyptic,” 176–77; 183–88), who applies Fishbane’s label “mantological exegesis” to the editing and process of expansion of Isaiah itself, “in which one passage has provided a kernel upon which a series of further prophetic revelations has been built up” (188).

THE PARALLEL EDITIONS OF THE OLD GREEK AND MASORETIC TEXT OF DANIEL 5* Eugene Ulrich Then there are texts that appear to be either scriptural writings or slight modifications of them . . .; others occupy points on a spectrum leading from authoritative texts to writings intimately related to them, to works that cite authoritative books, to ones that only allude to scripture or employ scriptural language.1

James VanderKam has provided fundamental contributions as well as numerous insights to the study of the Scriptures, the Dead Sea Scrolls, and related religious writings of the Second Temple period.2 His statement above articulates the concept of a broad and gradated spectrum of types of composition encountered in this literature that—under the umbrella of “rewritten Scripture”—is one of the most important issues currently challenging Scrolls scholars. One set of writings that illustrates such a spectrum is the corpus of Danielic writings.3 In this * It is a pleasure to contribute this essay in honor of Professor James VanderKam, an ideal colleague and long-treasured friend. As a superb scholar and a beloved teacher, he has greatly advanced Jewish and Christian scholarship and immeasurably enriched the lives of generations of students. 1 James C. VanderKam, “To What End? Functions of Scriptural Interpretation in Qumran Texts,” in Studies in the Hebrew Bible, Qumran, and the Septuagint Presented to Eugene Ulrich (ed. Peter W. Flint, Emanuel Tov, and James C. VanderKam; VTSup 101; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 302–20, esp. 304. See also his “Questions of Canon Viewed through the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Canon Debate (ed. Lee M. McDonald and James A. Sanders; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2002), 91–109. 2 To list but a few of his major contributions: The Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (co-edited with Lawrence Schiffman; New York: Oxford University Press, 2000); The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity (co-authored with Peter Flint; San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2002); for the general public, The Dead Sea Scrolls Today (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), with translations into German, Italian, Japanese, Portuguese, Polish, and Danish; Enoch and the Growth of an Apocalyptic Tradition (CBQMS 16; Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1984); and The Book of Jubilees (2 vols.; CSCO 510–11; Scriptores Aethiopici 87–88; Leuven: Peeters, 1989). 3 For the editions of the scriptural scrolls of Daniel, see Eugene Ulrich, DJD 16:239– 89 and The Biblical Qumran Scrolls: Transcriptions and Textual Variants (VTSup 134; Leiden: Brill, 2010), 755–75; for discussion, see idem, “The Text of Daniel in the Qumran Scrolls,” in The Book of Daniel: Composition and Reception (ed. John J. Collins and

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chapter I will cursorily review the scrolls containing Daniel-related traditions and then focus on the phenomenon even within biblical texts: the two parallel editions of Daniel 5 attested in the OG and the MT. In addition to the seven mss of the full scriptural book of Daniel, the Scrolls provide a trajectory of Danielic literature: evidence of possible earlier sources for the book, as well as compositions beyond the book. The Prayer of Nabonidus (4Q242) is widely accepted as a probable source for chapter 4 of Daniel. The small ms 4QDane (4Q116), which most likely contained only the prayer of Dan 9:4–19,4 may provide evidence of another source, a separate prayer that was taken and incorporated into chapter 9.5 Alternatively, it may simply be an “excerpted” ms drawn from the completed book. Esther Eshel suggests, in addition to the Prayer of Nabonidus, that Historical Text A (4Q248; formerly Acts of a Greek King) and column 2 of a Book of Giants manuscript (4Q530) may also have served as sources of the book of Daniel.6 Pseudo-Daniela–c (4Q243–245), and possibly Four Kingdomsa–c (4Q552–553a), represent developments of the wider Danielic traditions, partly similar to the biblical book but also showing differences, especially in the broader scope of Israelite history surveyed.7 But the spectrum is not simply “sources–Scripture–developments”; within the scriptural text itself, there is “rewritten Scripture,” that is, rewritten versions of Daniel 4–6.

Peter W. Flint; Formation and Interpretation of Old Testament Literature 2.2; VTSup 83.2; Leiden: Brill, 2001), 573–85. For editions of the non-scriptural Daniel scrolls see Collins, DJD 22:83–93, and Collins and Flint, DJD 22:95–151; for extensive treatment see Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993); and Flint, “The Daniel Tradition at Qumran,” in The Book of Daniel, 329–67. 4 4QDane survives in only seven small fragments with parts of 9:12–17; it is the only Qumran attestation of chapter 9. Its small number of lines per column, estimated at only nine, plus the large size of the letters suggests that it contained only the prayer, in five columns. If it were to contain the entire Book of Daniel, it would require ca. 120 columns; see DJD 16:287 and Pl. XXXVII, and Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 347–48. 5 See similarly inserted prayers in Daniel 3: The Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Youths, as well as prayers inserted elsewhere: e.g., Hannah’s prayer in 1 Samuel 2, and David’s song of thanksgiving in 2 Samuel 22. 6 Esther Eshel, “Possible Sources of the book of Daniel,” in The Book of Daniel, 387–94. 7 Scholars have suggested that other compositions, such as the Aramaic Apocryphon (4Q246 apocrDan ar), an Apocalypse in Aramaic on papyrus (4Q489 papApocalypse ar), and another entitled Daniel-Susanna? (4Q551 Account ar, olim DanSuz? ar) were related to the book of Daniel, but the suggestions no longer find favor.

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Though there is a rich Danielic tradition in the centuries leading up to the “Great Divide,”8 the roots go back much earlier. The ca. fourteenth century b.c.e. Canaanite Tale of Aqhat from Ugarit features Danel as a just and wise man, father of Aqhat. Ezekiel (14:14, 20; 28:3) also mentions as early as the sixth century b.c.e. such an already legendary and presumably well-known wise and righteous man. Especially the latter is commonly seen “as the literary ancestor of the hero” of the biblical book.9 It is easy to see why stories such as Susanna and Bel and the Dragon also employed the figure of Daniel as their hero. While preparing the translation of Daniel for the New Revised Standard Version and reflecting on how to establish the text that was to be translated, I noticed the phenomenon of “double literary editions” in Daniel as well as in other biblical books.10 These double literary editions posed a significant question for producing a single-text Bible. In light of the refinements and additional examples of variant editions gained in the intervening two decades, it seems useful to work out in textual detail here my earlier general impressions of these parallel editions. Whereas most variant editions are successive “new and expanded editions,” that is not the situation encountered when comparing the two main witnesses, the MT and the OG, for chapters 4–6. Rather, although for much of chapters 1–2 and 7–12 the MT and OG

8 The term denotes the watershed in the production of Scripture: between the earlier period of developmental composition while the Second Temple stood, and the later period of the single form (not “standardized”) of the Scriptures when further development was not allowed. The time cannot be precisely determined but is sometime between the First Revolt (66–73 c.e.) and the Second Revolt (132–135 c.e.) but not much later. See Shemaryahu Talmon, “The Crystallization of the ‘Canon of Hebrew Scriptures’ in the Light of Biblical Scrolls from Qumran,” in The Bible as Book: The Hebrew Bible and the Judaean Desert Discoveries (ed. E. D. Herbert and E. Tov; London: The British Library and Oak Knoll Press, 2002), 5–20, esp. 14. For the claim that the MT was not “standardized” but rather was a single form of each book abruptly stopped from further development after the Great Divide, see Eugene Ulrich, “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 Grossman; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 145–61. 9 See W. Sibley Towner, “Daniel,” NIDB 2:13. 10 “Double Literary Editions of Biblical Narratives and Reflections on Determining the Form to be Translated,” in Perspectives on the Hebrew Bible: Essays in Honor of Walter J. Harrelson (ed. James L. Crenshaw; Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1988), 101–16; repr., in Ulrich, The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Origins of the Bible (Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 34–50. See also Dean O. Wenthe, “The Old Greek Translation of Daniel 1–6” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Notre Dame, 1991). The present study is my long-delayed, fresh analysis for Dan 5.

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display the same edition,11 for chapters 4–6 they display parallel variant editions.12 It appears that both the MT and the OG are “new and expanded editions” for these chapters, not in comparison with each other, but insofar as they are separate, parallel expansions of a common narrative core which had served as an earlier form of the story (see Appendix below). Thus, we find editorial and scribal creativity not only prior to and subsequent to the biblical book, but we find it also within the biblical book. This is the phenomenon I wish to analyze in this essay. For our purposes here we can pass over in silence considerations of orthography and minor commonplace variants,13 such as routine additions14 and ketîb-qerê;15 the only emendation of the MT below is the excision of the dittography in ‫( מנא מנא‬5:25), which may or may not have been influenced by the ‫ מנא מנה‬in the following verse.16 In the texts provided in the Appendix, the central column lists the words common to both the MT and the OG: words in the MT that

11 Chapter 3 is complicated. The edition with Susanna, Bel and the Dragon, and the Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Jews attested by the OG and Theodotion should be considered an expanded edition. 12 The distinct character of chapters (3)4–6 had already been recognized by August Bludau in Die alexandrinische Übersetzung des Buches Daniel und ihr Verhältnis zum massorethischen Text (BibS 2/2–3; Freiburg im Bresgau: Herder, 1897). Bludau’s analysis was confirmed by James A. Montgomery in The Book of Daniel (ICC; New York: Scribner’s, 1927), 35–39, who concluded that the Greek translator “worked faithfully word by word, especially in the obscure passages” (36). Montgomery’s notes provide “considerable evidence for a translation from a Sem[itic] copy which is responsible for much of the additions, largely midrash, now in [the OG]” (37). For detailed postQumran textual discussions, see Louis F. Hartman and Alexander A. Di Lella, The Book of Daniel (AB; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1978), 74–83; Sharon Pace, Daniel (Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary; Macon, Ga.: Smyth & Helwys, 2008), 11–13; and especially Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 3–7. 13 I have studied the orthography of the two larger scrolls (4QDana, b) in comparison with the MT in Scrolls and Origins, 148–62, and listed the individual textual variants for all eight of the scriptural scrolls vis-à-vis the MT, the OG, and Theodotion in The Biblical Qumran Scrolls, 755–75, and in “The Text of Daniel,” 575–79. 14 E.g., the MT adds “Belshazzar” (5:2), “king” (5:5), “the diviners” (5:7–8), and “Chaldean” (5:30); the OG adds “opposite King Belshazzar” (5:5), “and fears” (5:6), “all” (5:23), and “the king” (5:29). 15 Both the consistent qerê ‫ =( המניכא‬OG μανιάκην) and the ketîb ‫( המונכא‬5:7, 16, 29) have much of the word correctly; both should probably be emended to ‫המינכא‬ (< hamya–(ha)naka), according to Franz Rosenthal, A Grammar of Biblical Aramaic (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1961), §189 59. 16 For ‫ מנא‬as a dittography see Montgomery, The Book of Daniel, 262, and Collins, Daniel: A Commentary, 250. See similar dittographies in the MT at 2 Sam 6:2 (‫שם‬ ‫ )שם‬and 6:3–4.

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are faithfully translated in the OG. The OG is a translation—closer to free than to literal, but nonetheless faithful—that reflects an Aramaic text that was close to the MT for most of the book but that was simply different from the MT for chapters 4–6.17 In the “MT Pluses” column are words that seem distinctive and at variance from (the Semitic Vorlage of ) the OG, whereas in the “OG Pluses” column are words not found in the MT that the OG translates presumably faithfully from its non-Masoretic Vorlage.18 Thus, the claim of this essay is that the central column of the Appendix contains an earlier, no longer extant, complete core form of the story of Belshazzar’s feast that served as the basis for the two separate, more developed forms of the story transmitted in the MT and in the OG. To that common narrative core the MT and the OG (Vorlage) each added or emphasized distinctive storytelling embellishments to produce their divergent editions.19 In the few seemingly missing spots, especially at verse 9, the core narrative was replaced in both by their distinctive expansions.20 17 For most of the book, the OG shows a free but faithful translation of a Semitic parent text quite similar to the MT. The OG also shows no internal difference in chapters 4–6 from its translation style in the rest of the book. Thus, it should be considered a free but faithful translation of a Semitic parent text that was simply at variance with the MT for the stories in chapters 4–6. The ubiquitous pluralism visible in virtually all scriptural mss and in numerous quotations during the Second Temple period provides a solid basis for a divergent Vorlage. 18 In most cases where it can be determined, the “new and expanded edition” of various books was created at the Hebrew-Aramaic stage, not the Greek stage; see Ulrich, Scrolls and Origins, 42–44. 19 In claiming that the OG of chapter 5 is an intact, and even expanded, edition, I differ from Montgomery (The Book of Daniel, 267), who speaks of it as “considerably abbreviated” in comparison with the MT, a “curtailment,” “a distinct toning down,” and in “no respect . . . preferable” to the MT. He thinks that “it appears to be an intentional abstract. There are but slight clews [sic] suggesting that [OG’s] Semitic text was in like abstract form” (ibid.). In light of evidence, however, such as 4QJerb, 4QDeutq, and 4QSama, and Montgomery’s statement above (n. 12) about “considerable evidence for a translation from a Sem[itic] copy which is responsible for much of the additions,” the claim remains plausible. 20 The complete texts of the MT, the OG, and the core narrative are printed, but at certain points they are shortened by omitting unnecessary words. These symbols are used in the columns: • italics denote words that occur in or are presumed by both traditions, with minor changes due to translation technique or narrative adjustment • ( ) in the Core column denotes a similar expression probably in the original because both MT and OG use it • ( ) in the MT and OG “Pluses” columns marks words already in the Core • [ ] refers to occurrences in a different verse • . . . marks the absence of unnecessary words • Ñ marks the point of insertion for an addition

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Note in the MT and OG “Pluses” columns the distinguishing storytelling embellishments or favorite quasi-Homeric formulae, many of which are more developed in the MT: • the king and his lords and concubines in the MT (1, 2, 3, 9, 10, 23) in contrast to simply his companions in the OG • the gods of gold and silver in the MT (4, 23) in contrast to the idols made with human hands in the OG • more emphasis on royal grandeur in the MT (“the royal palace” 5; “O King, live forever” 10; “gave a command” 29; “proclamation was made” 29) • emphasis in the OG on Daniel’s God (2, 4, 23) • the MT formula: “read the writing and make known the interpretation” vs. the OG “explain the meaning of the writing” (7, 8, 15, 16, 17, 26) • “the spirit of the holy gods” in the MT, not in the OG (11, 14) • various formulations for the diviners and enchanters (7, 8, 11) • the dominant differences: the different reactions of the king, and the expanded speeches Different reactions of the king distinguish the two editions. When the king sees the writings (6), in the OG he naturally gets up quickly and watches the writing, and his companions talk excitedly. In the MT, however, his fearfulness is caricatured, with his knees knocking and with a possible euphemism, his hip-joints or loins loosening. Moreover, though the core narrative relates one time that the king’s face turns pale (6), the MT repeats that fearful reaction twice more (9, 10). The largest expansions, however, are the major speeches by the main characters in vv. 10–24, nearly half the chapter. In the OG the queen briefly reminds the king about the wise Daniel. In the MT she gives an extended speech (10–12); the king, in turn, summoning Daniel, gives an extended introductory speech (13–16), to which Daniel replies with a rather insolent, extended accusatory speech (17–24). The OG adds mainly natural story-telling embellishments, whereas the MT is more expanded with stock formulae and especially lengthy rhetorical speeches by the queen, Belshazzar, and finally Daniel. Thus, subsequent to the one or more scrolls preserved at Qumran that may have served as a source for the book of Daniel, and prior to several more eschatologically developed compositions beyond the scriptural book, there are four variant editions that can be traced

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207

within the biblical book itself. We have seen that the MT of chapter 5 is significantly longer than the OG, producing a somewhat different version of the story. The converse also happens, though space does not permit demonstration: in chapters 4 and 6 the OG is longer than the MT. The least that can be said is that the profile of the three chapters is not consistent. Rather, an analogous process of new and expanded editions produced the different forms of the three chapters. To an earlier core narrative of the three chapters, numerous insertions were added: both minor routine additions and especially larger narrative embellishments that enhanced the stories. Thus, four variant editions of the scriptural Daniel can be distinguished: 1.

the edition logically deduced, though no longer preserved, as the necessary basis for the subsequent pair of parallel editions in chapters 4–6; 2–3. the two parallel editions that can be labeled 2α (the expanded edition in [the Vorlage of ] the OG for 4–6) and 2‫( א‬the expanded edition in the MT for 4–6); 4. the longer edition of the book with the “Additions” (the Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Jews, Susanna, and Bel and the Dragon). With regard to chapters 4–6, for edition 1 there is no ms attestation that survives. For edition 2α the only attestation is in the OG (preserved only in ms 88, Papyrus 967, and the Syro-Hexapla). Edition 2‫ א‬appears in the MT and, to judge from the few remaining variants, in 4QDana, 4QDanb, and 4QDand.21 The final, longer edition of the book, with the “Additions” in chapter 3 and the extra chapters, appears in the OG and Theodotion (and their non-surviving Semitic Vorlagen?); in contrast, 1QDanb and 4QDand attest to the shorter edition 2 as opposed to the longer edition, since they both preserve 3:23 followed immediately by 3:24 without the Prayer and Song. The remaining scrolls, 1QDana, 4QDanc, 4QDane, and 6QpapDan, are not extant for passages where their affiliation could be determined.

21 These scrolls often have individual variants in agreement with the OG that are minor additions beyond the MT, but for the edition they seem to agree with the MT.

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Finally, it should not pass without observation that all the textual copies of the book of Daniel are free of “sectarian variants.” Although the final form of the twelve-chapter book was composed in the turbulent period of the Hellenistic crisis—the general time period in which various Jewish parties, such as the Pharisees and the Essenes, were defining themselves and the Qumran experiment eventually began— none of the variants betray “sectarian” tampering. Moreover, our surviving manuscripts were copied during the following couple centuries, when it must have been tempting to add or revise phrases advantageous to the group producing the copies. But even though clear expansion can be detected at the levels of orthography, individual textual variants (mainly the addition of predictable, neutral words),22 and literary editions, there is no sign of “sectarian” manipulation.”23 The various groups argued and debated vigorously between themselves, and probably even within their own ranks, but the evidence shows that all debate took place outside, not within, the text of the Scriptures.24 Conclusion Insofar as the analysis above is correct, the OG of Daniel 5 and the MT of that chapter represent two separate, parallel editions of that narrative. The most cogent explanation seems to be that there was an earlier version of the narrative that was shorter than the preserved forms and that the OG (or probably the Aramaic Vorlage of the OG) expanded the narrative in certain ways, whereas the precursor of the

22

See notes 13–15 above. See 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.; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), 107–19; and 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. Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov; London: The British Library and Oak Knoll Press, 2002), 179–95. 24 The single exception noted thus far does not occur in the Scrolls but in the SPOG-OL and the MT: the placement of Joshua’s altar. In my view 4QJosha, supported by Josephus and Pseudo-Philo, attests the early, neutral account of an altar built at Gilgal, whereas the SP-OG-OL secondarily transfers the altar to Mount Gerizim, and the MT then at a third stage rejects Mount Gerizim, replacing it with the improbable Mount Ebal. The latter two moves would thus be sectarian variants, but not in the scrolls; see Ulrich, Scrolls and Origins, 28. 23

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209

MT expanded it even more fully with different insertions.25 It seems quite unlikely that either would have been produced by excising the pluses in the other.26 What is the larger picture gained, when this small study of the Danielic trajectory of traditions—the sources behind the book (e.g., Prayer of Nabonidus), the variant editions of the book itself, and the subsequent compositions (e.g., Pseudo-Daniela–c)—is joined with the results of the other variant editions of biblical books? The combined manuscript evidence from preserved Qumran sources and other sources preceding the “Great-Divide” (e.g., the Samaritan Pentateuch, the Septuagint, quotations of the Law and the Prophets in the New Testament, the recasting of the biblical narrative in Josephus) sketches a tapestry of developmental composition of the Bible. Based on a variety of oral and written literary sources, the early forms of the biblical texts were composed by Israelite leaders reflecting on God’s action in human affairs. Due to various historical, social, military, or religious changes, the different sets of traditions were intermittently transformed into what we can loosely term “new and expanded editions” of those compositions. The written forms of these compositions were copied as faithfully as possible for new generations until the next edition was produced for analogous reasons. The evidence demonstrates that the evolutionary changes, different for

25 Frank Moore Cross and Shemaryahu Talmon were two of the early, influential contributors to the theory of the history of the biblical text in light of the scrolls. Cross (“The Evolution of a Theory of Local Texts,” in Qumran and the History of the Biblical Text [ed. F. M. Cross and S. Talmon; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1975], 306–20) had suggested a theory of local texts (Palestine, Egypt, and Babylon). Talmon (“The Old Testament Text,” in The Cambridge History of the Bible [ed. P. R. Ackroyd and C. F. Evans; 3 vols.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970], 1.159–99; repr. in Qumran and the History, 1–41) rather offered a socioreligious explanation: that, of the many forms circulating, the rabbis inherited one set of texts (the MT) after the fall of the Temple, while the Christians inherited another (the LXX). Both theories are correct and helpful to a certain extent. The two parallel editions must have developed in different circles at different times; it is quite unlikely that the same group produced both. Also, the rabbis did receive the MT form of Daniel 5, while the Christians eventually received the OG form. But neither view provides a full, causal explanation. There is no indication in the editions to link them with any particular locality; they could have been produced anywhere, even in neighboring towns or in the same town by different groups. Nor is there any theological, groupspecific, or other sectarian clue (other than language) to suggest why the rabbis or the Christians would have chosen their particular edition. Hopefully the theory of variant literary editions comes one step closer to explaining the evidence for Daniel. 26 Montgomery, The Book of Daniel, 267.

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each book or group of books, continued sporadically up to the “Great Divide.” The evolutionary process continued through the late Second Temple period until it was abruptly frozen (not “standardized”) by the results of the two Jewish Revolts and the religious threat of early Christianity.

‫‪old greek and masoretic text of daniel 5‬‬

‫‪211‬‬

‫‪APPENDIX‬‬

‫‪MT Pluses‬‬

‫לרברבנוהי אלף‬ ‫ולקבל אלפא‬ ‫בלשאצר ‪+‬‬

‫‪Core Narrative‬‬

‫‪ 1‬בלשאצר מלכא‬ ‫עבד לחם רב‬ ‫חמרא שתה׃‬ ‫‪ Ñ 2‬אמר‬ ‫בטעם חמרא‬ ‫להיתיה למאני דהבא‬ ‫וכספא‬ ‫די הנפק נבוכדנצר אבוהי‬ ‫מן היכלא די בירושלם‬ ‫וישתון בהון‬

‫מלכא ורברבנוהי‬ ‫שגלתה ולחנתה׃‬

‫‪OG Pluses‬‬

‫‪τοῖς ἑταίροις αὐτοῦ‬‬

‫‪τοῦ οἴκου τοῦ θεοῦ . . .‬‬ ‫‪ἀπὸ Ιερουσαλημ‬‬ ‫‪τοῖς ἑταίροις αὐτοῦ‬‬

‫‪ 3‬באדין היתיו‬ ‫מאני דהבא די הנפקו‬ ‫מן היכלא‬ ‫די בית אלהא די‬ ‫בירושלם‬ ‫ואשתיו בהון‬ ‫מלכא ורברבנוהי‬ ‫שגלתה ולחנתה׃‬ ‫‪ 4‬אשתיו חמרא‬

‫‪4‬‬

‫ושבחו לאלהי‬ ‫‪τὰ χειροποίητα αὐτῶν‬‬

‫דהבא וכספא נחשא‬ ‫פרזלא‬ ‫אעא ואבנא׃‬ ‫‪καὶ τὸν θεὸν τοῦ‬‬ ‫‪αἰῶνος‬‬ ‫‪οὐκ εὐλόγησαν τὸν‬‬ ‫‪ἔχοντα‬‬ ‫‪τὴν ἐξουσίαν τοῦ‬‬ ‫‪πνεύματος αὐτῶν.‬‬

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Table (cont.) OG Pluses

Core Narrative

MT Pluses

‫ בה שעתה נפקו אצבען‬5 ‫די יד אנש וכתבן לקבל‬ ‫נברשתא‬ ‫על גירא די כתל‬ ‫היכלא די מלכא‬

τοῦ οἴκου αὐτοῦ ἔναντι τοῦ βασιλέως Βαλτασαρ

+καὶ ὑπόνοιαι

‫ חזה פס‬Ñ ‫ידה די כתבה׃‬ ‫ אדין מלכא זיוהי שנוהי‬6 ‫ יבהלונה‬Ñ‫ורעינהי‬

+ ‫ומלכא‬

‫וקטרי חרצה משתרין‬ ‫וארכבתה דא לדא‬ ‫נקשן׃‬ ἔσπευσεν οὖν ὁ βασιλεὺς καὶ ἐξανέστη καὶ ἑώρα τὴν γραφὴν ἐκείνην, καὶ οἱ συνέταιροι κύκλῳ αὐτοῦ ἐκαυχῶντο. + καὶ φαρμακοὺς ἀπαγγεῖλαι τὸ σύγκριμα τῆς γραφῆς. καὶ εἰσεπορεύοντο ἐπὶ θεωρίαν ἰδεῖν τὴν γραφήν, καὶ τὸ σύγκριμα τῆς γραφῆς οὐκ ἠδύναντο συγκρῖναι τῷ βασιλεῖ. ἐξέθηκε πρόσταγμα λέγων

‫ קרא מלכא בחיל להעלה‬7 ‫ כשדיא וגזריא‬Ñ‫לאשפיא‬

‫מלכא‬ (‫)אמר‬

‫ענה‬ ‫ואמר‬ ‫לחכימי בבל די‬

ὑποδείξῃ

‫כל אנש די‬ (‫)יקרא‬

‫יקרה כתבה דנה‬ ‫ופשרה יחונני‬

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213

Table (cont.) OG Pluses

Core Narrative

MT Pluses

τὸ σύγκριμα τῆς γραφῆς,

οἱ ἐπαοιδοὶ καὶ φαρμακοὶ καὶ γαζαρηνοὶ, τὸ σύγκριμα τῆς γραφῆς ἀπαγγεῖλαι.

‫ארגונא ילבש‬ ‫והמונכא די דהבא על‬ ‫צוארה‬ ‫ותלתי במלכותא ישלט׃‬ ‫ אדין עללין‬8 (‫)חכימיא‬ ‫ולא כהלין‬ (‫)למקרא‬

‫כל חכימי מלכא‬

‫כתבא למקרא ופשרא‬ ‫להודעה‬ ‫למלכא׃‬

‫ אדין מלכא‬9 ‫בלשאצר שגיא מתבהל‬ ‫וזיוהי שנין עלוהי‬ ‫ורברבנוהי משתבשין׃‬ ἐκάλεσε τὴν βασίλισσαν περὶ τοῦ σημείου καὶ ὑπέδειξεν αὐτῇ, ὡς μέγα ἐστί, καὶ ὅτι πᾶς ἄνθρωπος οὐκ ἐδύνατο ἀπαγγεῖλαι τῷ βασιλεῖ τὸ σύγκριμα τῆς γραφῆς.

(?‫)קרא‬

‫ מלכתא‬10

ἐμνήσθη πρὸς αὐτὸν περὶ τοῦ ∆ανιηλ, ὅς ἦν ἐκ τῆς αἰχμαλωσίας τῆς Ιουδαίας,

(‫)ואמרת‬ (‫)דניאל‬

‫לקבל מלי מלכא‬ ‫ורברבנוהי‬ ‫לבית משתיא עללת‬ ‫ענת מלכתא‬ ‫ואמרת מלכא לעלמין‬ ‫חיי‬ ‫אל יבהלוך רעיונך‬ ‫וזיויך אל ישתנו׃‬ [= MT 12]

‫‪eugene ulrich‬‬

‫‪214‬‬ ‫)‪Table (cont.‬‬

‫‪Core Narrative‬‬

‫‪MT Pluses‬‬ ‫‪11‬‬

‫גבר‬

‫איתי )גבר(‬

‫במלכותך‬ ‫די רוח אלהין קדישין‬ ‫בה‬ ‫וביומי אבוך‬ ‫נהירו )ושכלתנו‬ ‫וחכמה(‬ ‫כחכמת אלהין‬ ‫השתכחת בה‬ ‫ומלכא נבכדנצר אבוך‬ ‫)רב חרטמין(‬ ‫אשפין כשדאין גזרין‬ ‫הקימה‬ ‫אבוך מלכא׃‬

‫ושכלתנו וחכמה‬

‫רב חרטמין‬

‫‪OG Pluses‬‬ ‫‪11 καὶ εἶπε τῷ βασιλεῖ‬‬ ‫)‪(Ὁ ἄνθρωπος‬‬

‫]‪[= OG 12‬‬ ‫‪(ἐπιστήμων ἦν καὶ‬‬ ‫)‪σοφὸς‬‬ ‫‪(καὶ ὑπερέχων πάντας‬‬ ‫)‪τοὺς σοφοὺς‬‬ ‫‪Βαβυλῶνος,‬‬

‫‪ 12‬כל קבל די רוח יתירה‬ ‫‪ . . .‬בה‬ ‫‪καὶ ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις‬‬ ‫‪τοῦ πατρός σου‬‬ ‫‪τοῦ βασιλέως‬‬

‫]‪[= MT 11‬‬

‫ומנדע ושכלתנו‬ ‫מפשר חלמין‬ ‫ואחוית אחידן )ומשרא‬ ‫קטרין(‬ ‫השתכחת בה בדניאל‬ ‫די מלכא‬ ‫שם שמה בלטשאצר‬ ‫כען דניאל יתקרי‬ ‫ופשרה יהחוה׃‬

‫ומשרא קטרין‬ ‫‪(συγκρίματα ὑπέρογκα‬‬ ‫)‪ὑπέδειξε‬‬ ‫]‪[= OG 10‬‬ ‫‪Ναβουχοδονοσορ τῷ‬‬ ‫‪πατρί σου.‬‬

‫‪ 13‬באדין דניאל העל קדם‬ ‫מלכא‬ ‫ענה מלכא ואמר לדניאל‬ ‫אנתה הוא דניאל די‬ ‫מן בני גלותא‬ ‫די יהוד די היתי מלכא‬ ‫אבי מן יהוד׃‬ ‫‪14‬‬ ‫‪ 14‬ושמעת עליך די‬ ‫רוח אלהין בך‬ ‫ונהירו ושכלתנו וחכמה‬ ‫יתירה‬ ‫השתכחת בך׃‬

‫‪215‬‬

‫‪old greek and masoretic text of daniel 5‬‬ ‫)‪Table (cont.‬‬ ‫‪Core Narrative‬‬

‫‪MT Pluses‬‬

‫‪ 15‬וכען העלו קדמי‬ ‫חכימיא אשפיא‬ ‫די כתבה דנה יקרון‬ ‫ופשרה להודעתני‬ ‫ולא כהלין פשר מלתא‬ ‫להחויה׃‬ ‫‪ 16‬ואנה שמעת עליך ‪16‬‬ ‫די תוכל‬ ‫פשרין למפשר‬ ‫וקטרין למשרא‬ ‫תוכל‬ ‫כען הן )תוכל(‬

‫‪OG Pluses‬‬

‫‪15‬‬

‫כתבא למקרא‬ ‫ופשרה להודעתני‬

‫)למקרא(‬

‫ארגונא תלבש‬ ‫והמונכא די דהבא על‬ ‫צוארך‬ ‫ותלתא במלכותא תשלט׃‬ ‫‪ 17‬באדין ‪ . . .‬דניאל‬

‫)ענה דניאל ואמר קדם‬ ‫מלכא(‬

‫)‪Ὦ ∆ανιηλ, (δύνῃ‬‬ ‫‪μοι ὑποδεῖξαι‬‬

‫ענה )דניאל( ואמר קדם‬ ‫מלכא‬

‫מתנתך לך להוין‬ ‫ונבזביתך לאחרן הב‬ ‫ברם כתבא‬ ‫אקרא למלכא‬ ‫ופשרא אהודענה׃‬ ‫‪ 18‬אנתה מלכא אלהא עליא‬ ‫מלכותא ורבותא ויקרא והדרה יהב לנבכדנצר אבוך׃‬ ‫‪ 19‬ומן רבותא די יהב לה כל עממיא אמיא ולשניא‬ ‫הוו זאעין‬ ‫ודחלין מן קדמוהי די הוה צבא הוא קטל ‪ . . .‬הוה‬ ‫מחא ‪. . .‬‬ ‫הוה מרים ‪ . . .‬הוה משפיל׃‬ ‫‪ 20‬וכדי רם לבבה ורוחה תקפת להזדה הנחת‬ ‫מן כרסא מלכותה ויקרה העדיו מנה׃‬

‫‪τὸ σύγκριμα τῆς‬‬ ‫;‪γραφῆς‬‬

‫‪(τότε ∆ανιηλ) ἔστη‬‬ ‫‪κατέναντι‬‬ ‫‪τῆς γραφῆς καὶ‬‬ ‫‪ἀνέγνω καὶ‬‬ ‫‪(οὕτως ἀπεκρίθη τῷ‬‬ ‫)‪βασιλεῖ‬‬

‫‪eugene ulrich‬‬

‫‪216‬‬ ‫)‪Table (cont.‬‬

‫‪MT Pluses‬‬

‫‪Core Narrative‬‬

‫‪ 21‬ומן בני אנשא טריד ולבבה עם חיותא שוי ועם‬ ‫ערדיא‬ ‫מדורה עשבא כתורין יטעמונה ומטל שמיא גשמה‬ ‫יצטבע‬ ‫עד די ידע די שליט אלהא עליא במלכות אנשא‬ ‫ולמן די יצבה יהקים עליה׃‬ ‫‪ 22‬ואנתה ברה בלשאצר לא השפלת לבבך‬ ‫כל קבל די כל דנה ידעת׃‬ ‫)כתבא(‬ ‫]‪[= MT 25‬‬ ‫]‪[= MT 25‬‬

‫]‪[= MT 26‬‬

‫ועל מרא שמיא‬ ‫התרוממת‬

‫)פשרא(‬

‫‪) 23‬ואנתה מלכא(‬

‫‪OG Pluses‬‬

‫‪(17) Αὕτη ἡ γραφή‬‬ ‫‪Ἠρίθμηται,‬‬ ‫‪κατελογίσθη,‬‬ ‫‪ἐξῆρται‬‬ ‫‪καὶ ἔστη ἡ γράψασα‬‬ ‫‪χείρ.‬‬ ‫‪καὶ αὕτη ἡ σὐγκρισις‬‬ ‫‪αὐτῶν.‬‬ ‫‪βασιλεῦ, σὺ ἐποιήσω‬‬ ‫‪ἑστιατορίαν‬‬ ‫‪τοῖς φίλοις σου καὶ‬‬ ‫‪ἔπινες οἶνον,‬‬

‫ולמאניא די ביתה‬ ‫‪+ τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ζῶντος‬‬

‫היתיו קדמיך‬ ‫ואנתה‬ ‫ורברבניך שגלתך‬ ‫ולחנתך‬

‫‪καὶ οἱ μεγιστᾶνές σου‬‬

‫חמרא שתין בהון‬ ‫‪ Ñ‬ולאלהי‬ ‫כספא ודהבא נחשא‬ ‫פרזלא‬ ‫אעא ואבנא די לא‬ ‫חזין ולא שמעין‬ ‫ולא ידעין‬ ‫שבחת‬ ‫‪Ñ‬ולאלהא‬

‫‪+ πάντα‬‬ ‫‪τὰ χειροποίητα τῶν‬‬ ‫‪ἀνθρώπων‬‬

‫‪+ τῷ ζῶντι οὐκ‬‬ ‫‪εὐλογήσατε‬‬

‫די נשמתך בידה‬ ‫וכל ארחתך לה‬ ‫‪Ñ‬לא הדרת‪:‬‬

‫‪καὶ τὸ βασίλειόν σου‬‬ ‫‪αὐτὸς ἔδωκέ σοι‬‬ ‫‪+ οὐδὲ ᾔνεσας αὐτῷ.‬‬

‫‪old greek and masoretic text of daniel 5‬‬

‫‪217‬‬

‫)‪Table (cont.‬‬ ‫‪MT Pluses‬‬

‫‪ 24‬באדין מן קדמוהי‬ ‫שליח פסא‬ ‫די ידא וכתבא דנה‬ ‫רשים׃‬ ‫ודנה כתבא‬ ‫די רשים‬ ‫מנא תקל ופרסין׃‬ ‫פשר מלתא‬ ‫מנא‬ ‫אלהא‪+‬‬ ‫‪ 27‬תקל תקילתה‬ ‫במאזניא‬ ‫והשתכחת חסיר׃‬ ‫‪ 28‬פרס פריסת‬

‫‪Core Narrative‬‬

‫‪OG Pluses‬‬

‫‪24‬‬

‫‪) 25‬כתבא(‬

‫]‪[= OG 17‬‬ ‫]‪[= OG 17‬‬

‫‪ 26‬דנה‬ ‫)פשרא(‬

‫‪τὸ σύγκριμα τῆς‬‬ ‫‪γραφῆς‬‬

‫מנה‪ Ñ‬מלכותך והשלמה׃‬ ‫‪27 συντέτμηται καὶ‬‬

‫‪27‬‬

‫‪συντετέλεσται‬‬

‫‪28‬‬

‫מלכותך ויהיבת למדי‬ ‫ופרס׃‬ ‫‪ 29‬באדין‬ ‫אמר‪+‬‬

‫בלשאצר‪Ñ‬‬

‫‪+ ὁ βασιλεὺς‬‬

‫והלבישו לדניאל ארגונא‬ ‫והמונכא די דהבא על‬ ‫צוארה‬ ‫והכרזו עלוהי‪+‬‬

‫די להוא שליט תלתא‬ ‫במלכותא׃‬ ‫‪ 30‬בה בליליא קטיל‬ ‫כשדיא׃ ‪+‬‬ ‫‪ 6:1‬ודריוש )מדיא( קבל‬ ‫ )מלכותא(  ‪. . .‬‬

‫‪30‬‬

‫בלאשצר מלכא‪Ñ‬‬

‫מלכותא ‪ . . .‬למדי‬

‫‪30 καὶ τὸ σύγκριμα‬‬ ‫‪ἐπῆλθε‬‬ ‫‪καὶ (τὸ βασίλειον) . . .‬‬ ‫‪ἐδόθη (τοῖς‬‬ ‫‪Μήδοις) . . .‬‬

DANIEL AND THE NARRATIVE INTEGRITY OF HIS PRAYER IN CHAPTER 9* Kindalee Pfremmer De Long In ch. 9 of Daniel, the eponymous hero of the book reads something written by Jeremiah and responds with a lengthy, traditionally-worded penitential and petitionary prayer.1 Many scholars of Daniel have argued that because the prayer differs from the surrounding narrative in terms of content, style, and perspective, it is likely a secondary insertion into the scene.2 In keeping with this view, interpreters have found Daniel’s words of confession to be ill-suited to his opening actions in the chapter, which they construe as a search for understanding about Jeremiah’s seventy years.3 Others, interested in how the prayer functions in its narrative context, have explored how the prayer’s Deuteronomic theology contrasts with the deterministic theology of the visions, concluding that the former corrects the latter or vice versa.4 Alternatively, a recent article suggests that the narrative does not force the audience to choose one of these theological options; rather, in placing the two theologies side by side, it creates something new.5 * It is a pleasure to contribute this essay in appreciation of James VanderKam, an excellent scholar and teacher, from whom I have learned much. I would like to thank him for his helpful comments on an early version of this project. 1 The Hebrew-Aramaic text of Daniel is attested primarily by the MT, but portions of it have been found among the scrolls of the Judean desert. Two Greek versions, the Old Greek (OG) and Theodotian (Th), represent early translations and in some cases differ substantially from the MT. This study will follow the MT. Unless otherwise noted, English translations are from the nrsv. 2 For a survey of research on the issue of the prayer’s integrity in ch. 9, see Paul L. Redditt, “Daniel 9: Its Structure and Meaning,” CBQ 62 (2000): 236–49, here 239– 41. 3 The nrsv, for example, translates this presumed motivation into the scene: “Then I turned to the Lord God, to seek an answer by prayer and supplication with fasting and sackcloth and ashes” (9:3). The words “an answer” are not present in the Hebrew text. 4 E.g., Gerald H. Wilson, “The Prayer of Daniel 9: Reflection on Jeremiah 29,” JSOT 48 (1990): 91–99, esp. 92; John J. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 360. 5 Pieter M. Venter, “Daniel 9: A Penitential Prayer in Apocalyptic Garb,” in Seeking the Favor of God. Volume 2: The Development of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple

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kindalee pfremmer de long

The present study will take a different approach to the question of Daniel’s prayer, viewing it through the lens of narrative criticism and focusing particularly on the characterization of Daniel. It will look first at Daniel’s characterization in ch. 9, then guided by that exploration, analyze Daniel in the book as a whole, with attention to narrated time and space, to ambiguity in Daniel’s characterization as interpreter (chs. 1–6), and to complexity in his characterization as dreamer (chs. 7–8).6 This analysis of character will demonstrate that Daniel’s confessional prayer (9:3–19) is a sincere response to prophetic exhortation— expressed in repentance—which sets in motion significant changes for the character of Daniel in the remainder of the narrative (9:21–12:13), including the arrival of true understanding promised previously by God at the end of days. Before turning to this analysis, I offer a brief discussion of the suitability of using a narrative approach to study Daniel. Many historians view the book as a redacted union of two distinct collections of traditions: an originally independent set of traditional court tales, gathered under the name of the legendary hero Daniel (chs. 1–6) and a series of visions written later (chs. 7–12).7 Narrative analysis of Daniel does not require disputing such a diachronic perspective. Rather, if these reconstructions are accurate, the artistry of Daniel can be described with the term montage, used in film studies to refer to a series of once discontinuous (and potentially contrasting) materials carefully and creatively edited into a particular sequence to achieve an overall effect.8 If the

Jerusalem (ed. Mark J. Boda, Daniel K. Falk, and Rodney Alan Werline; SBLEJL 22; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2007), 33–49, here 43–44. 6 Daniel 1–6 has been approached through literary criticism in Danna Nolan Fewell, Circle of Sovereignty: A Story of Stories in Daniel 1–6 (Bible and Literature Series 20; Sheffield: Almond, 1988). To my knowledge, no scholar has applied this method to the whole narrative, with regard either to plot or Daniel’s character. 7 E.g., H. L. Ginsberg, Studies in Daniel (Texts and Studies of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America 14; New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1948); H. H. Rowley, “The Unity of the Book of Daniel,” HUCA 23 (1950–1951): 233–73; Collins, Daniel, 24–37. Modern interpreters have also explored how various aspects of the book address socio-political realities and religious questions of the mid-second century b.c.e., e.g., on the court tales, W. Lee Humphreys, “A Life-Style for Diaspora: A Study of the Tales of Esther and Daniel,” JBL 92 (1973): 211–23; on the visions, John J. Collins, “Daniel and His Social World,” Int 39 (1985): 131–43. 8 I used the analogy of montage in a 2004 unpublished version of this paper, then later discovered another interpreter who independently used the same terminology to describe the presence of Daniel’s prayer in ch. 9: Venter, “Penitential Prayer,” 43–44.

daniel and the narrative integrity of his prayer

221

technique of montage produces a plot, then it results in a narrative that can be analyzed with the tools of narrative criticism. For plot to exist, a work must contain characters who act in space and time in a way that makes sense to an audience.9 By this definition, Daniel has a plot, as the following analysis will show. Daniel’s Action and Speech in Dan 9:1–19 Narratives convey characterization directly (through the narrator’s description of a character’s qualities) and indirectly (through a character’s action and speech, as well as speech about a character by other characters).10 Thus, to examine Daniel’s character, I begin with an analysis of Daniel’s action and speech in 9:1–19, arguing that if his actions in the chapter are seen clearly, his petitionary speech to God suits its immediate narrative context. But at the same time, his actions and speech raise two questions about how Daniel has been characterized earlier in the narrative. The characterization of Daniel in ch. 9 begins with a description of his actions. From texts (‫ )ספרים‬written by the prophet Jeremiah, Daniel perceives that the devastation of Jerusalem will last seventy years (9:1–3). This description implies, without stating so explicitly, that Daniel also reads these ‫ספרים‬, which raises a basic question: what does Daniel read? Translators usually understand ‫ ספרים‬as a reference to the collected books of the prophets.11 This approach is reasonable

9 The basic building blocks of plot are character, time, and location. While literary theorists often emphasize the first of these three, character is rarely divorced from plot, and plot in turn unfolds in time and space, e.g., Earl Roy Miner, Comparative Poetics: An Intercultural Essay on Theories of Literature (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 149–55. When characters move from one temporal setting to another, there must be enough continuity that the audience can follow them. As one theorist notes, commenting on the work of E. M. Forster, narrative requires “an allegiance to time” (Ken Ireland, The Sequential Dynamics of Narrative: Energies at the Margins of Fiction [Madison, N.J.: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2001], 26); cf. Edward Morgan Forster, Aspects of the Novel (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1927; repr. San Diego, 1985), 20. This point is true of spatial setting as well. 10 On techniques for creating and reading character, see William H. Shepherd, The Narrative Function of the Holy Spirit as a Character in Luke-Acts (SBLDS 147; Atlanta: Scholars, 1994), 88. 11 E.g., translating the word as “books” (jps) or “scriptures” (nrsv). The collected books of the prophets are attested to in the Greek prologue to Sirach, normally dated to 132 b.c.e. (Collins, Daniel, 339).

222

kindalee pfremmer de long

with regard to the author of Daniel 9.12 Understanding ‫ ספרים‬this way makes, however, little sense for Daniel as a character because he does not have access to such a collection. Assuming that the author of Daniel aims for verisimilitude with regard to the Babylonian setting, we must envision Daniel as reading ‫ ספרים‬that suit his time and place.13 For Daniel as a character, the most obvious meaning of ‫ ספרים‬is not “books” but “letters”—specifically the two letters sent by Jeremiah to the first group of Babylonian exiles during the reign of Zedekiah—as proposed by Gerald Wilson in 1990.14 In Jeremiah, these letters appear as actual correspondence, with prescripts and details about their delivery, and the first is described with the word ‫( ספר‬Jer 29:1–23; 29:31– 32).15 Moreover, one of Jeremiah’s two references to a seventy-year

12 I use the term “author” to mean the implied author of the whole book of Daniel. In literary studies, the implied author is not the historical person who wrote the text but the voice of the authorial choices made in the text, whether these are intentional or accidental, conscious or unconscious; see, e.g., Wayne Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), 74–75. As noted above, the historical “author” may have been a corporate process of retelling, collecting, combining, and redacting stories and visions over many years, perhaps centuries. If so, then the “implied author” would equal the sum of these corporate choices. 13 A number of studies have discussed verisimilitude in the court tales with regard to the Babylonian setting, for example, noting lists of officials and instruments, as well as details about the statue and furnace, e.g., Collins, Daniel, 180–6; Peter W. Coxon, “The ‘List’ Genre and Narrative Style in the Court Tales of Daniel,” JSOT 35 (1986): 95–121; but cf., Hector I. Avalos, “The Comedic Function of the Enumerations of Officials and Instruments in Daniel 3,” CBQ 53 (1991): 580–88. As there is no reason to limit this concern for verisimilitude to the first half of the story, without evidence to the contrary, an audience would assume that the character of Daniel in later chapters also acts within his setting in Babylon, constrained by the physical realities of that time and place (except when he is transported elsewhere by means of a visionary experience). Any option for translating ‫ ספרים‬that coheres with an authorial concern for verisimilitude ought to be carefully considered. 14 I came to this understanding of ‫ ספרים‬independently through character analysis, in an early version of this paper, then subsequently discovered the same argument in Wilson, “Prayer of Daniel.” 15 My argument is not intended to suggest that the author of Daniel knew an independent version of Jeremiah’s letters. The fact of the letters’ historical independence is likely; see e.g., William Lee Holladay, Jeremiah 2: A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah, Chapters 26–52 (Hermeneia; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 139; Wilson, “Prayer of Daniel,” 94. It is not impossible that historically independent letters inspired the author of Daniel 9. (Wilson makes a case for the historical independence but does not make clear how this point relates to his argument about Jeremiah’s letters in ch. 9.) However, my line of reasoning depends not on the independence of the letters but simply on the fact that the book of Jeremiah depicts them as independent texts sent to exiles in Babylon. Any ancient person familiar with Jeremiah could

daniel and the narrative integrity of his prayer

223

exile appears in the first letter (Jer 29:10).16 Wilson, in making his case that Daniel reads these letters, observes the chronological point that the letters would already have been delivered in Babylon by the temporal setting of ch. 9.17 He also points out parallels between Daniel’s prayer and Jeremiah 29, including similar uses of the name YHWH, attitudes toward Babylon, and emphases on the inscrutability of divine plans.18 Moreover, in the first letter, Jeremiah offers hope to the exiles, anticipating that restoration will come when they seek God in petition: Then when you call upon me and come and pray (‫ )פלל‬to me, I will hear you. When you search (‫ )בקש‬for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the LORD, and I will restore your fortunes . . . and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile. (Jer 29:12–14)

Strikingly, Daniel’s first action after reading the ‫ ספרים‬is to seek God in petition (‫( )לבקש תפלה ותחנונים‬Dan 9:3). Additional evidence is here added in support of Wilson’s argument. The word ‫ספר‬, in plural form, more often refers to letters than to books in Biblical Hebrew.19 Earlier in the narrative of Daniel, two other letters play significant roles (3:31–4:34), thus the appearance of additional pieces of correspondence would cohere with authorial choices. Finally, in addition to the words “seek” and “petition” noted above, Daniel 9–10 contains at least seven other thematic and linguistic parallels with Jer 29:1–23, as demonstrated in Table 1.

have assumed, quite reasonably, that an exile such as Daniel encountered these letters at some point. 16 It reads: “Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfill to you my promise and bring you back to this place” (Jer 29:10). The other reference appears in Jer 25:11–12. A seventy-year exile also appears in Zech 1:12; 7:8. In 2 Chr 36:21, the narrative implies that this exilic period is fulfilled in the first year of Cyrus, when Cyrus sends the people and temple vessels back to Judah. 17 The letters would have been sent between 597 and 587 b.c.e., whereas Daniel 9 is set in 538 b.c.e., the first year of Darius’ reign; Wilson, “Prayer of Daniel,” 94. 18 Ibid., 94–95 19 E.g., 2 Kgs 2:12; Isa 39:1; Jer 29:25; Esth 1:22; 3:13; 8:10; 9:20, 30; cf., Eccl 12:12.

224

kindalee pfremmer de long Table 1. Jeremiah’s First Letter Compared with Daniel 9–10 Jeremiah 29:1–23

Daniel 9–10

1. 29:12 When the people call (‫)קרא‬

Daniel mentions that the people and the city are called (‫ )קרא‬by the name of God (9:18, 19)20

2. and when they “walk” (‫)הלך‬

Daniel voices a collective confession that he and the people have not walked (‫ )הלך‬in God’s ways (9:10)

3. and when they petition (‫)פלל‬

Daniel voices a petition (‫)תפלה‬ (9:3, 17); the narrator describes him as having petitioned (‫( )פלל‬9:20)

4. God will hear (‫)שמע‬

Repeatedly, Daniel asks God to hear (‫ )שמע‬his petition (9:17, 18, 19); later, God hears (‫ )שמע‬Daniel’s petition (10:12)

5. 29:13 When they search (‫)בקש‬, they will find God

Daniel searches (‫( )בקש‬9:3), and God responds (10:12)

6. if they seek God with all their heart (‫)כי תדרשנ בכל־לבבכם‬

Daniel turns his face toward God (‫( )ואתנה את־פני אל־אדני‬9:3); later, Gabriel describes this action as Daniel having given his heart to understand (‫( )נתת את־לבך להבין‬10:12)

7. 29:14 Then, God will turn (‫)שוב‬ the captivity21

Daniel asks God to turn (‫ )שוב‬God’s anger away from Jerusalem (9:16)

8. and the Lord will gather the exiles from all the nations and “all the places where I have driven you” (‫אל־המקום אשר־‬ ‫)הגליתי אתכם משם‬

Daniel describes the exiles as those in “all the lands to which you have driven them” (‫)בכל־הארצות אשר הדחתם שם‬ (9:7)22

20 The use of the word “call” is the least precise parallel presented in this chart. Although the phrase “who are called by your/his name” does not appear in the letter of Jeremiah, it is a common expression in the book of Jeremiah (7:10, 11, 14, 30; 14:9; 15:16; 25:29; 32:34; 34:15). 21 The phrase ‫ ושבתי את־שביתכם‬can also be understood metaphorically, translated “restore their fortunes” (Jer 29:14). 22 The phrase “where I have driven [them] there” occurs in Deut 30:1 and throughout the book of Jeremiah, 8:3; 16:15; 23:3, 8; 24:9; 29:14, 18; 32:37; 40:12; 43:5; 46:28. Otherwise, it occurs in the MT only in Dan 9:7 and Ezek 4:13.

daniel and the narrative integrity of his prayer

225

Table 1 (cont.) Jeremiah 29:1–23 9. 29:19 because they did not heed my words, says the LORD, when I persistently sent to you my servants the prophets (‫)את־עבדי הנבאים‬

Daniel 9–10 Daniel confesses that the people did not listen “to your servants the prophets” (‫ )אל־עבדיך הנביאים‬and did not obey the laws of God which he set before the people by “his servants the prophets” (‫( )עבדיו הנביאים‬9:6, 10)

In all, the parallels in the table include: (1) calling or being called; (2) walking; (3) praying; (4) hearing; (5) searching; (6) turning toward God; (7) “turning back” captivity or divine anger; (8) exiles in the lands “where God has driven them”; and (9) failure to heed God’s “servants the prophets.”23 Such correspondences offer compelling evidence that Daniel responds to Jeremiah’s letters not only in his action of seeking God through petition but also in his speech (the content of the petition itself ).24 Given these facts, the most reasonable way of understanding Daniel’s actions and speech in ch. 9 is to see him as reading and responding to the letters of Jeremiah. In the first year of Darius, the character Daniel would be approaching old age and the seventy-year exilic period would be drawing to a close.25 If we understand that he reads letters urging exiles to seek the Lord in petition, then the prayer makes good sense as an obedient, confessional response to a prophetic exhortation to “call upon the Lord.”26 In other words, he voices exactly the sort of penitential prayer one might expect if a faithful exile were to read

23 Wilson observes the ninth parallel on the chart. He also notes that the letters anticipate a regathering of God’s people from exile and a restoration of their fortunes (Jer 29:14) and that the “second half of Daniel’s prayer is concerned with this hope,” Wilson, “Prayer of Daniel,” 96. More precisely, the second half of the prayer seeks divine favor and asks God to look upon the desolation of Jerusalem, to hear, and to act, but this language likely also implies the regathering of the exiles, particularly if the audience understands Daniel to be responding to Jeremiah’s letter. 24 As numerous scholars have observed, the prayer also draws upon other sources of inspiration, e.g., Collins, Daniel, 349–50. 25 The historical person of Darius the Mede is unknown. However, in the chronology of the plot, he falls between Belshazzar and Cyrus. Thus, his reign would represent the final stage of Jeremiah’s exilic period. 26 The verb ‫( פלל‬hitpael) refers not to prayer generally, but to petition/lament; see Kindalee Pfremmer De Long, Surprised by God: Praise Responses in the Narrative of Luke-Acts (BZNW 166; New York: de Gruyter, 2009), 22.

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Jeremiah’s letter, take its instruction seriously, and act upon it.27 Moreover, he expects that his sincere response to divine instruction will initiate the restoration of Jerusalem.28 If Daniel is viewed as reading the letters of Jeremiah, this action would be a reasonable motivation for his speech of petition, eliminating the supposed narrative dissonance between what he does and what he says in ch. 9. However, viewing ch. 9 this way raises at least two other questions for understanding Daniel’s character. First, Jeremiah exhorts the exiles to observe certain behaviors in Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat what they produce. . . . But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.” (Jer 29:5–8)

This theme of “life in Babylon” invites a review of the presentation of Daniel’s character in the court tales, where the narrative depicts Daniels as settling into his new life in exile and becoming significantly involved in the life of the city through association with the kings who rule it. To what extent do his actions in the narrative align with Jeremiah’s instructions? Second, Jeremiah’s letter, in no uncertain terms, voices a strong warning about prophets and diviners in Babylon: For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Do not let the prophets and the diviners who are among you deceive you, and do not listen to the dreams that they dream, for it is a lie that they are prophesying to you in my name; I did not send them, says the Lord. (Jer 29:8–9)

Jeremiah’s warning depicts prophetic dreams as the deceptive tools of false prophets—called lunatics and liars—against whom his letters are directed (Jer 29:8–9, 15–19, 21–27, 31–32).

27 The Deuteronomic prayer attributes the punishment and calamity to the curse laid down by God through Moses for breaking the covenant (Dan 9:11–12). It confesses the failure of not entreating the “favor of the Lord our God, turning from our iniquities and reflecting on his fidelity” (9:13). Seeking forgiveness, Daniel requests that God’s anger and wrath would turn away from Jerusalem and concludes with reliance not on the righteousness of the people but on God’s great mercies (9:16–19). 28 His prayer “fulfills the conditions of restoration,” Wilson, “Prayer of Daniel,” 96. Theologically, the restoration depends not on the piety of Daniel but on divine mercy (9:18). Nevertheless, Jeremiah’s letter and Daniel’s petition both expect that seeking God’s mercy will be efficacious, and indeed this is the case, albeit with unexpected results, as will be discussed below.

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The letters’ critique is part of a series of passages in Jeremiah that voice suspicion not only about dreams but also about visions, as demonstrated in Table 2. Jeremiah condemns false prophets for their messages of empty hope—peace (Jer 14:14–15); “all will be well” (23:17); and prediction of quick restoration (27:9, 14–15)—when in fact God’s word urges them to accept the inevitable punishment that is already unfolding.29 These three passages, along with the letters in Jeremiah 29, deny that such prophets are sent by God and characterize them as speaking lies, associated with evil, committing adultery, and practicing deceitfulness. The bad behavior of the false prophets demonstrates their lack of connection with God, a distance underlined by divine declaration that God has neither appointed nor spoken to them.30 Table 2. False Prophecy in Jeremiah Jer 14:13–18 Jer 23:14–32 Jer 27:1–21 Jer 29:1–23 Speak lies (‫)שקר‬ Not sent by God (‫)לא שלחתים‬ Associated with evil (‫רעה‬, ‫רע‬, ‫)רעע‬ Commit adultery (‫)נאף‬ Practice deceitfulness (‫)תרמית‬ Deceive the people (‫)נשא‬

Divine View of False Prophets 14 14, 25, 26, 32 10, 14–16 9, 21, 23, 31 14–15 21, 32 15 9, 31 16

14, 17

11

14 26

23

14

8

Sources of Divine Authority Claimed by False Prophets God’s name (‫)שם‬ 14, 15 25 15 9, 21, 23 Dreams (‫חלם‬, ‫)חלום‬ 25, 28, 32 931 8 Divination (‫)קסם‬ 14 9 8 Visions (‫)חזון‬ 14 16

29 Most interpreters of Jeremiah 29 understand the letters of Jeremiah similarly to be critiquing an unspecified message of false hope, either that the exile will be short or that only a particular people are being punished. 30 This interrelationship of standing in God’s presence, ethics, and true proclamation is most explicit in Jer 23:14–18. 31 Jeremiah 27:9 also lists sorcery and soothsaying as means of claiming divine authority.

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Together, the four passages view dreams (‫חלם‬, ‫ )חלום‬and/or visions (‫ )חזון‬as false claims to divine authority.32 Not surprisingly, then, Jeremiah never describes his own visionary experiences with such vocabulary but rather states that he has received a “word of the Lord” (‫( )דבר־יהוה‬Jer 1:4, 11, 13).33 However, if ch. 9 references Jeremiah’s letters and introduces this negative view of dreams and visions into Daniel’s story, then this allusion is surprising because Daniel 1–8 has repeatedly depicted Daniel not only as interpreting dreams and visions for kings in Babylon but also as dreaming his own dreams and seeing his own visions in Babylon (Dan 2:19; 7:1; 8:2). Jeremiah’s letters thus raise a second question for the audience of Daniel: why has the hero of the story engaged in precisely the sort of activity that Jeremiah rails against?34 Both questions will be addressed below by analyzing Daniel as a character in chs. 1–8. To do so, it is necessary first to place him in narrative time and space, but this task is challenging because time unfolds out of sequence and the narrator creates some ambiguity with regard to physical setting. Thus, the sections below sift through the complexi-

32 The noun “dream” (‫ )חלום‬appears in five verses (Jer 23:27–28, 32; 27:9; 29:8), while the corresponding verb (‫ )חלם‬appears twice (Jer 23:25; 29:8), consistently in the negative context of false prophecy. Similarly, “vision” (‫ )חזון‬always refers to the deceptive visions of false prophets, Jer 14:14; 23:16. 33 Despite assigning the words ‫ חלם‬and ‫ חזון‬pejorative meanings, Jeremiah understands true prophecy to be visionary in nature. For example, only those who truly stand in God’s council will both see and hear God’s word in order to proclaim it reliably, Jer 23:18, 22. Jeremiah himself is called via a God-given vision in which he sees a hand stretch out to him, Jer 1:4–10. This experience is immediately followed by two visions, which Jeremiah “sees well,” Jer 1:12. Compare 1 Sam 3:1, in which the word ‫ חזון‬and the phrase ‫ דבר־יהוה‬appear in parallel construction and passages in other prophetic texts, which describe true visions with ‫חזון‬, e.g., Isa 1:1; 29:7; Hos 12:10; Obad 1:1; Nah 1:1; Hab 2:2. 34 The narrative uses both words to describe the kings’ and Daniel’s dreams and visions. Daniel 1:17 depicts Daniel as having insight into all dreams and visions (‫בכל־‬ ‫)חזון וחלמות‬. Elsewhere, the stem ‫ חלם‬primarily describes the royal dreams and Daniel’s ability to interpret them; in Hebrew, 1:17; 2:1–3; in Aramaic, 2:4–9, 26, 28, 36, 45; 4:2–6, 15–16; 5:12. However, on one occasion, it describes Daniel’s own dream (7:1). By contrast, the Hebrew word ‫ חזון‬and its Aramaic counterpart ‫ חזו‬primarily describe Daniel’s own visions, Hebrew, 8:1, 2, 13, 15, 17, 26; 9:24; 10:14; 11:14; Aramaic, 2:19; 7:1–2, 7, 13, 15. Yet ‫ חזו‬occasionally refers to Nebuchadnezzar’s visions, 2:28, 4:2, 7, 10. In addition, the plural ‫ חזוי‬appears in 4:6, perhaps narrating visions experienced by Nebuchadnezzar (as translated by jps and Th 4:9) but many translators follow Montgomery in understanding the word to be “consider” (‫ )חזו‬rather than “visions.” See Collins, Daniel, 208; James A. Montgomery, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Daniel (ICC; New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1927), 228. In 7:20, ‫ חזי‬seems to have the more everyday meaning of “appearance.”

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ties of the plot to locate Daniel in time and space before turning to his characterization as interpreter (chs. 1–8) and dreamer (chs. 7–8). Daniel in Narrated Time Since Daniel’s visions open mysterious windows into the future, perhaps the disorienting sequentiality of the larger narrative suits its subject. The nonlinear plot jumps forward and backward in time; the narrator creates unexplained gaps in time; and scenes begun in medias res can be comprehended only in retrospect.35 In literary studies, critics have developed a method for studying nonlinear narratives: they compare the sequence of the plot as it unfolds in the narrative (syuzhet, presented plot, narrative discourse) with events reordered chronologically according to narrated time ( fabula, linear plot, story) in order to gain insight into the way a narrative develops plot and character.36 I employ this method below.37 Table 3 summarizes the syuzhet (presented plot) of Daniel, which proceeds in a series of ten episodes that largely follow the chapter divisions of the MT. Time is marked almost exclusively in reference to the reigns of four kings, three of whom appear also as characters in chs. 1–6 but not in chs. 7–11.38 Although interpreters often read Daniel’s experiences (primarily visions) in the later chapters as divorced

35 Many studies have focused on temporality in Daniel, but these have examined external constitutive time, seeking to reconcile the time references in the narrative with those outside it. 36 Ireland, Sequential Dynamics, 37–48. For example, if in the reordered plot two events happen at the same moment but one is revealed significantly later in the nonlinear, presented plot, the second event may reinterpret, redefine, or even overturn the a reader’s perspective of the first. For an application of this method to Susanna and Bel and the Dragon, see Marti J. Steussy, Gardens in Babylon: Narrative and Faith in the Greek Legends of Daniel (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993). 37 Criticisms have been raised against applying modern literary methods to ancient literature. However, it seems appropriate to use methods that suit the type of literature being studied. In terms of sequentiality, the plot of Daniel is akin to a modern nonlinear novel. 38 The four kings are Nebuchadnezzar (1:1, 2:1); Belshazzar (5:1, 7:1, 8:1); Darius (6:1, 9:1); and Cyrus (10:1). One time marker is tied to the reign of Jehoiakim of Judah, linking the sequentiality of time inside the narrative with time outside it (1:1). In addition to the time indicators listed in the table, two summary statements that locate the character of Daniel temporally. At 1:21, the audience learns that “Daniel is until the first year of King Cyrus.” In 6:29, the narrator states more generally that Daniel prospered during the reigns of Darius and Cyrus, without mentioning a specific year of Cyrus’ reign. The more specific of the two time summaries (1:21) frames the action of the plot in chs. 1–9, but chs. 10–12 lie outside this summary of time.

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from their narrative contexts, the author makes an effort to integrate Daniel’s actions into the overarching temporal scheme of the plot. Table 3. Time in the Presented Plot (Syuzhet) of Daniel Episode

Description

Monarchial Period

1

The narrator introduces Daniel.

1:1–21

Nebuchadnezzar

2

Nebuchadnezzar dreams (#1); Daniel reveals and interprets.

2:1–49

Nebuchadnezzar

3

God delivers the three from the furnace.

3:1–30

Nebuchadnezzar

4

Nebuchadnezzar dreams 3:31–4:34 (#2); Daniel interprets; knowledge of God reaches the whole world.

Nebuchadnezzar Within episode four:

5

A hand writes; Daniel interprets.

5:1–30

Belshazzar

6

God delivers Daniel from the den of lions.

6:1–29

Darius

7

Daniel dreams (#1) and writes down the dream.

7:1–28

Belshazzar

8

Daniel dreams (#2); Gabriel interprets; Daniel does not understand.

8:1–27

Belshazzar

9

Daniel reads and seeks God; Gabriel again interprets dream #2; Daniel understands.

9:1–27

Darius

An unidentified angelic being reveals the truth to Daniel; Daniel does not understand (ultimately) for the words are sealed.

10:1–12:13 Cyrus

10

(A) letter with three time periods (3:31–4:15): (A1) time of writing, (A2) time of interaction with Daniel (A3) king’s dream (B) narrator describes Daniel’s response to the dream (4:16) (C) Daniel’s speech (4:17–24) (D) narrator describes Nebuchadnezzar’s punishment (4:25–30) (E) letter: time of writing (4:31–34).

Even so, the narrator defines the time of ch. 10 with reference to the king: the events occur in the third year of Cyrus.

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Table 4 presents the rearrangement of the plot to show its “story” ( fabula). As the table illustrates, the presented plot is largely linear in chs. 1–4 (the time of Nebuchadnezzar) and in ch. 10 (the time of Cyrus), with the exception of the notoriously difficult presentation of time in ch. 4.39 During the time of Belshazzar and Darius, the plot proceeds, however, in nonlinear fashion. Rearranged according to the fabula, Daniel’s experiences during the reigns of these two kings are as follows: • Daniel dreams about four beasts and the heavenly court (ch. 7) • He experiences a vision of a ram and goat, and Gabriel appears (ch. 8) • He interprets the writing on the wall (ch. 5) • He petitions God, is thrown in with the lions, and is rescued by God (ch. 6) • Around the same time, he reads, petitions God, and interacts again with Gabriel (ch. 9)

39 While chs. 3 and 4 are imprecise with regard to temporal setting, the plot suggests that episode three follows episode two, as will be discussed below. Episode four must also follow episode two (and thus probably also episode three), because the king in ch. 4 knows about Daniel’s ability to interpret dreams (knowledge gained in ch. 2). The sequentiality within episode four is complex and disorienting, thus I have presented its syuzhet and fabula in more detail in Tables 2 and 3. Episode four opens with the text of a letter sent by Nebuchadnezzar to his subject peoples, which states his intent to narrate his experience of the signs and wonders of the God of Israel (3:31–4:14). The author then breaks into Nebuchadnezzar’s detailed first-person account of the dream (4:1–15) with a brief third-person narration about Daniel (4:16) and then direct speech from Daniel (4:17–24) recounting the dream’s interpretation. At verse 25, third-person narration moves the action rapidly forward eight years: twelve months from the time of the dream to its fulfillment and another seven years to the completion of the king’s punishment (4:25–30). At 4:31, the device of the letter resumes, concluding with the king’s description of his restoration and his praise of the king of heaven (4:31–34). When the scene begins, the king’s letter provides no clue that time has passed since the end of scene three. Thus the audience might reasonably conclude that Nebuchadnezzar means to retell either or both of the stories of miraculous revelation and deliverance previously narrated. However, using flashback, the king’s letter surprisingly tells a new story. By the end of the scene, eight years have passed—without comment by the narrator—between verses 3:29 and 3:31. The epistolary framing device proves temporally disorienting, creating an unsettling gap in time that becomes clear only in retrospect. The plot of ch. 4 is more linear in the Greek versions, but a comparison lies beyond the scope of this project.

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kindalee pfremmer de long Table 4. Time in the Linear Plot (Fabula) of Daniel Episodes 1 2 3 4

Time Periods Nebuchadnezzar Year three of Jehoiakim, king of Judah Year two of Nebuchadnezzar Unspecified time following episode two Unspecified time following episode three (A3) unspecified time following episode three (A2) shortly thereafter (B) one additional hour (C) a few additional minutes (D) events occur between C and A1 (A1) eight years after A3 (E) eight years after A3

7 8 5

Belshazzar Year one of Belshazzar Year three of Belshazzar The end of Belshazzar’s reign

6 9

Darius Sometime near the beginning of Darius’ reign40 Year one of Darius

10

Cyrus Year three of Cyrus

As the table shows, chs. 6 and 9 converge temporally in the fabula, so that Daniel experiences his dramatic rescue from the den of lions around the same time that he reads Jeremiah’s letter. In addition, at 1:21 the audience learns that “Daniel is until the first year of King Cyrus” but ch. 10 occurs in the third year of Cyrus. Thus, ch. 10 lies outside the timeframe established at the beginning of the story. Both of these temporal aspects of the plot suggest that ch. 9 is an important moment in the narrative.

40 Darius sets up satraps over the provinces in the beginning of scene six, an activity that an audience would expect to happen near the beginning of his reign.

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Daniel in Narrated Space Location is not as critical to plot as time or character, but it is significant. What are the physical settings of the action of Daniel?41 In response to this question, this section argues that after leaving Judah, the character Daniel arrives in Babylon and remains there in the service of four successive kings until the first year of Cyrus (chs. 1–9). Daniel leaves the city only in ch. 10, which depicts him standing on the banks of the Tigris River (10:1). Thus, the action in ch. 9 precedes a distinctive shift in narrative setting, again suggesting that it serves as a turning point in the plot. To begin an analysis of Daniel’s location, it should be noted that although the narrative constantly implies that its hero resides in the city of Babylon, the narrator never actually describes his location as “in Babylon.” Daniel arrives, rather, in the “land of Shinar” (1:2). Most often, Daniel’s location in the capital city is known by references to imperial buildings: the palace, court, or treasury.42 Nine times, the narrator describes court officials interacting with Daniel as being “of Babylon.” 43 Only once is the setting directly defined as being in Babylon, in flashback when Nebuchadnezzar recalls the fateful moment eight years earlier when he overlooked the city with pride, but Daniel is absent from this scene (4:26–27). With skill the author places Daniel in Babylon for nine chapters without ever saying as much. This geographic reticence on the part of the author contrasts markedly with other texts that focus on exile in Babylon.44

41 Surprisingly, the narrative settings have not received much attention in commentaries. Collins, for example, writes often of the “setting” of the stories in Daniel, but by this term, he means the provenance of the traditions within Daniel not the narrative settings within the story itself. 42 Five times in the tales, the setting is the palace of the king (‫)היכל‬, Dan 1:4; 4:1; 4:26; 5:5; 6:18. One reference each is made to the treasury (‫ )אוצר‬and gate (‫ )תרע‬of the king, Dan 1:2; 2:49. Most often, the narrator describes the setting simply as the presence of the king (Heb. ‫ ;לפני המלך‬Aram. ‫)קדם מלכא‬, e.g., Dan 1:5, 19; 2:2, 10–11, 24–25, 27, 36; 3:13; 5:13; 6:13–14, 23. 43 Dan 1:1; 2:12, 14, 18, 24, 48; 4:3; 5:7; 7:1. 44 Jeremiah, for example, describes the exile in Babylon much more directly: Nebuchadnezzar carried the vessels “to Babylon” and took Judeans “into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon” (28:3; 29:1). Other texts are equally straightforward, e.g., Mic 4:10; Ezek 12:13; 17:12; 2 Chr 36:7–20; Ezra 2:1. Esther is also geographically specific, albeit to a different location in exile, e.g., Esth 1:1–2; 2:5–6.

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Despite this indirectness, it is clear that Daniel is in Babylon in chs. 1–2. The periphrastic “land of Shinar” serves as a “traditional name for Babylon.”45 Daniel enters the service of Nebuchadnezzar in his capital city, where an official of the king’s court, the chief eunuch, plays a significant role (1:2–5, 7–11, 18–19). As noted above, a summary statement toward the end of ch. 1 indicates that “Daniel was until the first year of Cyrus” (‫( )ויהי דניאל עד־שנת אחת לכורש המלך‬1:21). This ambiguous phrase could describe Daniel’s life span as a whole (indicating time) or his residence in the royal court (indicating time and place). The first option would require a fairly major oversight on the part of redactors, for later in the narrative, Daniel is still alive in the third year of Cyrus (10:1). Thus, most translators opt for the spatialand-temporal meanings. For example, Collins translates the phrase as: “Daniel continued [at court] until the first year of King Cyrus.”46 This translation coheres with the larger plot of narrative, because as we shall see Daniel is not depicted outside of Babylon until the third year of Cyrus.47 In ch. 2 the narrator provides no indication that the setting has changed, so readers must assume that Daniel continues to reside in Babylon. This impression is strengthened by depictions of Daniel maintaining a separate residence near the king’s court (2:17; cf. 6:10), interacting frequently with the “wise men of Babylon” (2:12, 13, 18, 24,

45 Collins, Daniel, 134; Ran Zadok, “The Origin of the Name Shinar,” ZA 74 (1984): 240–44. By choosing this name, the narrator alludes to earlier literature, in particular the story of the tower with its top in the heavens (‫ )ראשו בשמים‬built by the descendents of Ham and Nimrod on the plain (‫ )בקעה‬of Shinar called Babel (Gen 10:10; 11:2–4, 9). This manner of describing Babylon connects the setting of the present story with a tale set in the primeval past. It also foreshadows the narrative’s third and fourth episodes, in which the king of “Babel” dreams of himself as a tree, with a height reaching to the heavens (‫ )ורומה ימטא לשמיא‬and builds a massive statue on a plain (‫ )בקעה‬in a province of Babel (3:1; 4:11). 46 Collins, Daniel, 145. The structure of the summary statement invites comparison with two analogous passages in Jeremiah, which speak of the vessels of the Lord and Zedekiah, respectively, being taken to Babylon and staying there until the Lord visits (‫ )פקד‬them: in Jer 27:22, “and there they will be, until the day Ι visit them” (‫ושמה‬ ‫ )יהיו עד יום פקדי אתם‬and in Jer 32:6, “and there he will be, until the day I visit him” (‫)ושם יהיה עד־פקדי אתו‬. In Daniel, the key spatial term “there” (‫ )שם‬is absent. Nevertheless, a spatial reading of 1:21 appears linguistically possible, given the parallel phrasing of these three verses. The use of the verb “to be” followed by the preposition “until” is relatively infrequent in the MT. The phrase means “while” in 1 Sam 14:19 and “shortly” in 1 Kgs 18:45. It is used in a purely temporal sense in 2 Chr 15:19 and Ezek 21:27. 47 On his location in Susa in ch. 8, see the discussion below.

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48), and along with Arioch, going into and out of the king’s presence, understood as his court (2:14, 16, 25).48 Commentators tend to regard the setting of ch. 3, in which Daniel does not appear, as Babylon. However, several factors argue against this. First, the narrator sets up a change of locale at the end of ch. 2. In Daniel’s first action as ruler over the whole province of Babylon (‫)על כל־מדינת בבל‬, he seeks a promotion for his three friends, who receive rule over the affairs of a/the province of Babylon (‫על עבידתא‬ ‫( )די מדינת בבל‬2:48–49). This contrasting description of roles suggests that Daniel acquires a position of authority in the central government, while his friends receive responsibility for more specific concerns.49 By further describing Daniel as remaining at the gate or court of the king (‫)בתרע מלכא‬, the narrative implies that the friends’ new role removes them from the capital city to oversee certain provincial affairs (2:49). Thus, when Nebuchadnezzar sets up a statue on the plain of Dura, they find themselves summoned to this location along with other provincial officials (3:1–3).50 Second, the narrator strengthens this sense of a provincial setting by distinctive and frequent use of the word “province” throughout ch. 3.51 Third, it would be jarring, on a narrative level, if Daniel were not to appear in a story about the peril of his friends set in the city where he resides. By contrast, a provincial setting explains both why Daniel does not appear in this scene, as well as why the three friends disappear from the rest of the story after ch. 3.52

48

Daniel’s house appears as a setting in 2:17 and 6:10. By contrast, Babylon is the “house” of the king’s majesty, 4:27. 49 Because the word province is in construct with “Babylon,” it is impossible to know if the narrator intends to specify a single province or “the province”; see Franz Rosenthal, A Grammar of Biblical Aramaic (5; Porta Linguarum Orientalium / Neue Serie; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1995), 28, 46, 47. Nevertheless, Rosenthal sees the narrator as distinguishing between the governing roles of Daniel and his friends (central vs. provincial), and he suggests that the word ‫ די‬in the phrase in 2:49 could indicate that the author intended “province” to be in an absolute state (ibid., 48). 50 Collins writes that the word “Dura” adds local color to the story (Collins, Daniel, 182), but the word also narrates location: a plain outside the capital city. 51 The word “province” appears twice at the end of ch. 2; five times in ch. 3 (3:1–3, 12, 30), and nowhere else in Daniel. The king requires worship of the statue not from the palace officials who appear in chs. 1 and 2 but from officials of the provinces (‫וכל‬ ‫( )שלטני מדינתא‬3:2–3). The accusation directed at the three friends specifies their role as provincial leaders (3:12), and in the end, the king promotes them in “a province of Babylon” (3:30). In contrast with other scenes, ch. 3 contains no references to the temple, court, or palace of the king. 52 The disappearance of Daniel in ch. 3 is explained in modern times by the hypothesis that the story in chapter three circulated separately and was only later joined with

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The fourth episode (3:31–4:37) opens in medias res, beginning with the framing device of a letter written by Nebuchadnezzar that narrates a story set at least eight years earlier in his palace (‫( )היכל‬4:1). Since the narrator does not indicate a change in location, the setting seems to be the royal residence in Babylon, an impression confirmed in a scene set a year later, in which the king stands on the palace roof looking over Babylon (4:29). When the action shifts to a time one year later, the king’s speech specifies Babylon as the setting.53 While the king’s arrogant words trigger several changes of location for Nebuchadnezzar, Daniel disappears from the action for at least eight years. Tracing the fabula, we turn to the reign of Belshazzar, when Daniel reappears. While in the reordered plot chs. 7 and 8 occur before ch. 5, in the presented plot ch. 5 establishes the setting of Belshazzar’s reign because the audience experiences this episode first. The chapter begins in the king’s palace, earlier associated with Babylon (5:5). Belshazzar also brings out the vessels of the Jerusalem temple (5:2–3), which the audience knows have been deposited in the temple of Babylon (1:2). Thus, when the audience is presented with Daniel’s dream in ch. 7, the assumption is that it occurs in Babylon, his normal place of residence. In ch. 8, however, Daniel sees himself standing by the river Ulai in Susa in the province of Elam (8:1). If this geographic reference is literal then the audience must envision Daniel outside of Babylon. However, the language of the passage strongly suggests that Daniel’s journey to Susa occurs on the visionary rather than physical plane. The vision begins before Daniel describes himself by the river (8:1). In addition, his statement, “I was near the river Ulai,” is preceded by three clauses that repeatedly emphasize his visionary experience (8:2).54

the surrounding stories, Collins, Daniel, 193. However, such a perspective does not solve the problem on a narrative level. The ancient commentator Hippolytus, who views the setting in ch. 3 to be the same as in ch. 2, notices Daniel’s absence and explains: “Daniel, though he stood at a distance and kept silence, encouraged them to be of good cheer as he smiled to them. And he rejoiced also himself at the witness they bore, understanding, as he did, that the three youths would receive a crown in triumph over the devil,” Scholia on Daniel 3:16 (ANF 5.188). 53 The king walks upon the roof of his palace, overlooks the city, and asks, “Is this not magnificent Babylon, which I have built as a royal capital by my mighty power and for my glorious majesty?” (Dan 4:28). 54 In 8:2, Daniel uses the verb “to see” (‫ )ראה‬three times and the noun “vision” (‫ )חזון‬twice, but some scholars attribute a measure of this repetition to dittography,

daniel and the narrative integrity of his prayer ‫חזון נראה אלי‬ ‫ואראה בחזון‬ ‫ויהי בראתי‬ ‫ואני בשושן הבירה‬ ‫אשר בעילם המדינה‬ ‫ואראה בחזון‬ ‫ואני הייתי אל־אובל אולי‬

237

A vision appeared to me . . . (8:1) And I looked upon the vision and it was when I was seeing and I was in Susa in the palace which is in the province Elam and I looked upon the vision and I was near the river Ulai (8:2)

A comparison with ch. 10 makes this point even clearer: ‫ואני הייתי על יד הנהר הגדול‬ ‫הוא חדקל‬ ‫ואשא את־עיני וארא והנה‬ ‫איש אחד לבוש בדים‬

And I was near the bank of the great river, that is, the Tigris And I looked up and saw a man clothed in white linen (10:4b–5a)

In ch. 10, in contrast with ch. 8, Daniel states simply that he stands near the Tigris River before his vision begins. Because the journey to Susa occurs within the vision, Daniel does not leave Babylon in ch. 8. In the episodes set in the time Darius the Mede, the narrator again provides no clue that the setting has changed. The new king receives the kingdom (‫ )קבל מלכותא‬from his predecessor as Daniel predicted earlier (6:1). Throughout ch. 6, the narrator consistently refers to Darius’ dominion generically as “the kingdom” (6:2, 4, 5, 8, 27, 29). From previous scenes, the audience recognizes the settings of Daniel’s house and the king’s palace as located in Babylon (6:11, 19).55 Thus, despite one reference to a “law of the Medes and the Persians,” the story offers no evidence that Daniel has moved to any place other than his residence from the beginning of the story: Babylon. In ch. 9, the narrator reminds the audience that Darius has been made king over the kingdom of the Chaldeans (‫( )המלך על מלכות כשדים‬9:1). Thus, Daniel still resides in Babylon when he reads Jeremiah’s letter and offers his petition. But in ch. 10, set during the reign of Cyrus, Daniel’s location changes: he stands on the banks of “the great river, that is, the Tigris” (10:4). If taken at face value, this description situates the character of

e.g., Collins, Daniel, 328. However, even if the repeated phrase “I saw in the vision” is not original, the speech still places the location in Susa within the vision. 55 Daniel’s house appears as a setting in 2:7, and the king’s palace (‫)היכל‬, in 4:1, 26; 5:5. Such a suggestion does not stretch too far the sense of verisimilitude in the narrative. The Persians, for example, kept four palaces, and one was located in Babylon.

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Daniel for the first time outside of Babylon.56 We have also seen that the narrator’s summary statement in 1:21 defines the parameters of Daniel’s career in Babylon as lasting until the first year of Cyrus. Combining the spatial details in 1:21 and 10:4 with those that occur in between, the audience sees Daniel serving four kings in the “land of Shinar” (chs. 1–9) and then leaving Babylon after his petition in ch. 9, before he experiences the climactic vision set in the third year of Cyrus. This investigation of Daniel in time and space thus points to ch. 9 as a key turning point for him: leaving his long residence in Babylon, he moves, for the first time in the story, out of the shadow of the royal palace to stand somewhere in Assyria, where he experiences the final vision toward which the entire story has been building. That ch. 9 marks a turning point for Daniel becomes even clearer upon consideration of his characterization as interpreter and dreamer. Daniel, Interpreter for God and Empire (chs. 1–6) In chs. 1–6, descriptions of Daniel characterize him as a man whose connection with God enables accurate interpretation of dreams and visions.57 Daniel’s own actions and speech cohere with this picture, but as the story progresses, they also reveal two plot cycles in which Daniel’s intimacy with power in Babylon produces ambiguous results: it leads to praise of God by foreign kings, but it also brings great danger to Daniel and his friends. Direct characterization of Daniel by the narrator depicts him in an entirely positive way. A learned, able, and wise member of royalty, Daniel has unique insight into all visions and dreams (1:3–4, 17, 20), and his plans succeed because God gives Daniel “mercy and compassion” before palace officials (1:15). In ch. 2, Daniel responds prudently

56 The tendency among commentators has been to resist accepting the location at face value. Because the “great river” usually designates the Euphrates, this verse— without the qualifying phrase ‫—הוא חדקל‬would locate Daniel still in Babylon. Thus, some have identified the phrase “that is, the Tigris” as an ancient gloss; André Lacocque, The Book of Daniel (trans. David Pellauer; Atlanta: John Knox, 1979), 205. Collins writes that the Euphrates would “be more appropriate to Daniel’s location in Babylon,” Collins, Daniel, 373. 57 Much of the positive characterization discussed in this section is also observed by John J. Collins, “The Court-Tales in Daniel and the Development of Apocalyptic,” JBL 94 (1975): 218–34. However, Collins’ article is not directly interested in narrative characterization.

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and discretely to a mortal threat (2:14). Because of his trustworthiness, his enemies find no error or fault in him, and he prospers during the reigns of the kings (6:5, 23, 28). Adding to this positive portrayal, both the narrator and other characters consistently praise Daniel for his divinely-inspired, trustworthy interpretive abilities (‫)פשר‬.58 In keeping with this depiction, Babylonian characters consistently view Daniel as one who is endowed with a divine spirit.59 However, in contrast with this focus on Daniel’s interpretive abilities, Darius lauds Daniel as “the servant of God” not because of his interpretation of dreams but because of his loyalty to God (6:17, 21, 26). This theme of Daniel’s connection to God also appears frequently in Daniel’s own speech and action in chs. 1–2. Daniel’s speech in ch. 1 shows his interest in keeping himself and his friends undefiled from the king’s food (‫( )פת־בג‬1:8–13).60 So too, his actions toward this goal demonstrate his loyalty to God, and he never interacts directly with the king. In ch. 2, much of Daniel’s speech adds to his characterization as interpreter, for he offers a long speech telling and interpreting Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (2:29–46). But his other actions and speech in the chapter are directed toward God. He asks his friends to seek “mercy from the God of heaven” concerning the mystery of the king’s dream (2:14–18, 24). He praises God for the ensuing revelation (2:19–23).

58 In these three scenes, the root ‫ פשר‬occurs twenty-five times: thirteen times in ch. 2; eight times in ch. 4; and twelve times in ch. 5. The narrator describes Daniel as a trustworthy interpreter of dreams, to whom God has revealed a secret about the end of days, 2:16, 18–19, 24–30, 36, 45, 47. The point is not to exalt Daniel but to establish that his interpretation is of divine origin (2:30). 59 Nebuchadnezzar describes Daniel as having “a spirit of the holy gods,” a quality that sets him apart from the other wise men of the kingdom (Dan 4:5, 6, 15). Even in ch. 5, where at first it seems Daniel has been forgotten, the queen describes him similarly as having a “spirit of the holy gods” and an excellent spirit (Dan 5:11–12). Belshazzar repeats this description, using it as a basis for his subsequent promotion of Daniel (Dan 5:14; 6:3). 60 Daniel suggests a ten-day test by which he and his friends will be found better than all the king’s servants, despite their diet of grown things. The number ten figures twice in this story: Daniel proposes a ten-day test and then the four friends prove ten times better than those who rely on the king’s providence. When combined with the concepts of testing and food, the number ten recalls the experience of the Hebrews in the desert, who test God ten times (‫ )וינסו אתי זה עשר פעמים‬by complaining about the water and manna provided by God and by reminiscing about the rich food of Egypt, among other things (Num 11:4–6; 14:2–4, 22). The group exiting Egypt became reliant on that foreign king’s largess, originally provided by God for the preservation of Joseph’s family, but this group of four sets out to avoid repeating their mistake.

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Like Joseph, he properly gives God credit as the revealer of mysteries (Dan 2:27–28; Gen 40:8; 41:15). He also claims that his interpretation is trustworthy precisely because it comes from God (Dan 2:45). In the end, Daniel’s actions lead Nebuchadnezzar to acknowledge the power of God (2:46–47).61 But alongside this orientation toward God, Daniel’s speech and action in ch. 2 lead him into deeper involvement with the king. For the first time, he enters the king’s presence, engages in dialogue with Nebuchadnezzar, and is addressed by his Babylonian name, Belteshazzar (2:16, 25–47). More significantly, the king falls down and worships Daniel at the end of the chapter, promoting him to a position of power in the kingdom (2:46–48). Through silence, Daniel implicitly accepts the king’s accolade and uses his promotion to seek positions of power for his friends (2:49). Daniel does not appear in ch. 3, but this episode is worth investigating for Daniel’s characterization, because the chapter links back to Daniel’s actions (and inactions) in ch. 2. In ch. 3, right after Daniel has revealed and interpreted Nebuchadnezzar’s dream about a large statue (‫)צלם‬, the king sets up a great statue (‫ )צלם‬that bears a certain resemblance to the one in the dream (2:31–32; 3:1).62 After having fallen down (‫ )נפל‬and worshipped (‫ )סגד‬Daniel, the king demands that his officials fall down (‫ )נפל‬and worship (‫ )סגד‬the statue (2:26; 3:5–6).63 These verbal connections imply that the events in ch. 2 are in some way related to the ensuing drama with the statue and furnace. A causal relationship between the scenes is best understood in light of Daniel’s request to Nebuchadnezzar of positions for his three friends and their subsequent movement to provincial positions of power. As argued above, their promotions relocate them to a province where their new governmental roles result in the attack by political enemies.

61

Many readers have noted similarities between Daniel and the character of Joseph in Genesis. If so, then the narrative may be presenting Daniel as having an even closer connection with God than does Joseph, for while Joseph interprets dreams, they are always first recounted (‫ )ספר‬to him (Gen 40:5–18; 41:8–12). In ch. 2, by contrast, Daniel receives from God not only the interpretation of the dream but also its content. 62 The king’s dream involves a large statue (‫ )צלם‬made of gold (‫ )די־דהב‬and other metals (Dan 2:31–32). Similarly, Nebuchadnezzar’s statue on the plain of Dura is a large statue (‫ )צלם‬made of gold (‫( )די־דהב‬Dan 3:1). 63 Repetition emphasizes the phrase “fall down and worship,” which occurs six times in this scene (Dan 3:5, 6, 7, 10, 11, 15). The Hebrew word ‫ סגד‬is used only in reference to idol worship (Isa 44:15, 17, 19; 46:6).

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Thus, Daniel’s success with the king (ch. 2), and all it entails, leads (unintentionally) to a mortal threat faced by his three friends (ch. 3). This negative turn in the plot casts doubt on the prudence of Daniel’s increased intimacy with Babylon. In episode four (3:31–4:34), Daniel’s action and speech characterize him as having an even closer relationship with imperial power. He twice refers to God’s sovereignty (4:22, 29), and his interpretation is partially responsible for Nebuchadnezzar’s praise of God (3:32–33; 4:31–32, 34). However, he neither interacts with God directly nor credits God for his interpretation. Instead, he directs his speech consistently toward the king, whom he twice calls “my lord” (4:16–24).64 His actions mirror those of Nebuchadnezzar, whose dream terrifies (‫ )בהל‬them both (4:2, 16). Moreover, Daniel states that this terror derives not from interaction with the divine but from his concern for the king. After hesitating for a time, Daniel conveys the dream’s meaning only upon the reassurance of the king, and he expresses hope that the dream might not come upon the king, despite the fact it represents a decree of the Most High (4:16, 21). He counsels the king to atone for his sins with righteousness and mercy to the oppressed so that the king’s prosperity might be prolonged, yet this advice conflicts with the divine decree, which connects Nebuchadnezzar’s coming punishment to his haughtiness with respect to God (4:24‒26). In ch. 5, Daniel’s actions as interpreter again bring him into close contact with the king. His characterization in the episode depicting the reign of Belshazzar begins with him outside the circle of power, for the new king does not know him, but he enters the king’s presence when called to interpret mysterious writing on the palace wall (5:11–13). In his speech Daniel initially refuses the king’s offer of reward (5:17), but by the end of the scene, he accepts the very gifts he has previously rejected: a purple robe, a gold chain, and rule over one-third of the kingdom (5:29). This contrast between Daniel’s speech and action calls attention to the gifts, particularly the gift of a powerful position, which reminds the audience of Daniel’s earlier success in Nebuchadnezzar’s courts (ch. 2) and its negative effects in the plot (ch. 3).

64 This difference could be attributed to the fact that Nebuchadnezzar narrates most of the chapter, but even so, the story gives an impression of Daniel’s attachment to the king.

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This subtle foreshadowing of danger comes to fruition in the mortal threat to Daniel narrated in ch. 6. Daniel retains his powerful position in the reign of the new king, Darius, because of his “excellent spirit” (‫( )רוח יתירא‬6:4). This phrase links ch. 6 back to ch. 5, where Daniel is described the same way (5:12, 14). Just as verbal parallels connect Daniel’s actions in chs. 2 with the danger in ch. 3, so this verbal link joins chs. 5 and 6. These similarities suggest that Daniel’s trouble again results from the rewards he has received from Belshazzar. In fact, the conspiracy to entrap Daniel is motivated precisely by his success in the imperial government (6:4–5). However, Daniel’s actions in ch. 6 also produce positive results. His faithfulness inspires a letter circulated by Darius, which declares God’s signs and wonders and orders his subjects to tremble and fear before the “God of Daniel” (6:26–28). Daniel at first shows an interest in separating himself from Babylonian power, but his deepening involvement with Nebuchadnezzar (ch. 2) results in danger to his friends (ch. 3) and in the king’s praise of God (ch. 4). Similarly, his relationship with Belshazzar (ch. 5) results in a threat to himself and Darius’ praise of God (ch. 6). The plot presents two similar cycles: intimacy with power, leading to a mortal threat, followed by praise of God by a foreign king. The audience might expect another such cycle, but instead the presented plot moves back in time to a moment between chs. 5 and 6 when Daniel previously disappeared from the action—nearly forgotten by the other characters. This nonlinear movement of the plot opens a new window onto the protagonist’s characterization: Daniel as dreamer. Daniel, the Dreamer (chs. 7–8) In chs. 7 and 8, the syuzhet turns back in time to reveal what occurs in Daniel’s life after Nebuchadnezzar’s death and the end of Belshazzar’s reign. As Daniel continues the king’s business outside the center of power, the narrative shifts from characterizing him as one who interprets dreams and visions to one who experiences them. This turn in the plot is expected because the narrative has foreshadowed it (1:17; 2:19), but even so, Daniel’s characterization in ch. 7 offers a surprise. The previously reliable, divinely-inspired interpreter with insight into all mysteries acts in these chapters in a way that echoes the behavior of the dreaming kings, as illustrated in Table 5 below.

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Table 5. Daniel, Nebuchadnezzar, and Belshazzar Daniel

Nebuchadnezzar

‫ דניאל חלם חזה‬7:1 Daniel had ‫ וחזוי ראשה על־משכבה‬a dream and visions of his head upon his bed.

‫ חלם חזית וידחלנני‬MT 4:2 I saw ‫ והרהרין על־משכבי‬a dream that ‫ וחזוי ראשי יבהלנני‬frightened me; my thoughts upon my bed and the visions of my head terrified me.

‫ חזה הוית בחזוי ראשי‬MT 4:10 I saw in ‫ על־משכבי‬the visions of my head upon my bed65

‫אתכרית רוחי אנה‬ ‫דניאל‬ ‫בגוא נדנה‬ ‫וחזוי ראשי יבהלנני‬

7:15 As for me, ‫נבכדנצר חלם נבכדנצר‬ Daniel, my spirit ‫חלמות ותתפעם רוחו‬ was troubled ‫ושנתו נהיתה עליו‬ within me, and the visions of my head terrified me.

Daniel

2:1 Nebuchadnezzar dreamed such dreams that his spirit was troubled and his sleep left him.

Belshazzar

‫ אנה דניאל שגיא רעיוני‬7:28 As for ‫ יבהלנני וזיוי ישתנון עלי‬me, Daniel, my thoughts greatly terrified me, and my face turned pale

‫ אדין מלכא זיוהי שנוהי‬5:6 Then the king’s ‫ ורעינהי יבהלונה‬face turned pale, and his thoughts terrified him.

The table demonstrates numerous parallels between Daniel’s narration of his actions and emotions in ch. 7 and the narrator’s depiction of the two kings in chs. 4 and 5.66 All three characters are terrified (‫)בהל‬ (4:5; 5:6; 7:15, 28; dotted underlining). Daniel and Nebuchadnezzar dream dreams (‫( )חלם‬4:5; 7:1; double underlining); experience visions (‫ )חזו‬in their heads (‫ )ראש‬and on their beds (‫( )משכב‬4:2, 13; 7:1, 15; dashed underlining); and have spirits (‫ )רוח‬that are troubled (Heb.

65 For the phrase “vision of my head upon my bed” (‫ )וחזוי ראשי על־משכבי‬applied to Nebuchadnezzar see Dan 2:28, 29; 4:2, 7. 66 Although the scene with Belshazzar occurs after the events of ch. 7 in the narrative’s discourse, because of the plot’s nonlinear sequence, the audience has already experienced a description of Belshazzar (ch. 5).

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‫ ;פעם‬Aram. ‫ )לרא‬within them (2:1; 7:15; solid underlining). Daniel and Belshazzar share descriptions of their faces turning pale (5:6; 7:28; dot-dash underlining). By placing Daniel in the role of the now-familiar terrified dreamer, these parallels reverse the audience’s expectations about his character.67 Fear in response to a divine vision is not necessarily negative, but because Daniel has responded earlier in the narrative to mysterious dreams by seeking an interpretation directly from God (ch. 2), the audience expects him to do so again. It is thus startling to see him stand before the throne of the “Ancient of Days” but seek interpretation not from that figure but from “one who stands alongside” (7:16). He receives a less-than-complete revelation, which he seems not to understand, and at the end of the scene remains visibly distressed (7:28). Daniel’s characterization as one who fails to understand continues in the next episode, set two years later. Daniel “lifts up his eyes to heaven” (‫ )ואשא עיני‬and receives a vision (‫( )חזון‬8:3‒4), an action that mirrors Nebuchadnezzar’s similar activity (‫( )עיני לשמיא נטלת‬4:31). He experiences two visions (8:3–14), seeks understanding (8:15), and receives an angelic interpretation (8:16–26), yet still fails to understand (‫( )בין‬8:27), behavior that is also reminiscent of Nebuchadnezzar. Daniel’s misunderstanding is even greater than it was in ch. 7: he is ill for several days, and even when able to get out of bed, he remains devastated (‫ )שמם‬by the vision (8:27). Again, this characterization surprises, for it contradicts the narrator’s earlier direct characterization of Daniel as one who understands all visions and dreams (‫ודניאל‬ ‫( )הבין בכל־חזון וחלמות‬1:17). A Summary of Daniel’s Characterization The analyses above demonstrate that not a scene passes in Daniel without the author giving attention to the protagonist’s characterization.68 Even the book’s climactic vision about the “end of the era” does not completely overshadow the author’s interest in Daniel as a character, 67 However, this turn in Daniel’s characterization has been foreshadowed by his earlier terror, 4:16. 68 The author characterizes Daniel more briefly in the last six chapters than in the first six, yet Daniel remains a character rather than an “actant”; see Michael V. Fox, Character and Ideology in the Book of Esther (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 8.

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for the story concludes with a focus on the future of the hero (12:13). Bringing together the various arguments above, Daniel’s character in chs. 1–8 can be summarized as follows: Time of Nebuchadnezzar. The narrator establishes Daniel as royal, goodlooking, pure, and decisive. Wise beyond all others, he leads the way in keeping himself and his friends disconnected from the food of the king in Babylon. As a trustworthy, divinely-inspired interpreter, he reveals the mysteries of royal dreams by asking his friends to seek their interpretation directly from God. This role draws him, however, into the circle of royal power, which in turn places his friends in danger; still they are delivered by God. Time of Belshazzar. Still in Babylon, but outside the circle of power, Daniel’s characterization reverses. He knows dreams and seeks interpretation and understanding, but he does not go directly to God. An angelic being appears to him, but he still does not understand. Despite his own struggles, sometime later, he is drawn back into the imperial court and acts again as a trustworthy interpreter for the king, revealing the meaning of divine writing rather than of dreams. Time of Darius. Daniel’s close connection with a third king again brings danger, this time to himself. Arrested while petitioning God, his faithfulness results in deliverance from the lions by God. Around the same time, Daniel reads the letters of Jeremiah and responds faithfully through a heartfelt, confessional petition to God. Although chs. 6 and 9 are separated in the discourse of the narrative (syuzhet), they converge in the story ( fabula). In both, Daniel seeks God in prayer.

The Results of Daniel’s Petition (9:20–12:13) Having reviewed Daniel’s characterization in the book, we return to ch. 9. Jeremiah’s first letter instructs the exiles to seek God in prayer, but the audience does not see Daniel do so until the reign of Darius, where he turns directly to God (6:10; 9:3). It has been argued above that the petition in ch. 9 makes sense as Daniel’s response to Jeremiah’s letters. However, with Daniel’s characterization in the whole book now in view, it is also evident that the penitential content of the prayer functions even more broadly in the plot, marking a major turning point for the character of Daniel.69

69 Daniel’s prayer in ch. 6 plays an important role in the plot of that chapter: it provides his opponents the opportunity to condemn him, but it also represents the faithfulness that brings divine deliverance from the lions. If the plot were presented

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Based on Daniel’s characterization in the larger narrative, his confession in the prayer can be seen as sincere. The narrative weaves a highly positive strand of characterization through the court tales, particularly in Daniel’s role as interpreter, but it also calls into question his over-involvement with Babylonian kings. If he reads Jeremiah’s letters in ch. 9, he is reminded of (or learns for the first time) the prophetic exhortation that Babylonian exiles ought to build houses, plant gardens, eat their own produce, and seek the welfare of the city through prayer. Daniel’s behavior in exile agrees with this instruction early in the narrative (chs. 1–2), but he gradually becomes drawn away from the affairs of his own house and into politics of the king’s house (chs. 3–6).70 By contrast, his prayer in ch. 9—voiced privately in his home—expresses total reliance on God’s power. In addition, his petition seeks God’s deliverance not because of “our righteousness” but because of the mercy of God (9:18). This point of view denies salvific significance to the narrative’s previous claims about Daniel’s uprightness and counters Daniel’s own assertion that God delivered him from the lions because of his blamelessness (6:22).71 If in this scene Daniel perceives the letter as a critique of his close association with kings in Babylon and/or comes to reject his prior reliance on his own righteousness, a prayer of repentance makes good sense.72 The narrative further emphasizes the transformative nature of Daniel’s repentance through significant plot changes and new characterization after 9:19. Gabriel now describes Daniel as beloved (9:23; 10:11, 19). As the study above of narrated space and time has shown, in ch. 10, Daniel leaves Babylon for the first time in the story, and he also moves beyond the narrator’s summary statement defining his life within a framework of imperial power (1:21). If the narrative has created ambiguity about his characterization as a dreamer in Babylon, it

chronologically, it would function, along with the prayer in ch. 9, as a turning point, but since in the fabula it occurs well before the prayer in ch. 9, only the latter prayer plays this role. 70 In ch. 6, the narrative juxtaposes the public and private settings of the king’s court and Daniel’s house. Distinct from the palace of the king or other public spaces, Daniel’s home represents a space in which his prayer to God occurs. When he reads and prays in scene nine, it is natural similarly to envision him at home. 71 Daniel says, “I have done no wrong” (6:22). The narrator calls attention to this statement by contradicting it in the next sentence: Daniel was saved because he trusted God (6:23). 72 His response to the letter is analogous to Josiah’s response to the book discovered in the temple in 2 Kgs 22:8–23:24.

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now clears this doubt by describing Daniel’s visionary experiences with different terminology: ‫ מראה‬and ‫דבר‬.73 Like Jeremiah, Daniel receives the true word of God.74 After the prayer, outside of Babylon, Daniel’s actions are reminiscent of the concern for food he exhibited before becoming deeply involved in the Babylonian court (1:8; 10:3). While his reactions to visions experienced after ch. 9 are intense, the author never characterizes Daniel in a manner reminiscent of the kings, as in earlier parts of the narrative.75 Perhaps most significantly, the prayer leads to divinely-enabled understanding. At the moment it begins, a word (‫ )דבר‬goes out from God, carried by Gabriel in swift flight to Daniel. It brings understanding (‫ )בינה‬by reinterpreting Jeremiah’s exilic period as “seventy weeks” and pushing them far into Daniel’s future (9:20–27). In the next chapter, a “man dressed in linen” arrives to provide the story’s climactic revelation (10:5–6, 11; 11:1–12:3), precisely in response to the humility (‫ )ענה‬of the prayer.76 These revelations generate understanding for Daniel, as the narrator makes clear (10:1, 12, 14), despite Daniel’s own declaration to the contrary later in the scene (12:8). Finally, the last few verses show the climactic nature of this concluding “word” in the life of the character of Daniel (12:4).

73 Daniel’s revelatory experiences are described as “visions” (‫( )מראה‬10:1, 6–8, 16, 18) and “words” (‫( )דבר‬10:1, 9, 11; 12:4, 9). By contrast, the word “dream” (‫חלם‬, ‫)חלום‬ does not appear in chs. 10–12, and the word for “vision” (‫ )חזון‬occurs only once in reference to Daniel (Dan 10:14). 74 This change in Daniel’s characterization does not de-legitimize his earlier visions but rather removes any suspicion of Daniel raised by Jeremiah’s critique of dreams and visions. As a whole, the narrative characterizes him as a reliable figure who receives truly divine information despite the fact that he dreams in Babylon. Perhaps the narrator’s reticence about locating Daniel explicitly in Babylon derives from a desire to protect him from Jeremiah’s critique of dreamers in Babylon. 75 Lacocque, Daniel, 206. They leave Daniel speechless and without strength, and he must be revived three times, Dan 10:8–10, 15–16, 18–19. 76 The heavenly man declares that the climactic vision comes because Daniel has humbled (‫ )ענה‬himself (10:12), which must refer to his penitential prayer in ch. 9. The efficacy of Daniel’s petition is similar to the narrative role played by confessional petitions in Tob 3:1–16 and Jos. Asen. 11:8–18, which elicit angelic revelation (De Long, Surprised by God, 78–79, 116–18). Cf., Bruce W. Jones, “The Prayer in Daniel IX,” VT 18 (1968): 488–93, who claims that Daniel’s prayer itself makes little difference to God; Collins, Daniel, 360, who writes that the “deliverance promised by the angel is in no sense a response to Daniel’s prayer.” On one level, these statements are accurate, for God’s ultimate deliverance will occur as determined by God. But on another level, the prayer elicits the arrival of understanding about this deliverance, so the prayer should be seen as efficacious.

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Attention to narrative dynamics in Daniel reveals a complex plot centered on a richly-drawn protagonist whose story builds to an important turning point in ch. 9. Beginning well, he resists the food of the king, demonstrates a strong orientation toward God, and disavows his own role in interpretation (chs. 1–2). But his actions and speech (particularly interpretation) lead to greater intimacy with Babylonian power. On the one hand, this relationship causes foreign kings to praise Daniel’s God (chs. 4, 6). But on the other hand, Daniel’s acceptance of their adulation and beneficence (chs. 2, 5) imperils his friends (ch. 3) and himself (ch. 6).77 The negative results of Daniel’s action and speech, along with his mirroring of the kings’ behavior (ch. 4), causes the audience to wonder—if I may borrow a metaphor from ch. 1—whether Daniel has “eaten the king’s food.” In the midst of this ambiguity, Daniel enters a period of private terror and confusion, prompting him to seek an interpreter for his own troubling dreams (chs. 7–8). However, in ch. 9, Daniel reflects on Jeremiah’s letters to the exiles and then humbly seeks God in petition. This action changes everything for Daniel: he leaves the service of Babylon’s kings, takes up again his practice of fasting, and receives a climactic vision that opens a window into the distant future. Thus, while the prayer does not initiate restoration at the end of seventy years, as a reader of Jeremiah’s first letter might expect, it does lead to Daniel’s departure from Babylon, removing him from his ambiguous service to foreign kings, and it brings true understanding, not only for Daniel but also for the maskilim at the end of days (11:33, 35; 12:3, 10). Thus, the character of Daniel fulfills Jeremiah’s prediction that at the end of days, understanding (‫ )בינה‬would arrive: Thus says the LORD of hosts: Do not listen to the words of the prophets who prophesy to you; they are deluding you. They speak visions of their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD. . . . For who has stood in the council of the LORD so as to see and to hear his word? Who has

77 A reader sharing the perspective of Ben Sira would likely critique the actions of Daniel’s character in these three scenes: “Whoever touches pitch will be defiled, and whoever associates with a proud man will become like him. Do not lift a weight too heavy for you, or associate with one mightier and richer than you. How can the clay pot associate with the iron kettle? The pot will strike against it and be smashed” (Sir 3:1–2).

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given heed to his word so as to proclaim it? . . . The anger of the LORD will not turn back until he has executed and accomplished the intents of his mind. In the latter days you will understand it clearly (‫באחרית הימים‬ ‫)תתבוננו בה בינה‬. (Jer 23:16–20)

The prayer in ch. 9 thus plays a central role in a narrative strategy that seeks to balance the macro-determinism of apocalyptic visions with a more Deuteronomic interest in the set-apart faithfulness of people who, like Daniel, live precariously in the ambiguity of exile.

PART TWO

QUMRAN AND THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS

QUMRAN: CAVES, SCROLLS, AND BUILDINGS* Sidnie White Crawford The caves in the vicinity of Khirbet Qumran and their contents have been the subjects of much academic vitriol over the past fifteen or so years. Who owned the hundreds of ancient Jewish manuscripts found in the caves, and who put them there? The answers to those questions depend on how one interprets the archaeological data from Khirbet Qumran and its surrounding caves. There is broad agreement on the following matters. The first archaeological phase at Qumran dates to the Iron II period. There followed a long period of abandonment; then the site was resettled in the late second century b.c.e. and continued, perhaps with interruption, perhaps not, until it was destroyed by a fire in the middle to late first century c.e. There was a very short period of habitation as a Roman army encampment after the first century c.e. destruction, then the site was permanently abandoned until it was excavated by Pére Roland de Vaux of the École Biblique et Archeologique Francaise in the 1950s. All archaeologists agree that the inhabitants of the site during that long period of settlement in the last century b.c.e. and first century c.e. were Jews, owing to the presence of miqva’ot and Hebrew inscriptions found at the site. After that broad agreement, however, archaeologists part company.1

* I am pleased to dedicate this article to James VanderKam, a leader in all aspects of Dead Sea Scrolls research and a model of scholarship and collegiality. I would like to thank Jodi Magness, Joan Taylor, and my colleagues in the Biblical Colloquium for their helpful comments and feedback. A version of this article was originally published in the Biblical Archaeology Review; I would like to thank Hershel Shanks for suggesting the topic to me. 1 R. de Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls (rev. ed.; London: Oxford University Press for the British Academy, 1973). Jodi Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002). Magen Broshi, “Qumran Archaeology,” EDSS 2.733–39. Katharina Galor and Jürgen Zangenberg, “Qumran Archaeology in Search of a Consensus,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Archaeological Interpretations and Debates (ed. K. Galor, J.-B. Humbert and J. Zangenberg; Leiden: Brill, 2006), 1–9. For a discussion of the army encampment of Period III, see Joan Taylor, “Kh. Qumran in Period III,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 133–46.

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Two competing positions currently exist regarding what Khirbet Qumran was and who lived there. The first position, originally articulated by de Vaux and today championed in the archaeological community by Jodi Magness, Magen Broshi and the late Hanan Eshel, states that Qumran was a sectarian settlement, most probably Essene, one of the three main Jewish movements in the Greco-Roman period described by Josephus, with secondary support from Philo and Pliny.2 The Essenes who lived at Qumran owned the scrolls and hid them in the eleven caves in which they were found during the Great Jewish Revolt against Rome (66–73 c.e.) because the settlement was threatened by an advancing Roman legion, which destroyed it in 68 c.e. The Qumran manuscripts are therefore the remnants of an Essene library, and open a window onto the thought world of a major Jewish movement of the Second Temple period. This is popularly known as the Qumran-Essene hypothesis.3 The second position is not so much a position as an anti-position, arguing against the Qumran-Essene hypothesis. Those who hold this position do not agree on the particulars but agree that Qumran was not a Jewish sectarian settlement, and that the manuscripts found in the caves are not related to the site of Qumran. The most well known proponents of this position are Robert Donceel and Pauline DonceelVoûte, Norman Golb, the late Yizhar Hirshfeld, and Yitzhak Magen and Yuval Peleg. The Donceels argue that Qumran was a “villa rustica,” with wealthy inhabitants. Golb argues that Qumran was a Hasmonean/ Herodian fortress, and that the Scrolls were part of the Jerusalem temple library, hidden in the caves before the siege and destruction of the temple in 70 c.e. Hirshfeld holds that Qumran was a rural estate complex; the Scrolls were brought for concealment in the caves from some public library, probably in Jerusalem. Magen and Peleg contend that Qumran was at first a fortress and then became an

2 VanderKam has been one of the most articulate proponents of this view in general Dead Sea Scrolls scholarship. See his “The Case for the Essene Hypothesis,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Today (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 71–87. 3 In addition to the bibliography cited above, see Magen Broshi and Hanan Eshel, “Residential Caves at Qumran,” DSD 6 (1999): 328–48. For an interesting discussion of the entire Qumran-Essene hypothesis, see Edna Ullmann-Margalit, Out of the Cave: A Philosophical Inquiry into the Dead Sea Scrolls Research (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006).

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“important pottery production center.” The Scrolls, meanwhile, were hidden by fleeing refugees during the Great Jewish Revolt.4 What we may characterize as the “anti-de Vaux” interpretations are united by the way that they each reinterpret the archaeological data from the ruins of the buildings of Khirbet Qumran. What they do not do, or at best do only superficially, is to take into account the archaeological data from the caves, which were excavated by de Vaux in the 1950s at the same time that he excavated the site of Qumran. That archaeological data, written up by de Vaux in Discoveries in the Judaean Desert I, III and VI and presented in English in his Schweich Lectures, as well as being documented by Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Alain Chambon, sheds much light on the question of who put the Scrolls in the caves, and why.5 But it is also important, when making a historical reconstruction of the events that led to the deposit of the scrolls in the caves, to take into account the contents of the Scrolls themselves and the nature of the collection. In what follows I will attempt to do both. Cave 1, discovered accidentally in 1947 by Ta’amireh Bedouin, famously contained seven scrolls, two of which, the Serekh ha-Yahad and the Pesher Habakkuk, were found wrapped in linen and stored in a jar. Another, the “Great Isaiah Scroll” (1QIsaiaha), was found in the same jar without wrappings. It is not clear whether the other four scrolls retrieved by the Bedouin, the Genesis Apocryphon, 1QIsaiahb, the Hodayot, and the War Scroll, were either stored in jars or wrapped in

4 Robert Donceel and Pauline Donceel-Voûte, “The Archaeology of Khirbet Qumran,” in Methods of Investigations of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Khirbet Qumran Site: Present Realities and Future Prospects (ed. M. Wise, N. Golb, J. Collins and D. Pardee; New York: The New York Academy of Sciences, 1994), 1–38. Norman Golb, Who Wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls? The Search for the Secret of Qumran (New York: Scribner, 1995). Yizhar Hirshfeld, “Qumran in the Second Temple Period,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 223–40. Yitzhak Magen and Yuval Peleg, “Back to Qumran: Ten Years of Excavation and Research, 1993–2004,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 55–116. Jean-Baptiste Humbert offers a modification of de Vaux’s theory, arguing that Qumran originally was built as a fortress but became “a religious center for a Jewish sect living around the Dead Sea.” Humbert, “Some Remarks on the Archaeology of Qumran,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 19–40, esp. 37. 5 G. Lankester Harding, “Introductory. The Discovery, the Excavation, Minor Finds,” and R. de Vaux, “La Poterie,” in DJD 1:3–7, 8–17; R. de Vaux, “Archéologie,” in DJD 3:3–36. R. de Vaux, “Archéologie,” in DJD 6:3–22. Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Alain Chambon, eds., Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân et de Aïn Feshkha (NTOASA 1; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994).

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linen. The jar in which the scrolls were found is a tall storage jar, holemouthed, with a cylindrical body, a well-marked (carinated) shoulder, and a flat base. It was fitted with a bowl-shaped lid. Since scrolls were found stored inside, that type of jar became known as a “scroll jar.” However, it is important to recognize that only one jar from Cave 1 was found by the Bedouin with scrolls inside. Other empty whole jars were also found by the Bedouin, lined up in a row against the wall of the cave.6 Cave 1 was excavated by the Jordanian Department of Antiquities and the École Biblique, under the direction of G. Lankester Harding and de Vaux, in 1949. During the excavation, fragments of seventytwo scrolls were found (not stored in jars), some linen wrappings,7 and sherds from at least fifty cylindrical jars and their bowl-shaped lids. One scroll, in its wrapping, was found adhering to the mouth of its broken jar.8 Cave 1 also contained phylactery cases and other pottery, i.e. three bowls, a pot, a juglet, two Hellenistic period lamps, and two Roman period lamps.9 Cave 2, a natural cave found by the Bedouin in 1952, yielded only six jars, one lid, and three bowls, but thirty-three fragmentary manuscripts.10 The discovery of Cave 2 prompted the professional archaeologists to undertake a survey of the caves in the limestone cliffs overlooking Qumran. In a race with the Bedouin, the archaeologists discovered Cave 3, which had collapsed in antiquity. Cave 3 yielded fragments of fourteen leather manuscripts, sherds of thirty-five cylindrical jars, more than twenty lids, two jugs, and a lamp. The Copper Scroll was also found in Cave 3, deposited not in the back of the col-

6

Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran, 25–26. An analysis of the linen cloths from Cave 1 was done by Grace Crowfoot. She states that some of these cloths “were certainly scroll wrappers,” but some were “covers once tied over the jar tops,” and some may have been used as packing material in the jars. “The Linen Textiles,” in DJD 1:18–38, here 19, 20. For a complete analysis of all the textiles found at Qumran, see now M. Bélis, “Des textiles, catalogues et commentaries,” in Khirbet Qumrân et ‘Aïn Feshkha II: Études d’anthropologie, de physique et de chimie (ed. J.-B. Humbert and J. Gunneweg; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2003), 207–76. 8 DJD 1, Pl. 1, 8–10. 9 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 49. 10 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 50. The statistics for the manuscript finds are all taken from the tables found in Emanuel Tov, DJD 39. 7

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lapsed cave with the other finds, but set against the north wall at the front of the cave.11 The Bedouin discovered Cave 6, which contained leather and papyrus fragments of thirty-one manuscripts, including one account or contract,12 one jar, and a bowl. By 1952, these four caves were the only caves in the limestone cliffs in which manuscripts were uncovered. In 1956, the Bedouin discovered Cave 11. Cave 11 contained thirty manuscripts or fragments of manuscripts (including the Temple Scroll), as well as one jar and other pottery sherds. The Temple Scroll, according to its discoverers, was found wrapped in linen in a scroll jar.13 The context of the manuscript caves must be kept in mind when considering how and when the manuscripts were placed in the caves. In the 1952 survey of the limestone cliffs, de Vaux and his team made soundings in 270 caves in a section of the cliffs eight kilometers long, with Khirbet Qumran approximately in the middle. Two hundred thirty of the caves had nothing in them, but forty contained pottery and other objects. Some were as old as the Chalcolithic period, some as late as the modern period, but twenty-six contained remains from the Greco-Roman period similar to the finds from Caves 1, 2, 3, 6 and 11. De Vaux gives a complete list of these finds in Discoveries in the Judaean Desert III.14 The list includes, over and over again, storage jars (cylindrical and ovoid), bowl-shaped lids, lamps, juglets, and bowls. The pottery types uncovered in the caves are the same types

11

De Vaux, DJD 3:28. The Copper Scroll is anomalous in several ways. As its name implies, it is engraved on thin copper sheets, the only composition from antiquity on copper. Its language is an early form of Mishnaic Hebrew, not the (archaizing) Biblical Hebrew of the rest of the Qumran scrolls. It is not in any sense a literary composition, but is a listing of treasure deposits and their hiding places. Whether or not these treasures (which were enormous) were real was the subject of great controversy. Given the Copper Scroll’s unique characteristics, and the fact that it was deposited in another area of Cave 3, away from the main deposit, it is a very real possibility that the Copper Scroll was deposited in Cave 3 separately, by a different group or individual (possibly from the Jerusalem temple) than the rest of the Qumran scrolls. See Al Wolters, “Copper Scroll,” EDSS 1.144–148, and Hershel Shanks, The Copper Scroll and the Search for the Temple Treasure (Washington, D.C.: Biblical Archaeology Society, 2007). 12 M. Baillet, “Texts des Grottes 2Q, 3Q, 6Q, 7Q à 10Q,” in DJD 3:138–39. 13 S. W. Crawford, The Temple Scroll and Related Texts (Companion to the Qumran Scrolls 2; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 12; Joan E. Taylor, “Buried Manuscripts and Empty Tombs: The Qumran Genizah Theory Revisited,” forthcoming in the Hanan Eshel Festschrift, 7. 14 De Vaux, DJD 3:6–13.

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that were excavated at Qumran. Further, as de Vaux notes, the density of occupation increases as one gets closer to Qumran. Later surveys underscore de Vaux’s findings. Joseph Patrich conducted surveys in the limestone cliffs in the 1980s. No new scrolls were discovered, but Patrich basically confirmed de Vaux’s conclusions.15 In the 1990s, Broshi and Eshel excavated two caves (C and F) 200 meters north of Qumran and discovered pottery sherds from the first century b.c.e. and the first century c.e.16 The conclusion is inescapable. The caves in the limestone cliffs saw human habitation at the same time as Khirbet Qumran, and the same types of pottery were in use in both places. This at least should give rise to the notion that there is a connection between the ruins and the caves. Only a few of those habitation caves, however, contained manuscripts, which indicates that their primary purpose was not the storage of scrolls, but something else, such as dwelling space or other kinds of storage. It is unlikely that these caves in the limestone cliffs were used for long-term occupancy, since they are small, not well ventilated or well lit, and with uneven floors and ceilings. Long-term storage, therefore, is the best possibility. The situation is different, however, for the second group of caves to be discovered. In 1952, the Bedouin discovered what is probably the most famous of the Qumran caves, Cave 4. Cave 4, which was actually two caves in antiquity, 4a and 4b, was dug into the southwest spur of the marl plateau upon which Khirbet Qumran sits. It is well ventilated and well lit, with level floors and storage niches. Pottery fragments of storage, cooking and serving vessels were found in the cave. It was, according to de Vaux, meant to be used as a dwelling space.17 However, when the Bedouin opened it up, they discovered it was packed with scroll fragments. When the archaeologists followed the Bedouin into Cave 4a, they found that the fragments went right down to the floor of the cave.18 Over 10,000 fragments coming from over 500 manuscripts were eventually recovered. Frank Moore Cross, who made preliminary identifications of the excavated Cave 4 materials, reports,

15 Joseph Patrich, “Khirbet Qumran in Light of New Archaeological Explorations in the Qumran Caves,” in Methods of Investigation of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 73–96. 16 Broshi and Eshel, “Residential Caves at Qumran,” 328. 17 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 56. 18 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 100.

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I was struck with the fact that the relatively small quantity of fragments from the deepest levels of the cave nevertheless represented a fair cross section of the whole deposit in the cave, which suggests . . . that deterioration of the manuscripts must have begun even before time sealed the manuscripts in the stratified soil, and that the manuscripts may have been in great disorder when originally abandoned in the cave. The paucity of sherds in the cave certainly indicates that the scrolls of Cave IV were not left stored away in jars.19

In other words, according to Cross, the scrolls were placed in the cave in haste, and all at once. Based on Cross’s observations and the pottery found in the cave, we can conclude that the original purpose of Cave 4a was not as a storage space or hiding place for scrolls, but was, as de Vaux originally hypothesized, meant as a dwelling space. An exploration of the marl terrace followed. Caves 5 and 10 were located in the southwest spur; Caves 7–9 were found on the southern spur, on the same terrace of the plateau on which the settlement sits. All are artificial caves, well lit and well ventilated, and evidently originally made for residence. Pottery fragments, all of the same period and type, including lamps, bowls, and cooking vessels, were recovered in all caves. Cave 5 contained fifteen identified manuscripts; Cave 7, 19; Cave 8, 5; Cave 9, one unidentified papyrus fragment; and Cave 10, one inscribed ostracon. Caves 7–10 were not used to store scrolls, but evidently as living quarters. Cave 7, whose pottery finds included a lamp, contained only Greek manuscripts. Cave 8’s finds included a Genesis manuscript, a Psalms manuscript, a manuscript containing a hymn or a prayer, and a phylactery and a mezuzah. The presence of the mezuzah indicates the cave was a dwelling place. Further, Cave 8 contained over one hundred leather tabs used for fastening scrolls.20 The idiosyncratic nature of the finds in Caves 7 and 8 show that these caves had single inhabitants with particular interests. Whoever lived in Cave 8 probably manufactured the scroll fasteners, which leads to the assumption that there must have scrolls nearby on which the fasteners were meant to be used.

19 Frank Moore Cross, The Ancient Library of Qumran and Modern Biblical Studies (rev. ed.; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1961), 27 n. 32. 20 J. Carswell, “Fastenings on the Qumran Manuscripts,” DJD 6:23–28. According to Carswell, Milik first made the suggestion for “a specialized worker who made tags, phylactery fastenings and cases, either localized in Cave 8, or whose material was stored there when the library scrolls were stored away before the Roman attack” (24 n. 1).

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Caves 9 and 10 revealed almost no inscribed material, but Cave 10 did contain a lamp, a reed mat, and date pits. Again, this is evidence for use as living quarters. Further, as Broshi and Eshel point out, all the caves in the marl terrace lie within the Sabbath limit of 1000 cubits (ca. 500 meters) from Qumran.21 In addition, during their excavations at Qumran in the 1990s, Broshi and Eshel discovered Cave H to the east of Cave 9, which had been occupied in antiquity, as well as several more collapsed artificial caves in the marl terrace. They estimate there may have been between twenty and forty artificial caves dug into the plateau surrounding Qumran at the time of its Second Temple period occupation.22 Finally, and very tellingly, they discovered an “intricate network of trails” leading from Qumran to both the marl caves and the caves in the limestone cliffs, with staircases cut into the cliffs leading to the marl caves.23 If one considers these findings from the perspective of landscape archaeology, the ruins of the buildings and the marl terrace caves are all one archaeological site, or one occupation area.24 In other words, while today these caves, especially Cave 4, are difficult to access, at the time of the Qumran settlement there would have been easy traffic between the site and the marl caves, and at least occasional traffic to the limestone caves. All of these facts argue against the notion that the scrolls were abandoned in caves by fleeing Jerusalemites, who were simply looking for a remote hiding place. Let us turn to the pottery. De Vaux’s published remarks on the pottery from the caves and Qumran can be found in several places, most especially DJD III and VI, including illustrations. In his Schweich lectures de Vaux states concerning the pottery, “The pottery from the caves is identical with that of the Khirbeh. The same pastes have been used and the same forms recur here, particularly in the case of the many cylindrical jars. . . .”25 Since the time of de Vaux’s statement, the Judean Desert region has been extensively excavated, and much more comparative material is available. The most thorough published study

21

Broshi and Eshel, “Residential Caves at Qumran,” 334. Magen Broshi and Hanan Eshel, “Three seasons of excavations at Qumran,” Journal of Roman Archaeology 17 (2004): 321–32, esp. 325; idem, “Residential Caves at Qumran,” 328, 335. 23 Broshi and Eshel, “Residential Caves at Qumran,” 328, 335. 24 Taylor, “Buried Manuscripts and Empty Tombs,” 4. 25 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 54. It should be noted that, since no final report on the excavations, including the pottery, has been published, all conclusions must necessarily be preliminary. 22

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of the Qumran pottery to date has been done by Magness, relying on de Vaux’s preliminary publications and field notes.26 Rachel Bar Nathan has made an extensive survey of pottery types in the Jericho region, which includes Qumran.27 Bar Nathan notes that the pottery types found at Qumran are also found throughout the region, most notably the pottery from the palaces at Jericho.28 Therefore, we can conclude that the pottery at Qumran is not unique, but part of the larger regional repertoire of the period. Magness agrees with this conclusion but argues that the “peculiarities” of the Qumran assemblage have to be taken in account.29 Most important for our purposes is the ubiquity of the hole-mouthed cylindrical storage jar at the site of Qumran and in the Qumran caves. We have already noted the number of cylindrical jars or their fragments, and their bowl-shaped lids, which were found in the caves, particularly the natural caves in the limestone cliffs. These same type of storage jars, along with two other similar types, “ovoid” and “bagshaped,” were found in the ruins of Qumran. In addition, “wasters” of these jars were found in the eastern garbage dump, indicating that they were produced on site.30 The jars are, therefore, an important material connection between the caves and the site. Now, it is the case that these types of storage jars (ovoid, bag-shaped, and cylindrical) appear in other sites in Judea in the same period. But the cylindrical jars do not appear in anywhere near the same numbers as they do at Qumran. Why were these hole-mouthed cylindrical jars so popular at Qumran? Bar Nathan connects the function of the jars to the Scrolls. She claims that most of the cave pottery comes only from the first century c.e. (contra de Vaux) and that the cylindrical jar appears (at all sites) only in the late first century b.c.e. She argues that the cylindrical jar was in fact created in this period to hold scrolls, and that the cave jars

26 Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran; see also her “The Community of Qumran in Light of its Pottery,” in Methods of Investigation of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 39–50. 27 Rachel Bar Nathan, “Qumran and the Hasmonaean and Herodian Winter Palaces of Jericho: The Implication of the Pottery Finds for the Interpretation of the Settlement at Qumran,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 263–80. 28 Bar Nathan, “Qumran and the Hasmonaean and Herodian Winter Palaces of Jericho,” 263–64. 29 Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran, 75–77. 30 Bar Nathan, “Qumran and the Hasmonaean and Herodian Winter Palaces of Jericho,” 275.

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should be narrowly dated to the Great Jewish Revolt against Rome, when they were manufactured to hide scrolls in caves. They are “archival” jars, and they do not point to any necessary connection between the caves and the site of Qumran. Their presence in both locations is just evidence of the broad regional repertoire of which Qumran is a part.31 This might be an attractive solution, but it contains several weaknesses. First, as Bar Nathan herself admits, this type of jar is so far absent from other sites, in particular Jerusalem, which might be expected to house several archives. Second, the jars in the Qumran caves do not seem to have been used primarily for scroll storage. Most of the whole jars discovered were empty or contained organic material, while most of the scrolls were discovered lying unprotected on the cave floors. Although the shape of this jar, and its close-fitting lid, works very well for storing scrolls, this would seem to be a secondary usage, and not what the jars were created to do. Finally, some of these jars were found sunk into the floor at Qumran, which is certainly not optimal for scroll storage. The cylindrical jars must have had some other, primary use. Magness has suggested that these cylindrical jars (and the ovoid jars, of the same type) were used primarily for storage of the ritually pure food of the Qumran community.32 This would certainly account for the function of the jars sunk into the floors at the site, but what about the numerous examples from the caves? Magness further suggests that the inhabitants were storing supplies of pure food and drink in the caves.33 This is possible and would account for the discrepancy between the large number of jars in the caves in the vicinity of Qumran, and the fact that scrolls were found in jars only in Caves 1 and 11.34

31 Bar Nathan, “Qumran and the Hasmonaean and Herodian Winter Palaces of Jericho,” 275, 277. 32 Jodi Magness, “Why Scroll Jars?” in Debating Qumran: Collected Essays on its Archaeology (Interdisciplinary Studies in Ancient Culture and Religion 4; Dudley, Mass.: Peeters, 2004), 158–60. 33 Magness, “Why Scroll Jars?” 163. 34 There are reports from antiquity, in Eusebius, Pseudo-Athanasius, and Epiphanius, of scrolls being found in jars (πίθοι) in caves “near Jericho.” Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 6.16.3; Pseudo-Athanasius, Synopsis PG 28.432; Epiphanius, De mens. et pond. 17–18. Later, the Nestorian Patriarch Timotheus I of Seleucus writes to Sergius, Metropolitan of Elam, that Hebrew manuscripts were discovered in a cave near the region of Jericho (as cited by Hartmut Stegemann, The Library of Qumran: On the Essenes, John the Baptist, and Jesus [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998], 69). It seems likely that these caves were in the vicinity of Qumran. Stegemann suggests Cave 3 as a likely candidate.

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To sum up thus far, the following facts argue for a connection between the caves and Khirbet Qumran. (1) The caves in the marl terrace fall within the parameters of the Qumran archaeological site; they were deliberately constructed as residential caves, and they are connected to the Qumran buildings by paths and staircases. (2) There are also paths leading from Qumran to the natural caves in the limestone cliffs. (3) An identical pottery repertoire, from the same time period, was found in the limestone caves, the marl caves, and the buildings. The ubiquity of the hole-mouthed cylindrical storage jars in all three locations indicates use by the same group. Thus, there is good archaeological evidence, independent of the Scrolls, for tying the caves to Khirbet Qumran. What does the evidence of the Scrolls themselves add to the picture? Much has been made of the fact that no scrolls were excavated from the ruins of Qumran.35 That argument, however, is a red herring. First, it is more correct to say that no scroll fragments were excavated from the buildings at Qumran. If we view Qumran as an entire occupational site, as suggested above, then scrolls were found at Qumran, in Caves 4–5 and 7–9.36 Second, the fire that destroyed Qumran at the end of de Vaux’s Period 2 consumed all the organic material in the buildings. As de Vaux states, “The end of Period II is marked by a violent destruction . . . all the rooms of the south-west and north-west were filled with debris from the collapse of the ceilings and superstructures to a height which varies between 1.10 m. and 1.50 m. Iron arrow-heads have been recovered, and almost everywhere a layer of a powdery black substance gives evidence of the burning of the roofs.”37 Therefore one should not expect to find scraps of parchment or papyrus in the ruins themselves. A more salient question would be whether or not there is any evidence for scribal activity in the ruins of Qumran. The answer is affirmative. There were, of course, the famous three inkwells from loci 30 and 31 (labeled by de Vaux “the Scriptorium”). Jan Gunneweg and

35 See, for example, Norman Golb, “Who Hid the Dead Sea Scrolls?” BA 48 (1985): 80; Hirshfeld, “Qumran in the Second Temple Period,” 239. 36 Stephen Pfann, “Reassessing the Judean Desert Caves: Libraries, Archives, Genizas and Hiding Places,” Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 25 (2007): 147–170, esp. 154. 37 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 36.

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Marta Balla list five more, although four are of uncertain provenance.38 Associated with the inkwells were plastered benches and tables, which de Vaux believed were writing desks, but whose actual function is disputed.39 It actually does not matter what the function of the tables was, since we know by the presence of the inkwells and inscribed material at the site that some writing occurred. André Lemaire has published all the inscribed material found in the ruins of the khirbeh and in the caves.40 Gunneweg and Balla have analyzed the inscribed material found in the buildings as follows: fifty-one ostraca in Hebrew script, eleven in Greek, and three in Latin. They suggest, based on the concentration of inscribed materials in certain loci, that rooms 124, 130, 61 and 30 were “centers of scribal activity at Qumran.” Sixteen ostraca, the largest number, were discovered in locus 120, a “storage room-complex.”41 De Vaux discovered an ostracon inscribed with a complete alphabet, which he identified as the work of a “pupil-scribe.”42 This would appear to be KhQ161. KhQ 2207, a “practical student exercise,” contains a quotation from the Psalms. This ostracon was found in Locus 129.43 In a 1996 survey, James Strange uncovered an inscribed ostracon, along the wall of the settlement, which appears to be some kind of deed.44 Therefore there is abundant evidence for writing activity in the ruins of the buildings. Next, the discovery of over one hundred leather tabs in Cave 8, one of the caves discovered underneath the terrace on which Qumran sits, is evidence for scroll manufacturing larger than a private collection. Whoever lived in or used Cave 8 must have been making or

38 J. Gunneweg and M. Balla, “Neutron Activation Analysis Scroll Jars and Common Ware,” in Khirbet Qumrân et ‘Aïn Feshkha II, 3–54, esp. 32. 39 The Donceels, for example, argued that these were dining benches. Donceel and Donceel-Voûte, “The Archaeology of Khirbet Qumran,” 27–31. 40 A. Lemaire, “Inscriptions du khirbeh, des grottes et de ‘Aïn Feshkha,” in Khirbet Qumrân et ‘Aïn Feshkha II, 341–88. 41 J. Gunneweg and M. Balla, “Possible Connection Between the Inscriptions on Pottery, the Ostraca and Scrolls,” in Khirbet Qumrân et ‘Aïn Feshkha II, 389–96, 393–94. They also note that no inscriptions on pottery were found in Caves 1, 2, 3 and 11 (although inscriptions were discovered in Cave 6), as opposed to Caves 4–10, further evidence that the limestone cliff caves had a different function than the marl terrace caves. 42 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 103. 43 Gunneweg and Balla, “Possible Connection,” 394. 44 James F. Strange, “The 1996 Excavations at Qumran and the Context of the New Hebrew Ostracon,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 51, and the bibliography cited there.

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storing those scroll tabs for a collection of scrolls, whether for new scrolls or the repair of old scrolls. It does not take a tremendous leap of the imagination to suppose that the scrolls in question were in the settlement at Qumran. Further, leather in various stages of preparation was found in three caves near Qumran, including “thin pieces to be used as parchment,” again pointing to the production of scrolls in the khirbeh.45 Let us now look at the types of scrolls found in each cave. Some caves contained collections that seem to have been for the private use of an individual. We have already mentioned that Cave 7 (a residential cave on the Qumran terrace) contained only Greek manuscripts. Cave 8, next to Cave 7, contained two biblical manuscripts and a hymn or prayer scroll. Caves 9 and 10 did not contain any identifiable manuscripts. Cave 5, next to Cave 4 on the southwest spur of the marl terrace, contained seven biblical manuscripts, ten (?) groups of fragments that remain unclassified, four small previously unknown works (5Q9, 10, 13 and 14), and, most interestingly, one manuscript of the Serekh ha-Yahad, one manuscript of the Damascus Document, and one manuscript of the Aramaic New Jerusalem composition. All three of these latter works have been labeled sectarian and give a unique character to the Qumran collection. These small collections are not the remnants of a larger library hidden by refugees fleeing from Jerusalem, but were used by the inhabitant of that cave for study or private devotion. The caves are grouped together, on the same terrace on which Qumran sits. The most logical assumption is that these people (and their scrolls) came from Qumran. What of the caves that contained larger collections, i.e. Caves 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, and 11? Let us first consider Caves 1–3, 6 and 11, the natural caves in the limestone cliffs that were not meant for permanent habitation. Each of these caves contained their share of “biblical” manuscripts, which could have been the property of any group of Jews in the Second Temple period. They also included compositions from the Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, which would likewise have been of general interest to Jews of the period. This type includes the fragments of the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach found in Cave 2. However, all of these caves also included compositions that have been labeled sectarian, that

45 David Stacey, “Seasonal Industries at Qumran,” Bulletin of the Anglo-Israel Archaeological Society 26 (2008): 7–29, esp. 14.

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is, as belonging to a specific group of Jews with specific and often unique legal, theological and historical interests that were not shared by the wider Judaism of the period. These compositions also share a recognizable sectarian language that sets them apart from other Jewish composition of the period.46 For example, Caves 1 and 3 contained pesharim, a form of composition unique to the Qumran collection. We have already mentioned the Serekh ha-Yahad, the New Jerusalem, and the Damascus Document, sectarian compositions located in Cave 5. Copies of the Serekh were found in Caves 1 and (possibly) 11, fragments of the New Jerusalem were found in Caves 1, 2 and 11, while a copy of the Damascus Document was found in Cave 6. In addition, one very important loose group of texts found in these caves includes texts that either argue for or accept without argument the solar calendar. These works include the books of Enoch (Caves 1, 2 and 6), Jubilees (Cave 1, 2, 3 and 11), the Temple Scroll (Cave 11), and Aramaic Levi (Cave 1). This favoring of the solar calendar indicates a division from contemporary temple practice and argues against the proposition that these scrolls came from a temple library or collection.47 Finally, we turn to Cave 4. Cave 4 is the largest collection and ties all the other collections to itself and to each other. Recall that Cave 4 is a man-made cave, in the southwest spur of the marl terrace. One of its chambers (A) contained evidence of habitation in antiquity (like Caves 5, 7–10). However, according to the testimony of the Bedouin who opened the cave, the archaeologist who excavated it, and the scholars who first examined the scroll fragments, the scrolls were deposited on the entire floor of Cave 4a; they seem to have been deposited all at once, with no apparent order, and they were covered with a layer of marl that had sealed them in antiquity.48 Therefore it is clear that the Cave 4 collection was deposited deliberately, for a specific reason.

46 Carol Newsom, “‘Sectually Explicit’ Literature from Qumran,” in The Hebrew Bible and Its Interpreters (ed. W. Propp, B. Halpern and D. N. Freedman; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 167–87. Also Devorah Dimant, “The Library of Qumran: Its Content and Character,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years after their Discovery, 1947–1997 (ed. L. H. Schiffman, E. Tov and J. C. VanderKam; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society/Shrine of the Book Israel Museum, 2000), 170–76. 47 Emanuel Tov has argued that the collection from Cave 11 has a particular sectarian character. “The Special Character of the Texts Found in Qumran Cave 11,” in Hebrew Bible, Greek Bible, and Qumran (Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 121; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 421–27. 48 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 100.

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Can we determine that reason? First, let us examine the Cave 4 deposit. Cave 4 contained works from all the categories mentioned above, i.e. “biblical” manuscripts, general Second Temple Jewish works, and sectarian compositions. Further, almost every composition found in the other ten caves is also found in Cave 4. There are exceptions: two of the pesharim from Cave 1 (Micah, Habakkuk) were not found in Cave 4, the Genesis Apocryphon is unique to Cave 1, and fragments of the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach were only found in Cave 2. But these are exceptions that prove the rule: Cave 4 provides a cross section of the Qumran collection. Further, all the paleographical dates of the leather and papyrus manuscripts from Cave 4 fall within the same broad range, mid-third century b.c.e. to mid-first century c.e., as the paleographical dates of the manuscripts from the other caves. Finally, individual scribal hands repeat between Cave 4 and the other caves. For example, Ada Yardeni has identified one individual who apparently copied more than fifty manuscripts. She definitely ascribes to this scribe four manuscripts from Cave 1, one from Cave 2, one from Cave 3, twenty-five from Cave 4, one from Cave 6, and one from Cave 11 (total 33) and thirty-seven possible others.49 These material facts tie the scrolls from the eleven caves into a common collection or corpus.50 The makeup of this Qumran corpus is distinctive. The previously unknown works especially point to a deliberate collection with a specific point of view.51 The aforementioned favoring of the solar calendar is one peculiar characteristic of this corpus. Another is the specific legal interpretations found in the corpus, which sometimes embrace positions related to those ascribed to the Sadducees in the Mishnah, rejecting the Pharisaic positions, but often are peculiar to the Qumran corpus (that is, are neither Sadducaic or Pharisaic).52 An example of

49 Ada Yardeni, “A Note on a Qumran Scribe,” in New Seals and Inscriptions, Hebrew, Idumean, and Cuneiform (ed. M. Lubetski; Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2007), 287–98, esp. 289–91. Emanuel Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert (STDJ 54; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 23, Table 2, takes a more conservative approach, noting that one scribe copied 1QS and 4QSamc, as well as making corrections on 1QIsaa. Even if we follow Tov’s more cautious approach, we still have evidence for scribal hands repeating in the caves. 50 Pfann, “Reassessing the Judean Desert Caves,” attempts to separate the various cave collections, ascribing them to different Jewish groups from the era. But I believe he overinterprets the evidence. 51 See Dimant, “The Library of Qumran: Its Content and Character.” 52 See, for example, the edition of Miqsat Ma’ase ha-Torah by Elisha Qimron and John Strugnell in DJD 10 and the accompanying articles. See also Lawrence H.

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this legal stance is the rejection of uncle-niece marriage, articulated in the Damascus Document and mentioned in the Temple Scroll.53 Many of the texts from the corpus share an eschatological outlook that gives the collection a particular emphasis (e.g. the War Scroll, PseudoEzekiel, and Pseudo-Daniel). New wisdom or sapiential works have surfaced in the corpus, with distinctive features such as cosmological and eschatological speculations.54 The exegetical texts, especially but not limited to the pesharim, display a distinctive interpretive stance, a shared vocabulary, and a common attitude toward contemporary events.55 All of these attributes again tie the Qumran corpus together as a deliberate collection and argue against the notion that it is simply a general Jewish collection of the Second Temple period. Further, what is not found in the Qumran corpus is as important as what is.56 There is no evidence for literature that could be described as “Pharisaic” in nature. There are no texts of an openly historical character, such as First or Second Maccabees. No works from pagan or Christian literature were discovered. Personal legal or business documents are almost entirely absent.57 This last statement contrasts sharply with the corpora from Naḥal Ḥ ever and Wadi Murabba‘at, which we know were the property of refugees from the conflicts of the first and second centuries c.e. The vast majority of documents from Naḥal Ḥ ever are deeds of sale, leases, loans, marriage contracts and the like, including the famous Babatha archive.58 The same is true for the Murabba‘at corpus.59 Again, this evidence points to the Qumran corpus as a distinctive collection, made by a specific group of Jews over a relatively long period of time.

Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1994), 249–55. 53 Crawford, The Temple Scroll and Related Texts, 61–62. 54 Dimant, “The Library of Qumran,” 174. 55 Moshe J. Bernstein, “Interpretation of Scriptures,” EDSS 1.376–83 and the bibliography cited there. 56 Yaacov Shavit, “The ‘Qumran Library’ in the Light of the Attitude towards Books and Libraries in the Second Temple Period,” in Methods of Investigation of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 299–318. 57 See the list in Armin Lange and Ulrike Mittman-Richert, “Annotated List of the Texts from the Judaean Desert Classified by Content and Genre,” in DJD 39:144. They note that the editor of these documents, Ada Yardeni, calls the provenance of several Cave 4 documents into question. She argues that 4Q351–354, 356–358 come from Naḥal Ḥ ever. 58 Lange and Mittman-Richert, “Annotated List,” 156–60. 59 Lange and Mittman-Richert, “Annotated List,” 152–54.

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Where did this collection come from? Although popular opinion has long held that scholars believed that all the Qumran scrolls were written and/or copied at Qumran itself,60 this has never been the scholarly opinion. For example, Cross in 1957 states, “Three very old documents have been found in Cave IV. Presumably they are master scrolls, imported into Qumrân at the founding of the community.”61 As Cross implies, it is impossible that the scrolls with a paleographic date prior to the mid-second century b.c.e. were copied at Qumran. However, there are only a few surviving scrolls older than the settlement dates at Qumran. Even more importantly, there are none with a paleographic date later than the destruction at Qumran around the time of the Great Jewish Revolt against Rome.62 Almost all of the paleographic dates of the scroll copies coincide with the archaeological dates assigned to the main phases at Qumran.63 That coincidence alone should at least lead to some attempt at an explanation. To summarize the evidence of the Scrolls: The Qumran corpus is a deliberate collection, with distinctive features that set it apart from what might be expected in a general Jewish library of the Second Temple period. There is a common range of paleographic dates across the eleven caves. The contents of each cave (with the exception of Cave 7) overlap with each other and especially with Cave 4. There is no difference between the corpora found in the limestone cliff caves and those found in the marl terrace caves (again, excepting Cave 7). It is a religious collection, with almost no business documents. We have established that it is most likely, based on the archaeological and textual evidence, that the inhabitants of the small caves on the marl terrace and their manuscripts came from Qumran. Can the same be said for Cave 4 and the limestone cliff caves? De Vaux gave an early summation of the argument that the scroll collection found in the caves came from Qumran: “When we reflect that the manuscripts are numerous and the pottery plentiful, that the manuscripts constitute a homogeneous group, and that the pottery

60 For an early popular treatment of the Dead Sea Scrolls that embraces this position, see Edmund Wilson, The Scrolls from the Dead Sea (London: W. H. Allen, 1955). 61 Cross, Ancient Library of Qumran, 42. 62 The paleographic dates assigned to the manuscripts have been confirmed by Carbon-14 dating. See Gregory L. Doudna, “Carbon-14 Dating,” EDSS 1.120–21 and the bibliography cited there. The Copper Scroll is an exception; see footnote 8. 63 Brian Webster, “Chronological Index of the Texts from the Judaean Desert,” in DJD 39:351–446, esp. 371–446.

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belongs to a single period, it is difficult to resist the conclusion that the manuscripts were deposited or abandoned in the caves at the same time as the pottery.”64 Have the arguments made by de Vaux on the basis of the archaeological evidence been strengthened or weakened in the subsequent years? In my opinion they have been strengthened. Thorough studies of the pottery found in the caves and excavated at Qumran have shown that, while the corpus fits into the regional pottery types found in the Judean Desert in the vicinity of Jericho, there are distinctive features in the caves/Qumran corpora that tie those two strongly together. These include, but are not limited to, the ubiquity of the hole-mouth cylindrical storage jars in the caves and at Qumran. A reinvestigation of the caves has discovered paths and staircases leading from the settlement to the caves. All the caves dug into the marl terrace lie within the archaeological boundaries of Qumran. The Qumran caves corpora are demonstrably one deliberate collection. How and when were they deposited in the caves? Two theories have been proposed. The first is that the caves were genizot for the Qumran community. The second is that the Scrolls were deposited in the caves as hiding places, in the face of the Roman attack that destroyed the settlement. The idea that Cave 1 was a genizah, a storage place for old, worn out, no longer usable manuscripts, was first mentioned by Eleazar Sukenik in the first flush of the discovery of Cave 1, and found some early supporters.65 The idea was rejected by de Vaux, however, and, as more scroll caves were discovered, it fell out of favor.66 Joan Taylor has recently made a strong case in its favor. She argues that the method of storing wrapped scrolls in jars in the limestone cliff caves is in fact a method of “burial,” appropriate for a genizah.67 The function of the caves in the marl terrace, according to Taylor, may point to “scrollprocessing for preservation-burial,” but this is uncertain.68

64 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 102. See Ullmann-Margalit’s discussion of de Vaux’s hypothesis and its strengths and weaknesses in Out of the Cave, 41–48. 65 As quoted by Taylor, “Buried Manuscripts,” 1. 66 As Taylor points out, de Vaux’s concept of the function of a genizah was incorrect; he thought manuscripts stored in a genizah were texts rejected by the community, that is, heterodox. Taylor, “Buried Manuscripts,” 3; de Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 103. 67 Taylor, “Buried Manuscripts,” 10–16. 68 Taylor, “Buried Manuscripts,” 23.

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Although Taylor makes several persuasive points on the basis of the archaeological evidence, the genizah theory does not adequately account for all the scroll evidence. First, a genizah is meant to be a storage place for old, worn out, no longer usable manuscripts, but two of the manuscripts stored in jars, 1QIsaa (Cave 1) and 11QTemplea (Cave 11) were in excellent condition when abandoned in their respective caves. 1QIsaa is an older manuscript (ca. 125–100 b.c.e.), but was completely whole and usable. The Temple Scroll’s paleographic date is only 25 b.c.e.–25 c.e.; its deterioration was caused by its adventures after its removal from Cave 11.69 Second, the overall paleographic profile of the collection argues against the limestone cliff caves being genizot. The oldest manuscripts in the collection come from Cave 4, while Caves 2, 3 and 6 (limestone cliff caves) have younger dates.70 Daniel Stökl ben Ezra has demonstrated, using statistical analysis, that the paleographic profile of the manuscripts from Caves 1 and 4 is on average much older than that from Caves 2, 3, 5, 6 and 11.71 Stephen Pfann has charted the paleographic dates of the manuscripts from the larger scroll caves (1, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 11). His charts indicate that the peak paleographic date for Caves 1, 4, 5 and 6 is the first century b.c.e., and for Caves 3 and 11 the first century c.e.72 This paleographic concentration is what we would expect; the settlement was founded ca. 100 b.c.e. and destroyed in 68 c.e. The inhabitants would have brought older scrolls in at the beginning of the settlement and collected and/or manufactured new scrolls while they lived there. Many of these new scrolls could have easily been brought in from other parts of the country, including Jerusalem. Both the paleographic findings and the physical state of 1QIsaa and 11QTemplea do not coincide with the idea that the limestone cliff caves were exclusively genizot for old, worn out, or otherwise unusable manuscripts. However, it is certainly possible that some older manuscripts were stored away in certain caves (according to Stökl ben Ezra’s statistics, Caves 1 and 4), before the end of the settlement.

69 Yigael Yadin, The Temple Scroll (3 vols.; rev. Eng. ed.; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1983), 1:9–39. 70 Brian Webster, “Chronological Index,” 375–77. 71 Daniel Stökl ben Ezra, “Old Caves and Young Caves: A Statistical Reevaluation of a Qumran Consensus,” DSD 14 (2007): 313–33, esp. 315–18. 72 Pfann, “Reassessing the Judean Desert Caves,” 157–58, 160.

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The second scenario, the “quick hiding” scenario, has been championed by de Vaux, Cross, Hartmut Stegemann, James VanderKam and others.73 This scenario continues to have much to recommend it. The archaeological evidence from Caves 3 and 4, the only caves where all (Cave 3) or a substantial portion (Cave 4) of the manuscript evidence was undisturbed and professionally excavated, indicate that the scrolls were deposited all at once, and hurriedly. De Vaux states, “the many fragments recovered by us from Cave 4 went right down to the original floor of the cave.”74 To quote Cross again, “the relatively small quantity of fragments from the deepest levels of the cave [4] nevertheless represented a fair cross section of the whole deposit in the cave.”75 Cross does not indicate that only paleographically earlier manuscripts were found at the bottom layers of the cave, which we would expect if Cave 4 were a genizah.76 Rather, it appears that the manuscripts were placed in the large collection caves, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6 and 11, over a relatively short period of time. Given the fact that all these caves contained manuscripts with the latest paleographic dates in the Qumran series (ca. 1–70 c.e.),77 it is logical to look for an event that would precipitate the manuscripts’ rapid storage in the caves. That event has to be the anticipated attack on the settlement by the X Roman Legion Fretensis, operating in the region of Jericho in 68 c.e.78 That this attack in fact occurred is demonstrated by the destruction layer at Qumran, the Roman arrowheads in the destruction debris, and the reuse of the site as a Roman army camp in Period 3.79

73 Originally argued by de Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 106–9. Cross, Ancient Library of Qumran, 62. VanderKam, The Dead Sea Scrolls Today, 108. For an imaginative reconstruction of how this was done, see Stegemann, The Library of Qumran, 58–79. 74 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 100. 75 Cross, Ancient Library of Qumran, 27 n. 32. 76 As Pfann, “Reassessing the Judean Desert Caves,” suggests (147, 149). 77 Webster, “Chronological Lists,” 374–75. 78 Cross, Ancient Library of Qumran, 60–62. 79 Stökl ben Ezra proposes two events that precipitated hiding; Caves 1 and 4 were used at the time of the first fire that destroyed the buildings in 9/8 b.c.e., while Caves 2, 3, 5, 6 and 11 were used in 68 c.e. The suggestion that some manuscripts were hidden or stored away earlier than 68 is certainly possible and can be argued as part of the hiding scenario, “Old Caves and Young Caves,” 327–28. Gregory Doudna makes the sweeping suggestion that all the scrolls were deposited in the caves in the first century b.c.e., but he dismisses the first century c.e. paleographic dates,“The Legacy of an Error in Archaeological Interpretation. The Dating of the Qumran Cave Scroll Deposits,” in The Site of the Dead Sea Scrolls, 146–56.

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All of these facts create a strong chain of evidence that it was the inhabitants of Qumran who owned the scroll collection and who hid the majority of the Scrolls, perhaps first in the relatively inaccessible caves in the limestone cliffs, but then finally and quickly in the large, conveniently nearby Cave 4 in 68 c.e. The Scrolls must have been precious to them, since they made at least some effort to protect them from the elements by wrapping some in linen and even storing a few in a jar. They did not hide coins or other wealth; the Scrolls were their only concern. Did they hope to return and recover them? Probably, but that was not to be, and their discovery was left to the curiosity of Bedouin shepherds in 1947.

DIGITAL QUMRAN: VIRTUAL REALITY OR VIRTUAL FANTASY? Jodi Magness The latest twist on the controversies surrounding the archaeology of Qumran has come—perhaps not surprisingly—from the world of digital technology. Based on his University of California at Los Angeles Ph.D. dissertation, Robert Cargill claims that digital technology provides definitive answers to the question of whether Qumran was a sectarian settlement. Cargill created a three-dimensional virtual model of Qumran that allows for real-time navigation through the site.1 Cargill’s Digital Qumran project is valuable for applying the latest technological advances in computer simulation to Qumran studies. There is no doubt that technology will increasingly impact scholarship, and Cargill’s project illustrates one way that the two can be used together to better understand the past. Nevertheless, it is important to recognize technology’s limitations as well as its value. In this paper, I demonstrate that since Cargill’s digital model is the result of a selective and interpretive process (and includes some serious errors), it cannot and should not be used as a basis for understanding the nature of the settlement. It is a pleasure to dedicate this paper to Jim VanderKam, whose careful research and original insights on Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls have been valuable resources for my own work. Although technology is useful, it is only a tool—that is, a means to an end, not an end in itself. Technology does not provide objective answers, since the results are generated on the basis of data entered into the system. The data gathered are the product of an interpretive process on the part of the archaeologist, a process which begins even before the first shovel is sunk into the ground, as part of deciding where and how to excavate. As Michael Schiffer cautions, “the behavior of the archaeologist is the greatest source of variability in the

1

See Robert R. Cargill, Qumran through (Real) Time: A Virtual Reconstruction of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Piscataway, N.J.: Gorgias, 2009); idem, “The Qumran Digital Model: An Argument for Archaeological Reconstruction in Virtual Reality,” Near Eastern Archaeology 72 (2009): 28–41, 44–47.

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archaeological record.”2 Furthermore, even under the best of circumstances our data are incomplete, since most of the material remains from antiquity have not survived. As Sheena Crawford observes, “in attempting to reconstruct the past, the archaeologist is at a distinct tactical disadvantage over those who concern themselves with the present. The ‘process’ is gone, the ‘actors’ have exited, and the nebulous ‘ideas’ (indefinite enough in the present) are long buried in the sands of time. What the archaeologist is left with is a barrow-load of static remains, broken and battered. . . .”3 Similarly, Nezar Al-Sayyad, an urban historian who created a computer model of medieval Cairo, remarks on “our growing recognition of the futility of attempting to create a single ‘complete’ model of historical change from a few fragments of historical evidence.”4 In the case of Qumran, these problems are amplified by the nature of Roland de Vaux’s excavations (which were conducted according to scientific standards common in the eastern Mediterranean in the 1950s), and the lack of a final scientific report, which means that much of the data from the excavations has never been published. Therefore, it is not true, as Cargill claims, that with his digital model, “the archaeologist can visually experience the site just as the site’s original inhabitants would have.”5 The digital model may provide an impression of the site’s appearance, but it is not an accurate reconstruction. In Near Eastern Archaeology 72 (2009), I published a detailed response to Cargill’s digital model that includes a critique of his chronology.6 For example, Cargill harmonizes or telescopes remains from various periods. This problem is due at least in part to the conflation of remains dating to the pre-31 b.c.e. phase of Period Ib and the post31 phase of Period Ib, which he acknowledges (p. 137) but does not distinguish (as indicated by Cargill’s assignment of his Phase 4 from

2 Michael B. Schiffer, Formation Processes of the Archaeological Record (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1987), 362. 3 Sheena Crawford, “Re-evaluating Material Culture: Crawling Towards a Reconstruction of Minoan Society,” in Minoan Society, Proceedings of the Cambridge Colloquium 1981 (ed. O. Krzyszkowska and L. Nixon; Bristol: Bristol Classical Press, 1983), 48. 4 Nezar AlSayyad, “Virtual Cairo: An Urban Historian’s View of Computer Simulation,” Leonardo 32.2 (1999): 96. 5 Cargill, Qumran through (Real) Time, 73. 6 Jodi Magness, “The Qumran Digital Model: A Response,” Near Eastern Archaeology 72 (2009): 42–45.

digital qumran: virtual reality or virtual fantasy? 277 the earthquake of 31 to the Roman destruction in 68 c.e. [p. 213]).7 In this paper, I wish to consider other problems. At the beginning of his book, Cargill informs us that not long after beginning the process, certain flaws in Roland de Vaux’s original Qumran–Essene Hypothesis became apparent. Certain archaeological assumptions made by de Vaux did not hold up in the digital modeling process. Specifically, Locus 30 (the so-called “scriptorium”) and Locus 77 (the “dining room”) appeared to be additions to a previously standing square structure, based upon wall abutments and differences in (often multiple) floor elevations. Thus, a sectarian community most likely did not establish the initial site as de Vaux proposed.8

Cargill concludes that the site originally consisted of a Main Building measuring 37 × 37 m with a large tower in the northwest corner, which he identifies as a Hasmonean period fort (ca. 140–100 b.c.e.). According to Cargill, rooms such as the “scriptorium” and the dining room in L77 were added to this original structure in the next phase, which is sectarian.9 Cargill’s conclusion is based on a string of erroneous assumptions and assertions, examples of which are discussed in the following ten points. (1) Cargill states that L30 and L77 appear to be additions to a previously standing square structure based on wall abutments and differences in (often multiple) floor elevations.10 But the fact that one wall abuts another rather than being bonded only indicates the relative relationship between them—that is, one is later than the other—not the absolute dates of construction. It does not indicate whether this is a technical feature of construction or whether the walls are separated

7 For the pre-31 and post-31 phases of Period Ib at Qumran, see Jodi Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran and the Dead Sea Scrolls (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 66–68; idem, “The Chronology of the Settlement at Qumran in the Herodian Period,” DSD 2 (1995): 58–65. 8 Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, 6. 9 Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, 102, 119–23. 10 See for example Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, 119: “The northern and eastern walls of Locus 30 were thinner than the previously existing wall to its west, which it abuts. The abutment of the northern wall of Locus 30 against the thicker wall to the west of the locus demonstrates that Locus 30 was an expanded area from the original structure. This fact, coupled with the fact that the width of the Locus 30 courtyard-facing walls is equal to the width of the remodeled northern wall of the southern wing of the Main Building, lends additional support to the suggestion that Locus 30 was an internal addition to the previously established fort.” For L77 see p. 122.

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in date by one day, one year, ten years, or one hundred years. The only way to determine the construction date of walls is on the basis of the associated finds, that is, datable artifacts or objects from their foundation trenches and the surfaces abutting them. (2) There is an original enclosure at the heart of Qumran’s main building, but de Vaux dated its construction to the Iron Age, not the Hasmonean period: The first human settlement at Khirbet Qumran goes back to the Israelite period. The foundations of some of the walls are on a lower level than others, being embedded in a layer of ash containing numerous sherds of Iron Age II. . . . They are again to be found against the north wall of Locus 77, the foundations of which are very deep, and beneath the south wall of the same locus, which has a much shallower foundation and has been superimposed on a thin layer of ash containing Israelite sherds only. . . . The location of the sherds and the levels of the foundations of the walls provide evidence to help reconstruct a coherent plan. It is of a rectangular building comprising the following features: a large courtyard; a row of rooms running along its eastern wall with one projecting outwards at the northeast corner; other less clearly identifiable features against the north and south walls.11

De Vaux concluded that this structure was a late Iron Age fort, analogous to others in the area: “This plan approximates to the plans of the Israelite strongholds which have been explored in the Plain of the Buqei’a, on the plateau which dominates Qumran, as well as in the Negeb, at ‘Ain Qedeirat and elsewhere.”12 In other words, there is no doubt that rooms such as L30 and L77 were added to or abut previously existing walls, but the earlier structure dates to the Iron Age. Cargill includes Iron Age forts among his comparanda, but for reasons that are not clear, he dates the establishment of the fort to the Hasmonean period.13 (3) The square building that is at the heart of Cargill’s reconstruction is incomplete. There is no evidence of walls on the western and southwest sides of the original structure of Period Ia, neither according to the plans published by Roland de Vaux nor by Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Alain Chambon.14

11 Roland de Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls (London: The British Academy, 1973), 1–2. 12 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 2. 13 Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, 102–5, 176–83. 14 Compare Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, Pls. 5.2–5.3, and de Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, Pl. IV; Jean-Baptiste Humbert and Alain Cham-

digital qumran: virtual reality or virtual fantasy? 279 (4) A key feature of Cargill’s Hasmonean period fort is the northwest tower.15 However, de Vaux dated the tower’s construction to his Period Ib (ca. 100 b.c.e.), and no tower appears on his plans of Period Ia.16 Although Humbert and Chambon include the tower in their plan of Period Ia, they do not state the basis for this, and in fact their plan is admittedly hypothetical, as indicated by the caption, “Plan partiel suppose.”17 (5) Even if Cargill is correct in dating the supposed square structure and tower to the Hasmonean period (ca. 140–100 b.c.e.), this does not prove his claims in the first long quotation above about the nature of occupation: the existence of a tower in Period Ia would not demonstrate that Qumran was a fort and not a sectarian settlement, since the tower existed and was used in the later phases that Cargill identifies as sectarian. (6) Elsewhere Cargill discusses Loci 12 and 13 to the south of the northwest tower: De Vaux suggested the presence of an uncovered gallery or drawbridge leading from Loci 12 or 13 to an entrance in the southern wall of the tower on the second floor leading to Locus 11. The presence of an oven discovered in Locus 13 caused de Vaux to reconsider the interpretation as covered [sic!], and he ultimately concluded that the area immediately to the south of the tower was uncovered. There is a “strong pillar” in Locus 12, which de Vaux states is contemporary with the thinner partition wall between Loci 12 and 13. The thin partition wall appears to stand in place of the original internal support wall of the northern half of the western wing. . . . Given the fact that the oven and partition wall are secondary, that the entrance to the northwest tower is on the second floor, and given the fortified nature of the entire settlement and the fact that the main entrance to the structure is to the immediate west of Locus 12, the area above Loci 12 and 13 most likely originally extended all the way to the southern wall of the northwest tower.18

This statement incorporates a string of assumptions made by Cargill (such as the fortified nature of the settlement), which then led him to conclude that Loci 12 and 13 were originally two stories high and roofed: “Upon modeling the initial structure wall, no basis could be

bon, Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân et de Aïn Feshkha I (Fribourg: Éditions universitaires, 1994), 15 Pl. III. 15 See Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, 109–11; Pls. 5.2–5.3. 16 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 6–7; Pls. IV, VI. 17 Humbert and Chambon, Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân, 15 Pl. III. 18 Cargill, Qumran through (Real) Time, 106–107.

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found for not extending the internal and external walls of the western wing of the Main Building all the way to the tower on the second storey.”19 In other words, Cargill makes an assumption about L12 and L13, which he incorporated into the model on the grounds that “no basis could be found for not extending [these walls]. . . .” In fact, Cargill’s reconstruction is contradicted by de Vaux, who posited a wooden balcony extending over Loci 12 and 13 because he found no evidence of a second story or ceiling in L12: “Y avait-il un étage? Mais pas de cendres ni traces d’un plafond . . . les loci 12 et 13 n’étaient apparemment pas couverts.”20 This means that there is no basis for Cargill’s statement that “De Vaux’s notes suggest the presence of a second storey in Locus 12 immediately to the south of the tower.”21 As de Vaux concluded, the balcony (which provided access to the tower at the second-story level) was reached by a staircase in L13 (not L12 as Cargill states on page 107).22 (7) Cargill also discusses the staircase in the southeast corner of the central courtyard of the main building (L35). In Plate 5.18 Cargill includes the staircase in his Hasmonean period phase (the fort).23 However, the staircase does not appear in the plans of de Vaux’s period Ia, and in fact de Vaux dated the construction of the staircase to Period Ib.24 I have suggested that the staircase was built in the post-31 b.c.e. phase of Period Ib, because according to de Vaux’s notes it was constructed over the water channel that supplied the miqveh in L48–49, which was destroyed by the earthquake and subsequently abandoned.25 Since the areas surrounding the staircase to the west, north, and east were open to the sky when it was constructed, the staircase must have provided access to a second story level to the south. This is why I have proposed that the dining room in L77 was moved to the second story level of this room after the earthquake of 31 b.c.e., at the same time a row of pilasters was erected at the eastern end of the hall.26 19

Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, 106–107. Humbert and Chambon, Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân, 296–97. 21 Cargill, Qumran through (Real) Time, 106. 22 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 6; Humbert and Chambon, Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân, 297. 23 Cargill, Qumran through (Real) Time, 108. 24 De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 7; Pl. VI; Humbert and Chambon, Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân, 15 Pl. III; 16 Pl. IV; 34 Pl. X. 25 Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran, 122–23. 26 Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran, 123. 20

digital qumran: virtual reality or virtual fantasy? 281 (8) On pages 111–12, Cargill discusses Loci 1, 2, and 4. Because of the low bench running along the walls, de Vaux suggested that Locus 4 “has the appearance of being an assembly room.”27 Cargill, however, identifies these loci as storage rooms, “based upon the pottery manufacturing elements present at Qumran, the vast diversity and quantity of pottery discovered in Loci 1 and 2, and the impassability of the three rooms. . . . The benches are too low for comfortable seating, and the plastered floor and benches would have helped to preserve fluids in the case of breakage and spills.”28 In Plate 5.14 Cargill illustrates the interior of Locus 4, showing rows of cylindrical jars on the benches and smaller jars on the floor. But de Vaux’s notes do not support Cargill’s reconstruction. The pottery from these loci listed in de Vaux’s notes consists of the following (my translation from the French):29 Locus 1: 1 cylindrical jar; 3 deep bowls or basins; 2 jars or jar fragments; 11 small plates or fragments of small plates (assiettes); 3 bowls; 2 plates (plats); one Herodian (wheelmade) lamp fragment. Locus 2: 3 cylindrical jars or jar fragments (one small); 1 ovoid jar; 1 small cooking pot; 7 juglets or juglet fragments; 1 bowl; 1 cup; 1 deep bowl or basin; 1 piriform jug (fragments); 1 jug fragment; fragments of stone vessels; 1 small plate. Locus 4: 4 bell-shaped [bag-shaped] jars; 2 bowls; 7 small plates or fragments of small plates; 1 cup; 1 juglet; 1 jug; 3 Herodian lamps or lamp fragments; 3 fragments of Roman water jugs with plastic decoration (Nabataean cream ware?); 1 goblet; 1 plate; 1 unguentarium (on the bench).

Of course, we do not have information on all of the pottery types found in these loci. Nevertheless, the published reports suggest that most of the pottery consists of dining dishes rather than storage vessels, contradicting Cargill’s identification of these loci as storage rooms. Furthermore, the fact that not a single cylindrical jar is recorded from Locus 4 moves Cargill’s illustration from the realm of historical reconstruction to fantasy.

27

De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 7. Cargill, Qumran Through (Real) Time, 112. 29 Humbert and Chambon, Fouilles de Khirbet Qumrân, 292–93. Some of the pottery from L1, L2, and L4 is illustrated in Roland de Vaux, “Fouille au Khirbet Qumrân, Rapport préliminaire,” RB 60 (1953): 96–101, Figs. 2–4. 28

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(9) On page 137, Cargill accepts Yitzhak Magen and Yuval Peleg’s redating of the earthquake from 31 b.c.e. to a period after the site’s abandonment: “their assertion that the crack occurred after the site’s destruction based upon the fault line evidence in the trash dumps to the east of the site is compelling.” Cargill is referring to Magen and Peleg’s excavation of a refuse dump outside the site’s eastern boundary wall, which revealed two deep north-south cracks.30 Magen and Peleg compare these to the earthquake crack in L48–49 and state that, “these cracks postdate the [eastern] dump, as finds clearly fell into them after their formation.”31 Since the finds from the dump date from the Iron Age to the First Revolt, Magen and Peleg conclude that a later earthquake caused the cracks. However, even if Magen and Peleg are correct that a later earthquake caused the cracks in the eastern dump, it is not clear that the same earthquake was responsible for the damage in L48–49. After all, the rift valley is an epicenter of seismic activity. More importantly, I do not understand the reason for dating the cracks in the eastern dump to a period after the site’s abandonment. The caption to Fig. 16 of Magen and Peleg’s preliminary report reads, “Notice the penetration of the dark upper layer into the crack.”32 This photograph shows that the material was dumped after the crack formed—in other words, the dumped material postdates the crack. If the dump antedated the crack, we should expect to find a layer of dump with a crack running through it. Instead, the section illustrated by Magen and Peleg clearly shows the dumped material filling and respecting the crack. (10) On page 151, Cargill endorses the suggestion (made by others) that the animal bone deposits in L130, 132, and 135 were “buried in an effort to keep predators and scavengers away from the site.”33 This possibility is contradicted by all available evidence. De Vaux indicated that the animal bones were not buried:

30 Yitzhak Magen and Yuval Peleg, The Qumran Excavations 1993–2004, Preliminary Report (Jerusalem: Staff Officer of Archaeology—Civil Administration of Judea and Samaria, 2007), 8–11. 31 Magen and Peleg, The Qumran Excavations 1993–2004, 8. 32 Magen and Peleg, The Qumran Excavations 1993–2004, 10, Fig. 16. 33 For the suggestion that the animal bones were buried to keep scavengers away, see Lawrence H. Schiffman, Reclaiming the Dead Sea Scrolls (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1994), 338; Magen and Peleg, The Qumran Excavations 1993–2004, 42–44; Joan E. Taylor, “ ‘Roots, Remedies and Properties of Stones’: The Essenes, Qumran and Dead Sea Pharmacology,” Journal of Jewish Studies 60 (2009): 243.

digital qumran: virtual reality or virtual fantasy? 283 In the free spaces between the buildings or round them the excavations have laid bare animal bones deposited between large sherds of pitchers or pots, or sometimes placed in jars left intact with their lids on. In one instance such bones have been found covered simply by a plate. . . . As a rule these deposits have hardly been covered with earth. They are flush with the level of the ground. Some of them even seem to have been laid on the ground.34

Placing bones on the ground under or between potsherds would have attracted rather than deterred local predators and scavengers such as foxes, hyenas, jackals, and birds of prey. Had the intention been to keep predators and scavengers away, why did the inhabitants of Qumran not dispose of the bones by throwing them over the edges of the cliffs surrounding the site? And if the intention was to keep animals away, why are similar deposits not found at other settlements; are we to assume that scavengers were a problem only at Qumran? Therefore, I agree with de Vaux that the deposits should be understood in connection with the ritual meals of the sect.35 To conclude, Cargill’s Qumran digital model is the product of a flawed and sometimes erroneous interpretive process based on incomplete data. As Al-Sayyad cautions, In using computer modeling, however, historians must be aware of the nature and limits of computer simulations. Part of the problem is that computer simulation has the ability to depict material to an extraordinary degree of completeness. As historians, we usually rely on incomplete pieces of evidence from a variety of unequal sources. . . . Under the best possible conditions, the act of writing history consists of piecing together such fragments. The process leads unavoidably to resolving contradictions between bits of evidence to arrive at a reasonably substantial version of what occurred. We unavoidably exercise judgment in qualifying which sources are more reliable than others. All these problems are compounded when as historians we set out to construct a computer model. . . . We should equally resist the seductive power of the medium and its ability to produce models of historical contexts that exceed our knowledge of the built environment, based on the available sources. The desire to produce ever more realistic models may result in the legitimization of historical depictions based on little more than speculation.36

34

De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 12–13. De Vaux, Archaeology and the Dead Sea Scrolls, 14; Magness, The Archaeology of Qumran, 117–22. 36 Al-Sayyad, “Virtual Cairo,” 100. 35

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Even if we accept Cargill’s reconstruction of a Hasmonean period square building with a tower, his digital model tells us nothing about the community that occupied the site. Instead, we would need to examine the associated finds and installations in order to determine the nature of the site’s use and the identity of the inhabitants. And in this regard, Cargill has no new information to add. In making the leap from digital model to interpretation about the nature of the site, Cargill builds a circular argument and fails to distinguish between the potential and the limitations of technology.

SEVEN RULES FOR RESTORING LACUNAE James Hamilton Charlesworth All specialists who have worked on ancient manuscripts know that texts are sometimes difficult to understand because of lacunae.1 Restorations of lost letters and spaces in these holes are necessary to comprehend the flow of a given document and its message.2 But restorations must not be imaginative or random. Qumranologists are familiar with the task of restoring the text in these lacunae, and thus, coherent methodologies for filling in these holes according to a scientific process are highly desirable.3 That is the purpose of this essay in honor of James C. VanderKam, whom I have known since the early 1970s and whose work is defined by scientific precision—as revealed in his edition of Jubilees, his work on the Dead Sea Scrolls, and the meticulous study of high priests after the exile and until 70 c.e., From Joshua to Caiaphas.4 The holes in a Qumran manuscript are usually caused by worms or by millennia of deterioration of the leather or papyrus. Only infrequently are tears in a manuscript caused by the desecration intended by Roman soldiers. Some Qumran fragments apparently show an imprint of a sandal; most likely the image was left by a Roman soldier

1 This paper was first presented in the postdoctoral Semitic seminars at Oxford, Manchester, and Durham; it appears here in a revised and expanded version. I am grateful to Professors Martin Goodman, George Brooke, and Loren Stuckenbruck for comments that helped me improve my method and presentation. 2 See the reflections of H. Stegemann, esp. his “Methods for the Reconstruction of Scrolls from Scattered Fragments,” in Archaeology and History in the Dead Sea Scrolls: The New York University Conference in Memory of Yigael Yadin, (ed. L. H. Schiffman; JSOT/ASOR Monograph Series 2; JSPSup 8; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990), 189–220. 3 For reflections analogous to mine, see E. D. Herbert, Reconstructing Biblical Dead Sea Scrolls: A New Method Applied to the Reconstruction of 4QSama (STDJ 22; Leiden: Brill, 1997). Herbert is more focused on letter widths, vertical dividers, and margins than I have been. Restoring a biblical text for which there are many exemplars, even if perhaps with multiple versions, is not the same as reconstructing what may be an autograph. Herbert discusses “reconstructed widths” (see esp. p. 38) since some consonants are large and others are small; this variance is accounted for in my methodology. 4 J. C. VanderKam, From Joshua to Caiaphas: High Priests after the Exile (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2004).

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who stepped on the manuscript in the first century c.e.5 I have just published a copy of Jeremiah that may have been cut by a Roman sword; but surely we may only offer such reflections as conjectures.6 Restorations, however, should not be conjectural. Over the past sixty years, Qumranologists have restored leather and papyri manuscripts without being guided by a clearly articulated, published set of rules. A look, for example, at Józef Milik’s study The Books of Enoch suggests to many readers, even specialists in Semitics, that the Qumran Aramaic fragments of Enochic works extensively preserve the ancient text and that it is almost always identical to the late Ethiopic manuscripts.7 That impression seems to result from not having rules for restoring lacunae and translating from Ethiopic to Aramaic as if the texts are virtually identical. Two manuscripts of the Aramaic books of Enoch, not known to scholars, have been shown to me, and the text is markedly different from the Ethiopic manuscripts. Too often paleographers who are less skilled than Milik have created texts that never could have existed in antiquity. Therefore it seems wise to develop clear guidelines for studying and restoring the text in lacunae. Qumranologists face many difficulties that may not be familiar to other scholars. Discerning what consonants a scribe intended, or were intended by the earlier scribe of the text being copied, is not an easy task. The problem of interpreting the Dead Sea Scrolls begins not with translating or even pointing the text (as some have claimed); interpretation begins with discerning what consonants were intended. Moreover, in contrast to biblical texts that are represented by hundreds of copies, other ancient manuscripts often have to be emended without the help of parallel texts. Like all of us, scribes are human and make mistakes.8 Sometimes consonants are difficult to distinguish or are confused. Likewise, words are often not separated, so one has to discern when a

5

In the near future, I will publish another example of this phenomenon on ijco.

org. 6 See J. H. Charlesworth, “Jeremiah 48:29–31a [Provisional Research Report],” ijco. org. This “unknown” text from Qumran is presented with a transcription, translation, and notes. 7 See J. T. Milik, The Books of Enoch: Aramaic Fragments of Qumran Cave 4 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1976). 8 E. Tov rightly notes that “careful and careless scribes can be identified anywhere in the Qumran corpus.” Tov, Scribal Practices and Approaches Reflected in the Texts Found in the Judean Desert (STDJ 54; Leiden: Brill, 2004), 25.

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word begins and ends. Obviously there is no punctuation in the text, so the modern translator has to supply these essential aids to understanding. There are also no capital letters, so the paleographer should indicate, for example, “the anointed one” instead of simply “the Messiah,” even though some theologians may prefer the latter translation. Finally, the texts are almost always fragmentary, so the scholar seldom has a full context from which to surmise the meaning intended. Furthermore, many of the manuscripts are marred by lacunae. What we all call “a fragment” is often a misnomer. That is, some fragments consist of hundreds of “fragments.” For example, 4Q509, the earliest copy of the Prayers for Festivals (1Q34, 1Q34bis, 4Q507– 509), consists of no fewer than 313 disjointed pieces.9 Sometimes, the fragments are moved from one plate to another in the museum, and too often a fragment disappears.10 It is not easy to discern whether the fragments on a plate or numerous plates are from the same manuscript. Even if the scribal hand seems identical, we need to comprehend that one scribe copied more than one manuscript. Virtually none of the Dead Sea Scrolls are fully extant and thus we are almost always working with fragmentary manuscripts. Even the longest manuscript, the so-called Temple Scroll, is only partially preserved and an editor can be frustrated by how to restore the zero-lines at the top of the columns. For us to follow the Masoretic Text (MT) is unwise since the compiler or author of this document used a mixed text type, as is evident in the apparatus criticus.11 Thus, VanderKam is wise to warn the average reader that the Qumran texts are in a very “poor state” and that, when focusing on the additional pseudepigrapha known for the first time because of what was preserved in the Qumran caves, “in no case is anything close to the complete text extant.”12 While my current focus is on restoring lacunae, the present work should also be helpful in developing more precise ways to reconstruct the lost lines of a manuscript according to some base text (keeping in mind the fluidity of text types that necessarily makes reconstructions provisional). 9

See PTSDSSP 4A:46–105. This occurred recently when I was editing 4Q524. The large frg. 21 on Plate 7 in DJD 25 was not present for me to examine in the Israel Museum and did not appear on the new images I purchased. 11 See the text and apparatus criticus to the Temple Scroll in PTSDDSP 7:12–173. 12 James C. VanderKam, The Dead Sea Scrolls Today (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 60–61. 10

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Errors in editing the Qumran Scrolls have sometimes been related to restoring the text in lacunae. These errors often occur because of one or more of the following mistakes: 1 The lacuna was not measured. 2 The lacuna was measured by an abstract metric scale and not determined according to the number of spaces and consonants in the near vicinity of the hole or tear. 3 The scholar did not observe that the restoration was most likely impossible, because too many consonants were inserted into too small a space or too few consonants were restored in a long hole. 4 Sometimes the edge of the fragment above the lacuna was not examined. For example, the restoration of a lamed would be impossible because one would have been able to see the top of the lamed if it had been present, but no trace of that lamed is visible. 5 Similarly, a final nun or kaph was restored, but the scholar did not observe that the tail of such a form would have been visible on the edge of the fragment below the lacuna; but the lack of traces of such a descending consonant disproves the suggested restoration. 6 Clusters of forms, concepts, and terms were not perceived. 7 Biblical citations were restored, but no attention was given to the type of text preserved elsewhere in the document; for example, the Temple Scroll quotes Deuteronomy extensively, but the biblical text represented is not a so-called proto-Masoretic text type. 8 An interval before a series of consonants, sometimes barely visible, was not observed;13 and it sometimes signaled the beginning of a formula (for example, the Hodayot formula or the beginning of a beatitude).14

13 Observing the use of intervals allows us to align restorations in 11Q20 with 11Q19; see esp. 11Q20 16 (DJD 18) and 11Q21 (DJD 23). The more accurate numbering of lines is explained in the edition of the Temple Scroll published in PTSDSSP 7 (provided by L. Schiffman and A. Gross). 14 One must be very circumspect. Formulaic language can also be a hindrance to controlled reconstructions. For example, in 11Q20 col. 11 (frgs. 18, 19, and 20) the formulaic nature of the language is repetitive and thus complicates any attempt to place and align the fragments and to discern the relation of the text of 11Q20 to the text of 11Q19. The two texts of the Temple Scroll are not identical, despite the evidence of some identical passages in overlapping sections.

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The Seven Rules Here are seven rules that I have found helpful as I restore the text of lacunae: 1 Measure the lacuna with a clean piece of paper, marking the distance between its beginning and end. Then move the paper before, after, above, and below the lacuna noting the maximum and minimum number of consonants and spaces possible within the lacuna (also note whether the leather or papyrus is creased or split). Do not restore more than the maximum, or less than the minimum, of consonants and spaces discerned to have been in the lacuna. Be attentive to the presence of large (‫ט‬, ‫ס‬, ‫ש‬, and ‫ )ם‬and small letters (‫ו‬, ‫ז‬, ‫י‬, ‫נ‬, and ‫ )ן‬in the proposed reconstruction so that “reconstructed widths” are considered and not only the number of consonants or spaces.15 2 Restore the text of a lacuna if it is anchored by a preserved consonant (or more) on the fragment before it. 3 Restore a lacuna if it is anchored by a preserved consonant (or more) after it. 4 Restore a lacuna if it is anchored by the remains of the top of a consonant (or more) on the fragment above it. 5 Restore a lacuna if it is anchored by the remains of the bottom of a consonant (or more) below it. 6 Restore a lacuna if it is a biblical text, a formula like the Hodayot formula, the citation or commentary formulae in a Dead Sea Scroll16 or a well-known formula such as the beginning of a beatitude (cf. Ps 1:1). In a critical edition, restorations of the biblical text should go into the notes and not into the body of the text. Such restorations should appear in the composite text but be marked within brackets. One should be reticent to restore a lacuna according to a modern edition of the Hebrew Bible that is not based on one definitive manuscript; hence, it is best to restore lacunae that preserve biblical passages by judiciously following the extant Qumran biblical manuscripts (recognizing that even that caution does not

15

See the discussion in Herbert, Reconstructing Biblical Dead Sea Scrolls, 38. See C. D. Elledge, “A Graphic Index of Citation and Commentary Formulae in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in PTSDSSP 6B: 367–77. 16

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always provide the desired precision). The editor should inform the reader of decisions and the rationale behind them. 7 Restorations are to be guided by forms in the contiguous areas (e.g. clusters of verb forms, esp. Hiphil) and echoes of scripture in the surrounding region. Examples Example One: 1QHa 16:1: ‫[תתני‬

]‫ או‬vacat [

There is space for between 15 and 11 consonants or spaces (an unusually wide range). Restore 14 consonants or spaces: [‫]דכה אדוני כי נ‬. Result: ‫“ או]דכה אדוני כי נ[תתני‬I pra[ise you, O Lord, because] You h[a]ve placed me . . .” Note the interval (vacat) before these letters; it helps to signify that the Hodayot formula should be restored. Note the customary use of brackets in the text and translation. This restoration applies rules 1, 2, 3, and 6. Example Two: 4Q525 Beatitudes Frg. 2, Col. 2, line 2: ‫[ אש] [ הגלים בה‬vacat There is space for two consonants after ‫ ;אש‬restore two consonants to read [‫אש]רי‬. Result: ‫“ אש]רי[ הגלים בה‬Ble[ssed are] they who rejoice in her . . .” Note the interval before [ ]‫אש‬. An interval of approximately 0.4– 0.6 cm usually appears before the beginning of each “blessed (are).” In line 4 there is an interval of ca. 0.4 cm before “blessed (are).” Thus we should restore the well-known Beatitude formula. (Caveat: there are other uses of intervals in this column.) This restoration applies rules 1, 2, and 6. Example Three: 4Q525 Beatitudes Frg. 1: [ ]‫] [ר בחוכמה אשר נתן לו אלוה‬ First, restore [‫ אלוה]ים‬in the second lacuna; it is demanded by context. Second, restore the first lacuna with some form of ‫ ;דבר‬but is the verb a Piel Perfect [‫ ] ִדּ ֵבּר‬or a Qal Participle [‫דּוֹבר‬ ֵ ]? To obtain the adverbial meaning “continuously,” “habitually,” or “customarily,” the best restoration is with a participle. There is more to guide this restoration. The

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next line is an echo of Ps 15:2–3, so the participle (without the definite article) is the form to be restored. Cf. Ps 15:2–3: ‫וְ ד ֵֹבר ֱא ֶמת ִבּ ֽל ָבבוֹ לֹא־‬ ‫ל־לשׁ ֹנו‬ ְ ‫“ ָרגַ ל ַﬠ‬and continuously speaks truth with his heart, (with) no slander upon his tongue” (the meaning of the Hebrew is not certain; perhaps: “whose tongue is not given to evil”). Restore: [‫[“ ]אשר דוב[ר בחוכמה אשר נתן לו אלוה]ים‬who continuously spea]ks with the wisdom which Go[d] habitually gives to him.” In the published translation it is not necessary to use so many adverbs; they can be noted. Imagine: What is in the mind of the author? What is the author thinking about and intending to say? (Caveat: restorations should be imagined according to the vocabulary, orthography, and syntax of the scribe. Note the use of plene spelling.) This restoration applies rules 3 and 7. These observations enable restorations to become more scientific than speculative. Recall that Milik warned that restorations were almost always disproved by the discovery of additional fragments of a document or another copy or copies of a document: “Parmi les variantes on trouvera quelquefois des leçons de mss de 4 Q qui sont identiques à celles de 1 QS mais que je cite pour montrer l’inutilité des corrections proposées par différents savants.”17 Milik, as is well known, did not always heed his own advice. The Exegetical and Theological Importance of Restoring Lacunae Exhibit One: Resurrection Beliefs One of the centers of controversy among Qumranologists is the presence of and the extent of resurrection beliefs at Qumran or in the Dead Sea Scrolls. In Qumran Studies, Chaim Rabin argued that 1QHa 14 (= olim 6):32–33 “definitely” spoke “about the rising of the dead.”18 A careful reading of this section of the Hodayot does not support Rabin’s judgment. More recently, in a detailed and insightful study,19

17 J. T. Milik, review of P. Wernberg Møller, The Manual of Discipline Translated and Annotated, with an Introduction, RB 67 (1960): 411. 18 Chaim Rabin, Qumran Studies (London: Oxford University Press, 1957), 73. 19 É. Puech, La croyance des Esséniens en la vie future (Etudes Bibliques 21; 2 vols.; Paris: Lecoffre and J. Gabalda, 1993), 2.358.

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Émile Puech correctly noted that this passage is difficult to understand because of the lacunae which prohibit a study of the passage in a meaningful context.20 The passage probably does not portray a resurrection of the righteous from the dead. To be relatively certain of that belief we need to be clear that one who had been alive has died and will be raised to unending life.21 Here is the text of 1QHa 14:32–33: ]‫לה ̊ת ̊ם‬ ̊ ‫אמתו יעורו‬ ̊ ‫ ואז תחיש חרב אל בקץ משפט וכול בני‬. . . 32 . . . ‫ רשעה וכול בני אשמה לא יהיו עוד‬33 The yod in this section of the Hebrew often looks like a waw. In line 32, ‫ בני אמתו‬is most likely, even though the mem is lost in a tear of the leather. No measurement can provide a clue for restoration because the leather is disjointed and not smooth. At the end of line 32, ‫ להתם‬is most likely, although the last three consonants are almost completely lost and are visible only faintly and partly.22 They can be discerned by the ink that is left and the restorations demanded by context. In line 33, restore the expression ‫בני רשעה‬. On the one hand, the restoration is not certain because the ‫ בני‬is lost in the left side of the column and the long tear in the leather makes any measurement imprecise; moreover, the leather is wrinkled and a new line begins with ‫רשעה‬. Likewise, the expression appears only here in 1QHa. On the other hand, the restoration is attractive; it seems demanded by the previous ‫בני‬ ‫ אמתו‬and the synonymous parallelism in the next line and the formula ‫בני אשמה‬.23

20 The problems with the text are not precisely presented in D. W. Parry and E. Tov, eds., DSSR 5:36. 21 See the taxonomy for resurrection belief developed by Charlesworth, “Where Does the Concept of Resurrection Appear and How Do We Know That?” in Resurrection (Faith and Scholarship Colloquies; London: T&T Clark, 2006), 1–21. 22 In her DJD edition of 1QHa, Eileen Schuller reconstructs [‫ ֯ל ֯ה ֯כ ֯רי֯ ]ת‬at the end of this line (DJD 40:183), disagreeing with the above reconstruction. In a note she remarks, “the trace after the initial lamed is ambiguous, but is compatible with he (but not with kap or lamed); the next letter can be read only as kap or pe, while the following is certainly reš, which is followed by another trace that is compatible with yod (these cannot be read in conjunction as a taw)” (194). 23 Cf. Schuller, DJD 40:194: “Inserting a nomen regens for ‫ רשעה‬. . . would not only be superfluous with regard to the content, but also incompatible with the very small distance between [‫ ֯ל ֯ה ֯כ ֯רי֯ ]ת‬and the margin line.”

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Here is my translation of 1QHa 14:32–33: 32

. . . And then God’s sword shall hasten at the time of judgment, and all his sons of t[ru]th24 shall awaken to destroy [the sons of] 33 ungodliness. And all the sons of transgression shall be no more. . . .

Interpretation: the following lines of the hymn refer to those “who lie in the dust”—but surely “dust” in Biblical Hebrew is often a euphemism for humility (cf. 1 Sam 2:8; Ps 44:25). “Dust” does not necessarily denote those who have died (and returned to the dust; Genesis 3). The passage in the Hodayot seems to predict the raising up of “all his sons of t[ru]th,” who are the righteous ones or the Holy Ones of the Community who are aligned with the Holy Ones in heaven (cf. the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice, 4Q400–405; 11Q17; Mas1K), at the time of judgment, the time of the end. The Qumranites have entered into “the time of the end”; they form the Community of the endtime and are preparing for the final eschatological battle. As the War Scroll clarifies, this time is not post mortem; “all his sons of t[ru]th” are not being raised from the dead. The action inaugurates the final days and the judgment (especially of the “sons of transgression”), after which comes the time of bliss when there is no more evil and Belial is defeated. All this is earthly time, not post mortem existence. Exhibit Two: The Messiah or “An Anointed One”? Another center of contemporary debate among Qumranologists is the extent of and meaning of “the Messiah(s)” in the Qumran Scrolls. One difficulty is that the ancient scribes left us no linguistic clues for translating multivalent terms. Thus, for example, we do not know if the author intended ‫ משיח‬to denote “the Messiah” or “an (or the) anointed one.” The noun may even denote the Son of Man in some texts (e.g. in 1 Enoch 37–71 the Messiah appears with the Son of Man) or conceivably Enoch, who is hailed as “that Son of Man” (1 Enoch 37–71), Moses (4Q377 2 ii 4–5), a priest, a prophet (perhaps the prophets), or the Messiah—that is, an eschatological figure. Obviously, examining the texts and restoring them scientifically is exceedingly important for

24

It is also possible to translate “the sons of his truth.”

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a perception of the origins of what would become “Christianity” and the complex world of the Palestinian Jesus Movement. Consider the following three occurrences: 1 ‫ ביד משיחו רוח קדשו‬CD (MS A) 2:12 (as also in CD 5:21–6:1, 1QM 11:7–8, and 4Q287 10 13; and perhaps in 1Q30 1 2). Is ‫משיחו‬ an error for ‫משיחי‬, as a comparison with Isa 61:1 might suggest?25 Does the text mean: “by the hand of his anointed ones by his holy spirit”? Or does it mean: “through those anointed in his Holy Spirit”? Are they the prophets? Are they anointed priests? Did any Qumranite imagine a “king”? 2 ‫ ]ה[כוהן המשיח‬4Q375 1 i 9 (and also the same expression in 4Q376 1 i 1, with no restoration required). Who is “[the] anointed priest”? Most likely, in light of a number of Scrolls passages, some Jews could have imagined a priest who is the Messiah (e.g 1QSa 2:11–12). Obviously, messianism should not be confused with pneumatology or angelology. 3 ]‫ [בה תעזוב ב]י[ד משיח‬4Q521 9 According to the new and better images, the last word, the word “messiah,” can now be discerned.26 What does the author of the text intend to state? These words do not mean that one should imagine that the Messiah has died [for the sins of the world . . .], as once suggested in the media.27 Such a putative restoration is impossible both philologically and in the thought world of Second Temple Judaism. Before the Palestinian Jesus Movement, there was no messianic figure that had “died for the sins of the world.”

25

See J. M. Baumgarten and D. Schwartz, PTSDSSP 2:14–15. See DSSR 6:162. Contrast M. A. Abegg and C. A. Evans in J. H. Charlesworth, H. Lichtenberger, and G. Oegema, eds., Qumran-Messianism (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998), 194 (= ‫מש]יחו‬, “[his anoin]ted”). Fragment nine does not appear in DSSSE 2:1047. 27 I remember well a conversation with one of the main editors of the New York Times. When I told him the text did not mean that a Messiah had died for the sins of the world but that a messianic figure most likely killed someone, he said: “Wow. We do not have a story. The latter idea is well known.” 26

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Translation: The text may have at least four meanings: a) [. . .]bh you shall leave by the [ha]nd of a (or the) Messiah [. . .]. b) [. . .]bh you have left, by the [ha]nd of[ ]messiah [. . .].28 c) [. . .]bh you shall restore by the [ha]nd of an (or the) anointed one [. . .]. d) [. . .]bh you will abandon. By the [ha]nd of an (or the) anointed one [. . .]. Perhaps, ]‫ משיח‬should be restored to ‫משיח]ו‬, “[his] Messiah,” or “[his] anointed,”29 as in many Qumran texts such as CD 2:12. The concept of God’s Messiah or “his Messiah” is abundantly present in Jewish texts of the first century b.c.e. Noteworthy is the Psalms of Solomon: χριστοῦ κυριοῦ, “the Lord’s Messiah” (18:7).30 Such examples illustrate that restorations are fundamentally important and risky but necessary. Exhibit Three Sometimes lacunae should be observed but not restored, and exegesis similarly should be restricted and cautious. For example, the form ‫מוריהם‬, “their teacher,” appears in the Qumran Scrolls only in 4QpHosb 5–6 2. Because of the lacunae, it is not clear to whom “their teacher” might refer. It is not obvious that it is parallel to ‫ יוריהם‬in CD 3:8. Does “their teacher” refer to the Righteous Teacher, to Moses, or to God? While the first option might seem attractive to some Qumranologists, God seems probable. Note that God is the teacher and the revealer in some Qumran manuscripts; see esp. CD 2:11–12, 3:13–14, 6:2–3, 7:4, and CD (MS B) 20:4 (“those taught by God”).31

28

DSSR 6:163. Consult M. G. Abegg and C. A. Evans, “Messianic Passages in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Qumran-Messianism, 194. 30 See the definitive study by R. B. Wright, The Psalms of Solomon: A Critical Edition of the Greek Text (JCT 1; London: T&T Clark, 2007), 204–05. 31 For a good assessment of the debate on such passages, see S. Byrskog, “The Righteous Teacher and the Qumran Community,” in Jesus the Only Teacher (Coniectanea Biblica, New Testament Series 24; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 1994), 48–52. 29

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james hamilton charlesworth Conclusion

Qumranology is scientific research. It is imperative to have rules for restoring lacunae and to follow them. The above are suggestions for refining our methodology. My reflections also need refining, as we attempt to restore the past and not to create a world that some would appreciate for ideological reasons. Too often some well-intended scholars have restored texts inaccurately, but our reconstructions of the past depend on precise and dependable readings of manuscripts—and that demands restoring lacunae according to precise rules.

COLLECTING PSALMS IN LIGHT OF THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS* Armin Lange Since James C. VanderKam asked in his Ph.D. thesis which pentateuchal text was used by the book of Jubilees,1 he has returned in his research repeatedly to the textual histories of the biblical books during the Second Temple period.2 His text-critical work has also dealt briefly with the biblical Psalms.3 In recognition of VanderKam’s impressive œuvre I would like to discuss a new perspective on the textual history of the Psalms raised by the Dead Sea Scrolls. Since the manuscripts of the various Psalms collections from Qumran were published, it has been well known that the Qumran library contained several Psalms collections including various psalms from the biblical Psalter and noncanonical songs in diverging sequences. With the possible exception of the book of Jeremiah, there is no other biblical book whose textual sequence differs so radically among its textual witnesses. The nature of the divergent textual sequence and the textual inventory of the various Psalms manuscripts from Qumran continue to be debated.4 On the one hand, the various Psalms collections from Qumran are understood to have been authoritative Psalms manuscripts

* I am grateful and obliged to my assistant, Dr. Nóra Dávid, for copy-editing and formatting this article on rather short notice. 1 Textual and Historical Studies in the Book of Jubilees (HSM 14; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1977). 2 See “The Textual Affinities of the Biblical Citations in the Genesis Apocryphon,” JBL 97 (1978): 45–55; “Jubilees and the Hebrew Texts of Genesis-Exodus,” Textus 14 (1988): 71–85; The Dead Sea Scrolls Today (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 157–78; James C. VanderKam and Peter W. Flint, The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2002), 103–53. 3 See VanderKam’s translations, cross references, and exegetical and textual notes to Psalms 37, 79, 80, 81, 83, and 110 in The Revised Psalms of the New American Bible (New York: Catholic Book Publishing Company, 1991); and idem, Dead Sea Scrolls Today, 172–76; cf. VanderKam and Flint, Meaning, 120–28. 4 For a history of research and a survey of the various Psalms manuscripts, see Armin Lange, Die Handschriften der biblischen Bücher von Qumran und den anderen Fundorten (vol. 1 of idem, Handbuch der Textfunde vom Toten Meer [Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009]), 373–450.

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of equal status with the proto-Masoretic Psalter.5 On the other hand, against this position it has been claimed that the divergent Psalms manuscripts from Qumran attest not to various scriptural texts but to liturgical collections compiled from the biblical Psalter.6 In this small article I would like to approach the differences in textual inventory and textual sequence between the various Psalms manuscripts from Qumran from another perspective.7 Although extensive, the discussion about this phenomenon has largely ignored important comparative evidence from the Qumran Hodayot manuscripts. The Hodayot manuscripts from Qumran are also at variance from each other regarding their textual sequence and their textual inventory. Is it by chance that both the Psalms manuscripts and the Hodayot manuscripts disagree with each other regarding textual sequence and textual inventory, or does the analogy point to special mechanisms in the transmission of collections of poetic texts during the Second Temple period? To answer this question I will first analyze the textual fixity and/or fluidity of the individual songs col-

5 See, e.g., James A. Sanders, DJD 4; idem, The Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1967); Gerald H. Wilson, The Editing of the Hebrew Psalter (SBLDS 76; Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1985); idem, “The Qumran Psalms Manuscripts and the Consecutive Arrangement of Psalms in the Hebrew Psalter,” CBQ 45 (1983): 377–88; idem, “The Qumran Psalms Scroll (11QPsa) and the Canonical Psalter: Comparison of Editorial Shaping,” CBQ 59 (1997): 448–464; Peter W. Flint, The Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls and the Book of Psalms (STDJ 17; Leiden: Brill, 1997); VanderKam, Dead Sea Scrolls Today, 172–76; VanderKam and Flint, Meaning, 120–28. 6 See, e.g., M. H. Goshen-Gottstein, “The Psalm Scroll (11QPsa): A Problem of Canon and Text,” Textus 5 (1966): 22–33; Shemaryahu Talmon, “Extra-Canonical Hebrew Psalms from Qumran: Psalm 151,” in idem, The World of Qumran from Within: Collected Studies (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 244–72; idem, “Pisqah Be’mṣa‘ Pasuq and 11QPsa,” Textus 5 (1966): 11–21; Patrick W. Skehan, “A Liturgical Complex in 11QPsa,” CBQ 35 (1973): 195–205; idem, “Qumran and Old Testament Criticism,” in Qumrân: Sa piété, sa théologie et son milieu (ed. M. Delcor; BETL 46; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1978), 163–83; Ulrich Dahmen, Psalmen- und Psalter-Rezeption im Frühjudentum: Rekonstruktion, Textbestand, Struktur und Pragmatik der Psalmenrolle 11QPsa aus Qumran (STDJ 49; Leiden: Brill, 2003). 7 For abridged versions of my proposal see Armin Lange, “Die Endgestalt des protomasoretischen Psalters und die Toraweisheit: Zur Bedeutung der nichtessenischen Weisheitstexte aus Qumran für die Auslegung des protomasoretischen Psalters,” in Der Psalter in Judentum und Christentum (ed. E. Zenger; Herders Biblische Studien 18; Freiburg: Herder, 1998), 101–36, esp. 109–11; idem, Handbuch, 1:434–36; idem, “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. Nóra Dávid and Armin Lange; CBET 57; Leuven: Peeters, 2010), 43–96.

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lected in the Psalms and Hodayot manuscripts from Qumran. Afterwards I will compare the textual inventories and textual sequences of the Psalms and Hodayot manuscripts with each other. At the end of this article I will draw some conclusions. 1. The Textual Fixity and/or Fluidity of the Individual Psalms and Hodayot in the Qumran Scrolls To understand better the fluidity or stability of the text of the individual psalms and hodayot among the Qumran Scrolls, I will provide statistics as to how many variants occur relative to the number of preserved words of a given Psalms or Hodayot manuscript. In my statistics, a word is defined as a group of characters which are separated from the next group of characters by an empty space in the manuscripts. Partly preserved words are included in my statistics only when they can still be reconstructed. Since orthography can differ independently of the text-type of a given manuscript, I will not include orthographic variants in my analysis. Similarly, due to their speculative nature, I will not include reconstructed variants. My lists will provide a percentage of textual deviation in relation to extant words of a given Psalms or Hodayot manuscript and will thus allow for comparison between these manuscripts with regard to their textual fluidity or stability. 1.1. The Textual Fixity and/or Fluidity of the Individual Psalms in the Qumran Scrolls From the Qumran library remnants of thirty-six scrolls are regarded as Psalms manuscripts. In the list below only eleven of these manuscripts are included. The other twenty-five manuscripts are either too deteriorated for textual characterization (fewer than 100 words of text are preserved), or could even attest to a manuscript which quotes a given psalm in another literary context (when only one or two verses of a psalm are preserved).8

8 Too damaged for a textual characterization of individual psalms are 1QPsa.b.c; 2QPs; 4QPsg.h.j.k.l.m.n.o.p.r.s.w.x; 5QPs; 8QPs; and 11QPse. In the case of 3QPs; 4QPst.u.v; 6QpapPs?, the little amount of text which is still extant could even attest to a quotation of a psalm in a non-Psalms manuscript.

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• Of 4QPsa 420 words are preserved which attest to seventy-three variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 17.38% of textual variation. • Of 4QPsb 490 words are preserved which attest to thirty-three variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 6.74% of textual variation. • Of 4QPsc 320 words are preserved which attest to nine variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 2.81% of textual variation. • Of 4QPsd 139 words are preserved which attest to twenty-seven variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 19.42% of textual variation. • Of 4QPse 220 words are preserved which attest to twenty-two variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 10.00% of textual variation. • Of 4QPsf 161 words are preserved which attest to thirty-three variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 20.50% of textual variation. • Of 4QPsq 111 words are preserved which attest to fourteen variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 12.51% of textual variation. • Of 11QPsa 3418 words are preserved which attest to 343 variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 10.04% of textual variation. • Of 11QPsb 102 words are preserved which attest to six variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 5.88% of textual variation. • Of 11QPsc 189 words are preserved which attest to twenty-four variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 13.04% of textual variation. • Of 11QPsd 116 words are preserved which attest to twelve variant readings between MT, LXX, and other Psalms manuscripts from Qumran. This equals 10.35% of textual variation. The above list creates the impression of textual fluidity among the Psalms manuscripts from Qumran with a textual variation ranging from 2.81% to 20.50%. Although the textual variation of the Qumran Psalms manuscripts is sometimes significant, the statistical impression is somewhat misleading. Only rarely does a textual variant in

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the Qumran Psalms manuscripts extend to more than one word. In most cases the textual witnesses to a given psalm attest different grammatical forms or suffixes for a word or disagree with each other concerning a waw-copulativum. For an exhaustive representation of the evidence the reader is referred to the list compiled by Peter W. Flint.9 A good impression of the nature of the textual variation between individual is provided by the textual variants extant for Psalms 146–150. Ps 146:9

Ps 147:1 Ps 147:14 Ps 147:20 Ps 147:20 Ps 148:1 Ps 148:1 Ps 148:4 Ps 148:5 Ps 148:9 Ps 150:1 Ps 150:3 Ps 150:6

11QPsa reads additional text after v. 9: “[Let] all the earth [fear] the Lord, [let all inhabitants of the earth revere] hi[m! . . .] because he is known for all his works which he created [. . .] his mighty deeds” Dittography of ‫ זמרה אלהינו נאוה‬in 4QPsd ‫ וחלב‬4QPsd (cf. LXX) | ‫ חלב‬MT ‫ משפטים‬11QPsa | ‫ ומשפתים‬4QPsd MT LXX (+ suffix 3. pers. sing.) ‫ כל הודיעם‬11QPsa (cf. LXX) | ‫ כל ידעוׂם‬MT ‫ הללו יה‬MT LXX (+ Αγγαιου καὶ Ζαχαριου) | > 11QPsa ‫ה משמים‬Â‫ה‬È ‫ הללו‬11QPsa | ‫ הללו את יהוה מן השמים‬MT ‫ מעל לשמים‬11QPsa | ‫ מעל השמים‬MT ‫ הללו‬11QPsa | ‫ יהללו‬MT LXX ‫ לבני ישראל עם קודשו‬11QPsa (cf. MTKen40: ‫לבני ישראל עם‬ ‫ > | )קרובו‬MT LXX ‫ הללו יה‬MT LXX (+ Αγγαιου καὶ Ζαχαριου LXXL pc mss) | > 11QPsa MT (pc mss) ‫ בתקוע‬11QPsa | ‫ ְב ֵת ַקע‬MT MasPsb ‫ הנשמות‬11QPsa | ‫ הנשמה‬MT LXX

The sample shows that in rare cases substantial additional text can be found in the Psalms manuscripts from Qumran—the above list includes the example of an additional verse behind Ps 146:9 in 11QPsa. But mostly the variant readings of the Qumran Psalms manuscripts are constrained to minor disagreements such as grammatical differences. The minor extent of the textual variation in the Qumran Psalms manuscripts becomes especially evident in comparison with the major

9

Flint, Dead Sea Psalms Scrolls, 86–115.

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changes introduced into the text of Jeremiah by the proto-Masoretic Jeremiah redaction.10 A good example is Jer 29:10–14.11 10

For thus says the Lord: Only when Babylon’s seventy years are completed will I visit you, and I will fulfill to you my good words and bring you back to this place. 11For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you future and hope. 12And when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. 13When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, 14I will let you find me, says the Lord, and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back (Jer 23:3; 30:3, 18) to the place from which I sent you into exile.

The proto-Masoretic Jeremiah redaction alters its Vorlage in Jer 29:10– 14 by systematically enlarging it. By way of its additions, the protoMasoretic Jeremiah redaction changes what was intended as a word of consolation for the Babylonian exiles into a promise for return to Jerusalem for the whole Diaspora.12 In comparison to the proto-Masoretic Jeremiah redaction the textual variation of the Qumran Psalms manuscripts is mostly restricted to minor disagreements. This means that, although the text of individual psalms is more fluid in some Qumran Psalms manuscripts than in others, the text of the individual psalms had achieved a status of relative textual stability. 1.2. The Textual Fixity and/or Fluidity of the Individual Hodayot in the Qumran Scrolls Only for six (4QHa–f ) of the eight Qumran Hodayot manuscripts have variant lists been compiled so far.13 Such variant lists are lacking for 1QHa.b but their compilation would go beyond the limitations of this small article. The extant variant lists, however, provide a representa10

For the text of the proto-Masoretic Jeremiah redaction, see, e.g., Yohanan Goldman, Prophétie et royauté au retour de l’exil: Les origins littéraires de la forme massorétique du livre de Jérémie (OBO 118; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992), and Hermann-Josef Stipp, Das alexandrinische und masoretische Sondergut des Jeremiabuches: Textgeschichtlicher Rang, Eigenarten, Triebkräfte (OBO 136; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994). A survey of the history on the textual history of the book of Jeremiah can be found in Lange, Handbuch, 1:304–14. 11 The above translation is guided by the nrsv. The long texts of protoMT-Jer are highlighted in italics. Parallels to other passages in Jeremiah are underlined and specified in parenthesis. 12 For this interpretation of Jer 29:10–14, see Lange, “Textual Plurality.” 13 See E. Schuller, DJD 29:87, 131, 181–82, 203, 212–13.

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tive impression of the textual stability of the individual hodayot from Qumran. That most of the overlaps between Hodayot manuscripts occur with 1QHa means furthermore that the textual variation between 4QHa–f and 1QHa, which is documented in the list below, characterizes the textual stability of 1QHa as well. The manuscript 1QHb on the other hand can be ignored for the present inquiry because it is too damaged for textual characterization.14 • Of 4QHa, 438 words are preserved of which 210 overlap with other Hodayot manuscripts and attest to fifteen textual variants between them. This equals 7.14% of textual variation. • Of 4QHb, 287 words are preserved of which 181 overlap with other Hodayot manuscripts and attest to three textual variants between them. This equals 1.67% of textual variation. • Of 4QHc, 140 words are preserved of which 132 overlap with other Hodayot manuscripts and attest to six textual variants between them. This equals 4.5% of textual variation. • Of 4QpapHf, 121 words are preserved of which 109 overlap with other Hodayot manuscripts and attest to seven textual variants between them. This equals 6.42% of textual variation. • 4QHd is too damaged for textual characterization. Twenty-four words are preserved, all of which overlap with other Hodayot manuscripts. No textual variants occur in the preserved text. • 4QHe is too damaged for textual characterization. Eighty-four words are preserved of which sixty-one overlap with other Hodayot manuscripts and attest to three textual variants between them. This equals 4.9% of textual variation. The above list shows that the texts of the individual hodayot from Qumran are relatively stable. The textual variation of 4QHa–c, f varies between 1.67% and 7.14%. Although the latter number might sound relatively high it needs to be recognized that no major variants are preserved. Textual differences are limited to disagreements in suffixes and other grammatical forms. They rarely extend to a whole word. The three extant variants of 4QHb are representative.15

14 Only manuscripts of which 100 words or more are preserved can undergo textual characterization. 15 For the variant list presented, see Schuller, DJD 29:131.

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4QHb 8 1 4QHb 13 7 4QHb 21 1

‫ והיו | ויהיו‬1QHa 14:17 ‫ מטוני פחיה ]מטמוני פחים‬1QHa 21:24 ‫ שמע | לשמוע‬4QHa 7 ii 20a

To summarize so far: The texts of the individual hodayot are less fluid than those of individual psalms. But in both cases textual fluidity is mostly constrained to minor details like grammatical forms. This relative textual stability of the texts of the individual psalms and the individual hodayot stands in stark contrast to the fluidity of the textual inventory and textual sequence of the Psalms and Hodayot manuscripts from Qumran. 2. The Textual Inventory and Textual Sequence of the Psalms and Hodayot Manuscripts from Qumran 2.1. The Inventory and Sequence of the Psalms Manuscripts from Qumran The main difference between the individual Psalms manuscripts from Qumran consists in which psalms they include and in which sequence these psalms follow each other. Based on which songs a given Psalms manuscript from Qumran contains and in which sequence, the following canonical and non-canonical Psalms collections can be identified in Qumran and at the other sites from the Dead Sea: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

Ps-MT (4QPsc?; cf. 4QMidrEschata.b; cf. MasPsa.b; 5/6Ḥ evPs) Ps–11QPsa (11QPsa.b; cf. 4QPse) 4QPsa.q 4QPsb 4QPsd 4QPsf 4QPsk 4QNon-Canonical Psalms A 4QNon-Canonical Psalms B 4QWorks of God + 4QCommunal Confession16

16 For 4QWorks of God (4Q392) + 4QCommunal Confession (4Q393) as parts of one manuscript attesting to a Psalms collection, see D. Falk, DJD 29:23–24.

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The list below presents the various psalms collections with their individual allied manuscripts, and the sequence of the psalms that occur in each manuscript.17 1. Ps-MT (for Ps-MT the reader is referred to its critical editions) 2. 11QPsa (. . . Ps101–103¤ . . . ¤109¤ . . . ¤118¤104¤147¤105¤146¤ 148¤ . . . ¤121–132¤119¤135¤136 + 118:1, 15, 16, 8, 9, X, 29?¤ 145¤154¤Plea for Deliverance¤Ps 139¤137–138¤Sir 51:13–30¤ Apostrophe to Zion¤Ps 93¤141¤133¤144¤155¤142–143¤149– 150¤Hymn to the Creator¤2 Sam 23,[1–]7¤David’s Compositions¤ Ps 140¤134¤151A¤151B . . .); 11QPsb (Ps 77¤78; 119; 118;1, 15–16; Plea for Deliverance; Apostrophe to Zion; Ps 141¤133¤144); 4QPse (Ps 76¤77,1; 78; 81; 86; 88; 89; 103¤109; 114; 115¤116; 118¤ 104; 105¤146; 120; 125¤126; 129¤130) 3. 4QPsa (Ps 5¤6; 25; 31¤33; 34¤35¤36; 38¤71; 47; 53¤54; 56; 62¤63; 66¤67; 69); 4QPsq (Ps 31¤33[¤34¤]35) 4. 4QPsb (Ps 91[¤]92[¤]93[¤]94; 96; 98; 99[¤]100; 102¤103[¤]112; 113; 115; 116; [117¤]118)18 5. 4QPsd (Ps 106¤147¤104) 6. 4QPsf (Ps 22; 107; 109¤Apostrophe to Zion; Eschatological Hymn[¤] Apostrophe to Judah) 7. 4QPsk (Ps 135[¤]99)19

The lists show that not one but several Psalms collections existed during the Second Temple period. These Psalms collections combined the various existing psalms differently. The proto-Masoretic Psalter was thus just one among many existing Psalms collections. While in some cases several manuscripts attest to one Psalms collection in other cases only one manuscript is known.

17 The sign ¤ marks two psalms that follow each other on the same fragment. Only those Qumran manuscripts are listed whose text sequence still allows for an allocation to a particular Psalms collection. 18 For the material reconstruction of 4QPsb see P. W. Skehan, E. Ulrich, and P. W. Flint, DJD 16:21–48. The material reconstruction of this manuscript allows for the identification of some psalm sequences although they are not preserved. They are marked above with [¤]. 19 For Psalm 99 following Psalm 135 in 4QPsk, see Skehan, Ulrich, and Flint, DJD 16:123–25.

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The same phenomenon of different combinations of a certain category of poetic texts in various manuscripts is also known from the Qumran Hodayot. Again various manuscripts which contain the same type of poetic texts differ significantly from each other in both which songs they contain and in which sequence they combine them. Eileen Schuller summarizes the evidence as follows in her editio princeps.20 The full collection of psalms that is found in 1QHa is preserved in one other copy, 4QHb. . . . 4QHa . . . has a different order of psalms. All the material in 4QHa that overlaps with material in 1QHa is from psalms of the “Hymns of the Community” type. The proposed length of the scroll as it has been reconstructed (c. 3.7 m) indicates that this was a much smaller collection than that found in 1QHa. . . . According to the identification of the fragments that belong to 4QHe and the reconstruction of the scroll that is proposed, only one psalm from the beginning of the manuscript has been preserved. If it is correct to consider this a Hodayot manuscript, the order of the psalms is clearly different in this copy than the order in 1QHa. The material evidence of 4QHc, with its very short columns of only twelve lines, suggests that this manuscript contains a much smaller collection of psalms. . . . All the preserved material is from the “Hymns of the Teacher” collection, and this manuscript may have contained only psalms of that type with perhaps an introductory psalm. . . . In the preserved section of 4QpapHf, there are fragments of the “Creation Hymn” (corresponding to 1QHa IX 1–X 5 . . .) and of the “Hymns of the Teacher” section (1QHa X 6–XVII 36). . . . According to the proposed reconstruction of the scroll, the preserved fragments were the beginning of the scroll. . . . It is impossible to determine if there were further layers containing more columns which have not survived.

3. Conclusions Already before the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, it was well known that different textual witnesses of a given biblical book can attest to divergent text sequences. Such re-sequencing of a given biblical book is often part of a reworking by a redactor. Prominent examples of redactional re-sequencing are the proto-Masoretic Jeremiah redaction and the divergent sequence of Ezekiel 36; 38–39; 37 in the proto-

20

E. Schuller, DJD 29:74–75.

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Masoretic Ezekiel redaction versus the sequence attested in Papyrus 967.21 In these cases the redactors responsible for the re-sequencing did not limit their activities to restructuring but changed and enlarged other parts of the reworked book as well. Different from such redactions, the compilation of poetic texts and the transmission of the resulting collections seem to have followed their own rules in ancient Judaism. The comparison between the Hodayot and Psalms manuscripts from Qumran shows that, on the one hand, the textual inventory and textual sequence differ significantly between the extant Psalms and Hodayot manuscripts from the Second Temple period. On the other hand the texts of the individual psalms and hodayot are more stable and disagree mostly in minor variants such as grammatical differences. That the text of the individual songs was relatively stable in the Second Temple period, while the collections of various Psalms and Hodayot collections was not, points to a characteristic of the textual transmission of poetic texts in antiquity. Each psalm or hodayah was regarded as an independent text which could be combined more or less randomly in the various psalms and hodayot collections. Because manuscripts were expensive in antiquity and especially the costs for the production of large manuscripts were prohibitive,22 individual psalms and hodayot were collected according to need and affordability. This approach was especially feasible in the case of poetic texts because they are mostly relatively small songs as compared to the longer texts of narrative compositions. When such random compilations of psalms and hodayot were copied they became Psalms and Hodayot collections. The more or less random combination of the individual psalms and hodayot in various manuscripts led thus in the end to the existence of several Psalms and Hodayot collections alongside each other. In the case of the various Psalms collections, they were regarded as scriptural,

21 Ezekiel 36 lacks verses 23b–38 in Papyrus 967. For a detailed study of Ezekiel 36–39 in Papyrus 967, see Ashley S. Crane, Israel’s Restoration: A Textual-Comparative Exploration of Ezekiel 36–39 (VTSup 122; Leiden: Brill, 2008) and the earlier study by Johan Lust, “Ezekiel 36–40 in the Oldest Greek Manuscript,” CBQ 43 (1981): 517–33. 22 At http://jerusalemscribe.com/purchase.htm, as of 12 June 2010, new handwritten Torah scrolls range from $21,000–$60,000, while new handwritten Esther scrolls can be purchased for $600–$2,500. The price range depends on the quality of the manuscript in question.

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while a certain authority also seems likely for the various Hodayot collections among the members of the Essene movement.23 While this article focused on a comparison between the Psalms and Hodayot manuscripts from the Qumran library, the question of variant textual sequences and variant textual inventories has, of course, wider ramifications. More insights might be gained by a comparison with the transmission of cuneiform literature and the variant sequences of its tablets. Similarly, a comparison with the textual history of the Homeric epics might illuminate the textual transmission of poetic texts in ancient Judaism. But these questions go beyond the constraints of this small homage to the work of James VanderKam and need to be addressed elsewhere.

23 For the debate about the biblical viz. scriptural status of the various Psalms collections in the Qumran library, see Lange, Handbuch, 429–30, 436–39.

L’ÉPILOGUE DE 4QMMT REVISITÉ Émile Puech La publication si attendue de MMT n’a pas failli à ses promesses tant l’importance reconnue de la composition n’a cessé d’être au centre des recherches et des débats quant à l’origine, la date, l’auteur, le destinataire et le genre littéraire1. Si le calendrier et la halakha n’ont pas fait l’objet de polémiques passionnées, en revanche la dernière partie, l’épilogue, est toujours au centre de notes contradictoires concernant ces divers points, tout comme la séquence des fragments déjà disputée par les éditeurs eux-mêmes. La présente note reprend cette question et veut d’abord apporter une réponse par l’étude paléographique des fragments eux-mêmes2, leur relecture et leur regroupement permettant une approche renouvelée des questions débattues qui ne devrait pas manquer de relancer la question de l’origine du document. Sont présentés d’abord séparément les restes des trois manuscrits de la finale de MMT, suivis d’un ‘texte composite’ autour de 4Q397 complété par 4Q398. Les figures se veulent uniquement une aide visuelle de lecture même si les espaces des restaurations peuvent varier de quelques millimètres en plus. 1. Les manuscrits ayant conservé des restes de l’épilogue A—4Q398 – Fragments 11–13 (4Q397 22 souligné, voir figure 1) :

[ ]‫היא)?( שלו[ם‬ 1 ‫ בירושל[ם] כי [באו הב]ר[כ]ות [בימי שׁלומוה בן דויד ואף הקללות‬2 [‫ ]ש[באוו בימי] יר[ובﬠם בן נבט וﬠד גלות ירושלם וצדקיה מלך י]הודה‬3 1 Qumran Cave 4.V. Miqṣat Ma‘śeh Ha-Torah, by E. Qimron and J. Strugnell, in consultation with Y. Sussmann and with contributions by Y. Sussmann and A. Yardeni (DJD X; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994). 2 L’étude récente de H. von Weissenberg, 4QMMT. Reevaluating the Text, the Function, and the Meaning of the Epilogue (STDJ 82; Leiden: Brill, 2009), a essayé de reprendre cette recherche mais n’apporte pas de réponse en tous points indiscutable, ni de solution acceptable à la finale de MMT.

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‫]ש[יב]י[אם ב]ארץ בבל [ואנחנו מכירים שבאוו מקצת הברכות והקללות‬ ‫שכתוב בס]פר מו[שה וזה הוא אחרית הימים שישובו בישראל‬ ‫לת]ורה הנגלה למוש[ה ולוא ישובו אחו]ר [והרשﬠים ירש]יﬠ[ו] ו[האמ]ו[נ]י[ם‬ ‫והצ]די[ק]ים ייראו [זכור את מלכי ישרא]ל[ והתבנן במﬠשיהמה שמי מהם‬ ‫שהיא ירא] את דברי התו[רה היה מצול מצרות והם מבקשי תורה‬ marge inférieure Notes de lecture et bref commentaire : La largeur de la colonne est d’environ 14 cm. –1

–2

–3

–4

–5 –6

Restes de la base d’un mem final, pouvant être pour šlw]m[, ce qui entraîne nécessairement un changement de numérotation des lignes. Le concept de la paix à Jérusalem sous les rois David et Salomon n’est pas surprenant, voir la prophétie de Nathan en 2 S 7 et 4Q522 9 ii, et en contrepartie 4Q397 14–21 ii 11 et 15, pour la paix future et eschatologique. Cette allusion peut aussi viser une situation de l’auteur face à son opposant au pouvoir en place à Jérusalem ; comprendre hy’ šlw]m[ ou šlw]m[ hy’. Pour les temps eschatologiques, voir 4Q397 14–21 ii 15. Restes d’un autre mem final, non signalé lui aussi par les éditeurs3. Puis restes de la base de bet et de l’axe du alef, de l’haste de he, de la base de bet et du kaf, excluant les lectures des éditeurs. Ces restes favorisent la lecture byrwšl]m[ ky ]b’w hb[r]k[wt ]bymy . . . 4Q397 22 1 lit ]mywm[y « depuis les jours de » au lieu de « dans les jours de », et est plus en accord avec la suite w‘d « et jusqu’à ». À la fin de la ligne, surface arrachée, reste de yod. La lacune étant connue par la restauration du passage, une lecture b[’rṣ bbl] paraît ici s’imposer, la lecture de Dt 30,1 pouvant difficilement être retenue. Des traces du départ du lamed ne seraient pas exclues sur PAM 42.183. 4Q397 22 2 lit šywb’[w. La référence à la Loi dans les lignes précédentes n’est pas verbatim, mais peut renvoyer à Dt 11,26–28 ; 28,2.15.45. À la cassure, reste du départ de la tête d’une lettre, reš(?) pour une lecture lt[wrh hktwbh bsp]r, voir Dt 30,10, ou de he, tête et haste(?),voir PAM 42.368, pour hnglh lmwš]h, voir Dt 29,28, 1QS

3 La plupart des propositions de lecture de von Weissenberg, 4QMMT, p. 55–62, ne sont pas à retenir.

4 5 6 7 8

l’épilogue de 4qmmt revisité

Figure 1. 4Q398 11–13

Figure 2. 4Q398 14–17 i

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312

émile puech VIII 1–2 et 15, V 8–9 = 4Q258 I 6–7, 4Q266 8 i 3–4 = CD XV 12–134. Les deux propositions sont également acceptables pour

l’espace et le sens. À la fin de la ligne, lire [w]h’m[w]n[y]m, avec des restes lisibles de la plupart des lettres. En arrière fond de ces lignes, voir aussi Deutéronome 30. –7 Les restes de ṣade et de qof non signalés assurent la lecture de whṣ[dy]q[ym yyr’w ], la paire est bien attestée et reprise en 4Q521 1 ii + 4 5–6 par exemple, autre composition qumranienne. –8 Pour l’espace, lire yr’[ ’t dbry htw]rh, avec Dt 17,19 ; 27,3.8 ; 28,58 ; 29,28 ; 31,12.24 ; 32,46, ou encore [’t ḥwqy htw]rh, voir 4Q171 1–10 iv 8–10 : [‘l dbry hḥ w]q whtwrh . À la dernière cassure, reste de la tête de qof 5. Les deux expressions sont synonymes. Traduction 1 2 3 4 5 6

7 8

il y avait(?) la pai]x[ à Jérusale]m[ parce qu’]étaient venues les bé[né]diction[s ]aux jours de Salomon, fils de David, mais aussi les malédictions qui sont venues aux jours de[ Jér]oboam, fils de Nebat, et jusqu’à la captivité de Jérusalem et de Sédécias, roi de Jud[a,] quand Il les fit partir au[ pays de Babylone.] Et nous savons que se sont réalisées quelques unes des bénédictions et des malédictions selon ce qui est écrit dans le li[vre de Moï]se. Et c’(est)/ ce (sera) la fin des jours, quand, en Israël, ils reviendront à la Lo[i qui a été révélée à Moïs]e/ écrite dans le Livr]e(?) et qu’ils ne retourneront pas en arrière, et les impies comme[ttr]ont l’impiété,[ mais ]les fidèles et les j[us]t[es craindront. ]Souviens-toi des rois d’Israë[l] et considère leurs œuvres, que celui d’entre eux qui craignait[ les préceptes de la Lo]i était délivré des malheurs, et eux ils étaient des chercheurs de la Loi.

4 Pour la proposition lt[wrh par M. Wise, au lieu de lt[myd de l’édition, voir F. García Martínez, « 4QMMT in a Qumran Context », in Reading 4QMMT: New Perspectives on Qumran Law and History, ( ed. J. Kampen and M.J. Bernstein; SBL Symposium Series 2: Atlanta, 1996), 15–27, p. 18–19, = F. García Martínez, Qumranica minora I. Qumran Origins and Apocalypticism (ed. E. Tigchelaar; Leiden: Brill, 2007), 91–103, p. 94–95. 5 F. García Martínez, citati idem, proposerait par exemple « ‘feared [God and practised the l]aw’, or the like ».

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– Fragments 14–17 col. i (4Q397 14–21 ii 9–15 souligné, voir figure 2) :

‫בידנו מﬠל ושקר ורﬠה כי ﬠל כל אלה [אנח]נו נו[תנים את‬ [‫]לבנו ואף כתבנו אליך שאתם מ[בינים] בס[פר מושה ובס]פרי‬ ‫]הנביאים ובדויד ושתשמר כל אלה[ דור ודור ו]ב[ספר כתוב‬ ‫]יהיה לי באחרית הימים שלום ולוא [לך יקימנו ו]י[שפטך ואף‬ ‫]כתו[ב שת]סור מהדר[ך] [ו]קר[תך] הר[ﬠה וכתוב והיא כי‬ ‫]יבו[א ﬠליך] כל הדברים[ ה]א[לה באחרי]ת [הימים הברכה‬ ‫]וה[קללא] והשיבותה[ אל לב]ב[ך ושבתה אלו בכל לבבך‬ [‫]ובכ[ל נפש]ך באחרית ה[ימ]י[ם וחש]בנו שבס[פר מ]וש[ה כ]תוב‬ [‫]יבואו הברכות בﬠת שלום ובאחרית הימים ﬠונות ישאו והחסידים‬

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Notes de lecture et bref commentaire : La largeur de la colonne est de 12 cm de moyenne. –1

Restes du jambage gauche du alef, du pied de nun et du jambage gauche du ḥ et assurant la restauration à l’aide de 4Q397 14–21 9, mais en lisant kl (non kwl de l’édition). –2 La lecture ktb]nwn de l’édition est impossible. Lire et restaurer pour l’espace [lbnw w’p ktbnw ’lyk š’tm m]bynym [bs]pr mwšh wbs[pry] en partie seulement avec 4Q397 14–21 106. –3 Partie gauche (haut et bas) de samek et tête et base de pe. L’espace demande de restaurer [hnby’ym wbdwyd wštšmr(?) kl ’lh] en partie avec 4Q397 14–21 10–11 (voir ci-dessous)7. –4 Cette ligne a fait difficulté, mais la lecture wqdmnywt de l’édition est impossible. La lecture ]lk yqymnw s’impose, sans espace suffisant pour dalet, puis waw, [yod], šin probable, pe, ṭet (boucle et trace d’hastes [les fibres sont quelque peu dérangées]) et kaf

6

4Q398 porte ici une variante importante. Les remarques et suggestions de von Weisenberg, 4QMMT, p. 58–62, pour cette colonne ne sont pas à retenir, de même que celles en « 4QMMT-Some New Readings », in Northern Lights on the Dead Sea Scrolls. Proceedings of the Nordic Qumran Network 2003–2006, (A.K. Petersen et alii, eds; STDJ 8, Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2009) 217–21, où l’auteur propose d’autres lectures impossibles : wkwd, ligne 2, et ‘kyk ligne 6. La lecture ktb]nwn [štbyn bs]pr de F. García Martínez and E. Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, (Leiden-Boston-Köln: Brill, 1998) p. 802, est impossible pour l’espace, ainsi que bien d’autres lectures et restaurations. 7 La lecture-restauration wbdwyd bm‘šy dwr wdwr de l’édition est trop courte et inacceptable pour le sens comme je l’ai déjà fait remarquer, voir ci-dessous à propos de 4Q397 14–21 ii 10. Reste de la base de bet de m]bynym.

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final (tête et traces de longue hampe) (PAM 42.183). L’alef cursif semble précédé d’une haste waw(?) près du kaf et suivi d’une base de pe médian (PAM 43.491) sous alef pour w’p, voir 4Q397 14–21 12 (la qualité des reproductions ne permet pas de lire des restes de waw et de pe sur les photographies). La lecture ]lk yqymnw w[y]špṭk (préférable à wyšpwtk) w’p paraît s’imposer. Pour l’espace, la lacune du début de la ligne doit être restaurée à l’aide de 4Q397 14–21 ii 11 : [yhyh ly b’ḥ ryt hymym šlwm wlw’ ]. Seule la finale de la phrase comporte une variante importante, de sens proche mais secondaire en réinterprétant plus explicitement par la condamnation du jugement le pardon de la citation de Dt 29,19 en 4Q397. Dans ce contexte où l’eschatologie n’est pas absente et même renforcée, le verbe yqymnw semble faire allusion à la résurrection « il nous fera nous lever/ il nous ressuscitera (?) » lors du jugement « à la fin des jours/du temps », alors que l’impie sera jugé et condamné8. Dans cette copie le passage dépasse le temps présent et le futur rapproché de la conversion et de la restauration et vise alors l’espérance au-delà de la promesse terrestre des deux voies en Deutéronome 30, voir Os 6,2 et ses relectures. –6 Restaurer kl (non kwl) des éditeurs9. –7 Les reproductions ne portent aucun reste de he à la deuxième cassure, mais apparemment des restes de bet ensuite. –8 Comme on doit lire wbk]l (non wbkw]l des éditeurs), on doit poursuivre avec b’ḥ ryt h]ym[y]m, avec des restes de yod, mem et mem final, sans traces de h‘t des éditeurs, beaucoup trop court. Puis semble possible la lecture : waw, ḥ et, šin, et après la cassure pe, reš, mem, certains, et des traces. En conséquence, lire : wḥ š[bnw šbs]pr m[wš]h °[, probablement k[twb, et poursuivre dans une ligne, la dernière de cette colonne, pour continuer avec 14–17 ii, et un recoupement partiel en 4Q397 14–21 14–16. Mais la ligne 8 porte des variantes importantes.

8 On aurait ici un nouvel et important témoignage en faveur de cette croyance chez les Esséniens, voir E. Puech, La croyance à la résurrection chez les Esséniens : immortalité, résurrection, vie éternelle ? Volume II Les données qumraniennes et classiques, (Études Bibliques Nouvelle Série 22 ; Paris : Gabalda, 1993. La « paix » fait partie des récompenses du juste lors de la Visite divine, voir wrwb šlwm en 1QS IV 7 qui ne peut être la seule paix de l’ère messianique. Cette mention en passant laisse supposer que c’est une croyance acquise dans le milieu des Pieux, voir Dn 12,1–3, 4Q385 2, 4Q521 et 4Q418 69 ii, et yqwm en Is 24,14 et 19. 9 Von Weissenberg, 4QMMT, p. 58, ne lit pas h[’]lh b’, ligne 6, ni ]k w[qr]tk, ligne 5.

l’épilogue de 4qmmt revisité (–9)

315

La correspondance avec 4Q397 14–21 15–16 autorise la restauration d’une dernière ligne de la colonne (voir ci-dessous).

Traduction 1

dans nos mains ni sacrilège ni mensonge ni mal, car sur toutes ces affaires,] nou[s (y) app]liquons 2 [notre cœur. Et aussi nous t’avons écrit que vous devez recon-] sidérer[ le Li]vre de Moïse et les Livre[s 3 des Prophètes et (ceux) de David, et que tu dois garder tous ceux-ci,] de génération en génération. Et [dans ]le Livre il est écrit : 4 [« Il y aura pour moi la paix, à la fin des jours, mais pas ]pour toi ; Il nous fera nous lever et Il te condamnera ». Et aussi 5 [il est écr]it que tu t’é[carteras de la Voi]e et[ que le m]al t’[at] teindra. Et il est écrit : [« Et il arrivera que 6 [vien]d[ront] sur toi [toutes ]ces [choses à la fin [des] jours, la bénédiction 7 [et la] malédiction, [mais en la prenant] à cœur, tu reviendras vers Lui de tout ton cœur 8 [et de tou]te [ton] âme,[ à la fin des ]jour[s ».] Et [nous ]pen[sons que, dans le ]livre de Moï[s]e il est é[crit : (9) « Les bénédictions viendront en temps de paix, et à la fin des jours, les péchés seront pardonnés, et (pour) les pieux – Fragments 14–17, col. ii (4Q399 1 i–ii souligné et 4Q397 en gras, voir figure 3) : marge supérieure

‫]נשו[אי ﬠונות זכור ]את [דויד שהיא איש חסדים ]ו[אף‬ ‫היא ]נ[צל מצרות רבות ונסלוח לו ואף אנחנו כתבנו אליך‬ ‫מקצת מﬠשי התורה שחשבנו לטוב לך ולﬠמך שדבקנו‬ ‫ﬠמך ﬠרמה ומדﬠ תורה הבן בכל אלה ובקש מלפנו שיתקן‬ ‫את ﬠצתך והרחיק ממך מחשב}ו{ת רﬠה וﬠצת בליﬠל‬ ‫בשל שתשמח באחרית הﬠת במצאך מקצת דברינו כן‬ ‫ונחשבה לך לצדקה בﬠשותך הישר והטוב לפנו לטוב לך‬ Fin ‫ולישראל‬

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

316

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Figure 3. 4Q398 14–17 ii

Figure 4. 4Q399 1 i–ii

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317

Notes de lecture et bref commentaire : La largeur de la colonne est d’environ 11 cm. Le copiste a resserré les interlignes ainsi que les lettres dans les lignes pour finir son texte dans cette dernière colonne de papyrus. La correspondance avec 4Q397 14–21 15–16 permettrait une lecture possible comme suite de 14–17 i. Mais on ne peut retenir la séquence directe proposée par Qimron : 4Q398 11–13 8 et 398 14–17 ii 110. –2 4Q399 1 i 10 a un ordre inversé pour le pronom et le verbe. –3 À la fin de la ligne, l’édition a lu šr[’]ynw d’après 4Q399 1 i 11. Toutefois, les restes préservés ne conviennent pas à cette lecture, la longue hampe précédant nw de lecture assurée peut très difficilement être lue y, qof paraît de loin bien préférable. Le verbe dbq au pi‘el peut gouverner deux accusatifs, ‘mk « toi » (difficilement « ton peuple ») et ‘rmh wmd‘, et signifie « (r)approcher, (s’)attacher, associer, enjoindre, engager ». 4Q399 1 i 11 a un vacat et semble omettre wl‘mk, puis il lit šr’ynw. –5 4Q399 1 ii 2 paraît omettre w‘ṣt bly‘l. –6 4Q399 1 ii 3 lit un texte plus court mdbrynw. La joie fait partie des biens eschatologiques, voir 1QS IV 7. –7 4Q399 1 ii 4 a un vacat et omet whṭwb, formule reprise entre autres en 1QS I 3–4 en se fondant aussi sur Moïse et les Prophètes. Traduction 1 2

[seront pardon]nées les fautes ». Souviens-toi de David qui fut un homme de bienfaits11 [et] aussi il fut ]délivré de grands malheurs et il lui fut pardonné. Et aussi nous t’avons écrit nous-mêmes

10 Séquence déjà en discussion dans l’editio princeps que Strugnell n’acceptait pas, voir DJD X, Appendix 2, p. 201–202, où Qimron adopte la séquence 4Q398 11–13 entre les colonnes des fragments 4Q398 14–17 i et ii, suite à une proposition de M. Kister et de B. Porten, mais dans Appendix 3, p. 203–206, Strugnell est d’avis que la séquence du texte composite reflétant l’opinion de Qimron est matériellement improbable, suivant en cela l’opinion de H. Stegemann, mais sans que ni l’un ni l’autre donnent d’arguments précis. La séquence est en fait autre. 11 Le substantif est à distinguer de l’adjectif, et ne peut être traduit par « pieux » à la suite de García Martínez and Tigchelaar, The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, op. cit., p. 803 : « who was a man of the pious ones », suivis par von Weissenberg, 4QMMT, p. 213.

318 3 4 5 6 7 8

émile puech au sujet de quelques œuvres de la Loi que nous estimons pour ton bien et pour (celui de) ton peuple, car nous nous attachons avec toi à la prudence et à la connaissance de la Loi. Considère toutes ces choses et supplie-Le qu’Il fortifie ta volonté et qu’Il éloigne de toi les pensées du mal et le{s} dessein{s} de Bélial, de sorte que tu te réjouisses à la fin du(/es) temps, en trouvant quelques uns de nos dires (être) fondés ; et cela te sera compté comme justice, quand tu fais ce qui est droit et ce qui est bon en Sa présence, pour ton propre bien et pour celui d’Israël.

B—4Q399 – Fragment 1, col. i (4Q398 14–17 ii 3 souligné, 4Q397 en gras, voir figure 4) :

‫ זכור את דויד שהיא איש חסדים ואף היא [מצול‬9 ‫ ]מצרות רבות ונסלוח לו ואף כתב[נו אנחנו אליך‬10 ‫ ]מקצת מﬠשי התורה שחשבנו לטו[ב לך שראינו‬11 marge inférieure – Fragment 1 col. ii : marge supérieure

‫]ﬠמך ﬠרמה ומדﬠ תורה הבן בכול אלה ובקש [מלפניו‬ ‫]שיתקן את ﬠצתך והרחיק ממך [מחשבת רﬠ‬ ‫]בשל שתשמח באחרית הﬠת [במצאך מדברינו‬ ‫]כן ונחשבה לך לצדקה בﬠ[שותך הישר   לפניו‬ fin ‫]לטוב לך ו[לישראל‬

1 2 3 4 5

Bref commentaire : La largeur des deux colonnes est d’environ 7,5 cm, puis suit une colonne anépigraphe. En 1 i 10, lire le pied du nun avec l’haste du waw ; la copie lit le verbe et le pronom dans un ordre inverse de 4Q398. En 1 i 11 le vacat paraît rappeler l’omission de wl‘mk de 4Q398 14–17 ii 3.

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319

En 1 ii 1, il y a l’espace suffisant pour restaurer le texte parallèle de 4Q398 14–17 ii 412. En 1 ii 2–3, la copie porte une variante importante avec l’omission probable pour l’espace de w‘ṣt bly‘l13, puis lit mdbrynw au lieu de mqṣt dbrynw de 4Q398 14–17 ii 5–6 et de 4Q397 23 3. En 1 ii 4 un vacat semble marquer l’omission de whṭwb de 4Q398 14–17 ii 714. Traduction i 9 10 11

Souviens-toi de David qui fut un homme de bienfaits et aussi il fut ]délivré [de grands malheurs et il lui fut pardonné. Et aussi] nous t’[avons écrit] nous-mêmes [au sujet de quelques œuvres de la Loi que nous estimons pour] ton [bi]en. Puisque nous avons vu

ii 1

[que tu as la prudence et la connaissance de la Loi, considère toutes ces choses et supplie]-Le 2 [qu’Il fortifie ta volonté et qu’Il éloigne de toi ]le dessein du mal, 3 [pour que tu te réjouisses à la fin du(/es) temps, ]lorsque tu trouveras de nos dires 4 [(qu’ils sont) fondés. Et cela te sera compté comme justice, quand ]tu[ fais ce qui est droit en Sa présence, 5 [pour ton propre bien et pour celui d’]Israël.

12 E. Qimron, « Some Works of the Torah. 4Q394–4Q399 (4QMMTa–f ) and 4Q313 », in The Dead Sea Scrolls: Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek Texts with English Translations. Vol. 3. Damascus Document II, Some Works of the Torah, and Related Documents (J.H. Charlesworth ed.; Tübingen/Louisville: Mohr Siebeck/Westminster John Knox Press, 2006), 187–251, p. 230, ne restaure pas kwl dans bkwl ’lh. 13 Variante que ne note pas von Weissenberg, 4QMMT, qui n’a pas essayé de restaurer les parties lacunaires que permet de préciser une mise en page. 14 Rien ne prouve que ces blancs demandent de considérer le texte plus bref de 4Q399 1 comme plus original, ainsi que l’estime von Weissenberg, 4QMMT, p. 93. Le contraire paraît plus vraisemblable, marquant des omissions, et la paléographie situe la copie de 4Q399 comme plus récente que celles de 4Q398 et de 4Q397.

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C—4Q397 – Fragment 22 (?) (4Q398 11–13 3–5 souligné, voir figure 5) :

‫ הקללות שבאו [מיומ]י ירובﬠם בן נבט וﬠד גלות ירושלם וצדקיה‬1 ‫ מלך יהודה [שיובא]ו בארץ בבל ואנחנו מכירים שבאו מקצת הברכות‬2 ‫ והקללות הא[לה וז]ה הוא אחרית הימים שישובו בישראל לתורה‬3 Bref commentaire : Le placement de ce fragment à cet endroit demande d’échanger la numérotation des fragments 22 et 23. La reconstruction de la colonne d’environ 13 (au minimum) à 13,5 cm ne permettrait pas, pour la longueur de la ligne 2, la lecture probable proposée en 4Q398 11–13 4 : b[’rṣ bbl], d’où les possibilités bbbl ou bblh ou même bbl (voir 4Q385a 18 i 6), à moins d’une autre variante à la ligne 3. Le fragment lit un hof‘al au lieu du hif‘îl de 4Q398. À la ligne 1, il y a une variante mywm[y comparé à bymy de 4Q398 11–13 3, une confusion possible et assez fréquente de bet et mem. À la l. 3, si on veut prendre en compte le point d’encre au-dessus de la ligne (PAM 41.762), faudrait-il y voir le waw de m]<w>[š]h, de préférence à un lamed ? La légère trace à droite aux deux-tiers du jambage du he pourrait être une trace du šin, voir frag. 6 315, ou une trace de lamed et lire alors h’]lh, etc., e.g. l. 3 : whqllwt h’]lh, « et de c]es[ malédictions », voir Dt 28,2.15.45, en lisant alors b’rṣ bbl à la l. 2. Si l’identification paraît acceptable ou du moins possible16, malgré les variantes comme ailleurs dans ces copies, le texte conservé en 4Q398 11–13 1–2 serait à restaurer à la ligne 01, et les lignes 4Q398 11–13 6–8 aux lignes du fragment 22 4–6.

15

Voir la lecture des éditeurs, DJD X, p. 28 : wspr mwš]h wz[h. Von Weissenberg, 4QMMT, p. 52 et 92, ne retient pas cette identification, et signale, note 59, une proposition de placement de E. Tigchelaar (non vidi) dans la partie halachique avec les fragments 1–2 de 4Q397. R. Kratz et I. Kottsieper me signalent, je les en remercie, que, contrairement aux photos, le lamed est certain sur l’original, et qu’en conséquence, les trois variantes en trois lignes rendent impossible le recoupement, voir déjà Kratz, « Moses und die Propheten: zur Interpretation von 4QMMT C », in From 4QMMT To Resurrection: Mélanges qumraniens en hommage à Émile Puech, (F. García Martínez, A. Steudel, and E. Tigchelaar eds; STDJ 61, Leiden-Boston: Brill, 2006) 151–76, p. 165. 16

l’épilogue de 4qmmt revisité

Figure 5. 4Q397 22

Figure 6. 4Q397 14–21 i–ii

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‫‪322‬‬

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‫‪Traduction‬‬ ‫‪1‬‬

‫‪les malédictions qui sont venues ]depuis les jour[s de Jéroboam,‬‬ ‫‪fils de Nebat, et jusqu’à la captivité de Jérusalem et de Sédécias,‬‬ ‫‪roi de Judah, ]quand ils furent amenés[ au pays de Babylone. Et nous‬‬ ‫‪savons que se sont réalisées quelques unes des (ces) bénédictions‬‬ ‫‪et de c]es[ malédictions. Et c’[(est) la fin des jours quand ils revien‬‬‫‪dront, en Israël, à la Loi‬‬

‫‪2‬‬ ‫‪3‬‬

‫‪– Fragments 14–21 i-ii (4Q398 14–17 i-ii 1 souligné, voir figure 6) :‬‬ ‫‪i‬‬ ‫‪5‬‬ ‫‪ii‬‬ ‫‪1‬‬ ‫‪2‬‬ ‫‪3‬‬ ‫‪4‬‬ ‫‪5‬‬ ‫‪6‬‬ ‫‪7‬‬ ‫‪8‬‬ ‫‪9‬‬ ‫‪10‬‬ ‫‪11‬‬ ‫‪12‬‬ ‫‪13‬‬ ‫‪14‬‬ ‫‪15‬‬ ‫‪16‬‬

‫דו[יד)?(‬ ‫ [‬ ‫ומ[ﬠשנ]ו[ מ]דרש התורה‬ ‫[‬ ‫נח[שבה]‬ ‫נﬠותו]‬ ‫ [‬ ‫  [ם] ו[יהיה מת]‬ ‫ומי ישמ]ר\ﬠ‬ ‫   [‬ ‫מ[ﬠל וחמס והמﬠל]‬ ‫וﬠל הנשי]ם הנכריות)?(‬ ‫[◦ ו>ננ