One Scripture or Many?: Canon from Biblical, Theological, and Philosophical Perspectives

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ONE SCRIPTURE OR MANY?

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One Scripture or Many? Canon from Biblical, Theological, and Philosophical Perspectives Edited by Christine Helmer and Christof Landmesser

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Great Clarendon Street, Oxford   Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide in Oxford New York Auckland Bangkok Buenos Aires Cape Town Chennai Dar es Salaam Delhi Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kolkata Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi São Paulo Shanghai Taipei Tokyo Toronto Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries Published in the United States by Oxford University Press Inc., New York © Oxford University Press 2004 The moral rights of the authors have been asserted Database right Oxford University Press (maker) First published  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Data applied for ISBN 0–19–925863–5 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2 Typeset by Regent Typesetting, London Printed in Great Britain on acid-free paper by Biddles Ltd, King’s Lynn

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Without the enthusiasm of all the authors in this volume, this discussion of the unity of the canon from their different research perspectives would not have been actualized. We thank the authors for their participation in the discussion and for their contributions. We are grateful to Hilary O’Shea, Senior Editor of Classics at Oxford University Press, as well as to Lucy Qureshi, Commissioning Editor of Theology and Bibles, Enid Barker, Dorothy McCarthy and Lavinia Porter for their kind commitment to the project, the ease of accessibility and communication, and the precision of their comments on the typescript. The typescript was made possible by a number of assistants working at various stages of its preparation. Our thanks goes to Leann Long, who proofread many of the articles and who suggested changes for improvement of the English. For keying in the Hebrew, we thank Timothy Finlay and Hye Kyung Park. We are grateful to Paul Metzger who prepared the indices. For general editing, we are indebted to Katie Goetz, and, most of all, to Ray Bitar, who saw the production of the typescript from start to submission with enthusiasm and humour, patience and encouragement. A special thanks goes to Stefan Budian who was commissioned to design the cover of the book. Finally we thank Oxford University Press for consenting to publish this volume.


CONTENTS

Acknowledgements Notes on Contributors

v ix

1. Introduction: A New Biblical-Theological Approach to the Unity of the Canon

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C H  C L

2. Transhistorical Unity of the New Testament Canon from Philosophical, Exegetical, and SystematicTheological Perspectives C H 3. From Literature to Scripture: The Unity and Plurality of the Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library A L 4. Unity and Plurality in Jewish Canons: The Case of the Oral and Written Torahs B D. S

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5. Unity: Within the Canon or After the Canon J B

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6. Interpretative Unity of the New Testament C L

159

7. Unity of Scripture Constituted through Jewish Traditions of Interpretation A S

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8. The Unity Behind the Canon N W

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Index of Authors Index of References Index of Subjects and Names

233 238 245


NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

J B is Distinguished Professor Emeritus of Hebrew Bible at Vanderbilt Divinity School, and has occupied professorial chairs at Edinburgh University, Princeton Theological Seminary, Manchester University, and Oxford University. Among his numerous books, the most influential in the field of biblical theology include: Holy Scripture: Canon, Authority, Criticism (Clarendon 1983), Beyond Fundamentalism (Westminster 1984), The Garden of Eden and the Hope of Immortality (Fortress 1993), Biblical Faith and Natural Theology (Clarendon/Oxford University Press 1993), and The Concept of Biblical Theology (Fortress 1999). His most recent work is History and Ideology in the Old Testament (Oxford University Press 2000). C H is Assistant Professor of Theology at the Claremont School of Theology. Her publications include: The Trinity and Martin Luther: A Study on the Relationship Between Genre, Language and the Trinity in Luther’s Works (1523–1546) (Philipp von Zabern 1999), Biblischer Text und theologische Theoriebildung (Neukirchener Verlag 2001) coedited with Stephen Chapman and Christof Landmesser, and Schleiermachers Dialektik: Die Liebe zum Wissen in Philosophie und Theologie (Mohr Siebeck 2003) co-edited with Christiane Kranich and Birgit Rehme-Iffert. C L is Professor of New Testament in the Protestant Theological Faculty at the Johannes GutenbergUniversität Mainz. He has written Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft (Mohr Siebeck 1999), and Jüngerberufung und Zuwendung zu Gott: Ein exegetischer Beitrag zum Konzept der matthäischen Soteriologie im Anschluß an Mt 9,9-13 (Mohr Siebeck 2001). He also co-edited the volumes Jesus Christus als die Mitte der Schrift: Studien zur Hermeneutik des Evangeliums (Walter de Gruyter 1997) with Hans-Joachim Eckstein and Hermann Lichtenberger, and Biblischer Text und

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Notes on Contributors

theologische Theoriebildung (Neukirchener Verlag 2001) with Stephen Chapman and Christine Helmer. A L is Associate Professor of Hebrew Bible and Dead Sea Scrolls in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. His most important works are: Weisheit und Prädestination: Weisheitliche Urordnung und Prädestination in den Textfunden von Qumran (Brill 1995), Vom prophetischen Wort zur prophetischen Tradition: Studien zur Traditions- und Redaktionsgeschichte innerprophetischer Konflikte in der Hebräischen Bibel (Mohr Siebeck 2002), as well as the volume Demons: The Demonology of Israelite-Jewish and Early Christian Literature in the Context of Its Environment (Mohr Siebeck 2003) co-edited with Hermann Lichtenberger and K. F. Diethard Römheld. A S is Professor of Philosophy at Bar-Ilan University, founding director of the Graduate Program for the Study of Hermeneutics and Culture, and Senior Research Fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute for Advanced Judaic Studies in Jerusalem. He has written extensively on Continental philosophy, religion, and morality, Jewish philosophy, and the philosophy of Halakhah. His books include: Albert Camus and the Philosophy of the Absurd (Rodopi 2002), Kierkegaard, Religion, and Existence (Rodopi 2000), and Religion and Morality (Rodopi 1995) with Daniel Statman. He is joint editor of The Journal of Democratic Culture, and has edited several collections of essays on contemporary Jewish and Israeli thought. B D. S is Director of the Jewish Studies Program and Associate Professor of Religion at Northwestern University. He is the recipient of fellowships from the American Council of Learned Societies and the Yad Hanadiv Foundation. His book, A Prophet Reads Scripture: Allusion in Isaiah 40–66 (Stanford University Press 1998), received the Salo Wittmayer Baron prize from the American Academy for Jewish Research in 1998. He currently serves on the Pentateuch committee of the Society of Biblical Literature and on the editorial board of Prooftexts: A Journal of Jewish Literary History. N W is Noah Porter Professor Emeritus of Philosophical Theology at Yale University. Before moving

Notes on Contributors

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to Yale, he taught at Calvin College and the Free University of Amsterdam. He was Wilde Lecturer at Oxford University in 1993, Gifford Lecturer at St Andrews’ University in 1995, and President of the American Philosophical Association. A few of his many important books are: Works and Worlds of Art (Oxford University Press 1980), Reason Within the Bounds of Religion (Eerdmans 1984), Lament for a Son (Eerdmans 1987), and Divine Discourse: Philosophical Reflections on the Claim that God Speaks (Cambridge University Press 1995).


1 Introduction A New Biblical-Theological Approach to the Unity of the Canon C H  C L

Since its origins, the field of biblical theology has been considered a bridge discipline, spanning the gap and staging the dialogue between the historically and exegetically oriented biblical disciplines and the conceptually oriented theological disciplines. As a discipline distinct from either biblical or theological studies, biblical theology proved successful in preventing premature dogmatic impositions onto the interpretation of ancient texts. The field continued to thematize key problems primarily in view of the Christian Bible, such as the relation between the two testaments, and to determine the precise tasks of the two disciplines informing biblical theology: exegesis and theology. Yet the field continues to be uncertain regarding the legitimacy, warrants, and justifications for theological and philosophical claims made in connection to its work. In this volume, a new direction in biblical theology is proposed that seeks to place theological and philosophical questions at the centre of biblical-theological investigation.¹ Our approach presupposes that theological and ¹ This book on the unity of the canon is a further development of the biblicaltheological programme set in: Stephen Chapman, Christine Helmer, and Christof Landmesser, eds., Biblischer Text und theologische Theoriebildung, Biblisch-theologische Studien, no. 44 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001). That volume addresses the question of how biblical texts become the objects of theological reception at different stages and contexts in the history of their interpretation. Both trajectories within the Bible and trajectories that are traced from the Bible through the history of theology to the contemporary context are discussed in view of the formation of theological theory. Contributors

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Christine Helmer and Christof Landmesser

philosophical issues are already inscribed into the biblical texts; religious experiences, the nature of reality, and the self/world/ God relation are already embedded in the conceptual development recorded by those texts. If the biblical texts are taken as expressions of religion and of a coherent world-view, then the study of the text’s historical dimension cannot exclude questions concerning the conceptualization of the subject matter raised by the texts themselves. At the very least, a sensitive hermeneutical theory would address the complex issue of how these texts and their claims about religion and reality continue to be interpreted in different contexts in such a way as to contribute to the ongoing formation of theories concerning religion and reality. If a hermeneutical theory can show that the texts themselves have distinct theological and philosophical presuppositions and make particular theological and philosophical claims, then a biblical theology can also show how these texts are read and continue to be read as documents informing the formation of theological theory. With the possibilities opened by hermeneutics, the three perspectives of biblical studies, theology, and philosophy can be brought into closer proximity in the field of biblical theology. This volume seeks to further biblical theology’s enquiry into the theological and philosophical issues raised by the texts through explicit reflection on one of the systematic-philosophical topics underlying biblical theology precisely at a point intersecting biblical, theological, and philosophical interests: the unity of the canon. By considering the key concept of the unity of the canon, biblical theology can engage the issue of its own relevance amid the questions posed in the contemporary world of religion, theology, and the academy. In this volume, the canon’s unity is understood to be constituted by interpretation that itself is a function of the interpretative community, whether scholarly or for the purposes of religious praxis. Furthermore, the interpretation of the canon’s unity is itself compelled by a subject matter ‘behind the text’ that motivates the writing of the text in the first place. When viewed to this volume are from the biblical, historical, systematic-theological, and practical-theological fields (Albrecht Beutel, Ottmar Fuchs, Eilert Herms, Klaus Koch, Ulrich Luz, John W. Rogerson, Magne Sæbø, Christoph Schwöbel, and Hermann Timm).

Introduction: A New Biblical-Theological Approach

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as the result of an experience, the original text is itself part and parcel of the history of interpretation as its first moment. If biblical texts are to be relevant for interpreters and communities of faith in successive generations, the foundational texts will be considered open to perpetual interpretation and use. This understanding of the relevance of biblical texts shapes the perspective from which the unity of the respective Jewish as well as the Christian canons is viewed. From this perspective, canon can be considered neither a static entity nor an airtight unified text. Rather, canon is open to its appropriation by successive generations for study and use. As recent studies in the history of the canon’s formation, and particularly in research on the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Septuagint, and non-canonical material have shown, canon has both a certain fluidity with respect to extra-canonical texts and a particular shape used by the community that interprets the text as well as determining the text’s canonical character. Given the canon’s openness to correction and to the traditions of interpretation, the question arises as to how the unity of the canon can be understood. Both subjective and objective unity characterize the unity of the canon as text. On the one hand, the text remains open to continuous subjective actualization, and on the other hand, an objective subject ‘behind the text’ guarantees the continuity of the tradition of interpretation throughout the religion’s tradition. The unity of the canon is related to the unity of the tradition. Biblical theology’s relevance for contemporary discussions within both the academy and religious communities is a function of hermeneutical engagement with biblical texts. These texts originate through a process of interpreting a distinct worldview and religious experiences structured by that world-view. Biblical texts continue to function as an interpretative force in relation to the various contexts in which the texts are received. The relevance of biblical texts is determined by how they are engaged in different contexts. They are engaged as relevant when they are used in the interpretative task of the tradition to answer questions concerning the fundamental constitution of the tradition. In this way, the texts have a unity-shaping function in relation to the distinct tradition in which they are interpreted and to the plurality of interpretative choices yielded by the tradition for the respective context. The interpretative task as a whole both

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establishes the parameters of the unity of the tradition from the side of the given text and establishes the relevance of the texts by choosing to agree with the unifying parameters of the given tradition. Furthermore, interpretation establishes relevance by engaging, developing, and altering the choices offered by the texts as distinct guides for the subsequent formation of religious, theological, and philosophical theories. By posing the question of relevance, biblical theology asks questions concerning the agreement with unity in terms of both text and tradition as well as interpretative decisions that privilege one theologically relevant choice over another. Some proposals for unity have been mapped out from a stance internal to the biblical traditions themselves, as the study of intra-biblical theological trajectories, such as covenant theology including its various conceptions within the Bible, shows. Other approaches are more concerned to characterize the tradition extending beyond the canonical boundaries of the text, moving the question of relevance toward a project of updating interpretations founded on parameters set at the origins of interpretation itself. Acknowledging the relevance of these texts for making interpretative choices, other approaches focus on carving out new possibilities for the formation of religious practice. Engaging texts in new contexts for the formation of theory and praxis establishes their relevance. Biblical theology addresses its own relevance when it clarifies the question concerning the actualization of biblical texts. Texts are actualized in successive generations of academic study or in communities of faith when they are interpreted and used. It is possible that without actualization, the texts would become dead letters rather than conveying the living tradition of the respective religion. The viability of these texts is demonstrated when their actualization in contemporary contexts addresses the reality of that actualization. If relevant, the biblical texts and traditions must then in some way contribute to the determination of contemporary reality. This consideration is more than just posing the hermeneutical question regarding the interpretation of one world-view from the perspective of another standpoint. It has to do with the philosophical question of reality and its determination. In this volume, we consider the biblical texts to be proposals regarding a particular religiously construed reality and its determination in light of foundational religious


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commitments. The texts’ impact on the determination of reality affirms the continuity of traditions and confirms the openness of traditions to a diversity of models interpreting reality within differing contexts. Hence the question of the philosophical determination of reality invites biblical-theological reflection on this philosophical issue. By addressing the philosophical question, biblical theology then takes these texts into theological consideration in view of religion as it is constituted by particular understandings of reality. Such a consideration necessarily includes the questions of epistemological justification for knowing reality, especially as a supplement to substantive claims made about that reality. The philosophical factor in biblical theology’s engagement with reality opens up the biblical texts to their relevance for determining foundational commitments to the world that inevitably structure any thinking and activity taking place within the world. By highlighting the relevance question with the question concerning reality, biblical theology can view biblical texts in light of their unity and diversity. As a hermeneutical and philosophical question concerning the biblical material in its actualization, unity is seen to be more than the mere unity constituted by texts. The unity of a world-view presupposed by different texts and the unity of the religious tradition they fund are issues encompassing a unity extending beyond textual boundaries. Furthermore, the unity constituting tradition is informed by the dynamic diversity of historical, theological, and philosophical proposals that continue to be engaged, rejected, and accepted. It is to the topic of unity that this volume is dedicated. In this book, the question of the canon is posed in terms of unity drawn from plurality. The unity of the canon is posed as a significant biblical-theological question in view of its relation to religious traditions. For the Jewish and Christian traditions, the canon has been appropriated as a unity by each successive generation. Irrespective of concrete determination, and in spite of the different evaluations of its literary boundaries by different strands of tradition, the canon continues to be received as a unity. The history of the canon’s effects (Wirkungsgeschichte) demonstrates the continued perception of the canon in this way. This perception holds for both the ways in which a religious community uses the canon and the ways in which it is studied as the object of hermeneutical-

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theological reflection. Religious communities attribute to the canon as unity an authority that informs the interpretative tradition of those communities. The tradition-constituting function of canonical interpretation is a function of the canon’s unity. The interpretative balance consists of highlighting parts of the canon for articulating the norms of faith and morals in view of the whole. Conversely, the whole remains the potential storehouse of parts for correcting one-sidedness in theological, liturgical, and spiritual formation. Seen as unity drawn from plurality, the canon sets wide parameters for future hermeneutical legitimation of its theological possibilities. Textually closed canons do not preclude the possibility of investigating and acknowledging the plurality and even non-uniformity of theological proposals within the various biblical traditions. Nevertheless, unity-shaping, hermeneutical-theological reflection does not begin once the canon is closed. Rather, the interpretative activity of the tradition begins within the biblical traditions. Religious, theological, and philosophical positions are already fixed by the text synchronically on a variety of historical layers and diachronically through the arrangement of books within the canon. It is one task of biblical theology to investigate the synchronic and diachronic plurality of these traditions for the purpose of determining which traditions have had an impact on the formation of communal identity and the formation of hermeneutical-theological traditions. The tradition conveys unity beyond the canon’s boundaries, extending the concept of canonical unity to the unity of the tradition. Insights relating the unity of the canon to the unity of the tradition is this volume’s key contribution to the discussion of unity. Canon cannot be considered without the religious traditions and hermeneutical trajectories that it funds and for which it is relevant. In view of these relations, canon is inevitably connected to reality. Theological understandings of the unity of the canon also require that the question of unity be put under a microscope. Even when articulated at a minimal level of content, the biblical text’s theological claims inform the trajectories of theological themes threaded through the Bible. There is theological reason for reading the texts in their respective contexts in relation to the contemporary situation. The texts as such narrate God’s history with God’s people; they tell of God’s salvific acts in history.


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If these claims concerning God’s activity are valid for biblical times, then they are relevant to the respective situation in which the texts are read. With this overarching theological theme in view, the interest in unity does not imply a hegemonic command that all speak in the same way about God. The particulars of the biblical texts do differ from each other in theological focus. Sometimes they even contradict each other in relation to particular theological perspectives on a theme. By presupposing theological relevance of biblical texts, biblical theology must think about unity as the continuity of theological themes from then until now. If the unity of the canon is not considered in the sense of a closed scriptural list, then how might unity be conceived? The argument unifying all contributions in this book is that the unity of the canon is hermeneutically constituted. Unity is a function of interpretation. The unity is ‘outside’ not ‘inside’ the text. It is imposed onto the text by its hearer or reader, by a community of interpretation or by academic scholars, whether from an intrabiblical or an extra-biblical location. It is also in great part constituted by communal beliefs about which writings were inspired by God. As hermeneutically obtained, unity is not a licence for interpretative abandon. Rather, subjectively constituted unity is related to the reality of a unity-constituting feature of the text that is often referred to in this volume as the unity ‘behind’ the text. By this phrase, the question of unity is referred to the question of reality. The reality behind the text as its referent provides the occasion for understanding the transcanonical unity establishing the continuity between biblical and post-biblical traditions. The unity established by the tradition opens up the tradition to the possibility of manifold interpretations. Unity is a function of complexity as interpretation recontextualizes particular interpretations of the text in different interpretative contexts. Recontextualization is a critical process; the semantic heterogeneity of biblical texts shows that the texts do not contribute to the determination of an interpretative context in a uniform or flat way. As an open critical process, interpretation is, however, informed by a minimum of agreement creating the conditions for open possibilities in the first place. Traditions of interpretation arising from the biblical traditions are informed by a

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minimum of hermeneutical presuppositions, quite likely a common faith that is shared by all participants in the entire trajectory from the authors or tradents of the biblical texts to their modern recipients. The texts contain the potential for unity that is subsequently actualized in ongoing theological interpretation. The inclusion of both Jewish and Christian perspectives in this volume particularly focuses the question of common elements in interpretative perspectives through consideration of the unity of both Jewish and Christian canons. Although Jewish and Christian interpretative traditions assume different interpretative conditions, they share common presuppositions regarding both the unity constituted by interpretation, and the reality behind the text constituting the text and its interpretations. In this volume, similarities regarding construals of subjectively and objectively constituted unities can be observed, even when different canons, such as the Hebrew Bible, Oral and Written Torah, the Old Testament or Septuagint, the New Testament, or the diverse Christian Bibles (e.g. Roman Catholic, Protestant) are considered. While it is impossible to address the full range of questions that might emerge, the essays collected in this volume each access important questions concerning the unity of the canon from the authors’ various biblical, theological, and philosophical perspectives. In the first essay, ‘Transhistorical Unity of the New Testament Canon from Philosophical, Exegetical, and Systematic-Theological Perspectives’, Christine Helmer takes up the question of the intra-systematic unity of the canon. Drawing on Friedrich Schleiermacher’s work, she discusses the canon’s unity in terms of a transhistorical essence remaining constant throughout the historical trajectory of the Christian religion. The goal of theological enquiry is to grasp the essence in its various historical manifestations. The canon is a philosophical construct that minimally fixes the essence in language. At the origin of the Christian religion, the literary representation of the essence is most ‘pure’ due to its proximity to the originating impulse of the religion. In Christian terms, the original apprehensions of Christ and his redemptive work are fixed as ideas in texts. Exegetical theology’s task is an infinite search to determine which texts and passages best represent the original fixing of these apprehensions of Christ for the tradition that follows.


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Systematic theology considers the unity of theological thought in relation to the canon emerging from the work of exegetical theology. From her conceptual vantage-point, Helmer presents the idea of a canon in continuity with the unity of the tradition as well as a canon that is open to correction and historical development. In ‘From Literature to Scripture: The Unity and Plurality of the Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library’, Armin Lange draws on his research on the Dead Sea Scrolls to expose a complex process of canonical formation that lays the groundwork for later Jewish and Christian canons. This process involves the historical move from authoritative literature to a view of authoritative literature as scripture. Lange documents this new concept by analysing the citations of and allusions to scripture in the non-biblical texts from the Qumran library in particular and from ancient Judaism in general. The next question Lange addresses concerns the reason for the new concept of scripture. He finds his answer in the religious reforms of the years 175–164  that shifted a temple-centred piety to a scripture-centred piety. Jewish identity is re-configured in terms of its relation to scripture that, in turn, establishes the unity of the developing canon. Lange demonstrates the unity of the canon in historical perspective in the interpretation of scripture and in the constitution of religious identity. In his essay, ‘Unity and Plurality in Jewish Canons: The Case of the Oral and Written Torahs’, Benjamin D. Sommer addresses the unity of the canon in relation to tradition. Sommer is less concerned with the Bible as a closed corpus than with a sense of transcanonical unity, the unity encompassing the entire tradition. The relation of rabbinic theology to biblical tradition clarifies what Sommer means by transcanonical unity. The relation of Written Torah to Oral Torah exposes a point at which Written Torah does not have obvious priority over Oral Torah. Questions concerning the authoritative hierarchization of texts cannot be easily answered. Sommer’s considerations make clear that canon lists do not determine the canonicity of authoritative scriptures. Rather, a transcanonical unity between Written and Oral Torah, which can be ultimately understood in terms of Oral Torah, accounts for the unity of the tradition. Against the backdrop of the complex relations between Written and Oral Torah,

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Sommer sketches a modern Jewish approach to the canon’s unity and authority, an approach that engages a dialogue with modern Jewish theologians, rabbinic texts, and the interdenominational pursuit known as biblical criticism. In his essay, ‘Unity: Within the Canon or After the Canon’, James Barr addresses questions concerning the unity of the canon as a classic question in biblical theology. For Barr, questions concerning unity are to be posed at four different levels of increasing complexity regarding the relation between texts and tradition. Barr’s own understanding is oriented to a final level of unity spanning the differences and similarities of biblical books in comparison with the important traditions that emerged from post-biblical times. For Barr, this raises questions concerning the relation of biblical theology to doctrinal theology in their distinct formations. Doctrinal theology extends beyond the textual boundaries of the canon to include the post-biblical traditions. With this development, extra-biblical material is theologically integrated into the tradition, and through this process, the biblical texts gain their significance. What biblical theology and doctrinal theology have in common is an understanding of the reality to which the Bible refers. This reality is to be distinguished from its text; it lies behind the text. By the distinction between text and reality, Barr sees a unity of subject matter for both biblical theology and doctrinal theology. The distinction also serves to keep both theological enterprises open to future developments. A semantic perspective of the New Testament canon is provided by Christof Landmesser in his essay, ‘Interpretative Unity of the New Testament’. For Landmesser, texts describe a determinate access to the world; they aim to give something of the world to be understood. Textual access to the world is the product of an encounter with the subject matter of which the text speaks. The materially determined interpretational access to the world offered by the New Testament is of unique significance. New Testament texts are interpretational constructs that attempt to understand the world against the backdrop of the biblical traditions and under the condition of faith in Jesus Christ. Through his semantic approach, Landmesser advances the idea that the New Testament texts can be considered interpretational objects. As interpretational objects, the texts open up a plurality of interpretational accesses to the world, and compel an open-


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ended interpretation procedure that cannot be reduced in complexity, closed prematurely, or exhausted. Landmesser holds that, even when all differences are considered, the unity-shaping moment is faith in Jesus Christ. A plurality of interpretations is the result of both interpretational processes taking place in differing contexts and of inconsistent or incoherent interpretative attempts. If, for human beings, the world is never concluded, then the task of Christian theology will continually be the recontextualization of the New Testament texts in each interpretative context. In his essay, ‘Unity of Scripture Constituted through Jewish Traditions of Interpretation’, Avi Sagi shows how Jewish traditions of halakhic interpretation see scripture as a pluralistically constituted, polysemic text. Sagi addresses interpretative plurality by appropriating Nahmanides’ fundamental insight that the biblical texts are open to a diversity of interpretations. Halakhic decisions do not reveal the one truth of the text, but Torah binding on the community. Acknowledging the affinity between Nahmanides and modern deconstructionism, Sagi contends that a text cannot be construed independently of its reader; the reader plays a decisive role in constituting the text as a unity by determining its meaning for a particular context. Nevertheless, not just any interpretation goes. By considering Nahmanides’ position in his Commentary on the Torah, Sagi can claim a text apart from its interpretation. For Sagi, that which is opened up by the sages and their interpretation is the Torah of God. Hermeneutical freedom is regulated by rabbinic rules of interpretation. However, halakhic tradition as such constitutes the Jewish religion by determining the status and meaning of scripture. In this view, the appropriate hermeneutical disposition is one that is open-ended. In the final paper of this volume, ‘The Unity behind the Canon’, Nicholas Wolterstorff begins with a crucial distinction: the question concerning the unity behind the Christian canon is not identical with the question concerning the unity in the Christian canon. Wolterstorff’s main argument involves consideration of the Bible as a work. The question of interpretation is taken up in view of the object of interpretation. That which constitutes something as a work lies behind the text. According to Wolterstorff, a work is a unity created by intention or

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intentional authorization. The Bible as an entirety can be understood in Wolterstorff’s sense of unity. Wolterstorff sketches the overarching structure of the Christian canon by connecting the different books in view of their content. The New Testament owes its content to the person of Jesus. The Old Testament is informed by two story lines: the story of creation and providence, and the story of redemption. For Wolterstorff, the Christian canon is to be read in light of this relation between Old and New Testaments. This unified reading does not preclude interpreting individual books as written by individual authors. It also acknowledges the fact that the Old Testament was interpreted by the early church in a way differing from original authorial intention. Yet the stress is on recognizing the Christian canon as a work united by two testaments and authorized as a unity by God. The scriptures, taken as canon, are not God’s collected works but God’s single work with many chapters. The unity of the canon is discussed in this volume from a range of perspectives with a variety of canons in view. Questions are raised from the historical perspective concerning the formation and legitimation of differing canon lists and their uses. From the theological and hermeneutical-philosophical perspectives, questions address the function of biblical interpretation for the determination of canon. Reader, author, or interpretative community contribute aspects to the canon’s unity as it is seen as a subjectively construed hermeneutical unity. In terms of a subjective determination, the role that the pragmatic context of an interpretation plays is also an important factor in construing the canon’s unity. The subjective interpretative unity, however, is related to an objective construal of unity. In differing ways, the unity behind the text, as divine agent, as transcanonical religious experience, or as transcanonical tradition, offer important considerations to answering the question concerning the unity of the canon.

2 Transhistorical Unity of the New Testament Canon from Philosophical, Exegetical, and Systematic-Theological Perspectives¹ C H

INTRODUCTION Diversity characterizes the biblical canon when it is viewed for its historical, thematic, and material-theological content. Historical plurality is written into the redactional layers of both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament. Even in descriptions of one and the same event, different narrators relay different stories, each told from a particular historical and cultural location that lends a different interpretational spin to the basic story.² Furthermore, thematic plurality characterizes biblical content. From the aetiology of creation and human origins to architectural design, from ethical injunctions to immoral behaviour, from curses to hymns, the Bible represents its diverse themes in many literary genres shaping the subject matter through different languages.³ And ¹ I thank both Leann Long and Stephen Davis for our conversations on the subject of this essay and for kindly suggesting improvements to the text. ² For example, as Marvin Sweeney has shown, Jeremiah reflects critically upon the Isaian tradition in developing his own understanding of the exile from Jerusalem. Marvin A. Sweeney, ‘The Truth in True and False Prophecy’, in Christine Helmer and Kristin De Troyer, with Katie Goetz, eds., Truth: Interdisciplinary Dialogues in a Pluralist Age, Studies in Philosophical Theology, no. 22 (Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 9–26. ³ For a study of how genre shapes subject matter through the different discourses a genre generates (e.g. disputation, hymn, sermon) see Christine Helmer, The Trinity and Martin Luther: The Relationship Between Genre, Language and the Trinity in Luther’s Works (1523–1546), Veröffentlichungen

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finally, material-theological plurality reveals differences in conceptions of self, world, and God. The Psalms portray the individual tossed on the sea of emotions.⁴ Ecclesiastes exposes the vanity of most human striving, opting for the pleasures of eating, drinking, and enjoying the wife of one’s youth (Eccles. 9: 7–9), while the ethereal evangelist, John, advocates the sovereignty above the fray in following the one who is in but not of this world (John 8: 23; 18: 36). Even the doctrine of God is depicted by an extreme amplitude between the God in whom one can and must place one’s fear and trust (cf. Exod. 20: 2–3), and the God of prophetic witness who chooses one man and rejects his brother (cf. Rom. 9–11).⁵ And after surveying the diversity of human activity, wisdom literature can only maintain its awe in the face of the incomprehensibility of divine ways (cf. Rom. 11: 33–6), and in view of the divine foolishness that still puts human wisdom to shame (cf. 1 Cor. 1: 20, 25). Despite this immense plurality, even embracing opposing ideas,⁶ the Bible is taken as a unified whole by religious communities and scholars. Christians continue to acknowledge the early church’s decision to accept the first testament as an unredacted whole, joining it with the second testament to form the larger biblical unity of both Old and New Testaments. Furthermore, in the theological sub-discipline of systematic theology, concern with the Bible’s unity has historically been more than a formal designation of what is contained between two book covers. In fact, theologians who have engaged seriously with scripture have des Instituts für Europäische Geschichte/Abteilung Abendländische Religionsgeschichte, no. 174 (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 1999). ⁴ In his preface to the Psalter, Luther writes, ‘A human heart is like a ship on a wild sea, driven by the storm winds from the four corners of the world.’ Martin Luther, ‘Preface to the Psalter’, in Jaroslav Pelikan et al., eds., Luther’s Works: American Edition, 55 vols. (St. Louis and Philadelphia: Concordia and Fortress, 1958–86), 35. 255. (Hereafter referred to as LW.) ⁵ Of all theologians in Western history, it was perhaps Luther who was able to make this amplitude fruitful in his theology, if problematic for his interpreters. In ‘The Bondage of the Will’, Luther distinguishes between the hidden and revealed God in view of Romans 9–11. Martin Luther, ‘The Bondage of the Will (1525)’, in LW 33: 15–295. ⁶ See Christof Landmesser’s chapter, ‘Interpretative Unity of the New Testament’, section entitled ‘Differences between New Testament Texts’, in this volume.

Transhistorical Unity of the New Testament Canon

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sought material principles determining the Bible as a whole, while taking those principles to structure their own respective theologies. Martin Luther’s intra-biblical principle was a christological one. In order to distinguish between passages declaring Christ’s forgiveness and those passages either pronouncing the human guilty or prescribing moral strictures, Luther determined the material principle of all scripture to be ‘what conveys Christ’.⁷ The principle of gospel, with its accompaniment of law, was not only Luther’s privileged hermeneutical tool for intra-biblical interpretation, it also structured the material claims of his own theology. As an example in contemporary theology, Brevard Childs seeks the unity of the biblical res in the self-same referent of its witnesses; the entire Bible witnesses to the one true God, whether in the distinctive voice of Israel or in the trinitarian witness of the church.⁸ What is common to Luther and Childs, to use just two examples, is that unity is preserved at a transhistorical and materially determined level. Although the Bible is constituted through diversity, the theological use of the Bible suggests that certain transhistorical features are required to set the general parameters for a religion, to serve as hermeneutical points of continuity between past and present, and to unify the tradition at a minimally determined material level so as to open up hermeneutical and theological freedom for the future life of the tradition. The question of the unity of the Bible is the question concerning the unity of the history of the church and theology. The aim of this chapter is to offer a philosophical, exegetical, and systematic-theological view of the unity of the Christian ⁷ The term ‘conveys’ is the author’s translation of the German ‘treiben’. Martin Luther, ‘Preface to the Epistle of St James and St Jude’, in LW 35. 396. For Luther, the identity of God and the substance of salvation dispensed in history is retained by a medieval semantics prohibiting the introduction of temporality into the eternal referent. From whatever temporal location a theological claim is made, either intra-biblical or extra-biblical, the eternity of the referent is retained. See Helmer, The Trinity and Martin Luther, 75–8. ⁸ Brevard S. Childs, Biblical Theology of the Old and New Testaments: Theological Reflection on the Christian Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 87. For Janowski, the res behind the text is the same God who unifies both testaments of the Christian Bible. See Bernd Janowski, ‘The One God of the Two Testaments: Basic Questions of a Biblical Theology’, trans. Christine Helmer, Theology Today 57/3 (1997): 297–324.

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canon so as to account for the transhistorical stability of the Christian religion. My approach will be based on the work of Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher (1768–1834) and his understanding of the canon as a concept that accounts for the continuity of the essence of Christianity throughout the church’s history by virtue of a stable core of ideas that are expressed in the biblical text and also in the church’s history. Schleiermacher’s theological and philosophical thought provides a model for showing the construction of the canon’s unity as a function of a subjective hermeneutically constituted unity as well as an objective transhistorical factor uniting the diachronous history of the church with the synchronous diversity of the many expressions of Christianity’s essence. Although Schleiermacher limits his discussion of the Christian canon to the New Testament, I will suggest possible ways to include both testaments of the Christian Bible.⁹ The chapter’s structure follows Schleiermacher’s own ordering of the three theological sub-disciplines of philosophical ⁹ Although I closely follow Schleiermacher’s thought in this essay, I do not agree with one significant aspect of his concept of canon. In his Brief Outline, Schleiermacher makes the terminological distinction between the Christian canon or New Testament and the Christian Bible or Old and New Testaments together (§ 115, (63) ), and claims that exegetical theology’s task is to investigate the New Testament canon, using the Old Testament as an auxiliary hermeneutical tool (§ 104 (58); § 128 (68–9); §§ 140–3 (73–5) ). References to the Brief Outline are found in Friedrich Schleiermacher, Brief Outline of Theology as a Field of Study (1811/1830), trans., with essays and notes by Terrence N. Tice, Schleiermacher Studies and Translations, no. 1 (Lewiston/Queenston/ Lampeter: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1990). (Hereafter referred to as BO. Unless stated otherwise, the BO is cited according to the second edition of 1830 with references given for paragraph numbers. Page numbers are given in parentheses.) Since the publication of the first review of the Brief Outline in 1812, a host of voices has been raised in criticism of Schleiermacher’s view that the Old Testament neither expresses the central perspective of Christianity nor is to be used as a warrant for Christian systematic theology. For the famous first review see F. H. Chr. Schwarz, Review of ‘Schleiermachers Kurze Darstellung des theologischen Studiums zum Behuf einleitender Vorlesungen’, Heidelbergische Jahrbücher der Litteratur 5 (1812): 526–7. Among numerous articles, see the following two examples of a critical view of Schleiermacher: Emil G. Kraeling, The Old Testament since the Reformation, Lutterworth Library, no. 47 (London: Lutterworth, 1955), 59–67, and Rudolf Smend, ‘Schleiermachers Kritik am Alten Testament’, in Epochen der Bibelkritik: Gesammelte Studien, iii, Beiträge zur evangelischen Theologie, no. 109 (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1991), 128–44.


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theology, exegetical theology, and systematic theology in his Brief Outline of Theology as a Field of Study. In the first section, I explain the philosophical-theological concept of canon as the originating point for a discussion of the canon’s unity. Canon is a formally determined unity denoting a religion’s essential features as transhistorical ideas expressed in language. In the second section, I determine the task of exegetical theology to study those transhistorical ideas as they are originally expressed in the New Testament canon. The canon’s unity is constituted by the experience of a subject ‘behind’ the text that is subjectively construed by individual authors of the New Testament. Furthermore, the canon’s unity as a collection of texts is related both objectively and subjectively to the tradition of its interpreters. In the third section, I determine the task of systematic theology to be a subjective construal of the canon’s unity, based on the impact of the transhistorical unifying experience that itself is constituted by a principle of coherence in relation to the contemporary context in which the canon is received. UNITY OF THE CANON FROM A PHILOSOPHICAL-THEOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE Since the Greeks, the search for a stable unity amid seething plurality has been the prerogative of philosophical enquiry. While Plato sought to find the unity of virtue, the state, and metaphysics in which plurality participated,¹⁰ Kant sought in reason (Vernunft) the function unifying the sensible manifold into a coherent whole.¹¹ Human reason itself is systematic by nature; the ‘purpose of any member can be derived only from the complete concept of the whole’.¹² It was, however, Schleiermacher who ¹⁰ For Plato, the Protagoras concerns the unity of virtue, the Republic concerns the unity of the state, and the Parmenides concerns the metaphysical unity of being. ¹¹ Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, ed. and trans. Paul Guyer and Allen W. Wood, The Cambridge Edition of the Works of Immanuel Kant (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000),  77 =  103 (210). (Page numbers are given in parentheses.) ¹² Immanuel Kant, ‘Preface’ to Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics, With Selections from the Critique of Pure Reason, ed. and trans. Gary Hatfield,

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applied the sense of the whole to religion. He showed how the positive religions are historical phenomena that are to be studied as unities in order to grasp a religion’s distinctive characteristics in relation to other religions. In this section, I will describe the role that Schleiermacher assigns to philosophical theology to discern the transhistorical essence of a religion through the use of speculative reason. I will show how philosophical theology then is applied to the canon as a concept accounting for the transhistorical unity of a positive religion, such as Christianity. The conceptual designation of a positive religion’s historical features sets the parameters for further determining a particular religion’s idiosyncratic features. For Schleiermacher, any historical religion is constituted by two factors, each with its own starting-point and historical trajectory. The unity of a religion consists of an outer characteristic that can be detected historically and an inner self-same essence. The essence of every historical religion is constituted by both ‘an outward unity, as a fixed fact of history with a definite commencement, and an inward unity, as a peculiar modification of that general character which is common to all developed faiths of the same kind and level’.¹³ The outer unity has an original starting-point historically anchoring a feature recognizable as a central perspective to that particular religion. The inner unity is determined in the psychological terms common to all adherents of the respective religion as the relation between immediate self-consciousness and sensible selfconsciousness.¹⁴ In view of Christianity as a positive religion, the outer unity is conceptually designated for the entire historical trajectory as the essential relation between the founder, Jesus of Nazareth, and the effect of redemption emanating from him.¹⁵ Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 13 (= 4. 263). ¹³ Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Christian Faith (1830/31), eds. H. R. MacKintosh and J. S. Stewart, trans. D. M. Baillie et al., of 7th edn. by Martin Redeker (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1999), § 10, proposition (44). (Hereafter referred to as CF. References to CF include paragraph and corollary number, or proposition, or postscript, while page numbers are given in parentheses.) ¹⁴ CF §§ 7–10 (31–52). ¹⁵ The essence of Christianity is ‘a monotheistic faith, belonging to the teleological type of religion, and is essentially distinguished from other such faiths by the fact that in it everything is related to the redemption accomplished by Jesus of Nazareth’. CF § 11, proposition (52).


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The inner unity of Christianity, as is the case with two other monotheistic religions, Judaism and Islam, is characterized by the feeling of absolute dependence in relation to an ultimate Whence.¹⁶ Christianity, like Judaism, is also a ‘teleological’ religion, which orients states of passivity to activity in the world.¹⁷ And by virtue of a particular construal of monotheism and teleology, Christian self-consciousness is constituted by both the consciousness of sin and the consciousness of grace, the latter attributed to an external source.¹⁸ This inner unity together with the outer unity forms the unity of Christianity’s essence, or the conceptual determination of Christianity’s distinctive features retained through historical change. The inner and outer unities unite to constitute a religion’s essence. This unity is the key to what Schleiermacher means by religion. Religion is historical. Religion necessarily takes historical shape because its inner unity cannot appear anywhere but intentionally in history. The unity between inner and outer unity, however, cannot be characterized as a one-way external expression of an inner state. Rather, the historical environment in which a religion is embedded is a realm of the relative freedom and relative dependence characterizing all of inter-human and inner-worldly interactions.¹⁹ By virtue of its historical embeddedness, a religion’s inner unity is expressed in the external coefficients of its environment, yet conversely, externalized expressions are circulated in the environment in such a way as to impact the inner psychological states of individuals. A religion’s external expressions are the same coefficients shared by language, culture, politics, and philosophy. These coefficients are constitutive of the psychological level of sensible self-consciousness that is necessarily related to that psychological domain reserved as religion’s ‘peculiar province’²⁰: immediate self-consciousness. The constitutive relation between inner and outer unities guarantees the identity of an identifiable shape through history distinct from other externalizations of the human spirit, such as ¹⁶ CF § 9, 1 (40–2). ¹⁷ CF § 9, 1 (41–2). ¹⁸ Part II of Schleiermacher’s The Christian Faith is structured by these two aspects of Christian self-consciousness. The first aspect or the ‘Explication of the Consciousness of Sin’ precedes the lengthy second aspect or the ‘Explication of the Consciousness of Grace’. See the table of contents in CF, xvi–xviii. ¹⁹ See CF § 4, 2 (13–15). ²⁰ CF § 3, 4 (9).

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politics and the academy. Yet the two dimensions of inner and outer explain how a religion remains the same while changing with history’s ebb and flow. In Schleiermacher’s thought, the relation between a self-same essence and its external manifestations explains how a religion is intentionally based on external coefficients, but cannot be reduced to any one of them. Any external aspect of the religion must be deemed an appearance of the inner unity in its entirety; no metaphysically occult reality hides behind the appearance. Yet a religion’s empirical manifestation does not exhaust the possibilities of a religion to change through time because it is its inner unity that holds constant throughout. The metaphysical features of a religion’s unity determine epistemological access to that religion’s essence. It is to the field of philosophical theology that Schleiermacher assigns the more or less a priori construction of a religion’s unifying parameters. This a priori construal borrows from the Leibnizian distinction between power (Kraft) as the unity holding together and underlying the manifold of appearances, and the appearances (Erscheinungen) of the inner unity that themselves as a whole exhibit the religion’s outer unity. In Schleiermacher’s system, the relation of power (or essence) to appearance operates as the metaphysical key to understanding the transhistorical unity of any historical religion, and that of the Christian religion in particular.²¹ The speculative construction of a religion’s essence is the task of philosophical theology; philosophical-theological reason is speculative, rather than empirical, and it is oriented to conceptually fixing a minimal description of a religion’s essence in relation to other religions. By this speculative activity, philosophical theology assigns a conceptual site to a particular religion within a system composed of concepts that bifurcate into their divisions on their lower side and concepts that are unified into higher concepts on their higher side.²² This constructive task cannot be entirely accomplished without a minimum of em²¹ ‘Therein lies the truth that in spite of all change, Christianity can be comprehended as a historical appearance.’ Friedrich Schleiermacher, Theologische Enzyklopädie (1831/32): Nachschrift David Friedrich Strauß, ed. Walter Sachs, Schleiermacher-Archiv, no. 4 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1987), 35 (to BO § 32). (Hereafter referred to as ThE. Any German text for which no published English translation is available is translated into English by the author.) ²² This is my summary of CF § 2, 2 (2–4).


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pirical contribution.²³ Although Schleiermacher distinguishes between the speculative task determining the concept and the empirical historical task determining the historical predicates,²⁴ the minimum/maximum continuum uniting speculative and historical poles relates minimal empirical content to the speculative fixing of the essence. This is evident in the ‘Introduction’ to The Christian Faith (§§ 1–31). In contrast to the properly dogmatic-theological parts I and II (§§ 32–172), Schleiermacher sets up the ‘Introduction’ as a set of epistemological steps constructing the location of the individual essence of Christianity within a system of concepts. First, the general sphere of ethics, as the activities of human Geist providing the rules for historical agency, claims necessity for the appearance of the church as the manifestation of a common essence of piety (§§ 3–6). Next, the sphere of philosophy of religion classifies the various manifestations of the essence of religion as the positive religions according to kind and type (§§ 7–10). Finally, the field of apologetics (§§ 11–14) minimally fixes the concept of the essence of Christianity as the ‘redemption accomplished by Jesus of Nazareth’.²⁵ The delineation of the ²³ ‘Philosophical theology, it is true, presupposes the material of historical theology as already known; its own prior task, however, is to lay a foundation for the properly historical perspective on Christianity.’ BO § 65 (37). ²⁴ The distinction is taken from the Dialektik in which Schleiermacher assigns the work of speculative reason to one type of thinking, concept formation, and empirical reason to the second type of thinking, judgement formation. Borrowing from the Leibnizian figure of a minimum/maximum continuum, Schleiermacher places speculative and empirical reason in relation to each other as the two poles of reason, and connects them with a principle of identity allowing for the transition from one pole to the other. Friedrich Schleiermacher, Dialektik: Im Auftrage der Preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften auf Grund bisher unveröffentlichten Materials, ed. Rudolf Odebrecht (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1942; reprint, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1976), 255. (Hereafter referred to as DialO.) On the principle of identity in Leibniz and post-Kantian philosophy see Manfred Frank, ‘Identität, Korrespondenz und Urteil: Fragen an Schleiermachers Dialektik’, in Christine Helmer, Christiane Kranich, and Birgit Rehme-Iffert, eds., Schleiermachers Dialektik: Die Liebe zum Wissen in Philosophie und Theologie, Religion in Philosophy and Theology, no. 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 3–22. ²⁵ CF § 11, proposition (52). In the CF and along with ethics and the philosophy of religion, apologetics is ordered to the ‘Introduction’ (§§ 11–14 (52–76) ). In the BO, apologetics is ordered to philosophical theology as one of its two constitutive elements; the flip-side of apologetics is polemics (§§ 43–62 (26–36) ).

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essence of Christianity in terms of the redemption–Redeemer relationship presupposes a purview of historical theology. From a survey of the history of Christianity is gleaned that which is perspectivally deemed to be the constant factor throughout the trajectory. As a theological sub-discipline, philosophical theology is assigned the important task of setting up the concepts to be discussed by exegetical and systematic theology. Although philosophical theology, with its two constitutive areas of apologetics and polemics, was not yet part of the nineteenth-century theological repertoire, Schleiermacher invented this field for the purpose of delineating the minimal conceptual requirements for academic dialogue.²⁶ Schleiermacher’s particular need for philosophical theology as the discipline that establishes the conceptual conditions of agreement concerning the subject matter of theology can be understood against the backdrop of the interconfessional controversies of Protestant Orthodoxy. Rather than begin a discussion with disagreement concerning concepts, Schleiermacher opts for minimal agreement at the onset, thereby setting the stage for subsequent disagreement concerning the predicates of the concept as well as the possibility of resolution.²⁷ The formal character of Schleiermacher’s philosophical theology serves to lay out the conceptual agreement concerning the ‘purely logical’²⁸ dimension of the subject matter in order ²⁶ ‘But for the interests of Apologetics as well as of Dogmatics it seems advisable rather to be content with a scanty result at the beginning and to hope for its completion in the course of further procedure, than to begin with a narrow and exclusive formula, which is of necessity confronted by one or more opposing formulae, with which there must be a conflict sooner or later.’ CF § 11, 1 (54). ²⁷ The purpose of the Dialektik as ‘the art of conducting conversation’ (DialO 47) is to prescribe rules governing the resolution of an intersubjective controversy (Streit) in the realm of ‘pure thinking’ (reines Denken). On this intersubjective procedural approach for ‘doing philosophy’ see the 1833 ‘Introduction’ to the Dialektik in DialO §§ 1–5 (5–44). ²⁸ In Schleiermacher scholarship, there is controversy regarding Schleiermacher’s use of the term ‘above “Christianity”’ in the BO (§ 33 (19) ) to describe the starting-point for a philosophical-theological treatment of the conceptual relation of Christianity to a general theory of religion. In the BO, Schleiermacher explicitly uses the term above ‘in the logical sense’ (§ 33 (19) ), rather than in an empirical or a generic sense in order to assign to philosophical theology the task of setting up a conceptual grid making an empirical analysis possible.


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that the predicates gleaned from the historically given material can be added and evaluated. The concept fixes the unity of the subject matter at the speculative level, and empirical observation later fills in the predicates of that concept through the process of judgement formation.²⁹ By creating agreement concerning the basic concept, philosophical theology provides the opportunity for subsequent exegetical and systematic-theological reflection on a religion’s historical predicates. A significant responsibility of philosophical theology is the selection of distinct concepts for historical investigation. The careful choosing of concepts is a crucial step determining subsequent reflection of those concepts. For Schleiermacher, the choice of which concepts to study follows from the conceptual grid relating a particular religion to its proximate kinds. Once a particular religion has been situated in relation to other religions manifesting similar features, such as the ‘monotheistic teleology’ of Judaism and Christianity, these relations can be more precisely determined by specific concepts in such a way as to facilitate both further comparison by philosophy of religion and further specification of the particular religion’s essence by theology. The formal features of religion as inner and outer unity play a role in determining philosophical-theological concepts. In the Brief Outline, Schleiermacher assigns to the ‘apologetics’ subdivision of philosophical theology the task of selecting the concepts. In contrast with ‘polemics’, which determines a religion’s internal state of sickness or health, apologetics clarifies key concepts used to describe a religion’s necessary historical existence.³⁰ For apologetics, concepts relevant to this task must ²⁹ I am applying here the insights of the Dialektik to determine the epistemological character of the CF’s ‘Introduction’ and main body. The ‘Introduction’ makes primary use of speculative reason to set up a conceptual grid relating Christianity to other positive religions as historical manifestations of piety, and the CF’s main body makes use of historical reason to flesh out the ways in which Christian doctrines have historically been and, in Schleiermacher’s case, are currently being, articulated. ³⁰ By this definition, Schleiermacher changes the common use of the term ‘polemics’ to mean philosophical theology’s internal orientation promoting the particular religion’s health. In its common usage, polemics is directed outwards, to attack aberrations in confessions and denominations not one’s own. See ThE 44–7 (to BO §§ 41). For its counterpart ‘apologetics’, Schleiermacher retains the term’s original usage as a defence directed outwards (see ThE 42–5 (to BO

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show religion to be a necessary manifestation of human spirit in history, and in view of a particular religion, distinguish it from other historical religions by differences in inner and outer unity. Apologetics isolates the distinctive features of a religion in terms of its origins, characteristics accounting for that religion’s historical continuity, and the unique unity between its inner and outer unities. In view of the particular religion of Christianity, Schleiermacher assigns the concepts of revelation, miracle, and inspiration to distinguish Christianity at its origins from other religions, and the concepts of prophecy, type, and pattern to tease out Christianity’s continuity in time as distinct from other historical religions.³¹ In terms of its outer unity, a religion’s origin marks it off from a preceding historical series as well as being decisive for its subsequent development. Furthermore, a particular religion’s historical continuity is an individuation of formal features, for example, ‘pattern’ characterizes the outer unity of any historical religion. Questions concerning a religion’s outer unity are inevitably bound together with its inner unity. In view of inner unity, concepts are chosen to tease out features of a religion’s essence that remain the same despite changes occurring through time. It is precisely the canon that Schleiermacher designates to be one of two such concepts (the other is sacrament) preserving the religion’s inner unity. Canon is a concept yielded by the determination of a positive religion’s conceptual features. Although he appeals to the concept of canon in view of any historical religion, Schleiermacher defines the distinct Christian concept³² as that which ‘demonstrate[s] how the unity of its [the Christian Church’s] essence is never§§ 39–41) ). As a defence, however, apologetics offers neither a proof nor a demonstration of Christianity’s truth, but rather derives the necessity of Christianity’s historical existence from the necessity of human Geist to manifest piety in the historical religions. ³¹ This is my brief summary of BO §§ 45–7 (27–8). The two ‘religions’ that Schleiermacher distinguishes from Christianity in view of these features of outer unity are Judaism and ‘Heathenism’ (das Heidentum). Cf. CF § 12 (60–2). ³² In the ThE, Schleiermacher contrasts the distinctiveness of the Christian canon of the New Testament with the Old Testament canon. See ThE 54 (to BO § 47). According to Schleiermacher, the crucial difference lies in the common referent of all New Testament texts. In Schleiermacher’s opinion (and on this point criticism is necessary), the Old Testament canon is a literary aggregate with no such unifying feature.


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theless not endangered by such [historical] modifications as it undergoes’, or in other words, that which is ‘conceptually related to the continuity of what is essential in Christianity’.³³ The feature of inner unity establishing the historical continuity of the religion’s essence is the psychological component. An identity of ‘feeling’ constitutes the self-same Christian essence throughout the historical life of the tradition. For Schleiermacher, this selfsame feeling characterizing the Christian religion can only be described in soteriological terms because the distinctive Christian essence is by definition related to the redemption accomplished by Jesus of Nazareth.³⁴ The distinctive Christian feeling (or selfconsciousness) is constituted by the redemptive impact of Jesus Christ that moves the soul from a state of the need for redemption to the state of redemption. Although the state of redemption for all believers other than Jesus Christ is not a constant one, the identity of feeling is a function of the psychological realignment between sensible and immediate self-consciousness.³⁵ The consciousness of sin and the consciousness of grace are due to the inverse ways in which the two aspects of self-consciousness are related to each other. Grace is the soul’s state characterized by the permeation and elevation of the feeling of absolute dependence into all temporally constituted moments of thinking and doing; sin is the state inhibiting this permeation. With recourse to a soteriologically determined understanding of the distinctive Christian self-consciousness, Schleiermacher’s understanding of the concept of canon circumscribes the distinct psychological ³³ BO § 47 (28). ³⁴ For the soteriological determination of Christianity’s essence, I am in agreement with Brian Gerrish who claims against Brunner (Emil Brunner, Die Mystik und das Wort, 2nd edn. (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1928) ) that Schleiermacher defines the distinctively Christian essence in soteriological terms, and not in terms of a generic religious essence. See Brian Gerrish, Tradition and the Modern World: Reformed Theology in the Nineteenth Century (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978), 22–45. By conceiving the essence of Christianity on its own terms, rather than as an accidental manifestation of a deeper and more generic essence, the fundamental relation between the ‘Introduction’ to the CF (§§ 1–31) and the dogmatic body of the work (§§ 32– 172) can be clarified. The ‘Introduction’ sets up the conceptual parameters for the dogmatic determination that follows, yet itself presupposes the historical data in conceiving these parameters. ³⁵ I am reading CF § 11 (52–60) together with the paragraphs devoted to soteriology (§§ 100–1 (425–38) ).

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feature of Christianity as its inner unity consistent throughout the tradition and generations of believers. Yet the psychologically conceived inner unity is inevitably related to the particular religion’s outer unity. A second distinctive feature of Schleiermacher’s understanding of the canon is this relation between inner and outer unity. Canon is ‘so related [“to the continuity of what is essential in Christianity”] insofar as this continuity finds expression in the production of ideas’.³⁶ By this concept of canon, Schleiermacher is not at all identifying canon with text. Rather, he defines this concept against the backdrop of his understanding regarding the relations between psychology, thought, and language. Because sensible self-consciousness is the temporal dimension to consciousness, feelings are inevitably externalized as gestures, and eventually fixed with greater precision in thought, and ultimately in language as the completion of thought.³⁷ As an authorial intention, a thought expresses feeling in the feeling’s relation to sensible self-consciousness. Authorial intention is at the same time intentional in its capacity to refer to reality. In precise soteriological terms, the intentionality of self-consciousness is the redemptive impact of Jesus Christ that is expressed together with the consciousness of grace. Through genres ranging from the less precise but more evocative poetic and rhetorical genres to the didactic-descriptive genre that suits the purpose of scientific investigation,³⁸ thinking fixes ideas concerning soteriological intentionality. It is the relation of the plurality of ideas to Christianity’s self-same essence that Schleiermacher has in mind with his concept of canon. As such, canon is the concept relating the unity of Christianity’s essence to the plurality of expressions that can either be circulated in the community for pious edification or be studied as the object of theology. With his determination, Schleiermacher makes a decisive shift ³⁶ BO § 47 (28). ³⁷ In the Dialektik, Schleiermacher presupposes the claim of his Hermeneutik, that thought is rendered complete and fixed in language. ‘Thought is prepared by inner discourse, and to this extent discourse is only the thought itself which has come into existence.’ Friedrich Schleiermacher, Hermeneutics and Criticism And Other Writings, ed. and trans. Andrew Bowie, Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 7. ³⁸ For a description of these three genres see CF § 15, 2 (78) and § 16, 1 (78–9).


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in the concept of canon. Canon is neither to be identified with a text as such nor is its unity to be circumscribed by literary boundaries, as is the case with seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Protestant Orthodoxy.³⁹ Rather, canon is a philosophicaltheological concept derived from a theory of religion in order to account for the transhistorical essence of a religion. The essence accounting for the unity of the tradition is less tied to a literary text than to the living principle of a historical religion. Furthermore in view of the particular religion of Christianity, canon is determined in (minimal) soteriological terms. Canon is the inner unity of a psychological consciousness of grace that is attributed to the transhistorical reality of Christ ‘behind the text’ as it redemptively impacts individuals in the church.⁴⁰ The production of ideas eventually fixed in the text presupposes the experience of a modification of self-consciousness under the impact of Christ. And this experience is a perpetual one, open to a plurality of future possibilities. The minimal fixing of this plurality in a conceptual unity is the task of philosophical theology. The material plurality, however, that is given in the literary fixing of the New Testament is the object of exegetical-theological investigation. The experience determining the unity of a religion makes the formation of the canon possible in the first place. And this experience, as we shall see in the next section, makes exegetical theology as the search for the canon possible. UNITY OF THE CANON FROM AN EXEGETICAL-THEOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE Although the canon as concept presupposes both a textual fixing as the ‘Bible’ and a philosophical-theological fixing as the essence of Christianity, it is as a concept that it requires material ³⁹ For the Protestant Orthodox doctrine of scripture see Heinrich Schmid, ed., Doctrinal Theology of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, trans. Charles A. Hay and Henry E. Jacobs, 3rd edn. (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1961), 38–91 (= §§ 6–12), and Heinrich Heppe, ed., Reformed Dogmatics: Set Out and Illustrated from the Sources, rev. edn. Ernst Bizer, trans. G. T. Thomson (London: Allen & Unwin, 1950; reprint, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker House, 1978), loci II–III. ⁴⁰ For Schleiermacher, the redemptive encounter with the person of Christ shapes ecclesial identity. The community’s identity is conceived in soteriological, not in sociological terms.

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determination. In Schleiermacher’s system of theology, this role is given to historical theology and its three sub-disciplines. To the first of these sub-disciplines, exegetical theology, is assigned the task of determining the canon in its relation to a text. I begin this section by studying Schleiermacher’s understanding of the relation between text and the subject matter presupposed by his understanding of exegetical theology. For Schleiermacher, the transparency of New Testament texts to the subject matter holds both for its individual authors and for the collection as a whole. I conclude this section by summarizing what Schleiermacher means by ‘open’ canon. The entire section aims to show how the unity of the subject matter behind the text is determinative for the canon as text and how the text is open to a diversity of subjectively constituted unities. Given philosophical theology’s initial determination of the canon as concept, the concept’s relation to the literary text needs to be considered. It must be stressed from the onset that Schleiermacher does not identify the canon with the Bible. The Christian Bible is understood in pragmatic-ecclesial terms as the literary text composed of both Old and New Testaments and used by the church since its early history.⁴¹ The canon, however, is an idea⁴² concerned with the unity of the Christian tradition as the identity of an experience that is expressed in a variety of ways and subsequently fixed in literature. For Schleiermacher, the experiential identity of the Christian tradition is related to the historical appearance of Jesus of Nazareth. The New Testament and other early Christian texts were written under the impact of this person; experience is related to text. An experience establishes the identity between the different ideas fixed in the literary canon. Schleiermacher summarizes this canonical experience as ‘the action and effect of Christ both on and with his disciples and also those which concern the com⁴¹ BO § 115 (63). ⁴² In the first edition of the BO (1811), Schleiermacher refers to the canon as idea (BO, 1st edn., vol. i, § 2 (58 n. 43) ). In the subsequent edition of 1831, Schleiermacher dispenses with the term idea, preferring instead a terminology that more closely relates the concept of canon to the New Testament text. ‘The collection of those writings which contain the normative presentation of Christianity forms the New Testament canon of the Christian Church.’ BO § 104 (58).


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mon action and effect of his disciples toward the establishing of Christianity’.⁴³ This definition of the canon represents an important conflation between a literary observation and a theological claim. As a literary observation, Schleiermacher agrees with the early church’s canonical distinction between the New Testament gospels and the apostolic letters. He then relates this literary distinction to a theological claim regarding the coconstitution of redemption and the creation of the church. This move is significant because it implies that the redemptive experience is communicational at its very essence; Christ’s impact on his disciples is conveyed through them and this communication constitutes the church. The idea of canon is precisely this experience that gives the explanation for why the experience is necessarily communicable in the first place. When interpretations of this experience are eventually fixed in literary form, the literary canon perpetuates the communicational structure that it fixes. By communicating redemption, the community of faith is formed. At the origin of this communication, the ‘purest’ expressions of the canon are textually fixed where ‘pure’ means the most immediate expressions at a site historically proximate to Christ with as little intervening material as possible.⁴⁴ Pure does not mean canonical in the sense of the text’s dignity.⁴⁵ Rather, it refers to the text’s transparency to the experience behind it that motivates the text’s production. ⁴³ BO § 105 (58). By this distinction, Schleiermacher indicates his agreement with the ‘ancient practice of dividing the canon into evangellion and apostolos’. BO § 105 (59). (Italics in the original text.) In his ‘Introduction’ to the New Testament canon, Schleiermacher gives a historical survey of the early church’s development of the distinction between gospels and apostles. See his Einleitung ins neue Testament, ed. G. Wolde, in Friedrich Schleiermachers Sämmtliche Werke, vol. I/8 (Berlin: G. Reimer, 1845), 55–62. (Hereafter referred to as SW.) ⁴⁴ BO § 83 (47). ⁴⁵ According to Schleiermacher, there is no strict boundary between canonical and extra-canonical material because the boundary that separates them is unclear in terms both of historical limits and of the apostolicity of its authors. Both factors contribute to an uncertain ‘outer boundary of the canon’. BO § 106 (59). In my view, Schleiermacher’s position on the unclear limits is due to his privileging of the experience behind the text, rather than the text’s dignity itself, that holds for non-canonical material as well. On this basis, material criteria need then to be defined in order to distinguish between a canonical record of the experience and a non-canonical one.

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The differentiation between text and subject matter represents a crucial shift in understanding the relation of text to its critical investigation. In the early nineteenth century, Schleiermacher saw the challenge posed by historical and natural-scientific theories against a supernaturalistic view of biblical inspiration and an inspired canonical text.⁴⁶ To salvage an aspect of Christianity against its cultured despisers, Schleiermacher takes its ‘inner fire’⁴⁷ to be both the subject matter of theology as well as the referent of scripture (see John 5: 39).⁴⁸ The ‘inner power of Christianity’⁴⁹ is the experiential factor funding the unity of the Christian tradition as a whole, and urging its communication in speech and text. As a result, all communication is an interpretation of that experience.⁵⁰ The literary canon does not stand as revealed fact over and against the tradition of its interpretation, as is the case with Protestant Orthodoxy. Rather, the New Testament presupposes ‘[f]aith in God’s revelation in Christ’⁵¹ before a ‘peculiar authority can be granted to Holy Scripture’.⁵² As such, the New Testament is ‘the first member in the series’⁵³ whose normativity rests on its capacity to ‘contribut[e] to the ⁴⁶ Friedrich Schleiermacher, ‘The Second Letter to Dr Lücke’, in On the Glaubenslehre, trans. James Duke and Francis Fiorenza, AAR Texts and Translations Series, no. 3 (Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1988), 60–8. On hermeneutical grounds, Schleiermacher criticizes Protestant Orthodoxy’s supernaturalistic claims of a holy text inspired by the Holy Spirit for all time. See Schleiermacher, Hermeneutics and Criticism, 53, 57, 59, 81, 86, 130–1, 149. ⁴⁷ The evocative term is taken from the Speeches. Friedrich Schleiermacher, On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers, ed. and trans. Richard Crouter, Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 99 (Fifth Speech). ⁴⁸ ‘You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf.’ The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version, ed. Bruce M. Metzger and Roland E. Murphy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994). ⁴⁹ Schleiermacher, ‘The Second Letter to Dr Lücke’, 66. ⁵⁰ On biblical texts as interpretation see Kristin De Troyer, ‘The Letter of the King and the Letter of Mordecai’, Textus 21 (2002): 187–8; ead., ‘Septuagint and Gender Studies: The Very Beginning of a Promising Liaison’, in Athalya Brenner and Carole Fontaine, eds., A Feminist Companion to Reading the Bible: Approaches, Methods and Strategies (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 334–7. ⁵¹ Schleiermacher, ‘The Second Letter to Dr Lücke’, 65. ⁵² CF § 128, proposition (591). ⁵³ CF § 129, proposition (594).


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original, and therefore for all times normative, presentation of Christianity’.⁵⁴ The given literary canon establishes the parameters of the church’s original apprehensions of Christ without which no Christian community can exist.⁵⁵ The text fixes these parameters, not by identity with experience or revelation, but in view of its reference to an experience identical for the entire tradition. On the basis of this text–subject matter differentiation, the text can be the object of critical investigation, the study of the subjective construals of an experience that critical methods cannot falsify. Although this relation between text and subject matter circumvents the difficulties associated with supernaturalist doctrines, it presents its own exegetical-theological difficulty. With the distinction, the problem of a historical gap arises. It was Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1694–1768) who problematized the gap between Jesus and the New Testament record, and it was his research, that although ‘naive’, provided a clear impetus for an entire generation of nineteenth-century scholarly attempts to solve the ‘synoptic problem’.⁵⁶ In the Fragments, published posthumously by the librarian at Wolfenbüttel, Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729–81), Reimarus attempted to falsify Christianity by exposing the contradictions in the New Testament gospels to be a record of deception by Jesus’ disciples.⁵⁷ Although Reimarus understood Jesus’ own message to be an ethical one, his disciples falsified it by adding supernaturalistic claims. For the next generation of New Testament scholarship, Reimarus succeeded in posing the distinct problem of gospel harmony in the context of the possibility of historical research to falsify theological claims concerning the necessary connection between Christ and his disciples. ⁵⁴ BO § 103 (58). ⁵⁵ ‘For no Christian communion will admit that any such body can exist apart from witness to Christ’. CF § 127, 1 (586). ⁵⁶ John S. Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000), 275. ⁵⁷ Lessing published the Fragmente des Wolfenbüttelschen Ungennanten between 1774 and 1778 (Berlin: In der Sanderschen Buchhandlung (C. M. Eichhoff) ). In English: Fragments, ed. Charles H. Talbert, trans. Ralph S. Fraser, Lives of Jesus Series (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1970). For a detailed summary of Reimarus’s position and the ensuing discussion of the synoptic problem, see Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q, 275–328.

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The possibility of historical falsification also motivated Schleiermacher’s own research into the synoptic problem. If the canon, on Schleiermacher’s terms, refers to a transhistorically common Christian experience, then the continuity between Jesus’ appearance in history, the disciples’ efforts in founding the church, and the New Testament record of these activities requires historical justification. Along with other New Testament scholars of the time, Johann Gottfried Eichhorn (1752–1827), Heinrich Eberhard Gottlob Paulus (1761–1851), Johann Jakob Griesbach (1745–1812), and Johann Leonhard Hug (1765–1846), Schleiermacher attempted to fill the lag time between Christ and the New Testament with a history of gospel sources and their relations of dependence.⁵⁸ With such a study, Schleiermacher aimed to prove that nothing essential to Christianity had been lost, and that no significant distorting element had been added in the process of text fixation. As apostles of the church, the disciples founded it in obedience to and in continuity with Christ’s injunctions.⁵⁹ And in spite of their less than sophisticated literary talents, the disciples were not so ignorant as to plunge all of Christianity into error.⁶⁰ Thus exegetical theology’s search for the original links between Christ and text is intended to guarantee that the earliest production of Christianity’s ideas was not tainted by deception. ⁵⁸ Schleiermacher presents his theory of gospel dependence in his Commentary on Luke (1817) and in his commentary of the Papias-Fragment (1832). Schleiermacher proposes a collection of Jesus’ sayings (Matt. 5–7; 10; 13: 1–52; 18; 23) together with a narrative source ‘proto-Mark’ behind Matthew. In view of dating, Matthew is the first gospel, and Mark is the final gospel that borrows from both Matthew and Luke. See Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q, 295–7, and Christine Helmer, ‘Schleiermacher’s Exegetical Theology and the New Testament’, in Cambridge Companion to Schleiermacher, ed. Jacqueline Mariña (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). ⁵⁹ Friedrich Schleiermacher, The Life of Jesus, ed. and intro. Jack C. Verheyden, trans. S. MacLean Gilmour, Lives of Jesus Series (Philadelphia: Augsburg Fortress, 1975; reprint, Mifflintown: Sigler, 1997), 22–4. (Hereafter referred to as LJ.) ⁶⁰ ‘If these writers belong to the class of the first preachers of the Gospel they were penetrated by its principles in an important way; it is precisely they who made it possible for Christianity to take its particular place in the world, so one should assume better of them.’ Schleiermacher, Hermeneutics and Criticism, 153.


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Although it was Reimarus’s challenge that propelled nineteenth-century gospels research, it was Johann Salomo Semler (1725–91) who first undertook a historical study of the canon’s formation. Professor at the University of Halle during Schleiermacher’s studies there, Semler wrote a controversial Abhandlung von freier Untersuchung des Canon (1771–5),⁶¹ a history of the canon that paved the way for dismantling Protestant Orthodoxy’s supernaturalistic doctrine of the canon as verbally inspired. Arguing from historical evidence, Semler showed that neither was the Christian canon accepted uniformly by all early churches, nor were all books included in the canon received as such by the early Christian communities.⁶² Rather, a variety of canons were circulated in the early church, and only through a complex process of selection and sifting was the collection that came to be regarded as canonical put together. If Semler used historical arguments to falsify doctrinal claims of the canon’s catholicity, then he also placed its twin, apostolicity, in jeopardy. Semler left this task to Schleiermacher who hammered out his own ground-breaking work on deuteropauline scholarship, criticizing the apostolic authorship of 1 Timothy in a detailed philological analysis of this book, which had until then been regarded as the work of the Apostle Paul.⁶³ By comparing the letter with Paul’s speeches in Acts, as well as with two other letters attributed to Paul, Titus, and 2 Timothy, Schleiermacher concluded that 1 Timothy could not have Paul as its author, but was a compilation of Titus (chapters 1–3) and 2 Timothy from chapter four, dated to the end of the first century .⁶⁴ With this ⁶¹ An abridged edition is: Johann Salomo Semler, Abhandlung von freier Untersuchung des Canon, ed. Heinz Scheible, Texte zur Kirchen- und Theologiegeschichte, no. 5 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1967). ⁶² Ibid., esp. 71–81. ⁶³ For a study of Schleiermacher’s contribution to deuteropauline scholarship see Hermann Patsch, ‘Die Angst vor dem Deuteropaulinismus: Die Rezeption des “kritischen Sendschreibens” Friedrich Schleiermachers über den 1. Timotheusbrief im ersten Jahrfünft’, Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 88 (1991): 451–77. ⁶⁴ Friedrich Schleiermacher, Ueber den sogenannten ersten Brief des Paulos an den Timotheos (1807), ed. Hermann Patsch, in Kritische Gesamtausgabe, vol. I/5 (Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1995), 153–242. (Hereafter referred to as KGA.)

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critical work, Schleiermacher contributed his own insights to the history of canon research. Although he demonstrates the historical shakiness of the canon’s apostolicity, Schleiermacher considers the New Testament authors to be essential for determining the canon. Exegetical theology’s task is to study an author’s grasp of an experience held in common with other writers that is communicated according to the writer’s respective principle of individuality. Countering Reimarus’s criticism against the texts’ lack of veracity, Schleiermacher claims that the New Testament documents contain the ‘purest’ record of Christianity’s essence at its origins and hence are to be considered more or less reliable texts,⁶⁵ even though some, like Matthew or Luke, are redacted at considerable distance from Christ. By studying individual expressions of authors through an analysis of genre—of which there are two in the New Testament, historical and didactic⁶⁶—and language, Schleiermacher aims to gain a clearer understanding of an identical experience compelling manifold expressions. This task is accomplished by applying the hermeneutical method that has as its goal the ‘correct’ understanding of the authorial intention underlying a work as its unity.⁶⁷ In his Hermeneutics and Criticism, Schleiermacher uses the psychological interpretation (which must not in any way be privileged over the grammatical interpretation either as a transcendental unity in Dilthey’s sense or as a fusion of horizons in Gadamer’s sense⁶⁸) to tease out the author’s tendency (Tendenz), the unity of a work that reflects the author’s apprehension of the manifestation of Christianity’s essence at its original site of appearance: in the person and work of Jesus.⁶⁹ ⁶⁵ See Schleiermacher’s LJ 36–44, and Hermeneutics and Criticism, 145–6. ⁶⁶ Ibid., 74. ⁶⁷ In the opening definition of his Hermeneutics and Criticism, Schleiermacher makes clear that the hermeneutical goal is not just understanding but ‘correct’ understanding. ‘The former (hermeneutics) is generally the art of understanding particularly the written discourse of another person correctly.’ Schleiermacher, Hermeneutics and Criticism, 3. ⁶⁸ Timothy Clancy, SJ, ‘Introduction to Schleiermacher’s Hermeneutics’, unpublished paper, 2–8. ⁶⁹ ‘In part the individuality of the N.T. writers is initially a product of their relationship to Christ, in part, as far as Paul and John, who are the more individual by nature, are concerned, one of them completely changed . . . the


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In light of the whole, the parts of the work are investigated in order to distinguish the canonical from the non-canonical.⁷⁰ The search for the canon at the origins of Christianity is precisely the hermeneutical determination of the New Testament author’s own subjective construal of Christ’s redemptive work that resides as an original intention driving the resulting literary expression. This is a task that, although never entirely exhausted, can succeed in ‘grasp[ing] ever more completely the life they [the authors] have in common, the being and the spirit of Christ’.⁷¹ Once the many individual construals of identical experience are gleaned from the New Testament text, they can then be used as a source base for reconstructing one aspect to the canon’s unity ‘behind’ the text: the life of Jesus. If one aspect of the search for the canon is to study the New Testament authors’ apprehensions of an object, then another aspect is to establish an objective unity for those subjective construals. It is such a project that Schleiermacher realizes in his reconstruction of the Life of Jesus. Schleiermacher was the first theologian to offer public lectures on the life of Jesus, lectures which were unfortunately published in 1864, right before David Friedrich Strauss’s (1808–74) devastating critique the following year.⁷² Although Schleiermacher’s own endeavour stands in the line of critical fire with such Straussian criticisms as an ahistorical psychologically portrayed Jesus who has remarkable affinities with Schleiermacher’s own dogmatically reconstructed Christ, the Life of Jesus lectures are a key piece in Schleiermacher’s understanding of the canon’s unity as its common referent. The lectures’ aim is to glean a coherent biography of Christ from the diverse apprehensions of him.⁷³ Such a biography would consist other obviously came young to Christ and only developed his individuality as a Christian.’ Ibid., 52. ⁷⁰ For this interpretation, I am reading BO §§ 106–13 (59–63) in light of more explicit remarks in the Hermeneutics and Criticism on the identity of the referent in the New Testament. ⁷¹ Schleiermacher, Hermeneutics and Criticism, 157. ⁷² Verheyden, ‘Introduction’ to Schleiermacher’s Life of Jesus, xi. Strauss’s criticism from 1865 is, in English: David Friedrich Strauss, The Christ of Faith and the Jesus of History: A Critique of Schleiermacher’s The Life of Jesus, ed., trans., and intro. by Leander E. Keck, Lives of Jesus Series (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977). ⁷³ ‘The task (of biography) is to grasp what is inward in the man with such

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of a ‘calculus’ of Christ’s personal existence as the ‘unity’ constituting his individuality as it is manifest throughout his different life moments. Christ’s person ‘behind’ the gospel texts is the object of ‘hermeneutical’—both grammatical and psychological— operation.⁷⁴ On the basis of Jesus’ biography, Schleiermacher trusts that he can draw out the soteriological implications of the Redeemer’s person in history. It is after all Christ’s person and particularly his potent God-consciousness that Schleiermacher considers to be the transhistorical means of redemption. If the transhistorical unity of the canon is related to the person of Jesus, then a reconstruction of the person ‘behind’ the New Testament would isolate features of that person that have shaped and continue to shape the Christian consciousness of redemption. According to Schleiermacher’s own analysis, these features are most powerfully exhibited in John’s gospel.⁷⁵ The coherence of John’s text reveals the immediate impact of Christ’s person that Schleiermacher deems to be most relevant when reconstructing an experience common to the history of Christianity. The question of how the diversity of sometimes opposing

certainty that it can be said: I can say with a measure of assurance how what is outward with respect to the man would have been if what affected him and also what he affected had been different than was actually the case.’ LJ 8. ⁷⁴ I am deliberately applying Schleiermacher’s hermeneutical strategy to his understanding of the person of Jesus in order to make the claim that, for Schleiermacher, hermeneutics has not the text as such but its author as the subject of enquiry. ⁷⁵ According to Schleiermacher, the literary coherence of a biblical work is a function of the immediacy by which an author experiences an event. Based on this rule, Schleiermacher regards John to be the New Testament author most proximate to Christ. Deemed an ‘immediate eyewitness’ (LJ 171), John writes a unified literary composition (LJ 37, 43, 171) in clear view of a precise tendency: the tension between the catastrophic outcome of Jesus’ life and the nature of his activity (LJ 159). The question as to why biblical books tend to carry the name of an alleged author—Moses as the author of the Pentateuch notwithstanding—is a fruitful one for the study of the canon. Although actually assigned authorship is historically debatable, alleged authorship could be read in Schleiermacher’s sense of attributing coherence to an individual’s experience ‘behind’ the text. Trobisch’s book explores the significance of alleged authorship as a function of redaction in view of the New Testament canon’s formation. See David Trobisch, The First Edition of the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 45–66.


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voices in the New Testament⁷⁶ can be reconciled with unity is the question regarding the collection as a whole. As one work, the New Testament reflects yet another dimension to the question of the canon’s unity. In view of its referent, the New Testament presupposes relative identity, as Schleiermacher’s reconstructive harmonization of the gospels in the life of Jesus shows. The collection as a whole, however, points to the added hermeneutical task of determining the unity of the text in view of understanding its parts. Schleiermacher’s hermeneutical method of understanding the part in view of the whole and conversely, the whole in view of the part,⁷⁷ aims to tease out the texture, contours, and emphases of canonically significant as well as marginal ideas. In his own work, Schleiermacher privileges John’s relevance for the biographical component by (erroneous) historical argument and argues for Paul’s primacy among the didactic writings.⁷⁸ The collection has its own topography of a differentiated unity that is to be critically investigated. This exercise in understanding has its theological rationale. The exegetical task is justified by a theological claim hooking the canon to the transhistorical experience of the church. At this juncture, Schleiermacher articulates a position that appears surprising in the face of his repeated rejection of a supernaturalistic text understanding. To explain how canon and tradition are continuous in view of identity, Schleiermacher refers to the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the unifying principle behind the canon as a collection.⁷⁹ And not only the canon, but the entire tradition is gathered under the aegis of the Spirit. The Holy ⁷⁶ On two very different soteriological conceptions in the New Testament, one by Paul, another by the author of Matthew’s gospel, see the section ‘Differences between New Testament Texts’ of Landmesser’s chapter, ‘Interpretative Unity of the New Testament’, in this volume. Even Schleiermacher acknowledges that the diversity in the New Testament poses a difficulty for grasping its unity. See his Hermeneutics and Criticism, 80. ⁷⁷ Ibid., 149, 152. On the whole–part hermeneutical method in Gadamer and Schleiermacher see Nicholas Wolterstorff’s chapter, ‘The Unity Behind the Canon’, in this volume. ⁷⁸ Schleiermacher, Hermeneutics and Criticism, 49. ⁷⁹ It is the Spirit to whom Schleiermacher ascribes the writing of the original documents and their compilation into a collection. ‘Scripture, however, as we actually have it—each single book and the whole collection as a treasure preserved for all later generations of the Church—is invariably a work of the Holy

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Spirit’s activity to lead in all truth, as Schleiermacher fondly cites John 16: 13,⁸⁰ is to be taken as the principle that connects the New Testament with the canon’s openness to the living tradition of Christianity.⁸¹ It is the same principle that enlivens the New Testament authors and all subsequent believers in the church’s history. When considered in light of the canon– tradition continuity, Schleiermacher’s pneumatological argument is not surprising but exhibitive of his understanding that the unity of the whole must be attributed to a unity-shaping power⁸² that continues to render Christ to every generation of believers. In consequence, it is trust, not anxiety, that characterizes Schleiermacher’s position on the canon’s capacity to communicate an experience that remains the same through transhistorical plurality. By distinguishing text from, yet also relating it to subject matter, the biblical canon is opened up to exegetical-theological investigation. Although open, it is still understood to have a unity. On the one hand, unity is imposed upon the text and upon the tradition that the text shapes by a referent ‘behind’ the text. On the other hand, this referent is accessible through the text that is the literary product of individual subjective apprehensions of Spirit as the common spirit of the Church . . . Scripture now stands by itself, for its preservation unchanged guarantees in a special manner the identity of our witness to Christ with that originally given.’ CF § 127, 2 (588). In his detailed historical-theological study of the canon as seen through the church’s history, William Abraham makes a compelling argument for a theological understanding of canon as a challenge to the stagnation of the discussion in epistemological questions. ‘On this analysis, the canonical heritage should be seen as a network of means of grace given by God to be received through the working of the Holy Spirit . . . Furthermore, it is one element in a rich tapestry of materials, persons, and practices which are to function together in harmony for the welfare of the Church and for the salvation of the world.’ William J. Abraham, Canon and Criterion in Christian Theology: From the Fathers to Feminism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 477–8. ⁸⁰ CF § 149, 1 (678). ⁸¹ Schleiermacher agrees with Benjamin D. Sommer’s remarks regarding the similarity between a Jewish and a Roman Catholic understanding of the unity between scripture and tradition. See the ‘Introduction’ to Sommer’s chapter, ‘Unity and Plurality in Jewish Canons: The Case of the Oral and Written Torahs’, in this volume. ⁸² Landmesser uses the terminology of ‘unity-shaping’ potential, aspect, or effect in his chapter ‘Interpretative Unity of the New Testament’ in this volume.


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that referent. Finally, the unity of the entire collection is open to construal by exegetical theology for the purpose of determining features of Christianity’s self-same essence. These features continue to play a role in the systematic-theological view of the canon’s unity to which I now turn. UNITY OF THE CANON FROM A SYSTEMATIC-THEOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVE If the search for the canon determines the predicates of the Christian essence accounting for the production of ideas throughout church history, then systematic theology too has a role in this endeavour. While exegetical theology looks for the canon’s predicates at the church’s origins, systematic theology’s search for the canon works in synchrony with exegetical study and focuses its view from the perspective of the contemporary church. In this section, I study how a systematic-theological perspective appeals to the unity of the canon through the process of verifying theological claims. I conclude by suggesting how the unity of the canon can help diverse theologies coexist in a state of a mutual correction of each other’s inevitably one-sided positions. The systematic-theological perspective shapes answers to questions concerning the canon’s unity in ways that differ from its exegetical-theological counterpart. If exegetical theology aims to get at the subject matter of the New Testament texts in order to account for the production of ideas at the origins of Christianity, then systematic theology justifies the doctrinal fixing of ideas for the contemporary context. Schleiermacher assigns the temporal distinction for the two tasks of exegetical and systematic theology by virtue of the historicity characterizing a positive religion. In order to determine a religion’s canon, its manifestations through time must be empirically investigated in relation to a speculative determination of the religion’s essence. That essence is historically manifest in three general time-frames, each the distinct object of a historical-theological sub-discipline.⁸³ The ⁸³ Schleiermacher organizes the three sub-disciplines of historical theology in view of church leadership as the external organizing principle for theology as a positive science. Although he orders the historical-theological sub-disciplines chronologically, Schleiermacher privileges the dogmatic-theological task of

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original manifestation is exegetical theology’s purview; church history has the grand view of the time between origins and present; while systematic theology’s subject is ‘the knowledge of doctrine that now has currency in the evangelical Church’.⁸⁴ The historical range of the Christian religion presupposes the continuity of the essence throughout its diverse appearances. For Schleiermacher, continuity is guaranteed by the person and work of Christ to whom no one, not even the biblical authors, has privileged access. It is the same Christ who, as a historical person according to either his bodily or his spiritual mode of existence, is present through the literary or oral apprehensions of him that are circulated in the church.⁸⁵ With this paradigm that stresses access to the same subject matter at different temporal sites, questions regarding the relation between systematic theology and exegetical theology are posed. This relation is not one of constructing a hermeneutical bridge from past to present. This would be the case if the subject matter available in the past needed to be transmitted in some form to the present. Rather, the systematic-theological privileging of a contemporary access to the subject matter is related to exegetical-theological results in a process of verification. ‘Verification’ (Bewährung) characterizes Schleiermacher’s systematic-theological use of the canon. It is a procedure of relating systematic theology to exegetical theology that Schleiermacher develops in order to counteract the proof-texting method (dicta probantia) of Protestant Orthodoxy. The Protestant Orthodox presupposition concerning semantic equality between similar terms uttered in different historical locations could no longer be held true in a historical-critical age that acknowledged knowing the present-day church for the purpose of church leadership. It is from the present-tense perspective that he situates knowledge of the origins of Christianity and the past history of the church as the knowledge concerning how the present church has actually come to be. See BO § 26 (16). ⁸⁴ BO § 195 (97). While I use the term systematic theology to denote the contemporary discipline, Schleiermacher prefers the term dogmatic theology because it connotes a historical rather than a speculative meaning. For Schleiermacher’s discussion of his choice see BO § 195 (98–9). ⁸⁵ According to Schleiermacher, the bodily presence of Christ has the same redemptive efficacy as his spiritual presence. See CF § 105, 1 (467), and CF § 108, 5 (490–2).


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semantic difference as a function of historical difference. Biblical authority could not be justified by semantic equivocation because linguistic similarity did not necessarily reflect similarity in meaning.⁸⁶ In light of arising consensus on this point, Schleiermacher proposes another way of connecting contemporary doctrinal statements to biblical passages that moves beyond literary proof to semantic verification. If verification amid semantic difference is to proceed, then it requires accounting for the identity between different linguistic construals of a subject matter. In Schleiermacher’s thought, difference and identity are related to the continuum between language and thought on the one hand, and language and subject matter on the other hand.⁸⁷ Hermeneutical study aims to capture authorial intention by retracing the steps of how thought is completed in language. Yet each linguistic fixing of a thought also reflects an intentional grasping of a subject matter. Language itself concretizes authorial intention through its intentional relation to reality. The complex of language, authorial intention, and intentionality to reality is already exhibited in the New Testament text. Each author articulates a distinct apprehension of Christ’s person and work of redemption in language. Furthermore, this complex can be used to describe any communication of a religious experience, whether it is transhistorical or contemporaneous in a community. A transhistorical experience establishes the intentional identification of apprehensions, while distinctiveness is a function of the unique authorial intention of each communicator. For exegetical-theological study and systematictheological appropriation of exegetical study, testing compares literary fixings in view of difference and identity to determine ⁸⁶ For one example of Schleiermacher’s polemic against the dicta probantia method see his Hermeneutics and Criticism, 86, 130–1. ⁸⁷ This is my summary of what I consider to be the essential points in Schleiermacher’s Hermeneutics and Criticism. A theological claim, such as the one articulated by John Webster, that ‘the Christian canon as an element in the triune—and especially Christological-pneumatological—reality of God’s saving self-communication’, requires a philosophical explanation regarding the relation between the canon as a product of authorial intention and the canon’s role in the dispensation of grace in order to facilitate a fruitful discussion between biblical scholars and theologians. See John Webster, ‘The Dogmatic Location of the Canon’, Neue Zeitschrift für systematische Theologie und Religionsphilosophie 43/1 (2001): 40.

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whether the articulated apprehension is genuine or false. By testing a religious experience against others, one determines if that experience is either an accidental aberration or a genuine variant of the possibilities set in the respective religion’s foundational documents. Rather than comparing linguistic similarity, the author’s grasp of the subject matter is verified with other apprehensions of the same event in order to see if it is a variant of those made possible on the grounds of the New Testament. By this approach, Schleiermacher guarantees the identity of the tradition at the level of experience through opening up language to many individual ways of fixing that experience. Verification is an inevitability of communication that looks for identity amid diversity. And in order for verification to occur, the canon must itself be grasped as a unity. A contemporary grasp of the canon presupposes subjective access to the same transhistorical subject matter reflected in the canon. A biblical author’s grasp of the subject matter is similar to one of a contemporary theological system, yet the latter must exhibit a more explicit principle of coherence. In the Brief Outline, Schleiermacher indicates that a coherent presentation of doctrine requires that its author have a ‘personal conviction’ of the ‘truth’, or in other words, an existential immediacy to the subject matter.⁸⁸ This ‘inward certainty’⁸⁹ is the personal grasp of the religion’s subject matter that underlies any discursive reflection on its content. For Christians, personal conviction, according to Schleiermacher, is ‘faith in Christ’,⁹⁰ elicited through feeling under the influence of Christ’s perfect Godconsciousness.⁹¹ Christ’s redeeming impact is one that refashions individuality at the level of its integrity.⁹² Redemption is a process of re-creating the new person by intensifying Godconsciousness as it is manifest in temporal moments of thinking and doing. The self’s coherence that is soteriologically supplied by an encounter with Christ is common to both contemporary authors of Christian systematic theology and the New Testa⁸⁸ BO § 196 (99). This dovetails with the definition of faith provided in CF § 14, 1 (68–9). ⁸⁹ ‘We . . . presuppose . . . that every Christian . . . has already the inward certainty that his religion cannot take any other form than this.’ CF § 11, 5 (60). ⁹⁰ CF § 14, 1 (68). ⁹¹ See the christology section of CF §§ 96–8 (391–417). ⁹² For a detailed discussion of the self’s psychological coherence as soterio-


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ment authors. Nevertheless, a systematic-theological perspective differs from a New Testament outlook because its principle of coherence is informed by a grasp of the spirit of its own age.⁹³ For systematic-theological coherence, the self’s coherence together with an insight into the contemporary spirit constitute the principle of coherence that endows a discursive systematictheological presentation with its unique individual stamp. It is such a presentation that is related to the canon as a unity. In order for verification of a systematic-theological proposal to proceed, individual access to the subject matter must also be related to a subjective grasp of the canon. It is in his lectures on Practical Theology that Schleiermacher hints at the significance of this relation. He writes that ‘scripture is given as a system of inter-relations [das Zusammenhängende] and the living use of scripture is given only in these inter-relations [im Zusammenhang]’.⁹⁴ For Schleiermacher, the isolated use of individual passages detracts from their meaning, which is available only within the whole canonical milieu. It seems that this claim reflects more than a hermeneutical strategy of understanding the part through knowledge of the whole. What Schleiermacher seems to be suggesting is that the meaning of the text is contained in and revealed through the diversity of these accounts of religious experience. These experiences are kept alive by being communicated. A grasp of the canonical whole is access to the livingness of its referent, which itself is comprehended according to the same principle of coherence as a systematic-theological proposal. It is a process of dialogue with a living tradition that facilitates a comprehension of the whole through the experience of the present. This idea of Schleiermacher’s can be concretized with the example of his own intention to use John 1: 14 as the coherence logical effect see Christine Helmer, ‘Systematic Theology: Beautifully True’, in Christine Helmer and Kristin De Troyer, with Katie Goetz, eds., Truth: Interdisciplinary Dialogues in a Pluralist Age, Studies in Philosophical Theology, no. 22 (Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 27–46. ⁹³ Schleiermacher uses the terminology of ‘dominant principle of the period’ in BO § 200 (101). The individual grasp of this ‘dominant principle’ establishes the contemporary relevance of a system of theology. ⁹⁴ Friedrich Schleiermacher, Die praktische Theologie nach den Grundsätzen der evangelischen Kirche, in SW /13 (Berlin: G. Reimer, 1850), 393. (Hereafter referred to as PTh.)

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principle structuring The Christian Faith.⁹⁵ According to Schleiermacher’s aim, his understanding of the whole is crystallized in the one Johannine passage of John 1: 14, a claim that dovetails with Schleiermacher’s own canonical privileging of John as Jesus’ most proximate disciple on the basis of the gospel’s literary coherence.⁹⁶ Although his appeal to John is hardly supported by historical-critical consensus, Schleiermacher bases his own systematic-theological coherence principle on his evaluation of John’s primacy in the New Testament to capture the life of the Christian spirit. The unity of Schleiermacher’s system of theology dovetails with the unity of his construal of the New Testament canon.⁹⁷ The subjective unity of the theological system can be verified by a construal of the canon’s unity because both refer to an identical transhistorical subject matter. So far it might seem that verification is more like a systematictheological confirmation of the same principle in the canon’s unity. In order to truly verify systematic theology by the canon, however, there must then be some appeal to a more objectively derived unity of the canon that would show up agreement or disagreement. What is meant by objective unity is, first of all, the unity of the text resulting from exegetical-theological study.⁹⁸ ⁹⁵ ‘I would have wished to construct the work (CF) so that at every point the reader would be made aware that the verse John 1: 14 is the basic text for all dogmatics, just as it should be for the conduct of the ministry as a whole.’ Schleiermacher, ‘The Second Letter to Dr Lücke’, 59. For a detailed essay describing Schleiermacher’s system of theology in view of John 1: 14 see Eugene F. Rogers, Jr., ‘Schleiermacher as an Anselmian Theologian: Aesthetics, Dogmatics, Apologetics and Proof ’, Scottish Journal of Theology 51/3 (1998): 342–79. ⁹⁶ See footnote 75. ⁹⁷ Jenson mentions the correlation between a system of theology and scripture as a whole in view of verification. ‘Finally, a system of theology, such as will here be presented, is tested against Scripture by its success or failure as a hermeneutical principle for Scripture taken as a whole, as one great text with a very complex internal structure.’ Robert W. Jenson, Systematic Theology, i: The Triune God (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), 33. (Italics in original text.) ⁹⁸ In his Hermeneutics and Criticism, Schleiermacher writes of objective and subjective unity in the context of understanding a text. The objective unity ‘lies in the relationship between object and form’ (114) while subjective unity as ‘a unity which goes beyond that unity [the objective unity]’ is ‘the intention of the will of the author, through which material and form come together’ (115). In the PTh, Schleiermacher also writes of objective and subjective unity. Objective unity is that ‘through which every individual part of the unity is connected just


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Here, an exegetically derived unity based on a controlled study of the text serves as the rod against which the subjectively derived unity of a systematic-theological proposal is tested. A case in point is Schleiermacher’s understanding of John’s function for the whole of the New Testament, which did not agree with the exegetical consensus of his time.⁹⁹ Another objective unity is the ecclesially determined unity of the textual canon. When Luther rejects James ‘among the chief books’ of the canon on the apostolic criterion of conveying Christ, he does not ‘prevent anyone from including or extolling him [ James] as he pleases’, for the reason that the book contains ‘many good sayings’.¹⁰⁰ Luther’s argument amounts precisely to an acknowledgement of some reason for retaining James according to tradition’s consensus. If the objective unity of exegetical theology safeguards against systematic-theological imposition, then another aspect of this unity is implied by any systematic-theological grasp of unity. The canon itself generates ideas through the tradition. Although the textually fixed canon has led to the predominance of some ideas over others and has privileged some ideas at the expense of others, it has also served as the source of common principles objectively uniting the plural voices of the tradition. This objective unity is reflected in the comprehensiveness that is required for systematic theology in a way that it is not for exegetical theology. Complexity is introduced into Christianity’s historical trajectory after its New Testament origins and this fact must be evident in a system of theology that seeks to propose one position in view of others. Although Schleiermacher did not deepen this insight into how the evolving tradition contributes to the whole of a historical series, he claims comprehensiveness to be a significant criterion for systematic theology.¹⁰¹ The comprehensiveness criterion informs the verification procedure by to this whole and that which is put together in this and in no other way’ while subjective unity is the ‘innermost germ of self-active productivity from which it becomes a whole’ (222). ⁹⁹ On the historical priority of John, Schleiermacher disagreed with Karl Bretschneider, who in 1820 published a book, Probabilia, which assigned a late date to John. See Verheyden, ‘Introduction’, xxxi. ¹⁰⁰ Luther, ‘Preface to the Epistles of St James and St Jude’, in LW 33: 397. ¹⁰¹ BO § 201 (102).

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indicating how church history is the drama behind which the divine agent holds together its unity.¹⁰² The identity between an exegetical-theological construal of the whole of its referent and the systematic-theological subjective whole construing the tradition’s comprehensiveness is verified by the New Testament canon, which is itself related to the principle ‘behind’ the tradition. As comparison, verification shows that the original canon contains the parameters that are open to ongoing experiences of the guiding principle ‘behind’ the text. The canon is not a ‘lifeless possession’ but is the ground of the church that renews itself in the same spirit of agreement with the original witness to Christ.¹⁰³ As both a subjective and objective unity, the canon is used for systematic-theological verification. Systematic theology requires the whole of the canon, its textures, its diverse positions, and its important differences. As a whole, it verifies whether the contemporary subjective grasp of the whole is produced by the same essence. This verification points to an objective dimension regarding the continuity of the referent of authorial intention. Yet the sameness is understood as open to a manifold of individuality introduced by each subjective grasp of the unity on the basis of its own principles of coherence and comprehensiveness. From present to past, rather than from past to present, the verification procedure establishes the novelty of the present to be in a unity with the past while noting the uniqueness of both. And through this process, it establishes the continued relevance of the religion’s foundational texts. By accounting for unity among a diversity of perspectives, the ongoing process of verification places the canon at the intersection of biblical interpretation and the articulation of Christian doctrine. It is the verification procedure itself that contributes liveliness to the tradition. There is, however, one perspective that Schleiermacher rejected, one that has rightly elicited much criticism. In view of Christian faith and morals, Schleiermacher dismissed the canonical status of the Old Testament. He argues that with the novel experience introduced into world history that is tied to ¹⁰² For a detailed description of the canon’s unity established by the triune God ‘behind’ the text and history see Eilert Herms, ‘Was haben wir an der Bibel? Versuch einer Theologie des christlichen Kanons’, Jahrbuch für Biblische Theologie 12 (1997): 99–152. ¹⁰³ CF § 127, 2 (588).


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the ‘total impression’¹⁰⁴ of Jesus of Nazareth, the Old Testament is rendered obsolete.¹⁰⁵ Rather than containing any canonical content for the verification of Christian doctrine, the sole use for the Old Testament in Christian theology is as a hermeneutical aid in understanding the ‘new’ against the backdrop of the Greek, Aramaic, and Hebrew languages as well as the religious concepts of ancient Judaism.¹⁰⁶ The problem with Schleiermacher’s position has to do with the way he determines the central perspectives of both Christianity and Judaism that he then templates onto the two testaments of the Christian Bible. According to Schleiermacher, Christianity’s essence is tied to the historical appearance of Christ that is to be conceptually distinguished from Judaism.¹⁰⁷ Schleiermacher’s conceptual distinction, however, seems to overrule any historical argument for the continuity between Judaism and Christianity.¹⁰⁸ It seems that for Schleiermacher, a privileging of the conceptual novelty of Christianity precludes any historical explanation from the prior series of Judaism and it is this novelty that is then turned into the argument for the close relation between Christ and the production of the New Testament text. There is justifiable scholarly consensus regarding the untenability of Schleiermacher’s position on the Old Testament for Christian theology. It is, however, possible to argue that Schleiermacher’s idea of the canon can be extended to include the Old Testament for a determination of the transhistorical essence of ¹⁰⁴ By emphasizing that the image is the conveyer of Christ rather than a discursive concept, Schleiermacher points out the soteriological efficacy in immediate self-consciousness of the ‘total impression’ of Christ. The term total impression is found in CF § 14, postscript (76) and CF § 99, postscript (423). ¹⁰⁵ Schleiermacher believes that with the immediate experience of Christ, the Old Testament can no longer function as a source of faith (CF § 132, 3 (611) ), and as a warrant for the more speculative doctrines of the inner-trinitarian relations and Christ’s pre-existence (CF § 170, 3 (741) ). Schleiermacher’s own position on the Old Testament and on Judaism must be differentiated according to the argumentative strands (political, philosophical, ecclesial, biblical, theological). A reconstruction of his position would help to clarify the multiple issues and offer criticism against those aspects which are not acceptable in contemporary scholarship on this subject. ¹⁰⁶ BO §§ 128–31 (68–70) and §§ 140–4 (73–5). ¹⁰⁷ Schleiermacher, On Religion, 113–15 (Fifth Speech). ¹⁰⁸ See the famous remark in ibid., 114 (Fifth Speech): ‘I hate that type of historical reference in religion.’

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Christianity. The notion of a transhistorical subject matter ‘behind’ the text can be used to account for the continuity between the two testaments that is established in different dispensations by the same divine referent. It was Calvin who, by emphasizing typological exegesis, and Luther who, by using a nominalist semantics, argued for the relation between a self-same divine referent and different historical dispensations of the same eternal benefits.¹⁰⁹ In contemporary biblical theology, both Childs and Janowski show that the one God, identical for both religious traditions of Judaism and Christianity, is represented differently according to the two possible outcomes of the Hebrew Bible: in the rabbinic tradition for Judaism and in the New Testament for Christianity.¹¹⁰ The notion of a transhistorical subject can function to open up the range of experiences of the divine to a diversity of apprehensions. Subjective construals reflect the creativity of God’s activity that continues to surprise with the new while remaining faithful to the constancy of the divine way of being. The systematic-theological account of the canon’s unity presented here is designed to appreciate a multiplicity of ways in engaging the canon on the same transhistorical ground. On the ground of agreement, room is made for individual construals of the subject matter, for different linguistic articulations of those apprehensions, and even for a variety of systems of theology. From a systematic-theological perspective, the unity of the canon does not push for uniformity but invites plurality. A gesture towards such plurality is already signalled in the Bible itself. The early church’s decision to include two testaments in its one Bible, the major and minor prophets with their distinct messages, the four gospels, and the many didactic letters, exhibits a privileging of plurality within the collection itself. In the history of the church, it is precisely a truncated canon that has elicited vitriolic reactions; Marcion’s canonical torso of parts of Luke and Paul, and Schleiermacher’s reduction of the Christian canon to the New Testament, are two examples. The polemic ¹⁰⁹ This is Frei’s argument in: Hans W. Frei, The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative: A Study in Eighteenth Century Hermeneutics (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1974), 32–3. On the identity of the semantic referent in Luther see Helmer, The Trinity and Martin Luther, 76–8. ¹¹⁰ See footnote 8.


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against these views reveals the theological and philosophical point that any one-sided position reduces the possibilities of the truth of the whole that is kept alive by the diversity contained in the whole. The livingness of the whole requires maintaining multiple positions to correct the one-sidedness in isolating one of the parts. It is precisely the integration of unity and diversity that systematic theology must seek to preserve in the contemporary theological and religious context. Systematic theology has as its task to keep the canon open for its own work that is extending beyond its European confines to other cultures incorporating Christianity into their own traditional religions.¹¹¹ With the increased fragmentation of theological discourses from each other, it is precisely the question of the canon’s unity that can play a role in providing a common foundation for plural visions. As a common focal-point to the many traditions of Christianity, the canon’s material unity is open to determination by different cultures. By this living engagement with the subject matter, confident trust can characterize the conviction that the authors, compilers, and tradents are communicating a subject matter that has transhistorical reality and relevance. The idea of the canon guides the practical goal of actualizing Christianity in new contexts because it offers the overarching vision of how unique ecclesial manifestations are related to its self-identical core. Only by integrating biblical insights into one’s vision of the canonical whole can scripture be quoted responsibly and imaginatively in a context differing from its original inception. Schleiermacher stresses the open-ended quality of the search in order to permit a dialogue with the authors and theologians of the past that is open to both revision and development in the future. His position is not motivated by a fear that reaches back into the mausoleums of the past in order to prescribe once-used norms for present legitimation. Rather, the question of canon ultimately anchors the individual grasp of the whole in the divine author who continues to guide the church in its truth, inscribing it with a love that drives out all fear (cf. 1 John 4: 18). The canon’s unity is transparent to the ¹¹¹ See for example Clara Sue Kidwell, Homer Noley, and George E. ‘Tink’ Tinker, A Native American Theology (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 2001) and a review by Christine Helmer in Pro Ecclesia 12/2 (Spring 2003): 240–2.

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one who transcends human reason, yet whose union with Christ guarantees that the theological work that has begun ‘in you’ will be brought to its perfect end (Phil. 1: 6). CONCLUSION Schleiermacher’s concept of canon significantly challenges the position identifying canon with text by relating text to experience. Canon represents the transhistorically stable experience of a religion that produces ideas and creates language. Canon is essentially communicative; as a concept, it is the explanation of how an identical experience is circulated among those participating in the living whole of a historical religion. The nature of the transhistorical communication of a religion’s ideas through language and the maintenance of a common experience across history and across cultures are aspects to the canon that steer it towards the question of unity. The unity of the canon is both a transhistorical reality ‘behind’ the text and a transhistorical reality of individuals and communities ‘in front of’ the text. This understanding of canon is presented in Schleiermacher’s system as an important proposal for interdisciplinary theological work. The question of the canon’s unity is addressed by establishing the formal basis of interdisciplinary communication and by leaving the canon’s material underdetermination open to exegetical investigation and systematic-theological verification. Such an interdisciplinary cooperation is required of a biblical theology that takes seriously historical investigation on the one hand and, on the other hand, explores those philosophical and theological questions inscribed in the biblical texts and posed by subsequent generations of its interpreters. Such a biblical theology would make use of philosophical theology to clarify issues of the nature of religion, its constancy amid historical change, and the justification of concepts, such as the canon. An exegetical theology would contribute historical answers to questions relating experience to text production and show how these historical results can be evaluated in light of theological questions concerning the nature of that experience. And systematic theology would verify that contemporary systematic articulations of experience are indeed parts alive in the whole of a transhistorical religion’s communication.

3 From Literature to Scripture The Unity and Plurality of the Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library¹ A L

When compared to the cultural achievements of Antiquity, the collections of literature that later became the Hebrew Bible and the Greek Old Testament were exceptional phenomena only paralleled by the New Testament. In the following introductory remarks, I will discuss the views of canon in ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, ancient Greece, and post-Second Temple Judaism before turning to the subject at hand: canon in Judaism during Hellenistic times. PRELIMINARY REMARKS ON CANONICAL PHENOMENA IN ANTIQUITY In ancient Egypt, during the time of the two Ramesside dynasties (1295–1069 ; nineteenth–twentieth dynasties), papyrus Chester Beatty IV (verso 2: 5–13; 3: 3–10; 6: 11–14) attests to a didactic canon of sapiential authors (namely Djedefhor, Imhotep, Neferti, Kheti, Ptah-emdjehuti, Khakheperre-sonb, Ptahhotep, ¹ I was privileged to lecture on earlier versions of this chapter at the University of Tübingen, the Seminar for Biblical Theology at the 2001 International Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature in Rome, the École Supérieure in Paris, and Duke University. I have benefited greatly from the comments and suggestions of my audiences and would like to express my gratitude. This is especially true for the discussions I had with Christine Helmer before and during the Rome meeting. Furthermore I am also indebted to my colleagues Christine Helmer and Lance Lazar for improving the English of this article.

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and Kaires) whose works were widely copied. ‘The Egyptian canon . . . is a select collection of works belonging to a single genre, namely wisdom, which served as the teaching corpus of the Ramesside school. Narrative, legal, and prophetic texts, as well as non-sapiential poetry never became part of this list as was the case with the Hebrew Bible. Also in contrast to the later Hebrew and Greek Bibles, this list of authors was not perceived as a collection of works belonging to one corpus.’² In Mesopotamian studies, since 1866,³ the terms ‘canon’ and ‘canonical’ were applied to several texts.⁴ Terminology found in the cuneiform literature seems to suggest different assessments of different texts. In a study of the astral compendium Enu ¯ maAnu-Enlil, it became apparent to scholars that ancient scribes made a distinction between different versions of the tablet series in question, i.e. a damqu (‘good’) one and an ahû (‘foreign, outside’) one. When compared to an appendix or excursus, however, the ahû texts were not considered to have lesser authority.⁵ I. L. Finkel has confirmed this valuation by looking at the phrase SUR.GIBIL (= za-ra-a) .saba¯tu found in a medical text that identifies the text as an ‘authorized edition’.⁶ As the phrase ² For the Egyptian list and the scholarly discussion of canon and canonical history in ancient Egypt see S. Nili Shupak, ‘“Canon” and “Canonization” in Ancient Egypt’, Bibliotheca Orientalis 58 (2001): 535–47, esp. 546. For papyrus Chester Beatty IV see Alan Henderson Gardiner, Hieratic Papyri in the British Museum Third Series: Chester Beatty Gift (London: British Museum, 1935), 38–9 pl. 18–19; Miriam Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature, ii: The New Kingdom (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976), 175–8; Helmut Brunner, Altägyptische Weisheit (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1988), 218–30. ³ See Henry Creswick Rawlinson, The Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia, ii (London: R. E. Bowler, 1866), nos. 68–9. ⁴ An instructive summary of the scholarly discussion is provided by Victor A. Hurowitz, ‘Canon and Canonization in Mesopotamia’, in Ron Margolin, ed., Proceedings of the Twelfth World Congress of Jewish Studies Jerusalem, July 29– August 5, 1997: Division A: The Bible and Its World (Jerusalem: World Union of Jewish Studies, 1999), 1*–12*. ⁵ See Hurowitz, ‘Canon and Canonization’, 3–4; Francesca Rochberg-Halton, ‘Canonicity in Cuneiform Texts’, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 36 (1984): 127– 44; Stephen J. Lieberman, ‘Canonical and Official Cuneiform Texts: Towards an Understanding of Assurbanipal’s Personal Tablet Collection’, in I. Tzvi Abusch et al., eds., Lingering Over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), 305–36. ⁶ See Irving L. Finkel, ‘Adad-apla-iddina, Esagil-kin-apli, and the Series

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suggests, these standardized texts were considered authoritative in ancient Mesopotamia. Furthermore, textual standardization applied not only to religious literature but to such diverse genres as lexicographies, medical texts, and lamentations. Here ‘the emergence of a recognized corpus of classical literature’ can be observed.⁷ Surprisingly, one of the most important and prominent compositions in the Mesopotamian cultures, the Gilgamesh epic, seems to lack a standardized text in the above sense. In addition to textual standardization, in Mesopotamia, at least one category of lists specifying texts having a special status is known. In the fourth century , Berossus relates that a corpus of literature dating back to times before the deluge (and consisting of works authored by divine and semi-divine antediluvian sages) was buried before the flood, and thus preserved.⁸ Although this seems to be ‘a fictitious idealization’,⁹ Berossus’ report nevertheless reflects a developing canonical consciousness in Mesopotamian cultures.¹⁰ Similarly to ancient Egypt and ancient Greece (see below), a developing ‘literary canon’ emerged in Mesopotamia, although it seems this canon never achieved the exclusivity SA.GIG’, in Erle Leichty et al., eds., A Scientific Humanist: Studies in Memory of Abraham Sachs, Occasional publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund, no. 9 (Philadelphia: The Samuel Noah Kramer Fund, 1988), 143–59, esp. 148– 50; see also William W. Hallo, ‘The Concept of Canonicity in Cuneiform and Biblical Literature: A Comparative Appraisal’, in K. Lawson Younger et al., eds., The Biblical Canon in Comparative Perspective, Scripture in Context, 4 Ancient Near Eastern Texts and Studies, no. 11 (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen Press, 1991), 1–19, esp. 9. The medical text mentioned above was published by G. Beckman and B. R. Foster, ‘Assyrian Scholarly Texts in the Yale Babylonian Collection’, in Erle Leichty et al., eds., A Scientific Humanist: Studies in Memory of Abraham Sachs, Occasional publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund, no. 9 (Philadelphia: The Samuel Noah Kramer Fund, 1988), 1–26, esp. 3–4, 11 rev. 1 and 5. ⁷ Hallo, ‘The Concept of Canonicity’, 8. ⁸ See . 2. 2 in the translation of Stanley Mayer Burstein, The Babyloniaca of Berossus, Sources and Monographs Sources From the Ancient Near East, no. 1.5 (Malibu, Calif.: Undena Publications, 1978). The story conspicuously reflects the later myth that Cainan discovered inscriptions that survived the deluge and contained the accursed astrological knowledge taught by the fallen Heavenly Watchers (Jubilees 8: 2–4). ⁹ Hurowitz, ‘Canon and Canonization’, 5*. ¹⁰ On the significance of Berossus’ report for the canonical process in Mesopotamia see Wilfred G. Lambert, ‘Ancestors, Authors, and Canonicity’, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 11 (1957): 1–14.

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and popularity enjoyed by the Alexandrian canon of ancient Greece.¹¹ In ancient Greece, Homer and his epics quickly gained an outstanding authority. In addition to Homer, in the fifth century , there is evidence for oracle collections of famous Greek seers like Sibyl, Bakis, and Musaeos which were held in high esteem.¹² In Hellenistic times, Aristophanes of Byzantium, the librarian of the library in Alexandria, as well as his predecessors and successors, compiled a list of distinct authors which was structured according to the genres of ancient Greek literature. These literary heroes were designated ƒgkriqvnteß (‘selected ones’). Evidence from the fourth century  demonstrates that the Alexandrian canon was the culmination of a canonical process that began much earlier. Already in the fourth century , Herakleides Pontikos described the three tragedians Aeschylos, Sophocles, and Euripides as authoritative (Per≥ t0n tri0n trag8dopoi0n, ‘On the Three Tragic Poets’).¹³ We also know that an official copy of the works of these tragedians existed at the same time Pontikos issued his remarks.¹⁴ Surprisingly, the Alexandrian list of literary authorities was compiled in Egypt. One cannot but wonder whether this Alexandrian endeavour was inspired by the Egyptian didactic canon of sapiential literature. At the time this list of ƒgkriqvnteß was compiled, a conscious effort was made to produce critical editions for the authors in question, and thus ¹¹ See Hurowitz, ‘Canon and Canonization’, 10*. ¹² See Herodotus 5. 90; 8. 6, 20, 77, 96; 9. 43; Aristophanes, Equites 115–30, 1002–50; Aves 959–60; Plato, Res Publica 364e; Suda, entry ⁄bariß. ¹³ For the Alexandrian canonical lists and the authority of Homer’s writings see Edward A. Parsons, The Alexandrian Library: Glory of the Hellenic World: Its Rise, Antiquities, and Destruction (New York: Elsevier, 1952), 223–8; Rudolph Pfeiffer, History of Classical Scholarship: From the Beginnings to the End of the Hellenistic Age (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), 203–8; Uvo Hölscher, ‘Über die Kanonizität Homers’, in Aleida Assmann and Jan Assmann, eds., Kanon und Zensur: Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation II (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 1987), 237–45; Ernst A. Schmidt, ‘Historische Typologie der Orientierungsfunktionen von Kanon in der griechischen und römischen Literatur’, in Aleida Assmann and Jan Assmann, eds., Kanon und Zensur: Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation II (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 1987), 246–58; Franco Montanari, ‘Kanon, III. Griechische Literatur’, in Hubert Cancik and Helmuth Schneider, eds., Der Neue Pauly 6. 250. ¹⁴ See Elias J. Bickerman, ‘The Colophon of the Greek Book of Esther’, Journal of Biblical Literature 63 (1944): 339–62, esp. 342.


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achieve a standardized text.¹⁵ This textual standardization can be compared to the Mesopotamian distinction between damqu (‘good’) and ahû (‘foreign, outside’). Nevertheless, nothing like the Hebrew or Greek Bible ever existed in ancient Greece or the Hellenistic world. THE CANONICAL HISTORY OF THE HEBREW BIBLE IN ROMAN TIMES In contrast to ancient Mesopotamia, classical Greece, and the Hellenistic world, Judaism began to standardize the textual form of its scriptures only in the first century . The same is true for the discussion of which books should be recognized as miqra (for the latter see below). Thus, in the first century , the Jewish historian Josephus Flavius argues that his people adhere to 22 texts of religiously binding authority (Against Apion 1. 37–43).¹⁶ Furthermore, Josephus emphasizes the textual stability of these compositions (Against Apion 1. 29, 42). This evidence from Josephus agrees with the efforts of textual standardization as described in Talmud Babli Nedarim 37b. It is also confirmed by biblical manuscripts from the first and early second century  found at Masada, Wadi Murabba‘at, and Nah.al H . ever, which are all protomasoretic in character.¹⁷ Common to these texts is their concept of a collection of religiously authoritative holy scriptures.¹⁸ As such, they communicate God’s will and history with his people. Hence the Hebrew and the Greek Bibles are distinct from any other canon developed in the ancient Mediterranean ¹⁵ See Parsons, Alexandrian Library, 219–23; Pfeiffer, Classical Scholarship, 105–22, 173–92. ¹⁶ These 22 texts consisted of 5 books of Moses, 13 prophetic texts (Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 Samuel–2 Kings, 1–2 Chronicles, Ezra–Nehemiah, Job, Esther, Isaiah, Jeremiah and Lamentations, Ezekiel, Minor Prophets, Daniel), and 4 other books (Psalms, Proverbs, Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes). ¹⁷ On the textual character of these manuscripts see Emanuel Tov, ‘The Biblical Texts From the Judaean Desert: An Overview and Analysis of the Published Texts’, in Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Text of the Hebrew Bible in Light of the Discoveries of the Judaean Desert (London: British Library, forthcoming). I am grateful to Professor Tov for allowing me to read his article before its publication. ¹⁸ To my knowledge the first occurrences of the word ‘holy’ in connection with literary compositions are 1 Maccabees 12: 9 and Alexander Polyhistor (summarized in Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelica 9. 24).

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and Near Eastern cultures. Already in the first century , in his apology Against Apion (1. 38), Josephus documents a consciousness of this uniqueness, ‘we do not possess myriads of inconsistent books, conflicting with each other’.¹⁹ Nevertheless (as Benjamin Sommer argues in his contribution to this volume), time and again, the rabbinic tradition and later Halakha developed new halakhic treatises having binding religious authority and addressing new halakhic issues.²⁰ Already in rabbinic times, the famous story in Talmud Babli Menakhot 29b describing Moses’ encounter with God on Mount Sinai demonstrates a consciousness for the multiplicity of meanings connected with scriptural references: When Moses ascended on high he found the Holy One, blessed be He, engaged in affixing coronets to the letters. Said Moses, ‘Lord of the Universe, Who stays in Thy hand (i.e. is there anything wanting in the Torah that these additions are necessary)?’ He answered, ‘There will arise a man, at the end of many generations, Akiba b. Joseph by name, who will expound upon each tittle heaps and heaps of laws.’ ‘Lord of the Universe’, said Moses; ‘permit me to see him’. He replied, ‘Turn thee round.’ Moses went and sat down behind eight rows [and listened to the discourses upon the law]. Not being able to follow their arguments he was ill at ease, but when they came to a certain subject and the disciples said to the master ‘Whence do you know it?’ and the latter replied ‘It is a law given unto Moses at Sinai’ he was comforted.²¹

This anecdote illustrates nicely the idea of scripture as a holy text having an identity of its own. It also shows how scripture can have a meaning not necessarily understood or even intended by the putative author of a given biblical book. Judaism is distinct from the ancient Mediterranean and ancient Near Eastern cultures in its concept of a canon of holy scriptures having binding religious authority. In view of this observation, several questions can be posed. For what reason and when did the concept of scripture evolve? Is the establishing of scripture a result of Jewish and Christian monotheism? What ¹⁹ Translation according to Henry St John Thackeray, Josephus with an English Translation, i: The Life, Against Apion, Loeb Classical Library (London and New York: William Heinemann and G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1926), 179. ²⁰ See Benjamin D. Sommer’s chapter in this volume. ²¹ Eli Cashdan, Menah . oth: Translated into English with Notes, Glossary and Indices (London: Socino Press, 1948), 190.


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are the decisive characteristics of scripture? In other words, what distinguishes scripture from literature? And how does literature develop into scripture? To answer these questions, the library of Qumran is of vital importance. Its collection of about 1,000 manuscripts written between the third century  and the first century  provides new insights into the literary and religious history of Judaism during a period crucial for the development of the Hebrew Bible. For this reason, the questions posed above should be addressed in light of the Qumran library. Before this can be done, it is necessary to begin with some remarks on the history of research on the canonical process of the Hebrew Bible and the terminology connected with it. In addition, I will provide an introductory description of the Qumran library. INTRODUCTION TO TERMINOLOGY, CANONICAL PROCESS, AND THE QUMRAN LIBRARY Canon and Terminology My first remarks concern the terminology used in this chapter. A clarification of terminology is crucial since every ancient culture seems to have had differing concepts of canon and used different terms to express these concepts. The oldest preserved reference to the Greek word kan*n is in Athanasius’ thirty-ninth Easter letter dated to 367 . In this letter, the term designates a list of books that are of binding religious authority. It is a unique designation because neither the Hebrew Bible, the pre-rabbinic and rabbinic literature, nor any other ancient Mediterranean or Ancient Near Eastern culture uses a comparable term. If, therefore, the term ‘canon’ is used in modern scholarship, it might import a cross-cultural misconception or apply an anachronism of a Christian concept into the subject matter. In order to avoid such an inappropriate use, I suggest the nuanced terminology as introduced into the discussion by Eugene Ulrich.²² Ulrich distinguishes between an ‘authoritative text’, ‘that a community, ²² Eugene Ulrich, ‘The Canonical Process, Textual Criticism, and Latter Stages in the Composition of the Bible’, in Michael Fishbane et al., eds., ‘Sha} arei Talmon’: Studies in the Bible, Qumran, and the Ancient Near East Presented to Shemaryahu Talmon (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1992), 267–91, esp.

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secular or religious, acknowledges to hold authority’ and ‘a book of scripture’ as ‘a sacred authoritative text which, in the Jewish or Christian context, the community acknowledges as having authority over the faith and practice of its members’. The term ‘canon’ refers to ‘the established and exclusive list of books that hold supreme authoritative status for a community’. Finally, the term ‘canonical process’ designates the process beginning with the recognition of authoritative texts and ending in an exclusive canonical list of books having binding authority.²³ Another well established name for this process is canonical history. If this terminological conceptuality is applied to ancient Egypt, ancient Mesopotamian cultures, and the Greek-Hellenistic culture, it is only appropriate to apply the term authoritative literature. Research on the Canonical History of the Hebrew Bible The canonical history of the Hebrew Bible is one of the more intensely discussed areas in biblical studies. In 1538 and basing his scholarship on Talmud Babli Baba Bathra 14b–15a, Elijah Levita proposed that Ezra and his assistants had collected a tripartite canon consisting of 24 books.²⁴ This Ezran concept of the Hebrew Bible’s canonical history dominated scholarship until the end of the nineteenth century. At this time, Heinrich Graetz,²⁵ Frants Buhl,²⁶ Gerrit Wildeboer,²⁷ and Herbert Edward Ryle²⁸ developed the thesis of a 269–76; id., ‘Canon’, in Lawrence H. Schiffman and James C. VanderKam, eds., Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls 1: 117–20, esp. 117. ²³ See Ulrich, ‘The Canonical Process’, 117. ²⁴ Christian D. Ginsburg, ed., The Massoreth ha-massoreth of Elias Levita: Being an Exposition of the Massoretic Notes on the Hebrew Bible, or, the Ancient Critical Apparatus of the Old Testament: in Hebrew, with an English translation and critical and explanatory notes (London: Longmans, Green, Reader, and Dyer, 1867). ²⁵ Heinrich Graetz, Kohelet tlhq oder der Salomonische Prediger: Übersetzt und kritisch erläutert (Leipzig: C. F. Winter’sche Verlagshandlung, 1871), 147– 73; id., ‘Der Abschluss des Kanons des Alten Testaments’, Monatsschrift für Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums 35 (1886): 281–98. ²⁶ Frants Buhl, Kanon und Text des Alten Testamentes (Leipzig: Akademische Buchhandlung (W. Faber), 1891). ²⁷ Gerrit Wildeboer, The Origin of the Canon of the Old Testament: An Historico-Critical Enquiry (London: Luzac, 1895). ²⁸ Herbert Edward Ryle, The Canon of the Old Testament: An Essay on the


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council at Jabneh/Jamnia that took place at the end of the first century . According to these scholars, it was this council, directed by Eleazar ben Azariah, that determined the shape and size of the Ketubim collection. The Torah, on the other hand, would have been canonized at the time of Ezra (cf. Nehemiah 8), while Ben Sira 44–50 attests to a canonization of the Nebiim collection at the end of the third century . It was not until the 1970s that the three-step model proposed by Graetz et al. was called into question.²⁹ Jack P. Lewis, Peter Schäfer, and Günther Stemberger³⁰ demonstrated that rabbinic texts do not even speak of an authoritative council at Jabneh/ Jamnia. In addition, according to Mishnah Yadayim 3: 5, only the authoritative status of Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs was discussed at the time of the academy of Jabneh/Jamnia, and the canonical authority of these books was also questioned in later references.³¹ Gradual Growth and Formation of the Hebrew Canon of Scripture (London: Macmillan, 1892). ²⁹ For example, in the third edition of his famous introduction to the Old Testament, Otto Eissfeldt still argued for the idea of the Jabneh/Jamnia council. See Otto Eissfeldt, Einleitung in das Alte Testament unter Einschluß der Apokryphen und Pseudepigraphen sowie der apokryphen und pseudepigraphenartigen Qumran-Schriften: Entstehungsgeschichte des Alten Testaments, 3rd edn., Neue Theologische Grundrisse (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1964), 769–70. For a more cautious representation of the three-step model, in this case with a Deuteronomic prototype, see Frank Crüsemann, ‘Das “portative Vaterland”: Struktur und Genese des alttestamentlichen Kanons’, in Aleida Assmann and Jan Assmann, eds., Kanon und Zensur: Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation II (Munich: Wilhelm Fink, 1987), 63–79. Flint still argues for the three-step model yet without the idea of a council at Jabneh/Jamnia. See Peter W. Flint, ‘The Shape of the “Bible” at Qumran’, in Alan J. Avery-Peck et al., eds., Judaism in Late Antiquity, Part 5: The Judaism of Qumran: A Systematic Reading of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ii: World View, Comparing Judaism, Handbook of Oriental Studies, no. 57 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2001), 45–103, esp. 77–81. ³⁰ Jack P. Lewis, ‘What Do We Mean By Jabneh?’, Journal of Bible and Religion 32 (1964): 125–32; Peter Schäfer, ‘Die sogenannte Synode von Jabne: Zur Trennung von Juden und Christen im ersten/zweiten Jh. n. Chr.’, Judaica 31 (1975): 54–61, 116–24; Sid Z. Leiman, The Canonization of Hebrew Scripture: The Talmudic and Midrashic Evidence, Transactions of the Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences, no. 47 (Hamden, Conn.: Archon Books, 1976), 51–124; Günter Stemberger, ‘Die sogenannte “Synode von Jabne” und das frühe Christentum’, Kairós 19 (1977): 14–21; id., ‘Jabne und Kanon’, Jahrbuch für Biblische Theologie 3 (1988): 163–74. ³¹ See Lewis, ‘What Do We Mean By Jabneh?’, 260, esp. notes 76–86.

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The thesis of Lewis, Schäfer, and Stemberger was disputed by Sid Z. Leiman,³² Roger Beckwith,³³ and Arie van der Kooij (who argued this point more moderately),³⁴ who considered the collection of Ketubim to have been closed during Maccabean times. To make this claim, they argued primarily on the basis of the biblical manuscripts from the Qumran library and 2 Maccabees 2: 13–14. The passage in 2 Maccabees reports how, like Nehemiah, Judas the Maccabean collected books concerning kings, prophets, and David as well as royal letters about sacred offerings. For Leiman, Beckwith, and van der Kooij, this reference suggests a terminal point to the Ketubim’s canonization. Another and more recently discussed approach to the canonical history of the Hebrew Bible concerns the idea of group specific canons. This thesis has been proposed by Odil Hannes Steck, David M. Carr, Heinz-Josef Fabry, and Jan Assmann.³⁵ ³² Leiman, The Canonization of Hebrew Scripture, passim. ³³ Roger Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church and its Background in Early Judaism (London: SPCK, 1985). ³⁴ Arie van der Kooij, ‘The Canonization of Ancient Books Kept in the Temple of Jerusalem’, in Arie van der Kooij and Karel van der Toorn, eds., Canonization and Decanonization: Papers Presented to the International Conference of the Leiden Institute for the Study of Religions (LISOR), Held at Leiden, January 9–10, 1997, Studies in the History of Religions, no. 82 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1998), 17–40. Compare also with Johan L. Lust’s claim that the Qumran community assigned canonical status to all books that became part of the Hebrew Bible. Johan L. Lust, ‘Quotation Formulae and Canon in Qumran’, in Arie van der Kooij and Karel van der Toorn, eds., Canon and Decanonization: Papers Presented to the International Conference of the Leiden Institute for the Study of Religions (LISOR), Held at Leiden, January 9–10, 1997, Studies in the History of Religions, no. 82 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1998), 67–77. ³⁵ Odil Hannes Steck, ‘Der Kanon des hebräischen Alten Testaments: Historische Materialien für eine ökumenische Perspektive’, in Jan Rohls and Gunther Wenz, eds., Vernunft des Glaubens: Wissenschaftliche Theologie und kirchliche Lehre (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1988), 231–52; David M. Carr, ‘Canonization in the Context of Community: An Outline of the Formation of the Tanakh and the Christian Bible’, in Richard D. Weis and David M. Carr, eds., A Gift of God in Due Season: Essays on Scripture and Community in Honor of James A. Sanders, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series, no. 225 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 22–64; Heinz-Joseph Fabry, ‘Die Qumrantexte und das biblische Kanonproblem’, in Stefan Beyerle et al., eds., Recht und Ethos im Alten Testament: Gestalt und Wirkung (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1999), 251–71; Jan Assmann, ‘Fünf Stufen auf dem Wege zum Kanon: Tradition und Schriftkultur


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According to this approach, the Samaritans as well as the Sadducees (cf. Josephus Flavius, Antiquities 18. 16) favoured a Torah-only canon while the canonical lists of Ben Sira 39: 1–3, the prologue to Ben Sira, MMT  10. 17, and 1QS : 2–3 advise that the other groups of ancient Judaism adhered to tripartite or bipartite canons. Several observations speak against the idea of group specific canons. The Essene references MMT  10. 17 and 1QS : 2–3³⁶ demonstrate conclusively that, in ancient Judaism, a community could simultaneously use different canonical lists. In addition, for Hellenistic times, no evidence is preserved in which certain texts were regarded as authoritative by the Samaritans and the Sadducees. In Roman times, the Jewish historian Josephus Flavius (Antiquities 18. 16) emphasized only that the Sadducees owed ‘no observance of any sort apart from the laws’—in Greek t0n nÎmwn in the plural. In this reference, nothing is said about which texts the Sadducees regarded as laws. The plural further advises caution against simply interpreting t0n nÎmwn as a designation of the Torah. Thus, the evidence for a Samaritan Torah-only canon is even more recent than Josephus’ Antiquities 18. 16.³⁷ im alten Israel und frühen Judentum’, in Religion und kulturelles Gedächtnis: Zehn Studien (Munich: C. H. Beck, 2000), 81–100. ³⁶ Compare also Luke 16: 16, Luke 24: 27, and Acts 24: 14 (law and prophets) with Luke 24: 44 (law, prophets, and psalms). ³⁷ Josephus merely recounts that the Jews and the Samaritans agreed to build the temple on Mount Gerizim ‘according to the laws of Moses’ (kat¤ toŸß Mwusvoß nÎmouß) (Antiquities 13. 74). This is a halakhic statement and says nothing about an exclusive Samaritan Torah-only canon. Even rabbinic references do not seem to distinguish between a Samaritan and a Jewish canon (see Sifre to Deuteronomy 56. 1; Talmud Yerushalmi Sota 21c; Talmud Babli Berakot 47b; Talmud Babli H . ullin 4b; Talmud Babli Sot.ah 22a, 33b). The earliest references to canonical diversity between Jews and Samaritans are found in the Christian literature of the third and fourth centuries  (Origen, Commentary on John 3. 26; id., Contra Celsum 1. 49; Epiphanius of Salamis, Panarion 1. 2. 1; Philastrius of Brescia, In librum de haeresibus 7). One of these authors (Philastrius of Brescia, In librum de haeresibus 7) even claims that the Samaritan canon consisted of only four books of the Pentateuch. This claim hints at the possibility of an unstable Samaritan canon as late as the fourth century . On the development of the Samaritan canon see J. Zsengellér, ‘Canon and the Samaritans’, in Arie van der Kooij and Karel van der Toorn, eds., Canonization and Decanonization: Papers Presented to the International Conference of the Leiden Institute for the Study of Religions (LISOR), Held at Leiden, January 9–10, 1997, Studies in the History of Religions, no. 82 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1998), 161–71. Zsengellér claims that

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For these reasons, Eugene Ulrich and Shemaryahu Talmon interpret³⁸ the heterogeneous evidence of Second Temple Judaism in the line of an ongoing canonical process. According to them, the growing popularity of a given text would have resulted in its religious authority. The canonical history of the Hebrew Bible would have been dominated by the principle of vox populi vox dei. At the end of this brief review of scholarly research, I must mention that even in view of pre-Ezran and Ezran times, the ideas of Graetz, Buhl, Wildeboer, and Ryle are doubted for other reasons. For James A. Sanders,³⁹ the beginning of the canonical process is marked by Deuteronomy and the Josianic reform. Today, influenced by Sanders’s approach, scholars understand the development of the collections of Torah and Nebiim as a parallel and interdependent process, which began in pre-exilic times. For example, Stephen B. Chapman considers the idea of a sixth-century  core canon consisting of some early versions of the law and the prophets.⁴⁰ In some of the analyses proposing a pre-Ezran canonical process, the Ezran Torah is understood as a special authorization of the Mosaic law which, at the time of Ezra and by means of Persian imperial authorization, would have developed into a canon within the canon (thus e.g. Sanders). For the Samaritan canon was formed as a result of the destruction of the Samaritan temple on Mount Gerizim by John Hyrkanus I in 128 or 107  (see ibid., 163–6). I judge this thesis to be pure speculation because it requires a closed Jewish canon even before this time in order to be true. It will be shown below that Zsengellér’s thesis is erroneous. ³⁸ Ulrich, ‘The Canonical Process’, passim; id., ‘Canon’, passim; id., ‘The Qumran Biblical Scrolls: The Scriptures of Late Second Temple Judaism’, in Timothy H. Lim et al., eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 2000), 67–87; Shemaryahu Talmon, ‘The Crystallization of the “Canon of the Hebrew Scriptures” in the Light of the Biblical Scrolls from Qumran’, in Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Text of the Hebrew Bible in Light of the Discoveries of the Judaean Desert (London: British Library, forthcoming). I am indebted to Professor Talmon who allowed me to see his article before its publication. Cf. James C. VanderKam, ‘Authoritative Literature in the Dead Sea Scrolls’, Dead Sea Discoveries 5 (1998): 382–402. ³⁹ James A. Sanders, Torah and Canon (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1972). ⁴⁰ Stephen B. Chapman, The Law and the Prophets: A Study in Old Testament Canon Formation, Forschungen zum Alten Testament, no. 27 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000).


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others, the Ezran Torah is regarded as the closure to the first part of the canon while its second part continued to be developed (e.g. Chapman). When revived by Peter Frei in 1984,⁴¹ the idea of a Persian imperial authorization of the Torah at Ezra’s time met widespread approval.⁴² More recently, however, this concept of a Persian imperial authorization as well as its application to Judah have been severely questioned on a number of grounds.⁴³ It is by no means certain at what stage any collection of texts was initiated or closed and who initiated the process. Furthermore, research on the canonical history of the Hebrew Bible has yet to take into consideration the quotations of and allusions to scripture found in the Dead Sea Scrolls. It is to a description of the contents of the Qumran library that I now turn.

⁴¹ Peter Frei and Klaus Koch, ‘Zentralgewalt und Lokalautonomie im Achämenidenreich’, in Reichsidee und Reichsorganisation im Perserreich, Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis, no. 55 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1984; second extensively revised and expanded edn. 1996). See also Eduard Meyer, Die Entstehung des Judentums: Eine historische Untersuchung (Halle a/S: Max Niemeyer, 1896), 66–7; Hans Heinrich Schaeder, Das persische Weltreich (Breslau: Korn, 1941), 25; on the discussion before Frei’s contribution see Ulrich Kellermann, ‘Erwägungen zum Problem der Esradatierung’, Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 80 (1968): 5–87. ⁴² See, for example, Erhard Blum, Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch, Beihefte für die Zeitschrift zur Alttestamentlichen Wissenschaft, no. 189 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1990), 345–56; Joseph Blenkinsopp, The Pentateuch: An Introduction to the First Five Books of the Bible, Anchor Bible Reference Library (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 23–42; Frank Crüsemann, Die Tora: Theologie und Sozialgeschichte des alttestamentlichen Gesetzes (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1992), 387–93; David M. Carr, Reading the Fractures of Genesis: Historical and Literary Approaches (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 327–33. ⁴³ See, for example, Josef Wiesehöfer, ‘“Reichsgesetz” oder “Einzelfallgerechtigkeit”? Bemerkungen zu Peter Freis These von der achaimenidischen “Reichsautorisation”’, Zeitschrift für die altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte 1 (1995): 36–46; Udo Rüterswörden, ‘Die persische Reichsautorisation der Thora: fact or fiction?’, Zeitschrift für die altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte 1 (1995): 47–61; James W. Watts, ed., Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch, SBL Symposium Series, no. 17 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2001).

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The Qumran Library About 200 biblical⁴⁴ and 700 non-biblical manuscripts were found in the eleven caves of Qumran. They attest to all books of the Hebrew Bible, except for Esther and Nehemiah. Based on palaeography, the biblical manuscripts can be dated from the third century  to the first century . For this period, they attest to a broad variety of different textual forms. With minor variations, 52 per cent of the library’s pentateuchal and 44 per cent of the other biblical manuscripts attest to the consonantal text of the medieval manuscripts of the Hebrew Bible and are thus proto-Masoretic in character. Except for its group-specific readings, 6.5 per cent of the pentateuchal manuscripts attest to the version of the Pentateuch used by the Samaritans and are thus pre-Samaritan in character. Furthermore, 4.5 per cent of the pentateuchal and 3 per cent of the other biblical manuscripts from Qumran attest to the Hebrew Vorlage from which the Old Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible was produced. Finally, 37 per cent of the pentateuchal Qumran manuscripts and 53 per cent of other biblical manuscripts from Qumran attest to text forms not found elsewhere. These are designated as ‘non-aligned’.⁴⁵ In addition to the Hebrew biblical manuscripts, Greek manuscripts were found for the books of Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy as well as Aramaic manuscripts for the books of Leviticus (4QtgLev) and Job (4QtgJob; 11QtgJob).⁴⁶ This textual variety differs remarkably from the standardized texts of Mesopotamia and the editorial efforts of Hellenistic Greek culture. The non-biblical texts attested in the Qumran library were written, roughly speaking, during the time from the late fourth to the middle of the first century . Their manuscripts are ⁴⁴ See, for example, Emanuel Tov, ‘1. Categorized List of the “Biblical Texts”’, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 39 (2002): 165–83, esp. 167. ⁴⁵ For this statistic see Tov, ‘The Biblical Texts’, forthcoming; on the textual plurality attested by the Qumran library see Ulrich, ‘Qumran Biblical Scrolls’, passim. ⁴⁶ The so-called Proto-Esther manuscripts from Qumran do not attest to an older Aramaic version of the Book of Esther (against Jozef Tadeusz Milik, ‘Les Modèles araméens du livre d’Esther dans la grotte 4 de Qumrân’, Revue de Qumran 15 (1991–2): 321–99), but to another composition of Persian court tales (for example, Sidnie White Crawford, ‘Has the Book of Esther been Found at Qumran’, Revue de Qumran, 17 (1996): 307–25, and Shemaryahu Talmon, ‘Was the Book of Esther Known at Qumran?’, Dead Sea Discoveries 2 (1995): 249–67).


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dated from the third century  to the first century . The non-biblical manuscripts from the Qumran library attest to Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, known before the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, as well as to non-Essene and Essene texts not known before 1947. Thus, the library of Qumran provides a non-representative medley of the literature of ancient Judaism in Hellenistic times. The quotations of and allusions to scripture in those texts found in the Qumran library as well as those contained in other Jewish texts provide new evidence for the deadlocked discussion concerning the development of the canon of the Hebrew Bible. I will argue that the so-called Hellenistic religious reforms of 175–164  are a crucial turning-point in the transition from understanding religious texts as literature to understanding them as scripture. By comparing the quotations of and allusions to scripture in the period before and after these reforms, I will discuss the following points concerning the canonization process. First, the evidence suggests that group-specific canons do not apply to ancient Judaism. There are no texts exclusively quoted or alluded to, and conversely not quoted or alluded to, by specific groups. This evidence implies that the shape of the canon did not change during or after the reforms. Second, no specific textual form was preferred by any religious group. And third, the attitude towards the texts quoted or alluded to changed significantly during the reforms. Before the reforms, the quoted book was of no interest. Rather, the message (word of God) communicated by the book in question was of interest. During and after the reforms, the idea of scripture was born. Authoritative literature acquired a dignity of its own and became scripture. I conclude by addressing the issue of canonical unity in light of literary plurality. Before analysing the material, I must discuss my selection of the evidence. If a comprehensive picture of which texts were quoted or alluded to by Judaism in Hellenistic times is to be gained, the investigation cannot be limited to the Qumran library. Hence I will also take into account the quotations and allusions found in those Jewish texts of that time not attested in Qumran. For my purposes, I will refer only to texts that quote or allude to authoritative literature as well as texts that are fully preserved. Texts that cannot be dated with any certainty will be

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ignored. The same applies to the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs whose Hellenistic date has been questioned for reasons of its complicated redactional history.⁴⁷ I also restrict the following analysis to literary compositions, which means that I will exclude legal documents and scribal exercises. Because of the speculative nature of literary criticism, redactions will be acknowledged only if they can be identified with great certainty. Furthermore, for parabiblical compositions, I will consider only quotations and allusions that are not part of the base text as rewritten or paraphrased. In total, the discussion will refer to 1,145 quotations and allusions found in 145 texts. It is important to emphasize that these numbers are preliminary and will change with the ongoing investigation into the Dead Sea Scrolls and other ancient Jewish literature. Caution must especially be exercised when considering quotations of or allusions to compositions previously unknown in the Qumran library. My study aims to be as comprehensive a survey of the Qumran library as possible. With this intention, it can be compared to other less comprehensive scholarly publications considering the importance of quotations and allusions from the Qumran library for the Hebrew Bible’s canonical history. These scholarly works restrict their focus to quotations found in Essene texts that are either introduced by quotation formulas,⁴⁸ or distinguish between the use of scripture in midrashic texts, quotations with introductory formulas, definite allusions, or quotations without introductory formulas and dependence.⁴⁹ In the following, ⁴⁷ For this reason, from the Qumran library, Historical Text F (4Q468e; for a suggested Roman dating see Magen Broshi, ‘4Q468e. 4QHistorical Text F’, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 36 (2000): 406–11, esp. 407–10) and Instruction-like Composition B (4Q424; for a Persian dating see Armin Lange, ‘Die Bedeutung der Weisheitstexte aus Qumran für die Hebräische Bibel’, in David J. A. Clines et al., eds., Weisheit in Israel, Altes Testament und Moderne, no. 12 (Münster: Lit Verlag, forthcoming) ) are not included in my reflections. ⁴⁸ Thus Lust, ‘Quotation Formulae’, 67–73; James C. VanderKam, ‘Authoritative Literature in the Dead Sea Scrolls’, Dead Sea Discoveries 5 (1998): 384–402, esp. 389–96. See also the groundbreaking contribution by Joseph A. Fitzmyer, ‘The Use of Explicit Old Testament Quotations in Qumran Literature and in the New Testament’, in Essays on the Semitic Background of the New Testament, Sources for Biblical Studies, no. 5 (Missoula, Mont.: Society of Biblical Literature and Scholars Press, 1974), 3–58. Fitzmyer does not consider issues of the canonical history of the Hebrew Bible in his discussion of explicit quotations. ⁴⁹ Thus Flint, ‘Shape of the “Bible”’, 77–81.


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such distinctions will primarily be avoided. In my opinion, the relative authority of a text alluded to is not simply a function of whether or not it is quoted and introduced with a quotation formula. This point is demonstrated, for example, by the Damascus Document. The text quotes Deuteronomy 17: 17 by introducing it with a quotation formula (‘and on the prince it is written: he shall not acquire many wives for himself’; CD 5: 2) and, on the same page (CD 5), it alludes to Deuteronomy 13: 6 without such a formula (‘because they preached rebellion against the commands of God’; CD 5: 21). Again, if a composition like the Hodayot is written in scriptural language and often composed from allusions to authoritative literature, thus demonstrating a high authority for the component texts, these allusions should not be neglected as secondary to the authority of those texts for which quotation formulas are attested. In order to facilitate analysis of the 1,145 quotations and allusions in question, I have chronologically grouped the 145 texts in which the quotations and allusions are found. The reason for a chronological order is the theological turning-point in Hellenistic Judaism, the so-called Hellenistic religious reforms of the years 175-164  that I will discuss below. In the following, I will distinguish between texts written in the period from Alexander the Great to the beginning of the reign of the high priest Jason in 175 , and texts written from 175  to the beginning of Roman rule over Judaea, marked by Pompey the Great’s conquest of Judaea in 63 . Summary List 1 indicates the chronological grouping of the texts under consideration in view of their literary characteristics. Summary List 1: Jewish Literature from Hellenistic Times Before 175  After 175  49 texts 96 texts 32 fragmentary (c.67%) 74 fragmentary (c.77%) 9 of uncertain date (c.19%) 13 of uncertain date (c.14%) 32 parabiblical (c.67%) 34 parabiblical (c.36%) 0 exegetical 35 exegetical (c.36%) 1 redaction (c.2%) 4 redaction (c.4%) 16 others (c.31%) 23 others (c.24%) 3 anthological⁵⁰ (c.6%) 16 anthological⁵¹ (c.17%) ⁵⁰ These texts either are parabiblical or apply to the category of redactions. ⁵¹ These texts either are parabiblical or apply to the category of redactions.

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In the next part of this chapter, the period from Alexander the Great to Jason will be discussed followed by a discussion of the period from Jason to Pompey. I will show how the transition from literature to scripture in the process of canonization implies an understanding of the canon’s unity. The essay will conclude with some theological observations concerning the emergence of scripture in ancient Judaism. FROM ALEXANDER THE GREAT TO JASON Before beginning my analysis of the period from Alexander the Great to Jason, I will briefly describe the texts under consideration. A table of these texts along with their literary characteristics is provided (see Table 1: Literature from Alexander to Jason). Known from this period are 49 texts attesting to 341 quotations and allusions. Of these texts, 32 exist only as fragments. In Table 1 these are marked with a tick in the first column. Nine of the 49 texts of this period cannot be dated with certainty; these are marked in the second column. Of the 49 texts preserved from the time of Alexander the Great to Jason, 32 or 67 per cent are parabiblical in nature, meaning that they were written ‘closely related to texts or themes of the Hebrew Bible’.⁵² Only Zechariah 9–14; 1–2 Chronicles, and the Temple Scroll were written in an anthological style, noted in the third column. Texts in which no quotations or allusions have been identified thus far are marked in the fourth column. T 1: Literature from Alexander to Jason Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty

Written in an No identified anthological quotations style or allusions

Parabiblical literature Praise of the Fathers Sir. *44–9; Gen.–Neh. ⁵² Emanuel Tov, ‘Foreword’, in Harold Attridge et al., eds., Qumran Cave 4 VIII: Parabiblical Texts, Part 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), ix–x.

Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty 1–2 Chronicles Gen.–2 Kgs. Demetrios Gen.–2 Kgs. Narrative and Poetic Composition 2Q22, 4Q371– 373; preserved: Gen., Num., 1 Sam. Artapanos Gen.–Exod. Philo the Epic Poet Abraham– Joseph Theodotus Gen. 17; 27– 34 + ??? Astronomical Enoch 1 Enoch 72–82 Gen. 5: 22–4 Book of Watchers 1 Enoch 1–36 Gen. 5: 22–4; 6: 1–4 Book of Giants 1Q23–24, 2Q26, 4Q203, 4Q206 2–3, 4Q530–533; Gen. 6: 1–4 Book of the Words of Noah 1QapGen (1Q20)  29–  23; Gen. 6: 5–9: 28

Written in an No identified anthological quotations style or allusions ✓

✓ ✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

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Armin Lange Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty

Admonition of the Flood 4Q370; Gen. 6: 5–9: 28 PseudoEupolemos (preserved: Abraham) The Matriarch in Danger 1QapGen * 10– 32; Gen 12: 10–29)⁵³ Aramaic Levi Document 1Q21?, 4Q213– 214b, CLevBodl.Cam, Koutloumousiou 39; Levi) Text concerning Rachel and Joseph 4Q474; Joseph Testament of Qahat 4Q542; Qahat Visions of Amram 4Q543–549; Amram Temple Scroll 4Q524, 11Q19– 21; Exod.–Deut.


✓

✓

✓

✓

✓ ✓ ✓ ✓

✓

⁵³ On 1QapGen  10– 32 as an independent composition incorporated into the Abraham story of the Genesis Apocryphon see Armin Lange, ‘1QGenAp  10– 32 as Paradigm of the Wisdom Didactive Narrative’, in Heinz-Joseph Fabry et al., eds., Qumranstudien: Vorträge und Beiträge der Teilnehmer des Qumranseminars auf dem internationalen Treffen der Society of Biblical Literature, Münster, 25.–26. Juli 1993, Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum, no. 4 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996), 191–204.

Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty Exodus/Conquest Tradition 4Q374; Exod. + Josh. Apocryphron of Moses 1Q22, 1Q29, 4Q375–376, 4Q408; Deut. Apocryphon of Moses? 2Q21; preserved: parts of Exod. Apocryphal Pentateuch A 4Q368; preserved: Exod. 33–4 Apocryphal Pentateuch B 4Q377; preserved: parts of Exod. Apocryphon of Joshua 4Q378–379, 4Q522, 5Q9, Mas11 Vision of Samuel 4Q160; Samuel paraKings et al. 4Q382 Jonah 2 Kgs. 14: 25 Letter of Jeremiah Jeremiah; 7Q2 New Jerusalem 1Q32?, 2Q24, 4Q554–555, 5Q15, 11Q18; Ezek. 40–8

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓ ✓

✓

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72


Daniel 2–6 Ezek. 14: 14; 28: 3 4QNarrativeWork and Prayer 4Q460; ???


✓

Parabiblical books not preserved Book/Vision Hago (Enosh) Redactions ✓

Zechariah 9–14 Other literature Joel Song of Songs Ecclesiastes Esther Ezra/Nehemiah Ecclesiasticus Tobit Instruction 1Q26, 4Q415– 418a, 4Q418c, 4Q423 Wiles of a Wicked Woman (4Q184) Sapiential Work (4Q185) Zodiology and Brontology 4Q318 Non-Canonical Psalms A–B 4Q380–381 Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice 4Q400–407, 11Q17, Mas1k

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓ ✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

✓

Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty Narrative B 4Q461 ProtoEsther 4Q550 – Parts of 4QPsf and 11QPsa

✓

✓

✓

✓

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The high percentage of parabiblical literature demonstrates that, at the time in question, Judaism was basically oriented towards authoritative literature. At least for books belonging to the later collections of Torah and Prophets, parabiblical literature is attested to from the end of the fourth century  onwards. Interestingly enough, this is true not only for what later would be named the Later Prophets, but also for the historical books that were later designated the Former Prophets. Parabiblical compositions on poetic or sapiential texts, however, are not known.⁵⁴ Due to this absence, one can ask whether, for the time before Jason, only books of the later collections of Torah and Prophets were regarded as authoritative or whether there is a different reason for the non-existence of parabiblical literature on the texts of the later Ketubim. In the following, I will use the quotations and allusions found in the 49 texts from the time of Alexander the Great to Jason to nuance my analysis of the ancient Jewish orientation to authoritative literature. My study will focus on four questions: (1) Which texts are quoted or alluded to? (2) Are there any groupspecific collections of authoritative texts? (3) Was one textual form of a given biblical book preferred over any other textual form? and (4) Does the way of quoting or alluding to authoritative texts provide any insights into how Jewish people regarded them? ⁵⁴ For a discussion of this phenomenon see Armin Lange, ‘The Parabiblical Literature of the Qumran Library from the Fourth and Third Century  and the Canonical History of the Hebrew Bible’, in Shalom M. Paul, Robert A. Kraft, Lawrence H. Schiffman, and Weston W. Fields, eds., Emanuel: Studies in the Hebrew Bible, Septuagint, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honor of Emanuel Tov, Vetus Testamentum Supplementum, no. 94 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2003), 305–21.

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Concerning question (1), of the 341 quotations and allusions, most are derived from the Pentateuch (156 references, i.e. c.46%), prophetic texts (82 references, i.e. c.24%), and different Psalms (52 references, i.e. c.15%). More seldom, quotations and allusions are taken from the Deuteronomistic History (23 references, i.e. c.7%), Job (7 references), Proverbs (12 references), Lamentations (1 reference), and 1–2 Chronicles (1 reference). In addition, there are allusions and references to a collection of exorcistic songs attested by 11Q11 (11QPsa : 10), to a sapiential text attested by 4Q185 (4Q185 1–2 i 13–ii 3 alluded to in 4Q370 ii 5–9), to the Book of Noah found in the Genesis Apocryphon (see Aramaic Levi Document 57; referred to as a source of cultic halakha), and the Apocryphon of Joshua (4Q379 22 ii 13–13a alluded to in 4Q460 9 i 3 (Narrative Work and Prayer) ).⁵⁵ The following list (Summary List 2) summarizes these 341 quotations and allusions. Summary List 2: Quotations and Allusions before 175  (number of occurrences) Pentateuch: 156 (c.46%) Deuteronomistic History: 23 (c.7%) Prophets: 82 (c.24%) Psalms: 52 (c.15%) Job: 7 (c.2%) Proverbs: 12 (c.3.5%) Lamentations: 1 1 Chronicles: 1 Book of Noah (1QapGen  29– 23): 1 Apocryphon of Joshua: 1 Sapiential Work (4Q185): 1 Apocryphal Psalms: 1 In total 341 quotations and allusions ⁵⁵ The book of Tobit refers four times to the Assyrian sage Ah.iqar (Tobit 1: 21–2; 2: 10; 11: 19; 14: 10). But these references allude neither to the non-Jewish version of the Book of Ah.iqar found on the Nile island Elephantine (the palaeographic date of the manuscript is the fifth century ) nor to its later recensions attested to in Syriac, Arabic, Armenian, Karshuni, Old Slavonic, and in fragments preserved in the Ethiopic language. The reference to the Assyrian sage Ah.iqar helps establish the historical credibility of Tobit. Ah.iqar lived at the time during which the events reported in the Book of Tobit were alleged to have taken place. Compare with Carey A. Moore, Tobit: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Bible (New York: Doubleday, 1996), 12–13.


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Contrary to common scholarly opinion, the statistical evidence shown above proves that a selection of literature extending beyond the Torah and the Prophets was regarded as authoritative for the time before Jason. This is made especially clear by the large number of allusions to and quotations from different Psalms found in the protomasoretic Psalter and other Psalm collections, and by the relatively large number of quotations of and allusions to Job and Proverbs. Furthermore, as already assumed in the above discussion of parabiblical literature, the books of the Deuteronomistic History were also considered authoritative. In addition to books collected in the later Hebrew Bible, several literary compositions—such as the Apocryphon of Joshua—were quoted or alluded to, but never became part of any canon of the Hebrew Bible or the Greek Old Testament. Still further, one can also observe a certain focus on the Torah, the Later Prophets, and the Psalms by the frequency of quotations and allusions (45%, 24%, and 15%). Due, however, to the elements of chance involved in the preservation and textual tradition of the analysed texts, caution must be exercised when interpreting the statistics on textual foci. A slight focus on the Torah, the Later Prophets, and the Psalms does not necessarily imply a higher authority for these texts. The evidence dovetails with Ben Sira 38: 34b–39: 3. This text advises its reader to study the law of the Most High, the wisdom of all the ancients, the prophecies, the discourses of the famous, involved sayings, proverbs, and parables. Apparently, Ben Sira recommends the study of authoritative literature as such, rather than specifying a list of authoritative texts. The statistical evidence helps to shed light on the question why no parabiblical literature on the Psalms or on any other poetic literature is attested to before the time of Jason. Formulated in another way, the question concerns both whether poetic literature had gained authoritative status before the time of Jason, and whether the lack of parabiblical literature was due to its genre as poetry. In my view, the allusions to different Psalms, Job, Proverbs, and Lamentations, as well as to Sapiential Work (4Q185) and Apocryphal Psalms (11QapPs) also suggest an authoritative status for poetic literature. The reason why no parabiblical literature on Israelite or Jewish poetic compositions is known from the time before Jason is its genre as poetry. For example, it

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would be impossible to retell Proverbs in the same way that the Book of Jubilees reworks Genesis and Exodus. The second question that arises concerns group-specific proto-canons. It is very difficult to determine whether groupspecific proto-canons ever existed because only a few texts are preserved for most groups of ancient Judaism. An answer is possible only for prophetic, priestly, and sapiential literature. Table 2, ‘Quotes and Allusions before 175  according to Jewish Groups’, categorizes material quoted or alluded to, for different Jewish groups. T 2: Quotes and Allusions before 175  according to Jewish Groups (number of occurrences) Prophetic Apocalyptic Priestly literature literature Levitical literature Pentateuch Deuteronomistic History Prophets Psalms Job Proverbs 1–2 Chronicles Book of Noah

Sapiential literature

13

4

77

31

4 32 9 1

2 4 1 2

11 23 12

1 13 9 12 4 1

Eastern diaspora

15

3 1

1

As seen in Table 2, the groups mentioned do not seem to have adhered exclusively to particular collections of authoritative literature from which they quoted or to which they alluded. Having said this, it must be admitted that we know only of a certain type of parabiblical composition from the Hellenizing Judaism of the time before Jason. In what is preserved of them, these compositions deal with texts and persons from Genesis and Exodus. Significantly, only 25 fragments (more or less extensive) of 5 literary compositions are extant (Artapanos, Demetrios, Philo the Epic Poet, Pseudo-Eupolemos, Theodotus). Two of these compositions cannot be dated with any certainty (Artapanos and Pseudo-Eupolemos). Due to these uncertainties, there is a large element of chance in what is preserved of the Hellenizing


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Jewish literature of this period. This element of chance denies almost any statistical significance to what is retold parabiblically by the texts in question. Furthermore, what is preserved from the five Hellenizing Jewish compositions in question has been transmitted by way of quotation in two church fathers, Clement of Alexandria (2 fragments) and Eusebius. Eusebius takes his quotations from the work of Alexander Polyhistor, a text lost to posterity. This means that, for topological reasons, all passages quoted were consciously selected by both the church fathers and Alexander Polyhistor out of a potentially much larger range of parabiblical literature. With regard to the question of a groupspecific Alexandrian or Hellenizing Jewish canon, this conscious selection further blurs any remaining statistical relevance to insignificance. Concerning the third question, it would be tempting to determine the textual character of all 341 biblical quotations and allusions from the time before Jason. But here, for reasons of space, I can only discuss the pentateuchal passage referred to in Nehemiah 10: 35(34) and incorporated into the Temple Scroll (11QTb  11–15), as well as the textual character of the quotations and allusions to Jeremiah. These examples are sufficient to show that neither a given Jewish group nor Judaism in general has preferred any textual form of a given biblical book as especially authoritative. Nehemiah 10: 35⁵⁶ relates that priests, Levites, and the people should use the oracle of the lot to determine the sequence in which they should bring the wood offering to the house of God (cf. also Neh. 13: 31). The precise phrase used to describe the sequence is w%nyt'bo)f-tyb'l; (‘according to the house of our fathers’). Nehemiah 10: 35 claims that this is a prescription written in the Torah (hrFwOt@b@a bw%tk@Fk@a, ‘as it is written in the Torah’). But such a prescription is attested neither in the Masoretic, nor in the Samaritan Pentateuch, nor even in the Pentateuch’s other versions. For this reason, with regard to Nehemiah 10: 35, D. J. A. Clines speaks of the ‘creation of facilitating law’.⁵⁷ Joseph Blenkinsopp ⁵⁶ In the Vulgate and in English translations, this verse is numbered Nehemiah 10: 34. ⁵⁷ David J. A. Clines, ‘Nehemiah 10 as an Example of Early Jewish Biblical Exegesis’, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 21 (1981): 111–17, esp. 112;

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argues that Nehemiah 10: 35 ‘is implicit in the requirement that the priests keep the fire for the morning and evening sacrifice burning continuously, for which fuel was required (Lev. 6: 2, 5–6 (9, 12–13) )’.⁵⁸ In spite of the lack of an explicit quotation, a prescription similar to Nehemiah 10: 35 is found in the so-called Reworked Pentateuch from the Qumran library, in 4QRPc (4Q365) 23 9–11: (9) ] the [fe]stival of fresh oil, they shall bring wood two [ (10) ] the ones who bring on the fir[st] day, Levi [ (11) Reu]ben and Simon [and on t]he fourth day [

The so-called Reworked Pentateuch is a textual version of the Pentateuch related to the pre-Samaritan Pentateuch. The Reworked Pentateuch attests to a considerable number of minor textual and orthographic variants, as well as a few textual pluses.⁵⁹ Differing from Nehemiah 10: 35, 4QRPc (4Q365) 23 9–11 mentions neither the oracle of the lot nor families. Instead, a sequence is given for the tribes of Israel in which they should provide wood for the wood offering. Although this is not an exact parallel, in my opinion, Nehemiah 10: 35 attests to an interpretative use of the Reworked Pentateuch’s prescription as Torah.⁶⁰ see also Hugh Godfrey Maturin Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, Word Biblical Commentary, no. 16 (Waco, Tex.: Word Books, 1985), 336. ⁵⁸ Joseph Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah: A Commentary, Old Testament Library (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), 317. ⁵⁹ On the Reworked Pentateuch as a biblical text see Eugene Ulrich, ‘The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Biblical Text’, in Peter W. Flint and James C. VanderKam, eds., The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, vol. i (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1998), 79–100, esp. 88–9. On its relation to the pre-Samaritan Pentateuch see Emanuel Tov, ‘The Textual Status of 4Q364–367 (4QPP)’, in Julio Trebolle Barrera and Luis Vegas Montaner, eds., The Madrid Qumran Congress: Proceedings of the International Congress on the Dead Sea Scrolls Madrid, March 18–21, 1991, Studies on the Text of the Desert of Judah, no. 11 (Leiden: E. J. Brill and Editorial Complutense, 1992), 43–82, esp. 53–80; Michael Segal, ‘4QReworked Pentateuch or 4QPentateuch?’, in Lawrence H. Schiffman et al., eds., 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, 2000), 391–9, esp. 393–5 and 398. See also the discussion in Emanuel Tov and Sidnie White, ‘Reworked Pentateuch’, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 13 (1994): 187–351, esp. 192–6. ⁶⁰ Against Tov and White, ‘Reworked Pentateuch’, 295.


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Therefore, for Nehemiah, the so-called Reworked Pentateuch had the same authority as, for example, the proto-Masoretic Pentateuch used elsewhere in this book.⁶¹ A closer parallel to 4QRPc (4Q365) 23 9–11 can be found in the Temple Scroll (11QTb  11–15 (lines 16–17 overlap with 11QTa  3–4) ):⁶² (11) [And after the festival of fresh oil, they shall bring,] (12) to the alta[r the woo]d, [namely the twelve tribes of the people of Israel, and they shall offer: on the first day] (13) the tribes[ of Levi ]and Judah, on the [second ]d[ay Benjamin and the sons of Joseph, on the third day, Reuben and Simon] (14) on the fourth day Issachar [and Ze]bulon, [on the fifth day Gad and Asher, on the sixth day Dan] (15) and Naphtali. (11QTb  11–15)

The Temple Scroll (4Q524; 11Q19–21) is a Rewritten Bible text combining parts of the Pentateuch with formerly unknown passages. It claims to have been revealed to Moses on Mount Sinai. It has been argued that in their passages on the feast of the wood offering, both the Reworked Pentateuch and the Temple Scroll echo Nehemiah 10: 35.⁶³ But in light of the Temple Scroll’s dependence on other passages attested in the manuscript 4Q365,⁶⁴ ⁶¹ Milgrom interprets 4QRPc as an Essene polemic against a priestly privilege to provide wood for the festival of the wood offering. See Jacob Milgrom, ‘Qumran’s Biblical Hermeneutics: The Case of the Wood Offering’, Revue de Qumran 16 (1994–5): 449–56, esp. 452–4. Milgrom argues for an Essene origin of the Reworked Pentateuch. However, I disagree with his claim based on the following historical observation. The Temple Scroll seems to depend on the so-called Reworked Pentateuch. Palaeographically, the oldest manuscript of the Temple Scroll, 4Q524, can be dated to approximately 150 . If this is the case, then the Temple Scroll must itself be dated before 150  and thus before the Essene community was founded. Consequently, the Reworked Pentateuch must also have existed before the Essene movement had developed. ⁶² For the reconstruction of 11QTb  11–15 see Florentino García Martínez et al., ‘20. 11QTempleb ’, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 23 (1998): 357–409, esp. 381–3. The reconstruction is based on 11QTa and 4QRPc. ⁶³ Yigael Yadin, The Temple Scroll, i: Introduction (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society et al., 1983), 123–4, 128. ⁶⁴ For 4Q365a as part of 4Q365 see John Strugnell’s reconstruction mentioned by Tov and White, ‘Reworked Pentateuch’, 319–20. For the Temple Scroll’s dependence on these texts see Hartmut Stegemann, ‘The Origins of the Temple Scroll’, in John A. Emerton, ed., Congress Volume: Jerusalem 1986, Vetus Testamentum Supplementum, no. 40 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1988), 235–56, esp. 237.

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it seems more likely that the Temple Scroll depends on the Reworked Pentateuch. For the Temple Scroll, the Reworked Pentateuch thus had the same authority as any other textual version of the Pentateuch. For both Nehemiah and the Temple Scroll, the textual character of authoritative texts was not related to the religious authority of a given composition. With regard to Jeremiah, the same indifference to questions regarding the textual character of an authoritative text can be observed (see Table 3: Quoted Text Forms of Jeremiah before Jason). Ben Sira and the Praise of the Fathers (Sir. 44–9)⁶⁵ both belong to Temple circles and allude to the protomasoretic text form of Jeremiah. In contrast, however, the Hymn to the Creator (11QPsa  9-15) and Nehemiah—both coming from a Temple background—allude to the Hebrew Vorlage of the Septuagint and a non-aligned text form. T 3: Quoted Text Forms of Jeremiah before Jason Proto-MT Jer. 1: 10 Jer. 1: 18 Jer. 10: 12 f. Jer. 10: 13 Jer. 18: 23 Jer. 27: 12

LXX-Vorlage

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Sir. 49: 7 Sir. 36: 24 11QPs  15 Neh. 3: 37

11QPsa  13–15

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Sir. 51: 26

Question (3) regarding whether or not one textual form of a given biblical book was preferred over any other textual form can now be answered for the time from Alexander to Jason. The ⁶⁵ In my opinion, Ben Sira appealed to an older composition in Sirach 44–50. In chapter 50, this composition was enlarged to include the praise of the high priest Simon II. The hypothesis of a redactional enlargement of the Praise of Fathers is supported by the disproportionate emphasis on Simon II, who was only of minor importance in the history of Israel. In addition, Enoch is praised a second time in Sirach 49: 14 (cf. Sir. 44: 16). Furthermore the praises of Joseph, Sem, Seth, and Enosh in Sirach 49: 15–16 seem to be added because they are not mentioned in the Praise of the Fathers proper. The best explanation for these phenomena is that Ben Sira incorporated an older composition into Sirach 44–9 and enlarged it for his purposes.


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data considered was the use of the Reworked Pentateuch and the protomasoretic Pentateuch in Nehemiah and the Temple Scroll, as well as the use of different textual versions of Jeremiah by Temple circles. These texts demonstrate that, unlike Mesopotamia or Hellenistic Greece, ancient Judaism knew no relation between the textual standardization of a given text and its religious authority. The next step concerns the fourth question, regarding the way authoritative texts were alluded to or quoted. In the Jewish literature from the time of Alexander to Jason, it can be observed that 96 per cent of the quotations and allusions are not introduced by a quotation formula. Eleven of the 14 quotations introduced by such formulas are found in Ezra/Nehemiah and 1–2 Chronicles (see Summary List 3: Quotation Formulas before Jason (14 out of 341 quotes) below). Quotation formulas, which use the passive participle of the root bwtk (‘it is written’), are attested to in Nehemiah and 1–2 Chronicles only. Summary List 3: Quotation Formulas before Jason (14 out of 341 quotes) rm) (‘he said’) 3 times: Obadiah, Tobit bwtk (‘it is written’) 10 times: Nehemiah, 1–2 Chronicles hwc Pi (‘he commanded’) 1 time: Ezra

Normally, a text alluded to or quoted was not introduced by a quotation formula. A given reference was only of interest because it communicated God’s revelation to and God’s history with God’s people. It was the message or the event itself that communicated the transcendent, not the text. By itself, authoritative literature had no dignity. It was not the literary work being quoted or alluded to that mattered, but what was communicated by it. Thus, the literary work did not need to be mentioned as an authoritative source. The authority did not belong to the composition in question, but to God; examples include the Temple Scroll and Tobit. The Temple Scroll does not refer to the prescriptions of the Mosaic law in the form of a running commentary. On the contrary, it rephrases and rearranges the Pentateuch. In cases where, in the Pentateuch, God speaks in the third person, the Temple

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Scroll rewrites the text into the direct speech of God in the first person. For example, Deuteronomy 13: 19 reads:⁶⁶ when you follow the voice of the Lord, your God, by way of observing all his commands, which I have commanded you today, that you may do the right in the eyes of the Lord your God. (Deut. 13: 19)

The Temple Scroll rephrases the text to: if you follow my voice, by way of observing my commands, which I have commanded you today, that you may do the right and good before the Lord your God. (11QTa  13–14)

The same attitude is attested to in Tobit 14: 3–4. Tobit advises his son Tobias, ‘Child, lead your children away and escape to Media, because I believe in the word of God against Nineveh, spoken by Nahum.’ The text does not use a quotation formula like )ybnh Mwxn rpsb bwtkk (‘as it is written in the book of Nahum, the prophet’). Instead of a quotation formula, Tobit refers directly to the word of God revealed to Nahum.⁶⁷ For the period before Jason, usually the texts alluded to or quoted seem to have been of interest only in so far as they communicated God’s revelation to God’s people and God’s history with God’s people. Authoritative literature had not yet acquired a dignity of its own as scripture. Its only purpose was to serve as a literary means that communicated the events and revelation of the past. How does the more frequent use of quotation formulas in Nehemiah and 1–2 Chronicles relate to this claim? Which attitude to authoritative literature is reflected by these quotation formulas? To answer these questions, the use of Deuteronomy 24: 16 in 2 Chronicles 25: 4 is helpful. In this verse, like in its Vorlage 2 Kings 14: 6, the citation of Deuteronomy 24: 16 is introduced by hwFhy: hw%Fci r#$e)j h#e$mo trawOt@ rpes'b;@ bw%tk@fka@ (‘as it is written ⁶⁶ Differences between the Temple Scroll and Deuteronomy are marked by italics. ⁶⁷ On first glance, the phrase kaq°ß gvgraptai pant≥ t‘ Israhl πn prost3gmati aj8n≤w (Tobit 1: 6) seems to attest to the use of a ktwb-formula. But in this case, gvgraptai means ‘prescribed’ and not ‘written’. The phrase should thus be translated ‘as it is prescribed in all of Israel as an eternal command’. See the translations of Moore, Tobit, 104, 108, and Beate Ego, Buch Tobit, Jüdische Schriften aus hellenistisch-römischer Zeit, no. 2.6 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1999), 919.


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in the Torah, the book of Moses, that the Lord commanded as follows’). The quotation formula ends with the statement ‘the Lord commanded as follows’. Again, authoritative literature is important because it communicates what God has said. In view of its attitude, it could be argued that 2 Chronicles 25: 4 reflects its Vorlage while elsewhere, in the Chronicler’s history and in Ezra–Nehemiah, a different approach is taken. But in Nehemiah 8: 14, a similar formula introduces a quotation from Leviticus 23: 42: h#$emo-dyab@; hwFhy: hw@ci r#$e)j hrFwOt@b@a bw%tk@f w%)c;m;y,IwA (‘and they found written in the Torah, what the Lord has commanded through Moses’). Again, what is important and what is noted is the command God gave through Moses; the literature quoted has no importance of its own. Authority is given to the content communicated by Moses. To summarize: Contrary to common scholarly opinion, for the time before Jason, a selection of literature broader than that of the Torah and Prophets was regarded as authoritative. The quotations of and allusions to authoritative literature do not attest to group-specific preferences for particular collections of literature. This means that in contrast to ancient Egypt and Hellenistic Greek culture, no canonical lists of authoritative authors existed in Hellenistic Judaism before Jason. And in contrast to the ancient Mesopotamian cultures and the Hellenistic Greek culture, textual standardization of authoritative literature was not an issue in ancient Judaism before Jason. Plurality characterized the textual form of the texts alluded to or quoted. A single author as well as a whole group could quote several versions of a given text at the same time. Unlike Mesopotamia or Hellenistic Greece, ancient Judaism before Jason did not relate questions of textual standardization to the issue of the religious authority of a given text. Furthermore, for this time, authoritative literature possessed no dignity of its own. It was only authoritative in so far as it communicated Israel’s encounter with God. The closest parallel to what can be observed in ancient Judaism before 175  is the pre-Hellenistic Greek culture with its admiration for the epics of Homer and its oracle collections.

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Armin Lange FROM JASON TO POMPEY

My study now shifts focus to the period from Jason to Pompey the Great. In this section, I will show that evidence from Qumran and other Jewish texts suggests a new view of literature as scripture. I begin with a description of the text material consulted before I turn to the analysis. Table 4, ‘Literature from Jason to Pompey’, categorizes the texts dated later than 175 . According to the criteria mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, 96 of the 145 texts analysed came from the time after 175 . From this same period, even more texts are preserved only in fragments (marked in the first column of Table 4), while the deterioration of the Qumran manuscripts is more pronounced. Furthermore, 13 texts cannot be dated with certainty to the time from Jason to Pompey (column 2), and 17 per cent of the literature was written in an anthological style (column 3). Texts in which no quotations or allusions have been identified thus far are marked in column 4. T 4: Literature from Jason to Pompey Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty


Parabiblical literature Jubilees Gen.–Exod. 19 ff. Paraphrase of Gen. and Exod. 4Q422; Gen.–Exod. Book of Dreams 1 Enoch 83–91 Enoch Letter of Enoch 1 Enoch 92–108 Enoch Noah 1Q19, 1Q19bis; Noah

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Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty Birthstory of Noah 1QapGen (1Q20) – 27; Lamech Birth of Noah 4Q534–536; Noah Text Mentioning the Flood 4Q577; Gen. 6–9 Story of Abraham 1QapGen (1Q20)  25– ; preserved Gen. 12–15 Exposition on the Patriarchs 4Q464; Gen. ???⁶⁸ Cleodemus Malchus (History of the Jews) preserved Gen. 25: 1–6 Testament of Jacob? 4Q537; Jacob Testament of Naphtali 4Q215; Naphtali Testament of Joseph 4Q539; Joseph Testament of Judah 4Q538; Benjamin Eupolemos Exod.–2 Kgs.

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⁶⁸ Some compositions are clearly parabiblical in character. Due to their fragmentary state of preservation, however, the text (or person) to which (or to whom) they parabiblically relate can no longer be identified. In this table, these unidentified passages or persons are marked by three question marks.

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Pseudo Jubilees 4Q225–4Q227; Moses/ Pentateuch paraExodus gr 4Q127; Moses/ Pentateuch Ezekiel the Tragedian Exod. 1–15 Orphica Exod. 19 ff. Apocryphon of Samuel–Kings 6Q9; 1 Sam.–2 Kgs. Baruch 1–5 Jer. 33: 12; 36: 4–10⁶⁹ Apocryphon of Jeremiah 4Q383–384, 4Q385a, 4Q387, 4Q388a, 4Q389–390, 4Q387a; Jer. Pseudo-Ezekiel 4Q385–386, 4Q385b, 4Q388, 4Q391, 4Q385c?; Ezek. Aristeas the Exegete only Job is preserved


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⁶⁹ On Baruch 1–5 as a unified composition see Odil Hannes Steck, Das apokryphe Baruchbuch: Studien zu Rezeption und Konzentration ‘kanonischer’ Überlieferung, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments, no. 160 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993).

Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty Pseudo-Daniel 4Q243–244; Dan. Pseudo-Daniel 4Q245; Dan. Apocryphon of Daniel 4Q246; Dan 7: 9 ff.? Four Kingdoms 4Q552–553; Daniel Historical Text A 4Q248; ??? Narrative D 4Q463; ??? Messianic Apocalypse 4Q521; ??? Prayer of Enosh 4Q369, 4Q499; ??? Apocryphon of Levi 4Q540–541; ???


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Exegetical literature Aristobulos Texts from Gen.–Exod. Commentary on Genesis A + C 4Q252, 4Q254; Gen. Commentary on Genesis B 4Q253; Gen. Commentary on Genesis D 4Q254a; Gen.

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Pesher Isaiah A 4Q163, 4Q165 + 515; Isa. Pesher Isaiah B 4Q161–162, 4Q164; Isa. 3QpIsa 3Q4; Isa. Tanhumim 4Q176; Isa. 40 ff. Pesher Hosea A 4Q166; Hos.⁷⁰ Pesher Hosea B 4Q167; Hos. Pesher Micah 1Q14; Mic. Pesher Nahum 4Q169; Nahum Pesher Habakkuk 1QpHab; Hab. 1–2 Pesher Zephaniah 1Q15, 4Q170; Zeph. Commentary on Malachi 4Q253a; Mal. Pesher Psalms 1Q16, 4Q171, 4Q173; Pss.


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⁷⁰ In a material reconstruction of 4Q166 and 4Q167, Roman Vielhauer has recently demonstrated that the two manuscripts attest to two different HoseaPesharim. See Roman Vielhauer, ‘Materielle Rekonstruktion und historische Einordnung der beiden Pescharim zum Hoseabuch (4QpHosa und 4QpHosb)’, Revue de Qumran 20 (2001): 39–91.

Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty Pesher on the Apocalypse of Weeks 4Q247; 1 Enoch 93; 91: 12–17 Midrash on Eschatology 4Q174 + 4Q177, 4Q182 Ages of Creation A 4Q180 Ages of Creation B 4Q181 Melchizedek 11Q13 Midrash Sepher Moshe 4Q249 Damascus Document CD A + B, 4Q266–273, 5Q12, 6Q15 Serekh Ha Yah.ad 1QS  1– 12, 4Q255 1–2, 4Q256 –, 4Q257 –, 4 Serekh le’anshej Ha Yah.ad 1QS –, 4Q256 –, 4Q258 –, 4Q259 –, 4Q260 –, 4Q261 1–6, 4Q263–264, 11Q29 Serekh ha‘Edah 1QSa, 4Q249a–i


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Ordinances 4Q159, 4Q513–514 Miscellaneous Rules 4Q265 Halakha A 4Q251 Halakha B 4Q264a, 4Q420–421 Testimonia 4Q175 Biblical Chronology 4Q559 Pesher Unidentified 4Q172 4QMidrash on Eschatologye? 4Q183 Narrative C 4Q462

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Redactions and Additions Daniel Tobit (LXX)  Additions to Daniel Additions to Esther Other Literature 1 Maccabees 2 Maccabees 3 Maccabees Judith Letter of Aristeas 3 Sibylline Oracles 97–259. 489–802

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Hebrew Scriptures in Light of the Qumran Library Exists Cannot be only as dated with fragments certainty Teaching of the Two Spirits 1QS  13– 26, 4Q257 – Dibre Berakhah 1QSb Hodayot 1QHa.b, 4Q427–432 War Scroll 1Q33, 4Q285, 4Q471, 4Q491–497, 11Q14 Mysteries 1Q27, 4Q299–301 Crypt A Words of the Maskil 4Q298 Beatitudes 4Q525 papHodayot-like Text B 4Q433a Barki Nafshi 4Q434–438 Berakhot 4Q286–290 MMT 4Q394–399, 4Q313 Apocryphal Psalm and Prayer 4Q448 Tohorot A 4Q274 Polemical Text 4Q471a 4QNarrative A 4Q458


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Works of God + Communal Confession 4Q392 + 393 Dibre Ha-Me’orot 4Q504, 4Q506

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In contrast to the time from Alexander to Jason, only 34 of the later texts, or 36 per cent (instead of 67 per cent) are parabiblical in nature (see Summary List 1). Furthermore, with 35 exegetical texts (36 per cent of the texts preserved), a new type of literature is found that was previously unknown in ancient Judaism. In addition to continuous commentaries on authoritative texts, other commentaries select the lemmata to be interpreted for thematic reasons.⁷¹ Furthermore, in antiquity, the Damascus Document was named Nwrx)h hrwth #rdm (‘the final interpretation of the Torah’; 4Q266 11 20 par 4Q270 7  15). Another community rule (1QS  ff.) carries the heading lyk#ml #rdm (‘interpretation for the instructor’) in two of its witnesses (4Q256  1 and 4Q258  1). These subscriptions and superscriptions recommend that, in ancient times, at least a part of the Qumran library’s halakhic literature was understood to be exegetical in character. For this reason, they are listed as exegetical in Table 4. The dominance of parabiblical and exegetical literature from Jason to Pompey—together two-thirds of all texts preserved— demonstrates the central role of authoritative texts at this time. As before, the subject of parabiblical writing is restricted to nonpoetic texts. For example, for the time from Jason to Pompey, parabiblical literature deals with texts and persons from the ⁷¹ For the different types of commentaries found in the Qumran library and elsewhere see Johann Maier, ‘Early Jewish Biblical Interpretation in the Qumran Literature’, in Magne Sæbø et al., eds., Hebrew Bible/Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation, i: From the Beginnings to the Middle Ages (Until 1300), part 1: Antiquity (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996), 108–29; Folker Siegert, ‘Early Jewish Interpretation in a Hellenistic Style’, in ibid. 130–98. For the distinction between thematic and continuous pesharim see Jean Carmignac, ‘Le document de Qumrân sur Melkisédeq’, Revue de Qumran 7 (1969–71): 342–78, esp. 360–3.


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Pentateuch, the Deuteronomistic History, as well as Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Job,⁷² and Daniel. As argued above, for the time before 175 , this eclectic approach is genre-related, and thus does not suggest that poetic texts were not considered authoritative. Indeed, evidence for the fact that poetic literature was considered as authoritative as Mosaic or prophetic texts is given by the Psalms commentary from the Qumran library (1Q16, 4Q171, 4Q173), to name one example. Furthermore, with 4Q247, a commentary on the Enochic Apocalypse of Weeks (1 Enoch 93; 91: 12–17) is preserved. This means that after 175 , texts that never became part of the later canons of the Hebrew Bible and the Greek Old Testament were regarded as authoritative as well. The fact that, in the Qumran library, continuous pesharim are preserved only for prophetic books and Psalms is due to the divinatory hermeneutic applied to these commentaries. This divinatory hermeneutic was restricted to the interpretation of texts that were regarded as prophetic.⁷³ The evolution of exegetical literature after 175  hints at a new orientation in Judaism’s approach to authoritative texts. This is confirmed by the fact that for the time from Jason onwards, we find four times more texts written anthologically than before: namely, 17 per cent instead of 4 per cent. For the time from Jason to Pompey, the increase of quotations and allusions to authoritative literature also confirms that a new orientation took place. Taking into consideration the more fragmentary state of preservation of the texts in question, an increase of about 30 per cent in quotations and allusions can be ascertained. In the following, I will analyse the quotations and allusions in the Jewish literature from Jason to Pompey with regard to the ⁷² The only passages preserved of Aristeas the Exegete’s book Concerning the Jews deal with the narrative parts of the Book of Job and Job 32: 2. ⁷³ On the divinatory hermeneutic of the Pesharim and its restriction to texts of divinatory and prophetic character in the Ancient Mediterranean and ancient Near Eastern cultures see Armin Lange, ‘Interpretation als Offenbarung. Zum Verhältnis von Schriftauslegung und Offenbarung in apokalyptischer und nichtapokalyptischer Literatur’, in Florentino García Martínez, ed., Wisdom and Apocalypticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls and in the Biblical Tradition, Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium (Leuven: Peeters, forthcoming). For the recognition of psalms as prophetic texts see the remark in 11QPsa  11 that David composed psalm h)wbnb (‘through prophecy’).

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new orientation just mentioned. I will again ask the same four chief questions as before. Concerning question (1), when compared with the time before 175 , the later period registers even more texts that are alluded to or quoted that are not part of the Torah, the Prophets, or the Psalms. This confirms the suspicion raised by the Pesher on the Apocalypse of Weeks, that for the time from Jason to Pompey, no closed collections of authoritative literature existed. Especially striking is the increased amount of texts quoted or alluded to that do not subsequently become part of the Hebrew Bible or the Greek Old Testament. Evidence of a palaeo-Hebrew Job manuscript found in Qumran (4QpaleoJobc) suggests that the Moses collection was not restricted to the Pentateuch. Since all other palaeo-Hebrew manuscripts from the Qumran library attest to books regarded as Mosaic, it stands to reason that at this time, Job was also understood as having been written by Moses. This agrees well with Talmud Babli Baba Batra 14b–15a.⁷⁴ Similarly, the Temple Scroll or the Book of Jubilees might have been recognized as being of Mosaic origin. Quotations of and allusions to prophetic texts increased by 9 per cent, and 69 per cent of all running commentaries were dedicated to prophetic texts. Furthermore, the broad variety of texts quoted or alluded to does not disagree with the so-called canonical lists in the Prologue to Ben Sira (law, prophets, and other books of our ancestors), MMT ( 10–11: the book of Moses, the books of the prophets, David, (and the events of ) ages past), and 1QS ( 2–3: Moses and his servants the prophets).⁷⁵ None of these lists gives any clue as to which books were regarded either as Mosaic or as prophetic texts. The only possible exception might be the designation David in MMT  10 that could refer to a collection of Psalms. Table 5 ‘Quotations and Allusions from Jason to Pompey’ summarizes ⁷⁴ See Emanuel Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress and van Gorcum, 1992), 87; Patrick William Skehan, Eugene Ulrich, and Judith E. Sanderson, Qumran Cave 4, iv: Palaeo-Hebrew and Greek Biblical Manuscripts, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert, no. 9 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 155. ⁷⁵ Compare also the tripartite structure of the Midrash on Eschatology as a pesher on Deuteronomy 33; 2 Samuel 7: 10–14, and selected passages of the Psalter. See Annette Steudel, Der Midrasch zur Eschatologie aus der Qumrangemeinde (4QMidrEschata.b), Studies on the Text of the Desert of Judah, no. 13 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), 131–3.


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T 5: Quotations and Allusions from Jason to Pompey

Total Pentateuch Genesis Deuteronomistic History Prophetic texts Psalms Job Proverbs Ecclesiastes Lamentations Esther Daniel Nehemiah 1–2 Chronicles Tobit Letter of Jeremiah 2 Maccabees Additions to Esther Additions to Daniel Book of Watchers 1 Enoch 1–36 Astronomical Enoch 1 Enoch 72–82 Apocalypse of Weeks 1 Enoch 93; 91: 12–17 Book of Dreams 1 Enoch 83–90 Jubilees Aramaic Levi Document Book of Noah 1QapGen  29– 23 Apocryphon of Joshua Apocryphon of Jeremiah Instruction (MLM) Historical Text A Temple Scroll Beatitudes Book of Hago

Quotations and allusions

Running lemmata in commentaries

No.

%

No.

687 (804) 227 33

117

39 227 88 15 7 2 3 1 22 3 8 1 1 2 2 2

6 33 13 2 1

21

18

81 14

69 12

3 1

4 1 1 1 6 3 2 1 1 3 1 2 1 4

1

%

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the quotations and allusions for the time period under investigation. The textual evidence does not help in answering question (2) regarding group-specific proto-canons of the Asideans, sapiential circles, pro-Hasmonean circles, and the Pharisees. Apparently, however, in addition to the Torah, these groups regarded prophetic texts and Psalms as authoritative. The fact that, in the middle of the second century , the Book of Mysteries alludes twice and with a critical attitude to Daniel (Dan. 2 in 4Q300 1a ii–b 1; Dan. 9: 24 in 4Q300 1a ii–b 2),⁷⁶ allows for speculation whether Daniel was rejected by sapiential circles at an early stage. Table 6 ‘Quotes and Allusions after 175  according to Jewish Groups’ summarizes the textual evidence for groups. The priestly-levitical literature focused on the Torah and prophetic texts. It also alluded to a broad spectrum of other texts including the Psalms. Compared to what is preserved of the Essene literature, quotations or allusions to prophetic texts or Psalms in the priestly-levitical literature are sparse. In Hellenizing Judaism, one can observe a sustained focus on the Pentateuch. In addition, references to books of the Deuteronomistic History and prophetic texts occur, while references to the Psalms and other poetic or narrative texts are more sparse. In light of the existing allusions to and quotations of prophetic texts, Psalms, Daniel, Additions to Daniel, and other now extracanonical texts,⁷⁷ the idea of an Alexandrian Torah-only canon, recently proposed by David M. Carr and Heinz-Josef Fabry (see above), should be rejected. ⁷⁶ On the dating of the Book of Mysteries and its polemic against the Book of Daniel see Armin Lange, ‘Die Weisheitstexte aus Qumran: Eine Einleitung’, in Charlotte Hempel et al., eds., The Wisdom Texts from Qumran and the Development of Sapiential Thought: Studies in Wisdom at Qumran and Its Relationship to Sapiential Thought in the Ancient Near East, the Hebrew Bible, Ancient Judaism, and the New Testament, Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium, no. 159 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 3–30, esp. 12–13. ⁷⁷ The following texts written by Egyptian Hellenizing Judaism (in Alexandria?) during the time from Jason to Pompey are preserved: 3 Maccabees, 3 Sibylline Oracle, Aristobul, Orphica, and Ezekiel the Tragedian. These texts quote or allude to: Pentateuch (38 occurrences), Deuteronomistic History (2 occurrences), Prophets (11 occurrences), Psalms (2 occurrences), Daniel (4 occurrences), Proverbs (1 occurrence), 2 Maccabees (2 occurrences), Additions to Esther (2 occurrences), Additions to Daniel (2 occurrences), Book of Watchers (1 occurrence), Jubilees (1 occurrence).


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T 6: Quotes and Allusions after 175  according to Jewish Groups Prohasmonean literature

Pharisaic literature

3

10

6

2 4

1 2 3

6 4 2

1 2

163

50

16 157 58 4 3

14 13 3 7 1

1

3 1 2

5

1

1

2

1 1

2

2

Hellenistic Judaism

Sapiential literature

3

Essene literature

Asidean literature

Priestly-Levitical literature Pentateuch 91 Deuteronomistic History 4 Prophets 30 Psalms 4 Job 2 Proverbs 1 Ecclesiastes 1 Lamentations Esther Daniel 9 Nehemiah 1–2 Chronicles 3 Tobit 1 2 Maccabees Additions to Esther Additions to Daniel Astronomical Enoch 1 Book of Watchers 2 Book of Dreams 1 Jubilees Aramaic Levi Document 2 Book of Noah 1 Temple Scroll Apocryphon of Joshua Apocryphon of Jeremiah Historical Text A Instruction (MLM) Beatitudes Plea for Deliverance 1 Book of Hago

1

2 2 2 1 2

1

1 1 2 1

1

1 1 3 1 4

In addition to the Torah and prophetic texts, the Essene liter-

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ature also focused on Psalms. Prophetic texts were quoted more often in this literature than in the literature of any other group of ancient Judaism. Furthermore, a large group of other texts were regarded as authoritative by the Essenes. Therefore, for the time from Jason to Pompey, no evidence exists that argues for group specific canons. On the contrary, the evidence suggests a gradual growth of heterogeneous collections of authoritative writings common to all groups of ancient Judaism. The boundaries of the collection that were later called writings and the boundaries of the collections designated as Moses and prophets were still fluid. For question (3) regarding the textual form of authoritative literature, nothing suggests that a given Jewish group or Judaism in general preferred a specific text type. A text from Qumran, 4QTestimonia, as well as the quotations of and allusions to Jeremiah are good sample cases. In lines 1–8, 4QTestimonia quotes Exodus 21: 21b according to its pre-Samaritan text type. Then in lines 9–13, for Numbers 24: 15–17, this collection of messianic references uses a proto-Masoretic text. This protomasoretic quotation is followed by a quote from Deuteronomy 33: 8–11 according to a non-aligned text type also attested by 4QDeuth.⁷⁸ Finally, at its end, in lines 21–30, 4QTestimonia quotes the Apocryphon of Joshua (cf. 4Q175 21–30 par 4Q379 22 ii 7–15), a parabiblical text on the biblical book of Joshua that never became part of any canonical collection.⁷⁹ ⁷⁸ See Julie A. Duncan, ‘35. 4QDeuth ’, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 14 (1995): 61–70, esp. 69; Tov, ‘The Biblical Texts’, forthcoming. ⁷⁹ This text was originally named Psalms of Joshua. For the inter-textual relationship between 4QTestimonia and the Apocryphon of Joshua see Carol A. Newsom, ‘The “Psalms of Joshua” from Qumran Cave 4’, Journal of Jewish Studies 39 (1988): 56–73, esp. 56, 59–60, 69–73; ead., ‘4Q378 and 4Q379: An Apocryphon of Joshua’, in Heinz-Josef Fabry et al., eds., Qumranstudien: Vorträge und Beiträge der Teilnehmer des Qumranseminars auf dem internationalen Treffen der Society of Biblical Literature, Münster, 25.–26. Juli 1993, Schriften des Institutum Judaicum Delitzschianum, no. 4 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996), 35–85, esp. 35–6, 74–8. According to Lust, the way in which the Apocryphon of Joshua is cited in 4QTestimonia is unlike other references quoted in this text (‘Quotation Formulae’, 70). For Lust, the Apocryphon of Joshua in 4QTestimonia is not regarded as an authoritative text because it is not introduced by a quotation formula. In my opinion, Lust’s claim is not valid because none of the quotations in 4QTestimonia is introduced by a quotation


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The book of Jeremiah is another good example. Both Dibre Ha-Me’orot and the book of Baruch were written in priestly or levitical circles. Dibre Ha-Me’orot alludes to the protomasoretic text of Jeremiah while Baruch uses the Hebrew Vorlage of the Septuagint. The same is true for the Essene texts Hodayot and Ordinances. While the former refers to a protomasoretic text, the latter uses the Hebrew Vorlage of the Septuagint. Table 7, ‘Quoted Text Forms of Jeremiah from Jason to Pompey’, shows which passages from Jeremiah are cited in either the proto-MT or the LXX-Vorlage. T 7: Quoted Text Forms of Jeremiah from Jason to Pompey Proto-MT Jer. 4: 31 Jer. 6: 19 Jer. 7: 34 Jer. 20: 9 Jer. 25: 11 Jer. 27: 12–14 Jer. 29: 13–14 Jer. 30: 8

LXX–Vorlage

1QHa  7 4QDibHama 6 2 Baruch 2: 23 1QHa  30 Dan. 9: 2 3rd Sibylline Oracle 280 Baruch 2: 21 Jubilees 1: 15 4Q392 1 6 4QOrda 2–4 2

In contrast to ancient Mesopotamia and Hellenistic Greek culture, textual standardization was not an issue related to the canonical history of the Hebrew Bible for the time from Jason to Pompey. Thus, with regard to textual standardization, no change can be observed when compared to the time before Jason. In addition, Eugene Ulrich’s analysis has shown that no groupspecific or sectarian variants can be found in the biblical manuscripts from Qumran.⁸⁰ formula. Nevertheless, the text is clearly a collection of authoritative messianic references. ⁸⁰ Eugene Ulrich, ‘The Absence of “Sectarian Variants” in the Jewish Scriptural Scrolls Found at Qumran’, in Edward D. Herbert and Emanuel Tov, eds., The Text of the Hebrew Bible in Light of the Discoveries of the Judaean Desert (London: British Library, forthcoming). I am indebted to Professor Ulrich who graciously allowed me to read his article before its publication.

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So far, it can be concluded that the new orientation in the approach to authoritative texts is not connected to any groupspecific preferences. What later became known as the Tanakh, increased and developed gradually. For the time from Jason to Pompey, this ‘collection’ had neither a fixed textual form nor a fixed size. In contrast to ancient Egypt and Hellenistic Greek cultures, ancient Judaism from Jason to Pompey knew no list of authoritative authors. Rather, only vague descriptions of fluid text corpora can be found. Also in contrast to ancient Mesopotamian and Hellenistic Greek cultures, a standardized text of books regarded as authoritative did not yet exist. Hence a significant difference between ancient Judaism from Jason to Pompey and its surrounding cultures can be detected, evident in ancient Judaism’s use of quotation formulas. With respect to question (4), the way in which texts quote or allude to other texts provides more information about the new orientation mentioned above. On the one hand, for the time before Jason, quotation formulas were mainly found in the books of Ezra/Nehemiah and 1–2 Chronicles. Formulas using the passive participle bwtk (‘it is written’) were used only by Nehemiah and 1–2 Chronicles. On the other hand, from Jason onwards, four times as many quotation formulas were used as before. Significantly, the rm)- and bwtk-formulas were mostly found in Essene texts. The use of two lalvw-formulas in Baruch and two attestations of a gvgraptai formula in 1 Maccabees and in Baruch advise against the idea of group-specific quotation formulas. See Summary List 4 for these quotation formulas. Summary List 4: Quotation Formulas after 175  (108 out of 687 quotations and allusions = 16%) rm) (‘he said’): 34 times (Damascus Document, Melchizedek, Midrash on Eschatology, Exposition on the Patriarchs) rbd Pi (‘he spoke’): 5 times (Damascus Document, War Scroll (Milh.amah), Commentary on Genesis) lalvw (‘to speak’): 2 times (in translation: Baruch) bwtk (‘it is written’): 38 times (Baruch, 1 Maccabees, 1QS V–XI, Damascus Document, Miqs.at Ma} asèh Hattorah (= MMT), Miscellaneous Rules, Midrash on Eschatology, Melchizedek, Midrash Sepher Moshe) dgn Hi (‘he declared’): 1 time (War Scroll (Milh.amah) )


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hwc Pi (‘he commanded’): 2 times (Baruch, Dibre Ha-Me’orot) Mwq Hi (‘he constituted’): 1 time (Damascus Document) (m# Hi (‘he proclaimed’): 1 time (War Scroll (Milh.amah) )

As assumed above, the increase in the use of quotation formulas suggests an altered attitude towards authoritative literature. Two examples demonstrate the direction in which this paradigm shift is turned. In 4QMidrash on Eschatologya (4Q174)  15, a quotation of Isaiah 8: 11 is introduced as ‘what is written in the book of Isaiah the Prophet concerning the end of days’. In a similar way, 4QMiscellaneous Rules (4Q265) 1 3 introduces a quotation of Isaiah 10: 34–11: 1 as ‘it is written in the bo[ok ]of Isaiah the prophet’. In contrast to the quotation formulas in 2 Chronicles 25: 4; Nehemiah 8: 14; or Tobit 14: 4; the Midrash on Eschatology and Miscellaneous Rules do not refer to Isaiah himself, but rather to the book of Isaiah. It is the written text and not the prophet that is of interest. This is confirmed by the fact that the most popular quotation formulas are always constructed with the passive participle bwtk (‘it is written’). It is apparent that the character of authoritative literature has changed. This paradigm shift is confirmed by the fact that exegetical literature appeared in ancient Judaism only after 175 . Furthermore, after 175 , the share of anthological literature increased by some 400 per cent, and the quotations and allusions to authoritative literature increased by some 30 per cent. In addition, only from 175  onwards, the designation rps (‘book’) is applied to prophetic books (9 times). At this time, the Jewish people started to regard literature as scripture. Literature was no longer regarded as a means of communicating what happened or what had been revealed in the past. Rather, literature acquired a dignity of its own. It was no longer literature. It was scripture. This new attitude towards authoritative literature is unparalleled in the ancient Mediterranean and ancient Near Eastern cultures. Is there a historic condition that caused early Judaism to go beyond what was practised in its environment? Or is this a distinct property of Judaism due to its monotheistic character?⁸¹ The latter suggestion is all the more attractive as the concept of ⁸¹ This seems to be implied by Hurowitz’s comparison of Mesopotamian concepts of canon with those found in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (‘Canon and Canonization’, 8*–10*).

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scripture seems to exist only in the three monotheistic world religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Furthermore, after the concept of scripture had evolved, neither was the textual shape of scripture standardized nor was its size defined. How could the idea of scripture work given this fluidity of textual shape and size? What provided the necessary unity amid the plurality? Before these questions can be answered concerning the quotations of and allusions to authoritative literature for the time from Jason to Pompey, one more observation must be made. Although during this time, a new approach to authoritative literature can be observed, the huge majority of quotations and allusions were not introduced by quotation formulas. Some quotation formulas do not even seem to reflect the idea of scripture at all. For example, 4QMidrash on Eschatologyb (4Q177)  7 introduces a quotation of Psalm 6: 2-5 as ‘concerning the end of days, about which David said’. Here, it is not a Book of David in which something is written about the end of days, but instead David who said something about the end of days. It might be tempting to argue that, by the Midrash on Eschatology, David was regarded as being less authoritative than, for example, Isaiah. But in the Midrash on Eschatology, the main texts interpreted are Deuteronomy 33, then 2 Samuel 7: 10-14, and then selected Psalms.⁸² This means that for the Midrash on Eschatology, the Psalms have the same authority as Deuteronomy and 2 Samuel. This example shows that in the same text, in this case the Midrash on Eschatology, two different concepts of authoritative literature can be applied. Parallel to the evolving new understanding of authoritative literature as scripture, the old approach still prevailed. Both ideas existed intertwined with and next to each other. In this context, it is interesting to note that almost all commentaries preserved were written by Essenes who, for several reasons, rejected the Jerusalem temple as defiled.⁸³ Further⁸² See Steudel, Midrasch zur Eschatologie, 133. ⁸³ See Hartmut Stegemann, ‘The Qumran Essenes—Local Members of the Main Jewish Union in Late Second Temple Times’, in The Madrid Qumrân Congress: Proceedings of the International Congress on the Dead Sea Scrolls, Madrid, March 18–21, 1991, Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah, no. 11 (Leiden: E. J. Brill and Editorial Complutense, 1992), 83–166, esp. 122– 6; Armin Lange, Weisheit und Prädestination: Weisheitliche Urordnung und Prädestination in den Textfunden vom Toten Meer, Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah, no. 18 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995), 14–17.


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more, one of the other two exegetical texts known from the time of Jason to Pompey, the work of Aristobul, was written in the Egyptian diaspora; the text comes from a community geographically removed from the Jerusalem temple.⁸⁴ This means that one of the most significant documentations for the idea of scripture is found in a group that either voluntarily or for needs of geographical distance was separated from the temple. If the new concept of scripture that evolved during the time of the so-called Hellenistic religious reforms is related to the non-availability of the Jerusalem temple, then this relation is cause for investigation. The following question must be asked. Did the idea of scripture arise in response to the desecration of the Jerusalem temple during these reforms: the erection of an idol of Zeus Olympios in the Jerusalem temple in 167 ? An affirmative answer might also explain why the old concept of authoritative literature could prevail when the Jerusalem temple was rededicated in 164 . In the last part of this chapter, I will explain why the concept of scripture evolved, why it existed intertwined with the older concept of authoritative literature, and what provided unity amid scripture’s fluidity in text and size. FROM LITERATURE TO SCRIPTURE In this section, I study the relation between the new concept of scripture and what happened in 167 . In that year, an icon of Zeus Olympios—called the shiqus. shomem, the ‘abomination of desolation’ by pious Jews—was erected in the Jerusalem temple. Daniel 9 tries to explain this historical event by reinterpreting Jeremiah 25: 11–12. On the one hand, 2 Chronicles 36: 22 and Ezra 1: 1 interpret Jeremiah’s prophecy of seventy years of desolation (Jer. 25: 11–12) as being fulfilled by the conquest of the Neobabylonian empire under Cyrus the Great. On the other hand, the shiqus. shomem demonstrated that the time of ⁸⁴ Not enough of the text of Narrative C (4Q462), the other non-Essene exegetical composition from Hellenistic times, is preserved in order to make claims about its origin. Nevertheless, a sectarian setting cannot be ruled out. See Mark Smith, ‘462. 4QNarrative C’, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert 19 (1995): 195–209, esp. 208.

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God’s wrath had not yet ended and that the prophecies of salvation were misunderstood. In view of this shiqus. shomem, Daniel 9 interpreted Jeremiah’s prophecy in a different way. According to Daniel 9: 2, Daniel sought knowledge in the books (ytinOybi@ Myripfs@;ba@). This phrase is significant because it shows that the author of Daniel regarded authoritative literature as scripture. It is not only the word of God to Jeremiah but the book of Jeremiah itself that is regarded as authoritative. The phrase in question is even more significant because it was written shortly after the shiqus. shomem was erected. By means of an angel vision, Daniel came to the conclusion that Jeremiah 25: 11–12 had not referred to seventy years but to seventy weeks of years, in total 490 years. By scriptural interpretation, a new revelation was attained. In Daniel 9 and in other texts, the study of scripture became the means by which the people were able to perceive their current reality.⁸⁵ The desecration of the Jerusalem temple poses, furthermore, the problem as to how one could encounter God without a temple. This is the question behind Jubilees 1: 27. The Book of Jubilees was written shortly after the shiqus. shomem was erected. It is a parabiblical text that reports on what happened from creation to the revelation of the Torah on Mount Sinai. Jubilees 1: 27 claims that the Book of Jubilees had been dictated to Moses by the angel of the presence.⁸⁶ ‘And he told the angel of the] presence to dictate [to Moses from the beginning of the creation unti]l my sanctuary is built [among them for all ages of eternity’] (Jubilees 1: 27 according to 4QJuba  7–8). In this quotation, the building of the temple is related to the end of the Book of Jubilees. But ⁸⁵ Klaus Koch, ‘Die Bedeutung der Apokalyptik für die Interpretation der Schrift’, in Die Reiche der Welt und der kommende Menschensohn: Studien zum Danielbuch (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1995), 16–45, esp. 22– 31; John J. Collins, Daniel: A Commentary on the Book of Daniel, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 344–60; Devorah Dimant, ‘The Seventy Weeks Chronology (Dan 9, 24–27) in the Light of New Qumranic Texts’, in Adam S. van der Woude, ed., The Book of Daniel in the Light of New Findings, Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium, no. 106 (Leuven: Peeters, 1993), 57–76. ⁸⁶ On the date and origin of the Book of Jubilees see James C. VanderKam, ‘The Origins and Purpose of the Book of Jubilees’, in Matthias Albani et al., eds., Studies in the Book of Jubilees, Texte und Studien zum Antiken Judentum, no. 65 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 3–24.


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in Jubilees 50, only the revelation of the Torah is described and nothing is said about a temple. It seems that the Torah itself was regarded as the temple of God according to the opinion of the Book of Jubilees. This is confirmed by the astonishing references in Jubilees 4: 26 and 8: 19 to Mount Sinai. In these passages, Mount Sinai is named next to the garden of Eden, the mountain of the east, and Mount Zion as a sanctuary of God. The paradigm shift from literature to scripture is connected with the altered function of authoritative literature. For a short time, scripture replaced the Jerusalem temple that was desecrated by the shiqus. shomem as the residence of God. And later on, with the Essene movement and in the Egyptian diaspora, scripture had a comparable function. Not in the Jerusalem temple and its cult, but in the study of scripture did the Jewish people encounter their God. Scripture functioned as a portable sanctuary.⁸⁷ But only three years after the shiqus. shomem was erected, the Jerusalem temple was purified and rededicated. An alternative place to encounter God was not needed any more. In this short time, the idea of scripture had not totally replaced the older approach to authoritative literature. Consequently, both ideas existed intertwined with and next to each other. Even if scripture itself became the temple of God for a short time and the means by which people perceived their own reality, then it is all the more astonishing that scripture had neither a fixed size nor a fixed textual form. What established the unity behind this plurality? An answer to this question can be found in the significant letter of the Essene movement to the Jerusalem high priest written ⁸⁷ Regarding this function of scripture, see for example, Zenger’s considerations of the Psalter as ‘a sanctuary in which God is to be looked for’ in Erich Zenger, ‘Der Psalter als Heiligtum’, in Beate Ego et al., eds., Gemeinde ohne Tempel—Community without Temple: Zur Substituierung und Transformation des Jerusalemer Tempel und seines Kults im Alten Testament, antiken Judentum und frühen Christentum, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, no. 118 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999), 115–30, esp. 129; and Karel van der Toorn’s reflections on elements of iconic ritual in the veneration of the Torah (The Iconic Book: Analogies between the Babylonian Cult of Images and the Veneration of the Torah’, in Karel van der Toorn, ed., The Image and the Book: Iconic Cult, Aniconism, and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Contributions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology, no. 21 (Leuven: Peeters, 1997), 229–48).

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in the second half of the second century . Called Miqs.at Ma} aseh Ha-Torah (MMT ) today, the letter discusses halakhic differences between the Essenes, the Jerusalem high priest, and the Pharisees by referring to scripture. Therefore, MMT is a textual witness to a discourse that is based on scriptural interpretation.⁸⁸ The example of MMT  37–8 illustrates well how this scriptural discourse proceeded. ‘And concerning] eating (a foetus of an animal): we are of the opinion that the foetus [found in its (dead) mother’s womb may be eaten (only) after it has been ritually slaughtered. And you know that it is] so, namely that the word is written (with concern to) a pregnant animal.’ Nowhere in this passage nor in the entire MMT does the author refer to the size or form of the text discussed. As in the example quoted above (which refers to Lev. 22: 28), the text referenced in MMT is not even paraphrased. Apparently what enabled communication between the Essenes, the Jerusalem high priest, and the Pharisees depended neither on a closed collection like the later canon of the Hebrew Bible, nor on a standardized text form. With regard to the use of scripture as exhibited in the discourse of MMT, the only thing of importance is that a given argument was related to it. Amid all the plurality observed, it is the reference to scripture as such that provided unity. What facilitated communication and provided unity is to be found on a metalevel, in the perception of reality by scripture. It was the principle of reference to scripture as such that provided unity amid the plurality of quoted text-types, texts, and interpretations. CONCLUSION This chapter has analysed the importance of the quotations of and allusions to authoritative literature in the Dead Sea Scrolls and elsewhere in the literature of ancient Judaism from the time ⁸⁸ For MMT see Elisha Qimron et al., Qumran Cave 4, v: Miqs. at Ma } asé HaTorah, Discoveries in the Judaean Desert, no. 10 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994); John Kampen and Moshe Bernstein, eds., Reading 4QMMT: New Perspectives on Qumran Law and History, SBL Symposium Series, no. 2 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996); Lawrence H. Schiffman, ‘Miqs. at Ma‘asei Ha-Torah’, in Lawrence H. Schiffman and James C. VanderKam, eds., Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), i: 558–60.


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of Alexander the Great to Pompey. The 1,145 quotations and allusions suggest that in ancient Judaism, not only Mosaic and prophetic texts, but also other literary compositions were regarded as authoritative. Before the reign of the high priest Jason, authoritative literature functioned as a means that communicated God’s words and God’s history with God’s people. The texts themselves had no authority of their own. Rather, their authority rested on the word of God communicated through the texts. In contrast to the ancient Egyptian, ancient Mesopotamian, and the Hellenistic Greek cultures, furthermore, no closed collections of authoritative literature and no standardized text forms were acknowledged. But during the so-called Hellenistic religious reforms, a paradigm shift took place in the attitude towards authoritative literature. In Maccabean times, authoritative literature replaced the temple as the place in which Israel encountered its God. This replacement was historically related to the desecration of the Jerusalem temple by an idol of Zeus Olympios erected in 167 . For this historical reason, authoritative literature gained a dignity of its own and became scripture. The paradigm shift from authoritative literature to scripture is evident not only in the increased frequency of quotations and allusions, but also in the appearance of exegetical literature after 167 . In addition, a significant increase in the use of quotation formulas and in the use of an anthological style can be observed. The new concept of scripture had, however, no effect on the fluidity of the textual form of scripture and on the size of the authoritative collections. On the one hand, there is evidence neither for different group-specific closed canons nor for groupspecific text forms. On the other hand, even ancient Judaism as a whole seems to have adopted neither a fixed collection of scriptures nor a standardized text. What provided unity amid the plurality of scriptural size and form is the reference to scriptures as such. The unity in scriptural plurality is thus to be found on a meta-level. The basic concept of scripture is the perception of reality by means of scriptural interpretation.

4 Unity and Plurality in Jewish Canons The Case of the Oral and Written Torahs B D. S For Rabbi André Ungar¹ rgnw) hrwpcw ry)m Nb ykdrm brh r~wm dwbkl “ykdrml hlwdgw rqy”

INTRODUCTION Discussions of canon among biblical theologians often focus on the canon’s unity, perhaps because the canon’s boundaries lend a sense of integration to an anthology that otherwise seems remarkably diverse. This concern for canon as unifying force raises several questions that I would like to address from the vantage point of Jewish traditions about canon. First, does the unity of the canon stop at the borders of the canon, or is there a transcanonical unity that includes post-biblical Jewish literature? Put differently: Are there texts outside the canon that are canonical? By phrasing the question this way, I deliberately highlight two uses of the term canon. In the first part of this question, the word ‘canon’ has a narrow meaning: the closed list of books that make up the Bible. In the second half, the word ‘canonical’ is less narrow; it refers to texts that are widely accepted within a reli¹ It is a pleasure to dedicate this chapter to Rabbi André Ungar of Temple Emanuel in Woodcliff Lake, New Jersey, from whose mouth I and my family learned Torah for many years. My thanks to friends and colleagues whose comments on earlier drafts of this material greatly enhanced the final version: Michael Balinsky, Samuel Fleischacker, Christine Helmer, Angela Kim Haskins, Yehudah Mirsky, Daniel Nevins, Norbert Samuelson, Baruch Schwartz, Cristina Traina, Nicholas Wolterstorff, and Azzan Yadin.

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gious community as sacred, significant, worthy of study, or requiring obedience. In the following two sections of this essay, we shall see that for Judaism, canonicity (in the broad sense) is not limited to the canon (in the narrow sense). This finding prompts a further question to be addressed in the final two sections of this paper: How should biblical theologians regard the unity of scripture in light of the trans-canonical unity that is central to Judaism? We shall see that this trans-canonical unity severely damages the notion of scripture’s unity, at least as it has functioned in the work of most biblical theologians. In fact trans-canonical unity may damage the very notion of biblical theology as a field of study. If canonicity can thrive outside the canon, then it is no longer clear to what extent scripture enjoys a special status, nor is it evident that scripture can claim priority over traditions based on or independent of scripture. In short, an examination of trans-canonical unity in classical Judaism casts doubt on the (essentially Protestant) goal of articulating a distinctly biblical theology. On the other hand, this examination bolsters the category of tradition as one that functions alongside scripture, or even as a category that encompasses scripture. Thus this study evinces the affinity between Catholic and Jewish approaches to the Bible. Catholic and Jewish scholars face remarkably similar tools and opportunities as they attempt to relate their scriptures, respectively, to the teachings of the magisterium and to the apprehensions of kelal Yisrael (the community of Israel, or as it has been felicitously rendered, catholic Israel).² For both groups of interpreters, the tension between scripture and tradition recedes, because for both groups the boundary separating scripture and tradition is subordinate to an overarching unity. Problems that seem vexing from some Protestant points of view (for example, the relationship between a description of biblical thought and constructive theology) may turn out to be non-issues for Jewish ² On the notion of catholic Israel and its relevance to attempts to synthesize a critical method with a modern religious outlook, see Solomon Schechter, Studies in Judaism, First Series (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1896), xvii–xix. Schechter’s discussion there also contains a fine statement on the centrality of tradition in Judaism as an independent source of authority and as the medium through which scripture is mediated.

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thought as also for Catholic (and, in all likelihood, Orthodox) theology.³ To be sure, one ought not overstate the similarities, since Jewish and Catholic thinkers view the origin of their respective extra-scriptural traditions in slightly different ways. An extrascriptural tradition’s claim to reliability, insight, and authority can rest on three pillars: the tradition’s preservation of teachings not recorded in scripture but nonetheless accurately handed on over time; the intellectual achievements of scholars whose interpretations of scripture the tradition preserves; and an ongoing divine presence that inspires and informs the work of human tradents. Catholic authorities enthusiastically embrace all three of these pillars, affirming that tradition develops with the help of the Holy Spirit.⁴ Jewish thinkers, on the other hand, display a mixed attitude toward the third of these pillars—that is, to the possibility that post-biblical tradition results from pneumatic exegesis or inspired teaching. Even those rabbinic thinkers who see new ideas as in some way resulting from a phenomenon not unlike revelation tend to express this opinion in highly circumspect and hesitant language.⁵ Nonetheless, the shared empha³ This may be the case, of course, for Protestant thinkers as well, insofar as they embrace tradition as a central source of religious authority. One thinks of the Wesleyan quadrilateral, for example. For a recent Protestant (in any event, Anglican) thinker who embraces tradition, see David Brown, Tradition and Imagination: Revelation and Change (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), esp. 106–67. The same tendency is implied, I think, throughout many works on biblical theology by James Barr; see especially his approving discussion of Brown in James Barr, The Concept of Biblical Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 586–604. A related attempt appears in the work of Manfred Oeming, who emphasizes the need for dynamic, back-and-forth discussion between biblical texts and later theology; see Gesamtbiblische Theologien der Gegenwart: Das Verhältnis von AT und NT in der hermeneutischen Diskussion seit Gerhard von Rad (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1985), esp. 235–7. For a discussion of the re-emergence of tradition alongside scripture in Protestant thought, see Avery Dulles, ‘Reflections on “Sola Scriptura”’, in Revelation and the Quest for Unity (Washington, DC: Corpus Books, 1968), 67–74. ⁴ See the very clear statement in Dei Verbum, the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation promulgated by Paul VI during the Second Vatican Council in 1965, chapter 2 (‘Handing On Divine Revelation’). The statement is available at http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/ vat-ii_const_19651118_dei-verbum_en.html. ⁵ On the question of whether new ideas (My#$wdx) can result from something


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sis in Jewish and Catholic thought on the continuity between scripture and tradition is noteworthy; and the implications of this continuity for biblical theology demand attention. TORAH AND TORAHS, OR UNITY BEYOND THE CANON Psekfwf bhfzf ypIil;)amiI K1yp@@I%-trawOt yli-bwO+ The Torah of Your mouth is better for me than riches of gold and silver. (Ps. 119: 72)

It is quite clear that the Bible is not the only canonical anthology for rabbinic Judaism. The twenty-four books of the Jewish Bible or Tanakh never stand on their own in Jewish tradition but are canonical only within a larger matrix of texts. There are, famously, two Torahs according to rabbinic literature: hrwt btkb#$ or Written Torah and hp l(b#$ hrwt or Oral Torah.⁶ The former consists of the Pentateuch along with the Prophets and Writings; the latter consists of rabbinic literature. Now, let me pause to explain how I use several of these terms, since some of them can have confusingly overlapping referents. By ‘Written Torah’ I shall mean the twenty-four books of the Jewish Bible and not merely its first five books.⁷ When I intend to refer to the akin to revelation, see Abraham Joshua Heschel, Torah min Ha-shamayim, 3 vols. (London: Soncino, 1965 and New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1990), iii. 23–9, 36–8, 49–53 (in Hebrew); and Yochanan Silman, The Voice Heard at Sinai: Once or Ongoing (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1999), passim (in Hebrew). Silman distinguishes especially clearly among several attitudes towards revelation in rabbinic and medieval Jewish texts; for one of these schools, the answer to the question at hand is an unambiguous no, and for two, a highly qualified and nuanced yes. On apparent exceptions to the rabbinic notion that prophecy ceased after the biblical period, which turn out not to be real exceptions at all, see my article, ‘Did Prophecy Cease? Evaluating a Re-evaluation’, Journal of Biblical Literature 115 (1996): 31–47. ⁶ On the term itself, see Jacob Blidstein, ‘Concerning the Term “Torah SheBe }Al Peh” ’, Tarbiz 42 (1973): 496–8 (in Hebrew) and also the critique of Blidstein by Avraham Rosenthal, ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai: Theory and Practice’, Meh . qerei Talmud 2 (= Talmudic Studies Dedicated to the Memory of Professor Eliezer Shimshon Rosenthal, 1993), 455–6 n. 30 (in Hebrew). ⁷ On the term hrwt as including the entire Tanakh, see Wilhelm Bacher, Die exegetische Terminologie der jüdischen Traditionsliteratur (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1965 (1899) ), i. 197; ii. 229; and E. Ben-Yehudah and N. H. Tur-Sinai,

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first five books, I will use the term Pentateuch, rather than the term Torah. When referring to the other two parts of the Jewish Bible, the Prophets (My)ybn) and Writings (Mybwtk), I will use the Hebrew acronym, K~n—Nach. (This not only saves a few syllables but underscores the fact that the Prophets and Writings are essentially a single bloc of material in the Jewish biblical canon, which is more bipartite that tripartite.⁸) By ‘Oral Torah’ I mean rabbinic literatures. This term includes the classical works of the early sages known as tannaim (who lived from the early first century  to the mid-third century) and those by slightly later sages known as amoraim and saboraim (mid-third to mid-sixth centuries): the Mishnah, the two Talmuds (or Gemaras), and the various midrashic and aggadic compilations. But the term Oral Torah as it is typically used also includes later works. PostTalmudic texts and teachings, whether from the geonic period (the sixth through eleventh centuries), the Middle Ages, or the current era, can fall under the rubric of Oral Torah. To be sure, the boundaries of Oral Torah are vague. (The Mishnah is clearly in, while Masechet Sofrim (an extra-canonical tractate sometimes published along with but not quite as a part of the Talmud) lies near the border, probably on the outer side rather than the inner. Both the Jerusalem Talmud and the Nefesh Hahayyim (a nineteenth-century scholastic work) are definitely in, but the former is somehow more in than the latter.) But the existence and importance of Oral Torah, however large its periphery may be, are quite clear. The idea of Oral Torah has been discussed comprehensively in scholarship,⁹ and an extensive summary of Thesaurus Totius Hebraitatis (Jerusalem/Tel Aviv: Ben Yehudah Society, 1908– 1959), xvi. 7704b (in Hebrew). On the inclusion of the Prophets and Writings in the rubric of that which was revealed as Written, see e.g. the Maharsha’s commentary to b. Berachot 5a (Mgd Mybwtkw My)ybn wz :ytbtk r#$) h~d hrwtb wmk h)yrq twcm Mhb Ny) lb) btkyl wntn wl)); see further the sources cited in Heschel, Torah min Ha-shamayim, ii. 73–4, and Silman, The Voice Heard at Sinai, 32–3. ⁸ See James Barr, Holy Scripture: Canon, Authority, Criticism (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983), 54–6; John Barton, Oracles of God: Perceptions of Ancient Prophecies in Israel after the Exile (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1986), 44, 91–2. ⁹ See especially the very helpful and clear presentation in Peter Schäfer, ‘Das “Dogma” von der mündlichen Torah im rabbinischen Judentum’, in Studien zur Geschichte und Theologie des rabbinischen Judentums (Leiden: Brill, 1978),


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the rabbinic texts that describe the duality of Torah need not be repeated here. Two issues, however, call for brief discussion in order to avoid some misapprehensions: (1) the extent to which Oral Torah really was oral at all; and (2) the different forms that the notion of dual Torah takes in rabbinic literature. (1) The classical works of Oral Torah have long been available in written form. While scholars have investigated the orality of this body of learning, the important questions they ask¹⁰ are not relevant to the project at hand. Suffice it to say that Oral Torah for at least the past eighteen centuries has consisted first and foremost of written documents (though the term can include some oral learning as well, if only in the sense of exchanges between teacher and student in the classroom). Oral Torah, in short, is not exclusively or primarily oral, and for our purposes it does not matter to what extent it ever was. (For that matter, the Written Torah in the biblical and rabbinic eras was made known 153–97. See further Rosenthal, ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 448–75; Shmuel Safrai, ‘Oral Torah’, in Shmuel Safrai, ed., The Literature of the Sages, Part One, Compendia rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum, no. /3 (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 35–88, esp. 43–5, 56–60; E. E. Urbach, The Sages: Their Concepts and Beliefs, trans. Israel Abrahamson (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1975), 286–314, esp. 304–5; Jacob Neusner, What, Exactly, Did the Rabbinic Sages Mean by ‘The Oral Torah?’ (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998). On the development of this notion and its relation both to pre-rabbinic Judaism and to the modern study of oral literature, see especially Martin Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth: Writing and Oral Tradition in Palestinian Judaism 200 BCE–400 CE (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001). ¹⁰ To wit: Was it ever really a purely oral-performative affair? When and why did it come to be written down? How did the memorizers and reciters of Oral Torah go about their work, and what elements of oral composition are evident in it? How do the works of Oral Torah compare to other oral traditions from around the world? Did oral and written recensions of rabbinic works coexist, and, if so, how did they interact? For examinations of these questions, see especially the works of Jaffee, Safrai, and Schäfer in the previous note, as well as, among others, Saul Lieberman, ‘The Publication of the Mishnah’, in Hellenism in Jewish Palestine (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1950), 83–99; Birger Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Transmission in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity (Gleerup: C. W. K. Lund, 1961); Jacob Neusner, Oral Tradition in Judaism: The Case of the Mishnah (New York: Garland, 1987), 61–100, 133–48; Yaakov Elman, ‘Yerushalmi Pesah.im, Tosefta Pish.a, and the Problem of Orality’, in Harry Fox and R. Meacham, eds., Introducing Tosefta (Hoboken, N.J.: Ktav, 1999), 123–80, and the essays by Martin Jaffee, Steven Fraade, Elizabeth Shanks Alexander, and Yaakov Elman in Oral Tradition 14/1 (1999).

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through oral recitation and was absorbed aurally by its audiences. The contrast between modes of disseminating these literatures, then, is smaller than one might think: in ancient times Written Torah was largely an oral-performative affair,¹¹ and from the early stages of the rabbinic period Oral Torah was mostly written down.¹²) The ‘orality’ of Oral Torah is a matter of ideology, not of actual transmission or reception. The term asserts either Oral Torah’s intimate connection with the relationship between master and disciple¹³ or its organic, dynamic nature, or both. ¹¹ Yehoshua Gitay points out that the distinction between oral and written literature is anachronistic when applied to ancient texts; see his article, ‘Deutero-Isaiah: Oral or Written?’, Journal of Biblical Literature 99 (1980): 185–97, esp. 191. On the intertwining of oral and written registers in ancient Israel, see further Susan Niditch, Oral World and Written Word: Ancient Israelite Literature (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1996), esp. 99–130, and Raymond Person, Jr., ‘The Ancient Israelite Scribe as Performer’, Journal of Biblical Literature 117 (1998): 601–9; but see also William Schniedewind, How the Bible Became a Book: The Textualization of Ancient Israel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming), esp. ch. 1, who argues that the gulf between orality and literacy ought not to be understated. ¹² On the complex and fluid relationship between oral culture and written culture in Jewish tradition, see especially Yaakov Elman and Israel Gershoni, ‘Transmitting Tradition: Orality and Textuality in Jewish Cultures’, in Yaakov Elman and Israel Gershoni, Transmitting Jewish Traditions: Orality, Textuality, and Cultural Diffusion (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 1–26. On the deeply intertwined nature of oral and written literature in biblical Israel, early Judaism, and ancient societies generally, see further Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 8, 15–27; Jaffee, ‘Oral Tradition in the Writings of Rabbinic Oral Torah’, Oral Tradition 14 (1999): 9; Steven Fraade, ‘Literary Composition and Oral Perforance in Early Midrashim’, Oral Tradition 14 (1999): 34–6, 46. ¹³ That is, the rabbis emphasized that one could not know Torah simply by reading it on one’s own; one can learn Torah only by hearing it discussed by a teacher and by joining the discussion. See the sensitive insights of Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 126–56. On this ideological dimension of the concept of Oral Torah, see especially Michael Satlow, ‘Oral Torah: Reading Jewish Texts Jewishly in Reform Judaism’, in D. E. Kaplan, ed., Platforms and Prayerbooks: Theological and Liturgical Perspectives on Reform Judaism (Lanham: Rowman and Little, 2002), 261–70. Satlow uses the term Oral Torah to refer to the conceptual category that allows Jews to derive Jewish meaning from written texts; thus Oral Torah does not simply refer to a particular group of texts but more profoundly to a set of orally transmitted reading practices peculiar to Jewish cultures through the ages; one absorbs these practices above all through direct contact with teachers, not only through a solitary grappling with texts (see esp. 265). One might paraphrase Satlow’s point with Yaakov Elman’s phrase: Oral Torah is sometimes understood as referring to a method of transmission rather than the content of what is transmitted. See Yaakov Elman, ‘R. Zadok Hako-


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(2) Rabbinic works conceptualize the relation between Oral Torah and revelation in more than one way.¹⁴ In the concept’s most fully developed form, Moses received the entire Oral Torah at Sinai—including all of rabbinic literature and even what keen-witted students of the Torah would one day expound before their teachers: see, e.g. in the Jerualem Talmud Peah 2: 6, Hagigah 1: 8, Megillah 1: 5, and in the Babylonian Talmud Megillah 19b. The texts expressing this maximalist idea are amoraic, not tannaitic.¹⁵ Other rabbinic texts make somewhat less comprehensive claims. Some passages in tannaitic midrashim come close to the amoraic position, claiming that laws found in rabbinic literature come from God without insisting that all their details were revealed to Moses; see Sifra Shemini Par. 1 § 9 (ad Leviticus 10: 11), Mekhilta deRabbi Ishmael Vayyisa Par. 1 (ad Exodus 15: 26), Sifre Deuteronomy § 48 and § 351.¹⁶ Other tannaitic or early amoraic texts make quite clear that some aspects of Oral Torah were unknown to Moses and arose only after his day (even though some such later teachings were rhetorically linked to Moses); so, for example, in the famous story told by Rav in the Babylonian Talmud Menah.ot 29b.¹⁷ The Mishnah and Tosefta ascribe only three non-Pentateuchal laws to Moses at Sinai (see m. Yadayim hen on the History of Halakha’, Tradition 21/4 (1985): 9. Cf. the very similar definition of tradition in Christian tradition in Dulles, ‘Reflections on “Sola Scriptura”’, 77. ¹⁴ See David Weiss Halivni, Peshat and Derash: Plain and Applied Meaning in Rabbinic Exegesis (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 163–7; id., ‘On Man’s Role in Revelation’, in Jacob Neusner, ed., From Ancient Israel to Modern Judaism: Intellect in Quest of Understanding. Essays in Honor of Marvin Fox (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), ii. 29–49. Rosenthal addresses this issue from a slightly different vantage point, noting that once certain traditions were classified as Oral Torah various responses arose to the question, which parts of Oral Torah came from Sinai? See the sources he collects and his useful discussion in ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 460–7. ¹⁵ See Schäfer, ‘Das “Dogma” von der mündlichen Torah im rabbinischen Judentum’, 162–3, 197, and Jay Harris, How Do We Know This? Midrash and the Fragmentation of Modern Judaism (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1995), 2. This basic idea is attributed to tannaim in midrashic texts that were edited in the amoraic period; see the opinions of Rabbi Akiva in Sifra Beh.uqotai 8: 13 and of Rabbi Nehemiah in Kohelet Rabbah 5: 8. ¹⁶ On these passages, see Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 84–92. ¹⁷ On this passage as representing a nuanced minimalist conception of the revelation of Oral Torah, see Halivni, ‘On Man’s Role’, 30–1, esp. n. 6. For other examples of a non-maximalist approach to the revelation of Oral Torah, see e.g. the teaching of the first-generation amora Yannai in y. Sanhedrin 22a (wly) hkwtx hrwth hntyn), which makes clear that new halakhic decisions would be arrived at later than Moses’ time. Cf. Seder Eliahu Zuh.a 2: it is praiseworthy not merely to conserve Torah received at Sinai but to extend it, producing new

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4: 3, m. Peah 2: 6, and t. Sukkah 3: 1–2; a non-legal tradition is also ascribed to Moses at Sinai in m. Eduyot 8: 7).¹⁸ Consequently Martin Jaffee suggests that ‘as far as the tradents behind Mishnaic and Toseftan traditions are concerned, the bulk of the oral-literary tradition of halakhic norms is conceived to be of rather recent vintage, promulgated by teachers whose disciples—or whose disciple’s disciples—could still be consulted for details’.¹⁹ In short, there are varying degrees to which rabbinic literature ascribes authoritative traditions outside the Written Torah to revelation.²⁰ Because the maximalist formulation from some amoraic texts is so well known, it is useful to recall that a non-maximalist (and earlier) claim appears as well: Oral Torah (but not all of the Oral things from it; and Midrash Numbers Rabbah h.uqat § 4. On this theme in both classical rabbinic and hasidic literature, see Elman, ‘R. Zadok Hakohen’, 7–12. ¹⁸ Mishnah and Tosefta do not employ this phrase in a fully consistent manner, but they seem to mean by it a law distinct from scripture and not derived from scripture; see Christine Hayes, ‘Halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai in Rabbinic Sources’, in Shaye J. D. Cohen, ed., The Synoptic Problem in Rabbinic Literature (Providence, R.I.: Brown Judaic Studies, 2000), 74. Later texts use the phrase somewhat differently; nonetheless, the Babylonian Talmud and early tradents of the Jerusalem Talmud largely accept this distinction; see ibid., 78, 110–11. ¹⁹ Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 80; cf. Schäfer, ‘Das “Dogma” von der mündlichen Torah im rabbinischen Judentum’, 185. So also Mayer Gruber, ‘The Mishnah as Oral Torah’, Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Period 15 (1984): 121–2: ‘Some of the laws contained in the Mishnah purport to be of divine origin, and they have a clear basis in scripture. Some . . . purport to be of divine origin, and they have little or no Scriptural basis. Some . . . purport to be the legislation of . . . mortal authorities.’ On the rabbis’ increasing tendency to attribute material to Sinaitic revelation, see further David Weiss Halivni, Revelation Restored: Divine Writ and Critical Responses (Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press, 1997), 54–63, and David Kraemer, ‘The Formation of Rabbinic Canon: Authority and Boundaries’, Journal of Biblical Literature 110 (1991): 616–27. The same tendency may be seen in the increasing importance of the phrase ynysb h#$ml hklh in later amoraic texts (especially Babylonian ones, which tend to use the phrase on a wholesale level to bolster rabbinic law in general); see Hayes, ‘Halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai in Rabbinic Sources’, esp. 67 n. 13, and 96–102. ²⁰ Further, Azzan Yadin argues that texts associated with the Rabbi Yishmael tradition of exegesis radically limit the authority of what became known as Oral Torah; for these texts, scripture and exegesis of scripture is almost the only source of authority, and authoritative traditions parallel to and independent of scripture are all but non-existent. See Azzan Yadin, ‘Rabbi Ishmael, 4QMMT, and the Origins of Legal Midrash’, Dead Sea Discoveries 10 (2002): 1–20. Nonetheless, as Yadin points out, this attitude was completely marginalized in rabbinic tradition, so that Yadin can characterize this Yishmaelian tradition as ‘radically “unrabbinic”’.


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Torah) was given to Moses at Sinai; this Oral Torah developed further as scribes, sages, and rabbis interpreted and enacted new laws throughout the generations.²¹

There is no question that for Jewish tradition both Torahs are sacred and worthy of study, that both provide sources for norms of behaviour, that God’s presence is manifest in both. Many rabbinic texts teach that Oral Torah (whether all of it or merely its core) was given along with the Written Torah at Mount Sinai. I will cite just one. Commenting on the verse, ‘The Levites will teach your laws to Jacob and your teachings/Torah/Torahs to Israel’ (Deut. 33: 10), the midrash Sifre Deuteronomy §351 states: The words ‘Your Torah(s) to Israel’ (l)r#&yl Ktrwtw) teach that two Torahs were given to Israel, one orally and one in writing. A Roman official named Agnitus asked Rabban Gamaliel, ‘How many Torahs were given to Israel?’ He replied, ‘Two, one orally and one in writing’.²²

(Note, by the way, that the Torah mentioned first is the Oral Torah, not the Written Torah). The idea that Oral Torah is revealed, just like Written Torah, appears elsewhere in rabbinic literature with some frequency: in the Babylonian Talmud (Shabbat 31a), the Jerusalem Talmud (Hagigah 1: 8), in the ²¹ E. P. Sanders maintains that the early rabbis did not believe in a revealed Oral Torah at all. According to Sanders, the earliest rabbis viewed their nonbiblical legal traditions (i.e. what later would be called Oral Torah) as distinct from laws revealed directly by God at Sinai; see Sanders, ‘Did the Pharisees Have Oral Law?’ in Jewish Law from Jesus to the Mishnah (Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1990), 97–130. It remains the case that early rabbis had non-biblical traditions they regarded as ancient and authoritative, even if they were not Sinaitic. Hence they had a notion of twofold teaching quite parallel to the later rabbinic doctrine of Oral Torah. ²² Sifre Deuteronomy, §351, in Louis Finkelstein, Sifre on Deuteronomy (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1969), 408. The Sifre evidently read a text in which Ktrwt was plural (i.e. it read Kterowt or even Kytwrwt rather than MT’s Kt;rwt). This parallels the plural Ky+p#$m in the first verset. Such a text is preserved in some Samaritan manuscripts and the Peshita, and also in the standard vocalized editions of Tg Onkelos (though not in the better manuscripts). For a defence of the plural reading, see further Joachim Begrich, ‘Die priesterliche Tora’, Gesammelte Studien (Munich: Kaiser, 1964), 233 n. 10; Michael Fishbane, ‘Torah (1)’, in Encyclopaedia Biblica, 9 vols. (Jerusalem: Bialik, 1955–88 (1982) ), viii. 472 (in Hebrew).

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midrashim (Sifra Beh.uqotai 8: 12), and in aggadic works (Avot deRabbi Nathan  15/ 29 (31a–b)), to cite only a few examples. One might suggest that the Written Torah and the Oral Torah are both sacred and valued, but that they do not comprise a unified canon. Since they are distinct, it may be misleading to talk about some sort of trans-canonical unity that joins them. Many rabbinic texts suggest otherwise. An amoraic comment in the Babylonian Talmud at Berachot 5a reads: R. Levi bar H . ama said in the name of R. Shimon ben Laqish: What is the aggadic teaching that can be derived from the verse in Scripture, ‘And I shall give you the tablets of stone, and the Torah (hrwthw), and the commandment (hwcmhw), which I wrote to teach them’ (Exod. 24: 12)? ‘The tablets’—this refers to the Ten Commandments. ‘Torah’— this refers to the Pentateuch.²³ ‘And the commandment’—this refers to the Mishnah. ‘Which I wrote’—this refers to the Prophets and the Writings. ‘To teach them’—this refers to the Talmud (i.e. Gemara).²⁴ This teaches that all these were given to Moses at Sinai.²⁵

It is significant that components of the Oral Torah and the Written Torah are mixed together in this passage. The order in which the text presents the material is not, as we might expect, ‘Pentateuch, Nach, Mishnah, Gemara’, but ‘Pentateuch, Mishnah, Nach, Gemara’.²⁶ This passage affirms not just unity ²³ Hebrew: )rqm, literally ‘Reading’, but usually rendered ‘Scripture’. As Rashi explains in his commentary to this passage, the word here refers specifically to the Pentateuch, which one is commanded to read (twrql) in its entirety, not the Nach. ²⁴ Printed editions read ‘Gemara’ here rather than ‘Talmud’. The variant does not affect our point, since the word Talmud when used as a title in rabbinic literature generally refers to the work we now call ‘Gemara’ by itself, and not to Talmud in the current sense of ‘Mishnah combined with Gemara’. See Bacher, Die exegetische Terminologie der jüdischen Traditionsliteratur, ii. 235. ²⁵ On the important role this passage plays in later rabbinic thought, see Heschel, Torah min Ha-shamayim, ii. 237–8. ²⁶ The same is true of the alternative versions of this midrash in other rabbinic sources, even though the identification of the various components with words from the source verse differs. Thus in Midrash Hagadol and Halachot Gedolot, ‘tablets’ are the Pentateuch, ‘Torah’ is the Mishnah, ‘commandments’ are the commandments, ‘which I wrote’ are the Prophets and Writings, and ‘to teach them’ is the Talmud (= Gemara). For references to these and additional sources, see M. M. Kasher, Torah Shelemah, 43 vols. (Jerusalem: Beit Torah Shelemah, 1927–92), xix. 277, §108 (in Hebrew). Some midrashic texts, how-


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within scripture but unity between scripture (Pentateuch and Nach) and rabbinic literature (Mishnah and Gemara). One does not sense that either type of literature as a whole takes precedence, has greater importance, or makes a stronger claim on our loyalty.²⁷ If anything, one might conclude that the Mishnah, a component of Oral Torah, takes precedence over Nach, a component of Written Torah. Classical commentators on the Talmudic passage in fact make precisely that claim. An early medieval commentator on Berachot 5a states, ‘From this passage one concludes that the Mishnah, as well as the Talmud which explains the Mishnah’s laws, have greater sanctity than the Prophets and Writings . . . for the biblical verse puts “the commandment”, which is the Mishnah, before “which I write”, which are the Prophets and Writings.’²⁸ A nineteenth-century rabbinic commentator, Abraham of Minsk, in his Ahavat Eitan, refers to a teaching from elsewhere in the Babylonian Talmud, Nedarim 22b, to explain the placement of Mishnah before Nach in Berachot 5a.²⁹ According to Nedarim 22a, if the Israelites had never sinned, only the Pentateuch and the Book of Joshua would have been revealed to them; God would not have given the remainder of the Nach to a perfectly righteous Israel. This ever, provide another interpretation, in which the Written Torah precedes the Oral Torah; see ibid. xix. 278, §12. Even these, however, stress that both were given to Moses at Sinai. ²⁷ Urbach (The Sages, 290–2) makes a similar point about the story in Avot deRabbi Nathan 15/29: Hillel’s statement that there are two Torahs ‘contains not the slightest indication that the two Tôrôt were differently evaluated. “Just as you have accepted the one in faith [Hillel says there,] so accept also the other in faith”’. Against this view, however, see Sanders, ‘Did the Pharisees Have Oral Law?’, who argues that the Pharisees and early rabbis did view their nonbiblical traditions as having a lower status than biblical law (i.e. laws that were clearly stated in scripture or that could be derived exegetically from scripture). Even if Sanders is correct, this attitude weakens over time, as more and more of the Oral Torah comes to be seen as Sinaitic. ²⁸ Cited in Kasher, Torah Shelemah, xix. 277, §108. Similarly, as Kasher notes, the Iyyun Yaakov (a mid-nineteenth-century halakhic authority and commentator to the Talmud) ad loc. maintains that the verse mentions Mishnah first because one should study Mishnah before Nach. ²⁹ See the commentary of Ahavat Eitan to this passage in the Ein Yaakov, and the summary by Kasher, Torah Shelemah (where, however, Kasher clearly intended to write not p~(b#$wtl but k~b#$wtl, as the passage in Ahavat Eitan itself makes clear).

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is because (as the fourteenth-century commentary of Nissim Gerondi, or the Ran, to Nedarim 22b explains) the Pentateuch contains laws that will be in effect in perpetuity, and Joshua 13–22 stipulate how land should be allocated among the Israelite tribes in Canaan for all time. Thus both the Pentateuch and Joshua had to be revealed whether or not the Israelites had sinned. In contrast (the Ran avers), the remaining books of the Nach merely contain exhortations and warnings to sinful Israelites regarding the need to observe the Torah’s laws. The Ahavat Eitan, commenting on our passage from Berachot 5a, makes clear that in this regard the Mishnah resembles the Pentateuch, not the Nach: the Mishnah would have been revealed even if Israel had not sinned, presumably because it contains rulings and explanation of law.³⁰ Thus sacred texts containing law (the Pentateuch and Joshua from the Written Torah, and the Mishnah from the Oral Torah) are of primary value, while the remaining texts of the Written Torah are merely of contingent value.³¹ The primacy of Oral Torah over parts of Written Torah emerges even more strongly in other rabbinic texts.³² Take the following passage from the Jerusalem Talmud Peah 2: 6: ³⁰ The Gemara, according to Ahavat Eitan, is mentioned last because it was originally intended only for Moses’ use, not for the whole nation. ³¹ One might argue that the term hn#$m in b. Berachot 5a is not a title referring to the specific literary work of that name edited by Rabbi Judah (as I translated it above) but a noun referring to orally repeated traditions generally; on this sense of the term, see Bacher, Die exegetische Terminologie der jüdischen Traditionsliteratur, i. 122–3, Ben-Yehudah and Tur-Sinai, Thesaurus Totius Hebraitatis, vii. 3403, and Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 206 n. 50. In this broader sense, the term hn#m is essentially synonymous with the term Oral Torah; cf. Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript, 27–8, 83, and Rosenthal, ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 455 n. 24. Similarly, the term dwmlt at the end of the passage (in the better manuscripts) would refer not to the works we now call Gemara but to rabbinic debates concerning the Oral Torah (Bacher, Die exegetische Terminologie der jüdischen Traditionsliteratur, i. 201–2; Ben-Yehudah and Tur-Sinai, Thesaurus Totius Hebraitatis, xvi. 775–6). This translation of the two terms suggests a reading of the passage which differs slightly from the one I explore above, but my point remains unchanged or is perhaps amplified: Oral Torah (in this case, Oral Torah generally, not just the Mishnah of Rabbi Judah) precedes a segment of Written Torah. ³² On the theme of Oral Torah as the more beloved Torah in rabbinic texts, see further Schäfer, ‘Das “Dogma” von der mündlichen Torah im rabbinischen Judentum’, 175–6, and the texts discussed there. For further texts and discus-


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R. Haggai said in the name of R. Shmuel bar Nahman: [Sacred] words have been uttered orally and [sacred] words have been uttered in writing, and we do not know which of them are more precious, but it is written, ‘For in accordance with (yp l( yk—literally, “according to the mouth of ”) these words I have established My covenant with you and with Israel’ (Exod. 34: 27). This proves that those that came orally are more precious.³³

The sense that Oral Torah takes precedence becomes unmistakable, I think, in some medieval and modern discussions of curriculum. There is an agreement in principle that ideally a Jew should study both Written Torah (in particular the Pentateuch) and Oral Torah, but some authorities maintain that one can fulfil this dual obligation by studying Oral Torah alone—after all, rabbinic literature quotes scripture quite often, so by studying the rabbis one kills two birds with one stone. Some medieval authorities, especially among Ashkenazim, went so far as to discourage the study of the Bible, mentioning it alongside heretical works!³⁴ The notion that Talmud alone is worthy of study became, and to some degree remains, fairly widespread in the great Lithuanian yeshivot of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. While medieval and modern authorities within rabbinic sions in addition to the one cited here, see Urbach, The Sages, 305, and Kraemer, ‘The Formation of Rabbinic Canon’, 621. ³³ On this passage and its parallels, see Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 142–3; Schäfer, ‘Das “Dogma” von der mündlichen Torah im rabbinischen Judentum’, 166–7; Urbach, The Sages, 305. Interestingly, Rosenthal points out (‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 451 n. 12) the same proof-text (Exod. 34: 27) is used in Dead Sea Scrolls to assert that the Torah of Moses (i.e. the Pentateuch) already contains all the law and thus implicitly to reject the notion of a tradition parallel to and not directly based on the Written Torah; see the Damascus Covenant . 2. This may suggest that already in the first century  a live debate over the question of traditions outside the Written Torah was taking place and that certain verses had become central to that debate (cf. the use of Habakkuk 2: 2–4 in discussions of justification and law in Galatians 3: 10–11 and 1QpHab). ³⁴ On the relative place of Bible and Talmud in Jewish curricula, see the helpful summary in Moshe Halbertal, People of the Book: Canon, Meaning, and Authority (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997), 98–100, with extensive references to primary and secondary sources. See also Isaac Kalimi, ‘Die Bibel und die Klassich-Jüdische Bibelauslegung. Eine Interpretationsund Religionsgeschichtliche Studie’, Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 114 (2002): 596, 604–6.

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culture have defended the study of the Bible,³⁵ nonetheless the Bible in traditional rabbinic culture is always studied alongside rabbinic texts, or through rabbinic texts, when it is studied at all. Never in rabbinic Judaism do we find the converse opinion, that Written Torah is important and Oral Torah is not.³⁶ The unity of Written Torah and Oral Torah is further disclosed in rabbinic works that fail to distinguish between them at all or that regard the distinction as inconsequential. Two central documents of early rabbinic tradition, the Mishnah and Tosefta, never refer to the duality of Torah; the terms Oral Torah and Written Torah do not even appear in these works. Rather, they use the term torah to refer to all authoritative Jewish learning with its roots at Sinai (reserving the term ha-torah, with the definite article, to refer to the Pentateuch).³⁷ Thus the opening passage of Mishnah Avot simply says that Moses received torah at Sinai and passed it on, ultimately, to the rabbis.³⁸ A stronger ³⁵ See Halbertal, People of the Book; see also H. H. Ben Sasson, ed., A History of the Jewish People (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1976), 717. ³⁶ For one possible exception, see the reference to the work of Azzan Yadin on the Yishmaelian exegetical tradition in tannaitic midrashim in n. 20 above. The only other apparent exception involves curricula for girls among the ultraOrthodox, which focus on Bible and shun Talmud, but by associating Bible with girls (I use this term advisedly) the rabbis in question did not intend a compliment to the Bible. ³⁷ See Neusner, ‘Oral Torah and Tradition’, in Method and Meaning in Ancient Judaism (Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1979), 60; Gruber, ‘The Mishnah as Oral Torah’, 114. Only in the tannaitic midrashim and in amoraic literature does the notion of a dual Torah emerge. See Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 84–5; Neusner, What Did the Rabbinic Sages Mean, 3–4. ³⁸ Avot clearly uses the term torah to include what other texts call Oral Torah and Written Torah, or so the parallel (or explanatory) texts in Avot deRabbi Nathan make clear; see Moshe David Herr, ‘Continuum in the Chain of Torah Transmission’, Zion 44 (1979 = Yizhak F. Baer Memorial Volume): 47 n. 30 (in Hebrew), and cf. Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 84–5. This use of terminology shows up outside the Mishnah and Tosefta as well; so, for example, in the debate between Elazar and Yoh.anan in b. Gittin 60b and y. Peah 2: 6, on which see Kraemer, ‘The Formation of Rabbinic Canon’, 624–5. Similarly, Azzan Yadin points out that the phrase hrwt hrm) (‘Torah says’) in halakhic midrashim sometimes introduces verbal citations from the Pentateuch, and at other times it introduces conclusions not found verbally in the Pentateuch but derived from it in other midrashic texts. These texts use the term Torah to refer both to actual verses from Written Torah and exegesis found in Oral Torah. See Azzan Yadin, Scripture as Logos: Rabbi Ishmael and the Origins of Midrash, Divina-


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statement of the unity of scripture and tradition can hardly be made.³⁹ Other rabbinic documents admit the distinction but minimize it. A midrash preserved in Exodus Rabbah 47: 1 and elsewhere⁴⁰ regards the division of Torah into written and oral components as nothing more than a practical measure: When the Holy One, Blessed be He, revealed Himself at Sinai in order to give Torah to Israel, He dictated it to Moses in sequence: Scripture (miqra), repeated traditions (mishnah), discussions (talmud), and lore (aggadah), as it is said, ‘God spoke all these things’ (Exod. 20: 1). At that moment, God told Moses even what a student would one day ask a teacher. Once Moses learned it from God’s mouth, God said, ‘Teach it to Israel.’ Moses responded, ‘Master of the Universe! I shall write it down for them.’ God said, ‘I don’t want to give to them in writing, for I know that the nations of the world will rule over them and will take it from them, and they will be degraded among the nations. Rather, I will give them Scripture in writing, and I will give them repeated traditions, discussions, and lore in oral form. This way, when they come to be oppressed by the nations, they will still be distinct from them.’⁴¹

According to this comment, all Torah was originally Oral Torah. One might say that the default value of Torah is oral. Only after it was given to Moses was one part of it transmuted into Written Torah, in deference to Moses’ request. This midrash tions: Rereading late Antique Religion Series (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), ch. 1. In this regard, it is noteworthy that biblical verses that discuss the preservation of revealed material frequently mention writing and oral memorization side-by-side; see Exodus 24: 3–7, Deuteronomy 31: 9–11, 19, Exodus 17: 14, concerning which see Rosenthal, ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 448 n. 4. ³⁹ Dulles describes a similar realization in modern Christian thought, not only Catholic but to some extent Protestant as well; see Dulles, ‘Reflections on “Sola Scriptura”’, 80. ⁴⁰ See Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 144–5, and Schäfer, ‘Das “Dogma” von der mündlichen Torah im rabbinischen Judentum’, 170 for parallels. ⁴¹ In translating mishnah and talmud in their general sense rather than as titles, I follow Jaffee (Torah in the Mouth, 145, and cf. 206 n. 50; so also Moshe David Herr, ‘Oral Law’, in Encyclopaedia Judaica (Jerusalem: Keter, 1972), xii. 1442, and cf. Bacher, Die exegetische Terminologie der jüdischen Traditionsliteratur, i. 122–3, 201–2). That questions asked by future students are included in the revelation of Torah makes clear that the broad sense is intended here; a question asked last week by a student is not in the Mishnah or Talmud, but they are part of talmud in the sense of a learned discussion of tradition.

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does not indicate that there is any essential difference between the sections of Torah God consigned to writing and the sections God kept oral. The point was to divide the precious inheritance so that no other nation could take it in its entirety. Other nations could usurp the written sections (and in the view of the rabbis the Christians did exactly that⁴²). But one who has only a part of Torah has nothing of it at all, for Torah is a unity, its apparent division into written and oral sections notwithstanding.⁴³ Indeed, this passage implies that Oral Torah has a conceptual and even temporal priority over Written Torah;⁴⁴ since all Torah was originally oral, Written Torah can be seen as a subset of Oral Torah. (Similar assertions appear elsewhere in rabbinic literature.⁴⁵ One might compare these assertions to the view among recent Catholic and, increasingly, Protestant thinkers that tradi⁴² The parallel text in Tanh.uma Ki Tissa 34 makes this explicit: ‘God anticipated that the nations of the world would later translate the Torah and read it in Greek and say, “We are Israel!” ’ Not all rabbinic texts take this attitude, incidentally; see Solomon Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Theology (New York: Schocken, 1961 (1909) ), 133 and references there. ⁴³ On this idea more generally in rabbinic literature, cf. Gerhardsson’s assertion that the rabbis distinguished between Oral and Written Torah merely as laws which had been transmitted in different ways, not as two different types or qualities of law (Memory and Manuscript, 26). ⁴⁴ Cf. Urbach, The Sages, 305, and Kraemer, ‘The Formation of Rabbinic Canon’, 621, both of whom note the dependence of Written Torah on Oral Torah. See also Herr, ‘Oral Law’, xii. 1440, who points out that written laws in ancient Israel really did depend on oral tradition. The notion of the primacy of oral tradition is not merely a midrashic trope but also is a historical reality: the phrasing found in biblical law codes clearly refers back to the culture’s commonly held legal practices, which preceded the written texts found in scripture. See further Baruch Schwartz, ‘On the Binding Status of the Mitzvot: The Legal Grundnorm and its Rationale in the Torah Traditions’, Shnaton HaMishpat HaIvri 20 (2000): 247–51 (in Hebrew), who notes classical thinkers who posit conceptual priority of Oral Torah. ⁴⁵ The same point emerges from the opinion of Resh Laqish in b. Gittin 60a, according to whom Moses memorized the various sections of the Torah as they were given to him during the forty years in the desert and wrote down the Pentateuch only at the end of his life (see Rashi there, hntyn hmwtx h~d). On these passages, see especially Kraemer, ‘The Formation of Rabbinic Canon’, 624 and 626: ‘according to [Resh Laqish] . . . Written Torah was originally oral. In effect, the only difference between Written and Oral Torah during the life of Moses was what they one day would become; for most of that period the form of the two Torahs was literally identical.’ For additional rabbinic sources expressing this view, see Fraade, ‘Literary Composition’, 43.


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tion is prior to scripture, and that the former encompasses the latter. Significantly, it is the work of modern biblical critics that has encouraged Protestant thinkers to see tradition as parallel to and even prior to scripture, since they remind theologians that Christian scripture itself is the product of the passing on and reshaping of traditions in the early church.⁴⁶ The same assertion applies to Jewish scripture, which crystallized through the process of transmission and reworking in biblical Israel.) The midrash preserved in Exodus Rabbah 47: 1, then, seems to endorse the view that there is a trans-canonical unity that includes literature outside the twenty-four books of the canon. Moreover, this midrash makes clear that canonical non-biblical literature includes not only the Mishnah and Gemara but also learned questions asked by keen-witted⁴⁷ students in the presence of their teachers. Oral Torah includes not only fixed writings but also the ongoing, living words of students who discuss Torah. Other rabbinic texts explicitly make the point that Torah, both Oral and Written, constitutes a unity.⁴⁸ Sifre Deuteronomy §306 suffices as an example: ‘The words of Torah are a unity (tx) hrwt yrbd) which includes Scripture, repeated tradition (mishnah), discussions of tradition (talmud), laws (halachot), and lore (aggadot).’⁴⁹ ⁴⁶ See Dulles, ‘Reflections on “Sola Scriptura”’, 70–2, and 80. ⁴⁷ The parallel texts read not simply ‘student’ but ‘keen-witted student’ (qytw dymlt). See y. Peah 2: 6, Leviticus Rabbah 22. On the meaning of qytw, see David Golinkin, ‘The Meaning of the Concepts Watiqin, Watiq, and Talmid Watiq in the Book of Ben Sira and Talmudic Literature’, Sidra 13 (1997): 53–8 (in Hebrew). ⁴⁸ See the sources collected in Heschel, Torah min Ha-shamayim, iii. 45–7. Especially pertinent is the comment of Rabbi Akiva in Sifra Beh.uqqotai 8: 13, on which see Silman, The Voice Heard at Sinai, 26–7. ⁴⁹ On my translation of the terms in their broad sense rather than as titles of specific books, see Steven Fraade, From Tradition to Commentary: Torah and Its Interpretation in the Midrash Sifre to Deuteronomy (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1991), 96, and cf. note 41 above. That some manuscripts read ‘midrash’ rather than ‘talmud’ also suggests that these terms here have their broad meaning. See the textual notes in Finkelstein, Sifre on Deuteronomy, 339, and Fraade, From Tradition to Commentary, 244, n. 103. On the notion that the two Torahs constitute a unity, cf. the very similar idea expressed in the statement of the Second Vatican Council, Dei Verbum, chapter 2, §9. ‘There exists a close connection and communication between sacred tradition and Sacred Scripture . . . Both of them, flowing from the same divine

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This trans-canonical unity is further evinced by the fluidity of the border separating the Torahs. The classification of a particular work as part of Written or Oral Torah seems straightforward: Genesis and Judges belong to the former, Berachot and Bechorot to the latter. Nonetheless, many teachings found in works classified as Oral Torah are derived exegetically from the Written Torah. Consequently, one might consider those teachings to belong, deep down, to Written Torah, reserving the term Oral Torah for the small number of traditions independent of and parallel to Written Torah. (Indeed, according to Rashi’s commentary, this is precisely the view of Rabbi Elazar in the Babylonian Talmud Gittin 60b.⁵⁰) On the other hand, teachings that are distinctly articulated in a work of Oral Torah can, not unreasonably, be considered part of Oral Torah. (This more common view lies behind the comment of Rabbi Yoh.anan in Gittin 60b according to the Maharsha’s commentary there.⁵¹) The latter approach seems sensible in light of the fact that many teachings derived exegetically from Written Torah are not selfevident from Written Torah alone. R. Nah.man points out in the Babylonian Talmud Qiddushin 66a that any literate person can wellspring, . . . merge into a unity and tend toward the same end . . . It is not from Sacred Scripture alone that the Church draws her certainty about everything which has been revealed. Therefore both sacred tradition and Sacred Scripture are to be accepted and venerated with the same sense of loyalty and reverence.’ It is remarkable how well this statement from Vatican II could summarize the rabbinic texts under consideration here, though many Jewish thinkers would interpret the phrase ‘flowing from the same divine wellspring’ in a more general fashion than most Catholic authorities. ⁵⁰ See Rashi to b. Gittin 60b (btkb bwr h~d), who explains the logic behind R. Elazar’s statement there as follows: exegetically derived laws are part of the Written Torah, while Oral Torah contains only those laws spoken directly to Moses at Sinai which have no basis in scripture. On the broad use of the term Written Torah, which in the end indicates the fluidity of the border between the Torahs or even the disintegration of that border, see further the insightful analysis by Kraemer, ‘The Formation of Rabbinic Canon’, 624–6. ⁵¹ See Maharsha to b. Gittin 60b (hbwr h~d), summarizing the logic behind R. Yoh.anan’s statement: teachings derived by sages using midrash can be seen as Oral Torah. The opinions of Eliezer and Yoh.anan here are consistent with their opinions in b. Berachot 11a in the standard printed editions, especially if by mishnah in that passage they mean ‘Oral Torah’. (However, the manuscript evidence is highly inconsistent; see Rosenthal, ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 467–8.)


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read the Written Torah, but no-one can fully understand it without the Sages—that is, without the insights and techniques of Oral Torah.⁵² Since teachings of the Written Torah depend on Oral Torah, they can sensibly be classified as Oral Torah. Many teachings, then, in some sense are simultaneously part of both Torahs, and these teachings probably include the bulk of Jewish law and belief.⁵³ There is considerable overlap between the two Torahs; the boundary of the canon does not delimit the extent of canonicity for rabbinic Judaism.⁵⁴

⁵² Cf. Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 54, 70. In a different vein, Satlow (‘Oral Torah’, 264–7) makes a similar point: one creates Jewish meaning out of Jewish texts not simply by interpreting them but by interpreting them through the orally transmitted lens of tradition—that is, through Oral Torah. ⁵³ Cf. m. Hagigah 1: 8, which famously recognizes that (1) some laws are firmly based in scripture; we may regard these as Written Torah; (2) some have no basis in scripture at all; we may regard these as Oral Torah; and (3) some have precious little basis in scripture. Laws from this third category may be seen as Oral Torah or Written Torah—the former, according to the view of Maharsha explaining Yoh.anan, the latter according to the view of Rashi explaining Elazar (see notes 50 and 51). The sages themselves disagreed about the ratio of material belonging in each category (see b. Gittin 60a–b, y. Peah 2: 6) but they do not deny that the categories exist. Deciding which teachings belongs to each category is not always easy; indeed, one of the main projects of the Gemaras and the halakhic midrashim is asserting that Mishnaic material which seems to belong to the former in fact belongs to the latter; see e.g. David Weiss Halivni, Midrash, Mishnah, and Gemara: The Jewish Predilection for Justified Law (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1986), 93. Similarly, modern scholars themselves disagree on the extent to which the Mishnah views its laws as deriving from the Pentateuch; for a summary of this central question in modern rabbinic scholarship, see Günter Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, trans. Markus Bockmuehl (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1996), 141–5, and cf. Harris, How Do We Know This?, 1–24. ⁵⁴ Cf. Jacob Neusner’s eloquent statement in Midrash in Context: Exegesis in Formative Judaism (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 135–6. The theme of overlap is developed in the thought of R. Zadok of Lublin (a nineteenth-century hasidic thinker), for whom much that is Oral Torah becomes Written Torah (when the Mishnah and Talmuds were reduced to writing), and much in the Written Torah becomes Oral Torah (through the novella of the sages). See Elman, ‘R. Zadok Hakohen’, 15–16.

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Benjamin D. Sommer CANON AND CANONS, OR THE TORAHS’ STATUS

w%hypib%; htfy;hf tmee)e: trawOt@ The true Torah is in his mouth. (Mal. 2: 6)

On reflection, the question that needs to be asked from a Jewish viewpoint is not whether we can speak of unity that goes beyond the realm of Tanakh itself; the affirmative answer to that question is so clear as to be self-evident. Rather, the real question is: Does Written Torah have any greater degree of canonicity? Let me proceed, then, to examine the nature of the canonicity of each Torah from several perspectives. I will attempt to ascertain in light of each whether there is any real difference in status between Written Torah and Oral Torah. 1. One perspective is suggested by the very helpful discussion of canon by Moshe Halbertal in his recent work, People of the Book: Canon, Meaning and Authority. Halbertal distinguishes among several senses of the term canonical. For our purposes, the distinction between what he terms normative and formative canons is especially important. Texts that are canonical in the normative sense are obeyed and followed; they provide the group loyal to the text with guides to behaviour and belief. Texts that are canonical in the formative sense are ‘taught, read, transmitted and interpreted . . . They provide a society or a profession with a shared vocabulary’.⁵⁵ Halbertal suggests in passing that scriptures are canonical in the normative sense, but I think that in practice this is not the case. In Judaism the Written Torah is taught and read, transmitted and interpreted, but it is not the location of legal norms that are followed. When one wants to know whether a pot is kosher, or whether a business transaction is acceptable, or what time the Passover Seder must begin, one does not open up a Bible. One turns instead to works of Oral Torah. Crucial beliefs regarding messianism, resurrection, and the nature of God are also articulated in rabbinic and post-rabbinic texts rather than the Bible.⁵⁶ Thus in Judaism ⁵⁵ Halbertal, People of the Book, 3. ⁵⁶ To be sure, often these beliefs and practices are linked exegetically to the Written Torah, but they still may be classified as part of Oral Torah, or perhaps


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normative canon is found within the Oral Torah rather than the Written. Yet even within the realm of Oral Torah the situation is complex. The core texts of Oral Torah—the Mishnah and the Gemaras—are, like the Bible, more formative than normative. When answering legal questions, rabbis rely primarily on recent law codes and responsa literature, not on tannaitic or amoraic texts (much less biblical ones). A basic principle of halakhic jurisprudence is y)rtbk )tklh: the law as practised follows the later authorities. Both the Written Torah and many works of the Oral Torah are canonical in the formative sense, but they are not in practice authoritative. Granted, the Pentateuch once was authoritative for legal purposes: the tannaim and amoraim created law or decided legal questions on the basis of (or at least with reference to) Pentateuchal texts. But that role of the Written Torah became a thing of the past in the early Middle Ages; by and large, from the close of the amoraic era on, decisions on questions of halakha have been made by referring to other texts in the Oral Torah, not texts from the Written Torah.⁵⁷ Let me return to our central question, then. Given that Written Torah and Oral Torah are both canonical, are they canonical in similar or different ways? In light of Halbertal’s distinction between normative and formative canons, the two Torahs turn out to be similar. Both are canonical primarily in the formative sense. One part of the Written Torah (to wit, the Pentateuch) once was normative, but it no longer is.⁵⁸ Similarly, the most as part of both Torahs. One would not be able to know them without the Oral Torah. See above, notes 51–2. ⁵⁷ On the importance of this point for a Jewish biblical theology, cf. Moshe Goshen-Gottstein, ‘Tanakh Theology: The Religion of the Old Testament and the Place of Jewish Biblical Theology’, in P. D. Miller, P. D. Hanson, and S. D. McBride, eds., Ancient Israelite Religion: Essays in Honor of Frank Moore Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 626–7 and n. 40. In stating that halakhic decisions have been made by referring to texts of the Oral rather than the Written Torah, I do not deny that post-amoraic scholars have been interested in the relationship between halakhot and their exegetical sources in the Pentateuch; many works have addressed just that issue, including critics of Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah. But to my knowledge these scholars have not made rulings of Jewish law by referring directly to the Pentateuch; their activities have been academic, not legislative, in nature. ⁵⁸ By this I mean simply that the actual text of the Pentateuch does not articulate legal norms for rabbinic Jews, and a rabbinic authority who makes a ruling

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crucial texts in the Oral Torah (the Mishnah and Gemaras) once were normative, but due to the principle of y)rtbk )tklh they ceased being truly normative in the Middle Ages. Only the most recent texts within the Oral Torah are truly normative, and they, like the Mishnah and the Pentateuch before them, will become less authoritative as time goes by. 2. While Halbertal’s categories suggest a basic similarity between each Torah’s canonicity, the perspective suggested by Jewish ritual practice turns up a difference. The Pentateuch is recited in the liturgy, in its entirety and following a set of very exact rules. Similarly, selections from the Nach are also recited liturgically following specific rules. Rabbinic texts are not chanted in rabbinic liturgy in this manner.⁵⁹ Further, the Pentateuch serves as a ritual object in a way that rabbinic texts do not. The scroll of the Pentateuch is carried about in formal procession during the synagogue service. Texts from the Torah are put on the doorpost of a Jew’s house (the mezuza) and are worn during prayer (the tefillin). The common Jewish practice of reciting of law opens up not the Pentateuch but a law code to ascertain the law. Of course, some Jews assert that the former’s real meaning is actually found in the latter, and thus in some theoretical way the Pentateuch remains normative. Such an assertion would involve us in a debate on the meaning of the word ‘normative’ which is not pertinent to the claim I make here, which is simply that texts of the Oral Torah and Written Torah are canonical in basically similar ways when viewed from the vantage point of Halbertal’s discussion of formative and normative canons. Another possible objection to my assertion that Written Torah is not normative involves the distinction between derabbanan and de’oraita commandments, but this distinction itself is a trope of the Oral Torah, and decisions of which laws belong to which category are governed by and within the matrix of Oral Torah. Hence it does not seem to me an exception to my general assertion on the essentially formative rather than normative nature of the Written Torah’s canonicity. ⁵⁹ The practice of reciting Targum blurs the line slightly; on Targum as Oral Torah, see Safrai, ‘Oral Torah’, 38–9, and Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript, 68–9. Rabbinic law takes pain to distinguish between the formal recitation of the biblical text from a scroll and the less formal restatement in Targum, as Gerhardsson points out (ibid., 68 nn. 3–5). Similarly, there are passages from rabbinic literature that are recited in the liturgy, but these always occur in preliminary rather than central services (e.g. in rx#$h twkrb), and the rabbinic passages are not chanted in the same formal, public, and rule-bound manner as biblical texts.


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psalms is also ritual in nature: what matters to most people who recite psalms on behalf of the sick or for some other purpose is not contemplating the text but pronouncing it.⁶⁰ This ritual use of the Written Torah is not an innovation of rabbinic Judaism. Karel van der Toorn has pointed out that in the Hebrew Bible, and especially in Deuteronomy, the written text of scripture served as a sacred object.⁶¹ Deuteronomy directs Israelites to install words of Torah on the doorposts of their homes and to wear words of the Torah on their arms and foreheads (Deut. 6: 6–9; 11: 18–20).⁶² According to Deuteronomy, a copy of Deuteronomy itself was to be kept in the ark, which ultimately rested in the Jerusalem Temple. Thus already in the biblical period Israelites used holy scrolls in nearly the same manner that Mesopotamians and Canaanites used cult statues (which were placed in temples and also in homes) and amulets. Written texts for Israelites and cult statues for other ancient Near Eastern peoples ‘were each an embodiment of the sacred, and both were perceived as incarnations of God’, van der Toorn writes. ‘Like the icon, the Book is both a medium and an object; as a medium, it refers the reader to a reality beyond itself, whilst as an object, it is sacred in itself.’⁶³ ⁶⁰ On the crucial distinction between reading for understanding and reading for a ritual purpose, see Halbertal, People of the Book, 13–14. ⁶¹ Karel van der Toorn, ‘The Iconic Book: Analogies between the Babylonian Cult of Images and the Veneration of the Torah’, in Karel van der Toorn, ed., The Image and the Book: Iconic Cults, Aniconism, and the Rise of Book Religion in Israel and the Ancient Near East (Leuven: Peeters, 1997), 228–48. ⁶² Ibid., 240–2. It is worth recalling, contra e.g. the commentary of Rashbam to Exodus 13: 9, verses such as these refer to physical objects and are not intended as figurative language. See Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, Anchor Bible (New York: Doubleday, 1991), 341–3. The evidence of the seventh-century Ketef Hinnom amulets, which include the priestly benedictions know to us from Numbers 6: 23–7, indicates that these sorts of rules were not merely theoretical or metaphorical; Israelites in fact did use biblical texts these ways. Further, these amulets show that the ritual use of texts was not limited to Deuteronomic documents but included priestly documents as well. See Gabriel Barkay, ‘The Priestly Benediction on the Ketef Hinnom Plaques’, Cathedra 52 (1989): 74–6 (in Hebrew), and on the link between these amulets and the commandments found in Exodus 13, and Deuteronomy 6 and 11, see further Othmar Keel and Christoph Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God in Ancient Israel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 366. ⁶³ Van der Toorn, ‘The Iconic Book’, 242.

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The use of sacred text as icon, already present in the seventh century , deepened and intensified in rabbinic Judaism. It remains central to Jewish worship today. In short, Written Torah functioned and functions not only as a text to be taught or obeyed, but also as a sacred object. Oral Torah, on the other hand, does not have so pronounced a ritual function in Jewish practice.⁶⁴ 3. A third lens through which to compare the status of the two Torahs involves another distinction, this one articulated by John Barton. Barton points out that in first-century Judaism, ‘there was “Scripture” but no canon’.⁶⁵ As Barton uses the terms, ‘Scripture’ refers to sacred texts, whether normative or formative or both. He uses the term ‘canon’ in its narrow sense, to refer to a finite list of such texts. For rabbinic Judaism, both Written and Oral Torah are scripture in the sense Barton implies: they are holy, in some way authoritative, worthy of study and contemplation. But only the Written Torah is canon, or closed and delimited: it has twenty-four books, no more and no less. On the other hand, new teachings and texts continue to be added to Oral Torah throughout Jewish history. From this perspective, a ⁶⁴ Granted, the study of the Oral Torah can also be a sort of ritual act; one studies Talmud, for example, not only to gain understanding but to obey the commandment to study—in effect, to gain merit. The notion of Torah study (including primarily the study of Oral Torah) as a religious act is quite prominent in rabbinic Judaism, especially in the Lithuanian yeshiva movement. Nonetheless, this function of Oral Torah is not highlighted in Jewish liturgy. Indeed, Jaffee points out that rabbinic works are Torah only insofar as it is taught orally; the written texts themselves have no inherent value, unlike the written texts of the Tanakh. See his sensitive discussion in Torah in the Mouth, 155–6. A related question in the Talmuds concerns the blessing one is required to recite before studying Torah. It is a given that one recites this blessing before studying the Written Torah; however, the rabbis debate whether one must recite this blessing before studying Oral Torah; see y. Berachot 1: 8 and b. Berachot 11. Some authorities hold that one is not required to recite the blessing before studying Oral Torah; the issue is further complicated by differing opinions concerning halakhic and aggadic material therein, on which see Rosenthal’s discussion in ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 467–75. The conclusion of both Talmuds—that one must recite the blessing for both Written Torah and Oral Torah—supports the notion of the unity of the two Torahs; but the very fact that the issue is debated at all points to a distinction between them. ⁶⁵ Barton, Oracles, 91; cf. 75. Barr implies a similar distinction in Holy Scripture, 59–60, 63.


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difference does exist between the two Torahs. One is static, and one dynamic. 4. The issue of authorship raises the clearest distinction between the status of each Torah in rabbinic Judaism. According to the dominant view found among the classical rabbis, the Written Torah, or at least the Pentateuch, was revealed in its entirety. The ideas and the precise wording found in the Pentateuch come directly from God.⁶⁶ Similarly, the Nach frequently quotes God, prefacing many passages with words like, ‘Thus says the L’. Oral Torah was revealed, but because it was never closed, it continues to grow and evolve.⁶⁷ Consequently, it is a mix of human and divine elements, which cannot be definitively disentangled, and it does not repeatedly claim to quote God verbatim.⁶⁸ Both Torahs, then, are revealed, but the Oral Torah is a highly mediated form of revelation. In Oral Torah human beings have restated the divine teachings, supplemented them, extrapolated from them, and perhaps even forgotten or perverted some of them.⁶⁹ The distinction between direct revela⁶⁶ Other views concerning Pentateuchal revelation are expressed or at least hinted at in rabbinic literature, but the stenographic theory summarized here is clearly the most common. On alternative views in rabbinic and medieval Judaism, see Heschel, Torah Min Ha-shamayim, vol. ii, esp. ii. 146–56. See further Lawrence Perlman, Abraham Heschel’s Idea of Revelation (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), 119–33. On the implications of stenographic and other positions, see also Silman, The Voice Heard at Sinai, passim. ⁶⁷ Cf. Halivni, Peshat and Derash, 163–7, and, ‘On Man’s Role’, 29–49. Incidentally, Halivni’s own writings on the nature of revelation also imply some degree of analogy between Oral Torah and Written Torah, albeit in a very different way from that proposed in this chapter: for Halivni, the Pentateuch we possess is a maculated form of the original divine revelation, restored expertly, but not perfectly, by Ezra. Hence for Halivni, Pentateuch, like Oral Torah, is infected by at least some degree of human fallibility. ⁶⁸ Granted, phenomena such as the bat qol are referred to in rabbinic literature, but this is not quite the same as prophecy and in any event is infrequent. On the importance of the decline of prophecy for rabbinic literature, see my essay, ‘Did Prophecy Cease?’, 35–45. ⁶⁹ See especially b. Temurah 15b–16a for the idea that the repeated traditions passed on as Oral Torah were corrupted by forgetfulness. For a summary of medieval views of the human elements in Oral Torah, see Halbertal, People of the Book, 54–72. The Oral Torah often refers to its own orality and even to the possibility of its consequent fallibility: take, for example, its careful listing of tradents (which reflects an attempt to forestall erroneous transmission, and hence an admission of the possibility) and its acknowledgement of doubts

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tion in the Written Torah and mediated or derived revelation in the Oral Torah provides the strongest affirmative answer to the question whether there is any difference between the status of the two Torahs.⁷⁰ Related to the issue of authorship is an issue of attitude. Classical rabbinic thinkers do not openly disagree with the Written Torah, but they do display some openness to disagreeing with texts from the Oral Torah, at least those with which they are roughly contemporaneous.⁷¹ A medieval rabbi may argue against an older medieval text. An amora may disagree with a tanna, at least if he can find another tannaitic tradition to bolster his claim. But neither will argue that scripture itself is wrong. I doubt, however, that this difference of attitude has any real impact in the construction of Jewish law and thought. Disagreements with Written Torah are not wholly absent in rabbinic Jewish literatures; they are merely cloaked as interpretations, interpretations that we today would characterize as strong misreadings. Practically, then, there seems to be little difference between the attitudes towards Written Torah among premodern concerning the accuracy of oral transmission (e.g. rm) dxw . . . rm) dx). Consequently, as Professor Samuel Fleischacker reminds me, Oral Torah sees itself as responsible to Written Torah, while it sees Written Torah as responsible only to God. Biblical texts, on the other hand, put much less emphasis on their self-referentiality, and at times they tend to mask it (see e.g. Bernard Levinson, ‘The Human Voice in Divine Revelation’, in Michael Williams et al., eds., Innovations in Religious Traditions (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1992), 45, and my discussion in A Prophet Reads Scripture: Allusion in Isaiah 40–66 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998), 20–2). My thanks to Rabbi Daniel Nevins for pointing out the relevance of this issue. ⁷⁰ An interesting question that I do not pursue here is whether the Nach more closely resemble the Pentateuch or the Oral Torah in this regard. In Exodus Rabbah 28: 6 and Tanh.uma (Jethro) 11, we are told that both the prophecies of the classical prophets (found in the Nach) and the teachings of the sages (found in Oral Torah) were revealed at Sinai and merely published later. Similarly, according to some commentators such as Ahavat Eitan quoted above, b. Berachot 5a regards Oral Torah, or at least Mishnah, as surpassing Nach in importance and authority. ⁷¹ To be sure, one can easily find statements by rabbinic authorities that appear to constitute an exception to this tendency: rabbinic scholars do on occasion insist that exegesis (i.e. Oral Torah) can overturn Written Torah. But these apparent exceptions should not be exaggerated. On this whole issue, see Halivni, Peshat and Derash, 152–3 and sources cited there.


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and modern Jewish thinkers. Granted, the ancients and medievals maintained that such a difference did exist, since they did not see themselves as practising misreading at all. In many cases they genuinely believed that through their interpretations they were delving deeper in the text rather than erasing it. But for modern thinkers who are affected (or, some would have it, infected) by historical and hermeneutical consciousness, it is clear that there is no longer a difference between disagreement and strong misreadings. The belief in different types of authorship between Written Torah and Oral Torah, in the end, produces a difference of style but not of substance in the way that classical Jewish thinkers utilized each corpus. I have addressed the question of the unity of canon in Jewish tradition by asking whether the canonical nature of Oral Torah differs from that of Written Torah. We have seen that the only differences between the two types of canonicity involve attitude: the rabbis regard one Torah as the product of mediated revelation, and the other as the product of direct revelation. Consequently, they feel free to disagree with the one openly, and they are constrained to mask their disagreements with the other as interpretations. (Lest we accuse them of mendacity, we should note that they often mask their disagreements not only from others but from themselves as well.) Further, because Written Torah is a product of direct revelation, every Torah scroll constitutes what Eliade calls a hierophany, and therefore it becomes a sacred object with ritual uses. Oral Torah has a much more limited ritual function. In short, Written Torah enjoys a greater degree of prestige. Yet in terms of the ongoing formulation of Jewish thought there is little difference between them. In the realm of aggada both spur new ideas and provide proof-texts for them. In the realm of practice, Written Torah might be compared to a constitutional monarch: hers are the honour and the ceremony. But we all know that the Oral Torah, as the Prime Minister, holds the power.

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A MODERN JEWISH APPROACH TO CANON wOnwOrg%:-t)e MyriiyFw; lwOq rb%Iigay; wyp%I trawOtb% Mg%a twOrwOhl; Nyb%iI twOdwOhl; Nyb%Ii . . . twOrymi)Jma twOn#o$l%;ha By the Torah of His mouth let one raise one’s voice . . . Divine and human speech strengthen each other . . . whether to give praise or to give Torah. (Yehudah Halevi, ‘God’s Utterances Are Pure’)

Up until this point, this chapter has been descriptive: I have attempted to outline the ways in which certain texts outside the twenty-four books of the Jewish canon do and (to a lesser degree) do not function as canonical in rabbinic Judaism. In the final part of this chapter, I would like to build on this description by proposing a modern Jewish view of unity within and beyond the Written Torah. Many contemporary Jews—including all Jews who are involved in modern biblical scholarship—do not regard the Written Torah as directly revealed in the stenographic sense. According to at least one strand within modern Jewish thought, the Written Torah, including the Pentateuch, is the product of complex human mediation. It is at once revealed and human, or rather it is the human response to God’s act of self-disclosure.⁷² This view is implied in the famous teaching of Franz Rosenzweig that the words of the Ten Commandments are already the beginning of interpretation, and also in Abraham Joshua Heschel’s assertion that the Bible is a midrash on the event at Sinai.⁷³ (I have attempted to show elsewhere that this twentieth-century understanding of revelation fits surprisingly well

⁷² The literature on modern Jewish approaches to revelation is of course voluminous. For a summary of the sort of approach I take, with further bibliography, see my article, ‘Revelation at Sinai in the Hebrew Bible and Jewish Theology’, Journal of Religion 79 (1999): 422–51. ⁷³ See Franz Rosenzweig, On Jewish Learning, ed. Nahum Glatzer (New York: Schocken, 1955), 118; Franz Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, trans. William Hallo (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1970), 176–8. For Heschel’s view, see Abraham Joshua Heschel, God in Search of Man (New York: Jewish Publication Society, 1956), 185, 274, and see in general part two, chapters 19–20 and especially 27.


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with the description of revelation in Exodus 19–20.⁷⁴ The most plausible reading of those chapters shows that the Israelites at Sinai did not hear the voice of God directly, or in its entirety, but only through the mediation of Moses, the religious leader who embodies the notion of tradition.⁷⁵ The biblical text itself thus intimates what some modern Jewish theologians argue: the nation did not experience a direct revelation carrying specific content.) The Pentateuch and even the Ten Commandments, in this view, are human formulations that respond to revelation, and hence they are tentative and groping rather than definitive. If this is so, then the distinction between the Written Torah and the Oral Torah falls away entirely: even the Pentateuch itself is one of many human interpretations of divine self-disclosure to Israel, as are the midrashic collections, medieval commentaries, and modern scholarly works, not to mention the questions asked by a worshipper at a synagogue’s Torah discussion or by a participant in its adult-education course. The biblical writers are not different in kind from the authors of these other texts (though their utterances often differ in quality and durability). In short, the approach to revelation associated with Rosenzweig and Heschel compels us to construct a new notion of canon (even though neither Heschel nor Rosenzweig, so far as I know, articulated or admitted this corollary of their own thought): There really is no Written Torah; there is only Oral Torah, which starts with Genesis 1: 1.⁷⁶ In principle, collapsing the ontological distinction between Written Torah and Oral Torah seems a radical move. In practice, however, this move has fewer consequences than one might imagine. As we have seen, the formative canon of rabbinic ⁷⁴ See my article, ‘Revelation at Sinai’, 429–43. ⁷⁵ This reading is not exclusively a modern one; see the commentary of the thirteenth-century rabbinic exegete Nahmanides (Ramban) to Exodus 20: 15; H . izzequni’s commentary to Exodus 20: 15; Midrash Leqah. Tov to Exodus 20: 2; Song of Songs Rabbah 1: 2; the Alexandrinus codex of the Septuagint to Exodus 20: 1. Within modern biblical criticism, the discussion of Aryeh Toeg is especially insightful; see Lawgiving at Sinai (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1977), 17–26, 39–41, 48–59 (in Hebrew). See also Brevard Childs, The Book of Exodus, The Old Testament Library (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1974), 351–60. ⁷⁶ I am indebted to Rabbi Michael Balinsky, who helped me to understand the significance of this implication of my earlier article on revelation at Sinai.

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Judaism includes both Torahs, and its normative canon is fluid. Once located in the Pentateuch, the normative canon moved to the classic works of tannaim and amoraim, and now it sojourns in recent literature, from which it is sure to move on. In light of the canonical fluidity and trans-canonical unity implied by rabbinic texts, my suggestion that Written Torah is Oral Torah is less than entirely unprecedented. Even from the vantage point of biblical texts themselves, eliminating the distinction between Written and Oral Torah does not seem problematic; on the contrary, doing so fits biblical notions of scripturality exceedingly well. As James Barr has taught us, the notion of the Bible is quite alien to biblical texts.⁷⁷ During the biblical period there was (to use John Barton’s terminology) scripture but no canon. In other words: there was Oral Torah (an ever-evolving group of texts regarded as sacred) but no Written Torah. Just as teachers within rabbinic literature disagree with each other, question each other, and supplement each other, so too biblical authors revise, interpret, and even reject other biblical authors. Chronicles retells—and hence replaces— Samuel–Kings; Deuteronomy has the same relationship with the Covenant Code in Exodus.⁷⁸ The Holiness Code supplements the older Priestly Code, at once preserving its wording and altering its teaching significantly.⁷⁹ Throughout biblical literature one finds reflections on or modifications to the text at hand which were added by later scribes.⁸⁰ What later Jews came ⁷⁷ Barr, Holy Scripture, 1–22. ⁷⁸ The canon preserves all these, of course; neither Samuel–Kings nor the Covenant Code was jettisoned in the end. But the presence of later texts that seem at least to have contemplated jettisoning older ones shows the flexible nature of the biblical texts during the biblical period itself: their authors dealt with scripture but not with canon; they worked within a world of Oral Torah, not one of Written Torah. On the relation of Deuteronomy to its sources, see Bernard Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 144–52. ⁷⁹ See Israel Knohl, The Sanctuary of Silence: The Priestly Torah and the Holiness School (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995). ⁸⁰ The literature describing this phenomenon is enormous; see especially Michael Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 23–88, 166–87, and Yair Zakovitch, An Introduction to Inner-Biblical Interpretation (Even-Yehuda: Reches, 1992), 20–34, 88–96 (in Hebrew).


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to know as the Written Torah was in fact Oral Torah for the first Jews, the Jews who actually created it.⁸¹ The use of the term Torah within the Bible anticipates the fluid border between Oral Torah and Written Torah in rabbinic Judaism.⁸² It is significant that torah from an early period probably referred to both written and oral teachings. Thus Joachim Begrich argued that priestly torahs were originally communicated orally.⁸³ At the same time, some priestly torahs were put in writing at an early period, perhaps in separate scrolls in temple archives.⁸⁴ Similarly, the prophets initially delivered their ⁸¹ This suggestion (to wit, that biblical books which revise, interpret, or repeat earlier biblical texts can be termed Oral Torah) is not merely a modern proposal resulting from historical-philological criticism. One hasidic commentator in the nineteenth century, Avraham of Sochochow, described the Book of Deuteronomy as Oral Torah; another, Zadok Hakohen of Lublin, described Deuteronomy as the ‘root’ of the Oral Torah. Both Avraham of Sochochow and Zadok of Lublin base themselves on Nahmanides, the thirteenth-century rabbinic commentator. In his Pentateuch commentary Nahmanides maintains that the laws in Deuteronomy fall into two classes: some were originally dictated by God to Moses, who memorized them and wrote them down years later; the rest consist of Moses’ explanations of laws written down earlier in the Pentateuch. Thus Nahmanides implies a basic similarity between Deuteronomy and Oral Torah in two respects: parts of Deuteronomy were originally oral (like the Mishnah), and other parts are commentaries (like the midrashim). Here again we see a theme emphasized in §II above: some rabbinic authorities undermine the distinction between Oral Torah and Written Torah by creating a significant area of overlap between them, which in this case includes a whole book of the Pentateuch. For a treatment of all these figures, see Yaakov Elman, ‘Nahmanides and Abarbanel on the Book of Deuteronomy as Revelation’, in Yaakov Elman and Jeffrey Gurock, H . azon Nah.um: Studies in Jewish Law, Thought, and History Presented to Dr Norman Lamm (New York: Yeshiva University Press, 1997), 229–50, and Elman, ‘R. Zadok Hakohen’, 10–11. My thanks to Rabbi Michael Balinsky for referring me to these fascinating articles, without which I would have been completely unaware of the surprising views of these hasidic masters. ⁸² On the use of the term Torah in the Tanakh, see especially Fishbane, ‘Torah’, 470–83; G. Liedke and C. Peterson, ‘Torah’, in E. Jenni and C. Westermann, eds., Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament, 3 vols. (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1997), iii. 1415–22; F. García López, ‘tôrah’, in J. G. Botterweck and H. Ringgren, eds., Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Alten Testament, 10 vols. (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1970–2000), viii. 597–637. ⁸³ Begrich, ‘Die priesterliche Tora’, 236. ⁸⁴ On the notion that the ‘Torahs’ found in Leviticus and Numbers may once have existed as distinct scrolls that were later brought together to form the P document, see Yehezkel Kaufmann, Toledot ha-Emunah ha-Yisraelit (Tel Aviv:

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teaching in speeches; nevertheless classical prophetic literature associates prophetic torahs with writing (see Isa. 8: 16, 20; Hos. 8: 12).⁸⁵ Thus both priestly and prophetic torahs in the biblical period were at once oral and written. (One should not overlook the originally oral nature of priestly torah, nor ought one forget the early relationship of prophecy and writing. The orality of law and the written quality of prophecy are precisely what one would expect. Prophetic teaching, as persuasive rhetoric, is readily reduced to writing, since a particular prophetic teaching, once spoken, is a matter of record and hence fixed; future generations can contemplate the static prophetic word. Torah in the priestly sense of law, on the other hand, always had to be adapted to circumstances and thus was always living, versatile, and dynamic.) The multiple uses of the term Torah in the Bible further suggest that what we now call Written Torah originally functioned as Oral Torah. In priestly literature (e.g. Lev. 6: 2; 7: 37; Num. 31: 21) ‘Torah’ denotes specific traditions or teachings, especially those pertaining to ritual matters. Elsewhere the term refers to a specific book, usually Deuteronomy or an early edition thereof (Deut. 1: 5; 29: 20; 2 Kgs. 14: 6). In some late books ‘Torah’ may even refer to the Pentateuch, whether in its current form or in an antecedent recension (Ezra 3: 2; Neh. 13: 1–13).⁸⁶ Significantly, these later biblical books use the term Torah to refer not only to a specific Pentateuchal text but also to interpretations based on a Pentateuchal text but not explicitly found in it. Moreover, Mosad Bialik and Devir, 1937–56), i. 49–50, 76 (in Hebrew). On the possibility that they were kept in temple archives, see Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16 (New York: Doubleday, 1991), 383. ⁸⁵ See Liedke and Peterson, ‘Torah’, 1418–19. On the writtenness of prophetic Torah in Isaiah and Hosea, see also García López, ‘tôrah’, 611–12. ⁸⁶ In Ezra 3: 2 the term ‘written in the Torah of Moses’ clearly refers to material from priestly literature found in Leviticus, while in Nehemiah 13: 1–3 the Torah which was read aloud includes Deuteronomy 23: 4. Apparently, then, the Book of Ezra–Nehemiah uses the term ‘Torah of Moses’ to refer to a work that included both P and D, or both Leviticus and Deuteronomy. That work is either the Pentateuch or something very much like it. On ‘Torah’ in Chronicles and Ezra–Nehemiah as referring to the Pentateuch, see also Liedke and Peterson, ‘Torah’, 1421–2; García López, ‘tôrah’, 629–30; Joseph Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, Old Testament Library (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988), 155.


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these late biblical books use the term Torah to refer to teachings neither found in the Pentateuch nor based on it. Nehemiah 8: 14–15 is quite instructive in this regard. The exilic community in Jerusalem (14) found it written in the Torah which God commanded through Moses that the Israelites should dwell in booths during the Holiday in the seventh month, (15) and that they should make a public announcement in all the cities and in Jerusalem as follows: ‘Go out to the hills to get olive branches, oil trees, myrtle, palms, and all kinds of trees to build the booths as it is written.’

Verse 14 restates Leviticus 23: 42, which commands the Israelites to dwell in booths during the holiday. Verse 15, however, enumerates two regulations not found in Leviticus 23: first that branches of certain trees should be used to build the booths, and second, that a public announcement to this effect is commanded. The first of these regulations may be inferred from the ambiguous command regarding tree branches in Leviticus 23: 40.⁸⁷ Thus the Book of Ezra–Nehemiah is describing as ‘Moses’ Torah’ not only what is clearly written in Leviticus but also exegetical extensions thereof. The second regulation has no basis in the written text whatever, but it, too, is described as Torah.⁸⁸ In Ezra–Nehemiah, a practice may be ascribed to the Torah of Moses if it is explicitly in a Pentateuchal text, if it is exegetically derived from the text, or if it is based on an authoritative teaching ⁸⁷ This verse directs the Israelites celebrating the festival to take certain branches, but it does not say what to do with them. Two verses later this passage directs the Israelites to dwell in booths. One might plausibly infer that one should use the branches to build the booths, and apparently this is what the author of Nehemiah has done (he was followed in this regard by many postbiblical commentators, on which see Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27 (New York: Doubleday, 2001), 2065). On the exegetical nature of the Nehemiah passage, see especially Kaufmann, Toledot ha-Emunah ha-Yisraelit, viii. 325–36, Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation, 109–12, and Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 291–2. ⁸⁸ Alternatively, one might argue that Nehemiah 8 is based on an altogether different version of the Pentateuch, but Milgrom cogently refutes this possibility; see Leviticus 23–27, 2065, and cf. Kaufmann, Toledot ha-Emunah ha-Yisraelit, viii. 326. Like Nehemiah 8: 14–15, the text of Ezra 6: 18 refers to a practice as ‘written in the Book of Moses’ which is not mentioned in the Pentateuch at all; see Hindy Najman, ‘Torah of Moses: Pseudonymous Attribution in Second Temple Writings’, in Craig Evans, ed., The Interpretation of Scripture in Early Judaism and Christianity: Studies in Language and Tradition (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 208–9.

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outside the Pentateuch but somehow parallel to it.⁸⁹ This use is almost precisely what we found in the Mishnah, Tosefta, and some tannaitic midrashim: Torah is a unity encompassing written texts, exegesis of those texts, and extra-textual tradition.⁹⁰ In short, in biblical times, no hard and fast distinction existed between scripture and tradition, between authoritative teaching and emerging teaching, between Written Torah and Oral Torah.⁹¹ An amorphous unity called Torah included, but was not limited to, written texts now known from the Hebrew Bible. Even after the Pharisees developed a conscious notion of tradition distinct from scripture,⁹² and after the tannaim formal⁸⁹ See the especially insightful summary by Najman, ‘Torah of Moses’, 212– 13. ⁹⁰ Similarly, Jon Levenson shows that ‘the author of Psalm 119 recognizes three sources of tôrâ: (1) received tradition, passed on most explicitly by teachers (vv 99–100) but including perhaps some sacred books now in the Hebrew Bible, (2) cosmic or natural law (vv 89–91), and (3) unmediated divine teaching (e.g. vv 26–9)’. See ‘The Sources of Torah: Psalm 119 and the Modes of Revelation in Second Temple Judaism’, in P. D. Miller et al., eds., Ancient Israelite Religion: Essays in Honor of Frank Moore Cross (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), 570. Cf. García López, ‘tôrah’, 620–1. ⁹¹ Cf. Levenson’s comments concerning Jewish learning throughout the Second Temple period (‘Sources’, 571): ‘Just as Scripture generates tradition, so does tradition generate Scripture. Neither can be said to have absolute chronological priority.’ Nor, we might add, does either have conceptual or ontological priority. ⁹² Remarkably consistent descriptions of the Pharisees’ attitude toward tradition appear in Josephus, the Gospels, and Paul. From these we can conclude that the Pharisees were already aware of and concerned with the existence of traditions passed on from earlier generations and distinct from scripture. See A. I. Baumgarten, ‘The Pharisaic Paradosis’, Harvard Theological Review 80 (1987): 63–77. One cannot know whether they emphasized the oral nature or Sinaitic origin of these traditions. (Some scholars maintain that they did not do so; see Sanders, ‘Did Pharisees Have Oral Law?’, 97–130; Jaffee, Torah in the Mouth, 39–61; and cf. the similar but more moderate scepticism of Neusner, ‘Oral Torah and Tradition’, 69–70. Others critique this scepticism; Schäfer, ‘Das “Dogma” von der mündlichen Torah im rabbinischen Judentum’, 190–1; Baumgarten, ‘The Pharisaic Paradosis’, 63–77.) Nonetheless, the Pharisaic category of non-biblical tradition remains largely identical with what we now call Oral Torah: to wit, Jewish beliefs and practices authorized by tradition but not explicitly spelled out by scripture. One might object to this conclusion by noting that no term referring to an orally transmitted set of legal teachings appears in Greek descriptions of the Pharisees. This fact, however, hardly means that the notion of a tradition parallel to and to some degree separate from


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ized the notion of Oral Torah distinct from Written Torah, the rabbis themselves undermined that distinction. They stressed the value of tradition alongside scripture, and they stressed the authority of scripture only as understood by tradition. As a result, my proposal that for modern Jews Written Torah is merely a part of Oral Torah is not as surprising as it initially seems; indeed, it is in a sense reactionary, since it returns us to an earlier situation. The modern Jewish scriptural canon, then, is a very broad one. It includes texts dating from the beginning of the biblical period, from our own day, and from all periods in between (though not, of course, all texts authored by Jews in these periods).⁹³ It will be useful by way of conclusion to explore the implications for biblical theology of such a broad canon.⁹⁴ scripture was unknown to them. As Gruber points out (‘The Mishnah as Oral Torah’, 113), the terms ‘Oral Torah’ and ‘Written Torah’ are no more present in Mishnah than in Josephus. But the Mishnah clearly does endorse the existence of authoritative legal traditions separate from and not based on scripture, and one of the Mishnah’s projects is to pass those traditions on along with ones that have some basis in scripture (Gruber, ‘The Mishnah as Oral Torah’, 121–2). ⁹³ By the middle of the first millennium , for example, it was clear that Qumran literature, Philo, Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha, and early Christian writings were not Torah for the Jewish community as it had begun to crystallize. This is not to deny that some of these texts may have had some influence, direct or indirect, on Judaism; but they were not preserved, studied, and revered in living Jewish communities. At the time of a text’s composition, it is impossible to know whether it is part of Torah; the answer to such a question will only emerge over the following centuries. ⁹⁴ A separate (and crucial) question involves the halakhic implications of this suggestion. Because this question lies beyond the scope of this chapter and of my own competence, I will not address it in detail; the following brief musings will suffice. It may be useful first of all to note Rosenthal’s conclusion that halakhic rulings in the Talmud are not based on theoretical attitudes toward the nature of Oral Torah; see Rosenthal, ‘Oral Torah and Torah from Sinai’, 474–5. This conclusion severely limits the practical halakhic import of this chapter, or at least should temper any attempt to apply it to the realm of halakhic discourse. On this important issue, see also the nuanced statement of Halivni, ‘On Man’s Role’, 37–8. Collapsing the Written Torah into the Oral Torah might have the paradoxical effect of allowing biblical texts a greater say in halakhic discourse. Due to the principle of y)rtbk )tklh, the category of Written Torah is largely irrelevant to practical decisions of Jewish law, and reference to biblical texts plays little or no role in the ongoing production of Jewish law. But if biblical texts belong

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IMPLICATIONS FOR BIBLICAL THEOLOGY :wOt#&(jla K1b;bfl;biw% K1ypib%; d)om; rbfd%fha K1yle)iI bwOrqf-yk%i For the word is very close to you—in your mouth and your mind, that you may perform it. (Deut. 30: 14)

Biblical theologians have often focused their attention on what we may call centripetal forces within scripture. They do not deny that the components of scripture are diverse, but they regard one of their most crucial tasks as finding the centre of scripture, the idea that holds scripture together, or the group of texts out of which other texts flow. (One thinks, for example, of the idea of covenant in Walter Eichrodt’s work, or the role of the so-called little credo in Gerhard von Rad’s; and of course one recalls Brevard Childs’s emphasis on the final shape of the Bible, rather than its diachronic components, as the key to understanding how tradition is understood by the community of faith.⁹⁵) The not-entirely-new model of canon I outline here moves in quite a different direction. Oral Torah emphasizes multiplicity. The hallmark of midrashic collections is their tendency to preserve several interpretations of a single passage.⁹⁶ The Talmuds (once again) to the category of Oral Torah, they could conceivably have some role in halakhic decision-making—though as the oldest texts of Oral Torah, their role would still be quite limited. In practice, I suspect that the one group of rabbis who tend at times to ignore the principle of y)rtbk )tklh in making halakhic rulings are contemporary Conservative rabbis, some of whom at times refer to biblical principles or values when calling certain rabbinic rules into question. In doing so, they implicitly reject the way halakhic decisions have been made for well over a millennium. But their reasoning may fit the model this chapter implies. By levelling the playing field between Written and Oral Torah, this chapter may allow (what used to be) Written Torah to become more of a living voice in Jewish tradition once again. Thus this chapter may be a sort of theoretical underpinning for a particular approach to Jewish law. Nonetheless, it is by no means clear that this chapter must become such an underpinning; and in any event, it could be used in such a way only if a wider body of halakhic authorities and people committed to halakhah came over a long span of time to see such a use as legitimate (see Halivni, ‘On Man’s Role’, 37–8). I myself would not endorse any such use in the foreseeable future. ⁹⁵ My summary of Childs’s view paraphrases his remark in ‘The Old Testament as Scripture of the Church’, Concordia Theological Monthly 43 (1972): 715. ⁹⁶ This is one of the features that distinguish midrash from other ancient


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consist largely of debates, whether they are records of actual discussions that took place in the academies or (more likely) literary creations. Moreover, because Oral Torah is not fixed but is a matter of My#$wdx or new insights, it never achieves the stasis that is characteristic of true unity; one cannot know what surprise the Oral Torah has in store for us tomorrow. The multiplicity that is essential to Oral Torah becomes especially clear in the phrase, Myyx Myql) yrbd wl)w wl) (‘Both are the living words of God’), which is used in rabbinic literature to give approval to both sides of a debate, however mutually exclusive they are.⁹⁷ In light of this dictum, some rabbinic thinkers view revelation itself as open-ended, since all sides of any debate found in the Oral Torah were revealed to Moses at Sinai. Halbertal points out that for medieval rabbinic figures such as Yom Tov Ishbili (the Ritba) and Nissim Gerondi (the Ran), controversy . . . (was) rooted in the very structure of revelation. The body of knowledge transmitted to Moses was not complete and final . . . but open-ended, including all future controversies as well. Moses (having received at Sinai an Oral Torah that included disagreements) passed on this multifaceted body of knowledge and left it to the court of each generation to constitute the norm.⁹⁸ Jewish interpretive traditions that did not endure within Judaism, such as Philo’s exegesis and Qumran pesher. See Fraade, From Tradition to Commentary, 5–13. ⁹⁷ b. Eruvin 13b; b. Gittin 6b. On the use of this dictum in the Talmud itself, see especially Avi Sagi, Elu va-Elu: A Study on the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse (Tel Aviv: Ha-Kibbutz Ha-Me’uhad, 1996), 10–24. In the remainder of his book, Sagi provides a detailed discussion of the varied understandings of this dictum in later rabbinic cultures, medieval and modern alike. ⁹⁸ Halbertal, People of the Book, 64. See further 161–2, nn. 40–1, and cf. Safrai, ‘Oral Torah’, 49. For a somewhat different view of the Ritba, see Halivni, ‘On Man’s Role’, 43–4. Not all rabbinic thinkers agree with the notion that controversy was inherent in revelation itself. Some (e.g. Abraham ibn Daud) maintain that revealed law, both Oral and Written, was originally unified, but controversy and hence multiplicity of meaning entered the Oral Torah as the result of human failure to recall the revelation correctly. Other thinkers (e.g. Maimonides) view controversy as limited to halakhot that were not revealed at all but were created by the rabbis in the first place. On this more negative attitude toward controversy, see Halbertal, People of the Book, 54–63; Silman, The Voice Heard at Sinai, 72–6; Halivni, Peshat and Derash, 163–7, and id., ‘On Man’s Role’, esp. 36–44; Elman, ‘R. Zadok Hakohen’, 1–5.

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Revelation at Sinai as understood by some classical rabbinic thinkers, then, was multiple in two senses. Not only were two Torahs given, but, more importantly, from the beginning the Oral Torah God revealed included differing opinions on many subjects. Consequently, my proposal that all Torah is Oral Torah⁹⁹ entails a move away from textual homogeneity. Varied and even opposing opinions are recognized as valid, if not on a practical level then at least on a philosophical level. A Jewish biblical theology will differ from other forms of biblical theology in that it can embrace variety instead of searching for unity.¹⁰⁰ It follows that modern methods of biblical scholarship need not stand in any tension with a modern Jewish appropriation of scripture. The multivocality of the Tanakh as recovered by biblical criticism parallels that of rabbinic texts.¹⁰¹ The diversity uncovered by historical-critical method fits quite well with a canon that consists entirely of Oral Torah. The tendency of some biblical theologians—one thinks especially of Childs’s followers—to shy away from historical-critical methods and towards what they term canonical ones seems quite misplaced, at least for a Jewish biblical theology. In this case, canon-critical approaches will be of no particular relevance to Jewish theological appropriation of scripture; but what might be termed tradition-critical approaches will be. We have arrived, then, at a somewhat surprising conclusion. Jewish traditions endorse an all-encompassing canonical unity that goes beyond the boundaries of the Tanakh itself to include rabbinic and post-rabbinic literature. A modern Jewish idea of ⁹⁹ Or rather, my unfolding of an implication found in a modern Jewish understanding of revelation which is itself deeply rooted in earlier texts; see n. 75 above. ¹⁰⁰ On this crucial difference between Christian and Jewish approaches to biblical theology, see especially Jon Levenson, ‘Why Jews are not Interested in Biblical Theology’, in his collection, The Hebrew Bible, the Old Testament, and Historical Criticism (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1993), 56. ¹⁰¹ On the linkage between rabbinic exegesis and the complex layering of biblical texts as recovered by modern biblical scholars, see Moshe Greenberg, ‘The True Meaning of the Bible’, in his collection of essays, On the Bible and Judaism, ed. Avraham Schapiro (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1984), 345–9 (in Hebrew) (originally in Shdemôt 79 (1981) ); Levenson, ‘Why Jews Are Not Interested’, 53–6; and also Benjamin D. Sommer, ‘The Scroll of Isaiah as Jewish Scripture, Or, Why Jews Don’t Read Books’, in Society of Biblical Literature 1996 Seminar Papers (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996), 238–9.


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revelation intensifies that unity by collapsing Written Torah into Oral Torah—or rather, by returning Written Torah to the Oral Torah it originally was. But this Jewish canonical unity does not resemble the sort of unity sought by many biblical theologians. Centrifugal rather than centripetal in nature, it bids the Jewish thinker to contemplate the Torah’s journey down paths not yet taken, and to accept the paradox that opposing ideas can be valid, and arguments sacred.¹⁰² Two important implications for biblical exegesis and theology inherent in my proposal should be noted briefly (and here I return to a theme I intimated in the first two paragraphs of this study). The first of these implications concerns biblical exegesis. My ruminations up to this point allow us to confront a question often asked in religious settings: of what use are modern critical readings of biblical texts? Or, as the question might be phrased in a Jewish context: what is the religious significance of peshat, of the straightforward interpretations of scripture which are often opposed to midrashic exegeses found in the Oral Torah?¹⁰³ Many authorities deem readings not based on the exegeses of Oral Torah as irrelevant to a specifically Jewish appropriation of scripture, however interesting and valid those readings may be. Thus Michael Satlow, in a sensitive discussion of what it means to read Jewish texts, maintains that one creates Jewish meaning out of Jewish texts by interpreting them through the orally transmitted lens of tradition—that is, through Oral Torah.¹⁰⁴ Of course, Satlow avers, one can read classical Jewish texts through other perfectly legitimate lenses, but the meanings one constructs through those lenses are not Jewish meanings. (Satlow might ¹⁰² Indeed, it is through the dialectic of Oral Torah (rather than through the fixity of Written Torah) that revelation continues and knowledge of God grows, according to R. Zadok of Lublin; see Elman, ‘R. Zadok Hakohen’, 19–20. On the positive role of uncertainty (which leads to the centrifugality and controversy so characteristic of Oral Torah) in Jewish thought according to R. Zadok, see further Elman’s comments, p. 20. ¹⁰³ On this question, see e.g. Uriel Simon, ‘The Religious Significance of the Peshat’, trans. Edward Greenstein, Tradition 23/2 (1988): 41–63, and Stephen Garfinkel, ‘Applied Peshat: Historical-Critical Method and Religious Meaning’, Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society (= Comparative Studies in Honor of Yochanan Muffs) 22 (1993): 19–28. ¹⁰⁴ Satlow, ‘Oral Torah’, 264–7.

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rephrase the point made by R. Nah.man in Qiddushin 66a cited above: only through Oral Torah can one understand Written Torah in a Jewish manner.) Satlow rightly identifies the primacy of orally transmitted reading practices peculiar to Jewish cultures for any Jewish interpretation of scripture. Jewish readings result from these practices rather than from a solitary grappling with texts. Taken to the extreme, however, such a view might remove from the category of Jewish interpretation not only the readings of modern biblical scholars but also those of classic peshat-oriented medieval rabbinic figures such as Rashbam, ibn Ezra, and Radak, to name but a few. In their biblical commentaries these exegetes systematically disavow midrashic readings in favour of interpretations based on the linguistic and cultural contexts of the biblical texts themselves. Are such commentaries irrelevant to Jewish interpretation of scripture? In light of our discussion it becomes clear that they are not. The biblical texts that such commentators help us to understand more precisely (that is, in their own settings) are themselves part of Jewish tradition; they are the oldest, and often the faintest, voices found in the Oral Torah. Thus any attempt at hearing them more distinctly—that is, any attempt at hearing them in their own voice, in their own historical and philological contexts—generates Jewish meaning from a Jewish text. To take the most challenging example: when Rashbam offers an explanation of a legal text which is at odds with the explanation found in the Talmud, he does not overturn Oral Torah; rather he sheds light on an earlier voice in Oral Torah, albeit one that holds no legal authority. What Rashbam does in such a case is no less Jewishly relevant than the decision of the Mishnah’s redactors to include legal opinions that the sages had already rejected. There was some value to including the opinions of Shammai alongside those of Hillel even though the former are not the law, and at the very least the same value attaches to Rashbam’s non-rabbinic exegeses of the Torah’s legal sections. Similarly, when Menahem Haran or Samuel Driver or Julius Wellhausen carefully recovers, say, the J strand of a passage and interprets it in contrast to E, that commentator revives a lost voice of the Jewish tradition.¹⁰⁵ The writings of any of these ¹⁰⁵ Regarding the work of the contemporary Orthodox biblical scholar


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commentators therefore contribute to an attempt to understand Jewish tradition in all its fullness.¹⁰⁶ Peshat readings, including modern critical readings, are religiously significant because they enable us to hear religious teachings that might otherwise have been neglected, and those teachings may fortify, enhance, clarify, problematize, or undermine later voices in the Oral Torah in useful ways.¹⁰⁷ The second implication inherent in my proposal concerns biblical theology. If there is no Written Torah, and if Oral Torah begins at Genesis 1: 1, and includes, at least potentially, all Jewish religious thought and creativity, then it follows that there can be no Jewish biblical theology; there can only be Jewish theology. The attempt to construct teachings concerning God and God’s relationship to the world primarily on the basis of biblical texts cannot be a Jewish activity, since any Jewish theology must prominently include both the revealed Torahs. For Jews, as for Catholics, religious thought is not based primarily on scripture, much less only on scripture. It can only be based on tradition along with scripture, or on a tradition that includes but is not limited to scripture. My conclusion that there can be no Jewish biblical theology Mordechai Breuer we can go further: when Breuer distinguishes between what classical source critics call J and E, he intends to allow us to hear distinct voices of God. See especially his programmatic essays, ‘Making Sense of Scripture’s Plain Sense’ and ‘The Divine Names and Attributes’, in Pirqe Bereshit, 2 vols. (Alon Shevut: Tevunot Press, 1998), 11–19, and 48–54 (in Hebrew). ¹⁰⁶ Cf. the comment of Yeshayahu Maori: ‘There are seventy facets to the Torah, and peshat is one of them. If “Torah is light” (Proverbs 6: 23), then the facet of peshat, too, must be enlightening.’ See his essay, ‘The Approach of Classical Jewish Exegetes to Peshat and Derash and its Implications for the Teaching of Bible Today’, trans. Moshe Bernstein, Tradition 21/3 (1984): 49. ¹⁰⁷ For an example of such a recovery of biblical voices that turn out to show significant points of contact with later Jewish texts, see my essay, ‘Reflecting on Moses: The Redaction of Numbers 11’, Journal of Biblical Literature 118 (1999): 601–24. One might also compare my treatment of Deutero-Isaiah’s view of kingship in A Prophet Reads Scripture, 84–8, 112–19 with Reuven Kimelman’s discussion of the Amidah prayer’s attitude toward kingship in ‘The Messiah of the Amidah’, Journal of Biblical Literature 116 (1997): 313–20. For examples of peshat readings that problematize midrashic readings in religiously productive ways, see Simon, ‘The Religious Significance of the Peshat ’, 56–60, and cf. Garfinkel’s use of Moshe Greenberg’s study of capital punishment, in Garfinkel, ‘Applied Peshat ’, 26.

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should come as little surprise. After all, the few Jewish scholars who have become active in the field of biblical theology spend much of their time discussing how problematic the notion of Jewish biblical theology is. What can serve as a Jewish theology is one that returns to scriptural documents, utilizing them alongside later authoritative writings so that all these texts illuminate, problematize, relativize, and renew each other. This sort of undertaking might be termed a biblically oriented Jewish theology rather than Jewish biblical theology.¹⁰⁸ Because it would create a dialogue between biblical and post-biblical texts, it might also be termed a dialogical biblical theology.¹⁰⁹ Such a theology would focus on biblical texts in novel ways and to a greater extent than has been the norm in the past several centuries. It would bring biblical texts to bear on post-biblical theological questions. It might show that some modern concerns are not solely modern, but were concerns of ancient authors as well. By fostering discussion between the first Oral Torah (that is, the texts embedded within the Tanakh) and later forms of Oral Torah, dialogical biblical theology would create new Oral Torah. And thus it would rejuvenate the canon by enlarging its boundaries once again; by engendering plurality it would stimulate an authentic form of canonical unity. ¹⁰⁸ Cf. Levenson, ‘Why Jews Are Not Interested’, 38. ¹⁰⁹ See a forthcoming study that I intend to publish, ‘A New Model for Biblical Theology’.

5 Unity Within the Canon or After the Canon J B

One of the classic themes of biblical theology has been the ‘unity of the Bible’. It has been expected that biblical theology will succeed not only in affirming, but in giving content to, the conviction that the biblical books somehow belong properly together, as symbolized by their being bound together as a single volume; or at least, if it does not go so far as to affirm this conviction, it should at any rate discuss it and probe its possibilities. The obvious questions involved appear to arise on four levels. 1. Differences and (potential) similarities between existing biblical books or groups of them, e.g. between Laws and Prophets, between Kings and Chronicles, between Leviticus and Deuteronomy, between Samuel and Qohelet, between Acts and Paul, between Mark and John, and finally between Ephesians and Revelation. These are differences that exist between canonical books, independent of any ‘critical’ reassessments. 2. Differences and similarities between canonical books and non-canonical books of similar genre, e.g. between Genesis and Jubilees, between Proverbs, ben Sira and Wisdom, between John and the Gospel of Thomas, and between Paul and the letters of Ignatius. These are differences that invite and stimulate thought about why certain books should count as canonical when others do not. 3. Differences and similarities between sources or strata within any biblical book, e.g. between Yahwistic and Priestly strata in Genesis, or between different portions of the book of

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Isaiah, or between Marcan and Q elements in Matthew or Luke. These are differences, the perception of which is commonly attributed to ‘historical-critical’ approaches, but in fact it would be more true to say that the perception existed anterior to historical criticism. When the latter arose, however, that perception then stimulated and fed the production of proposed historical-critical solutions. 4. Differences between the biblical books and the theological traditions that arose at the end of the biblical period and became authoritative for later stages. Both in Judaism and in Christianity, these differences came to be regarded as regulative for the interpretation of the Bible. Biblical theologians are aware of these differences but they have not been brought fully within the scope of biblical theology as generally conceived. The obvious reason for this is that ‘biblical’ theology, by its own title, though aware of later developments, ought not to take as its subject matter materials created at a later period.¹ It is, I think, now agreed among most biblical theologians that there is a plurality of theologies within the Bible; at least, this is now the dominant use of the term ‘theology’ with reference to biblical texts. In the historical books the theology of the Deuteronomist is overlaid over the theology of the older materials enclosed within the framework. The theology of the Chronicles stands out as different from that of Samuel/Kings. The theology of Job is different from that of Proverbs. The theology of Q is different from that of the material unique to Matthew or Luke. This usage is implicitly accepted by all the books and articles in which a scholar sets out to write an account of the theology of a particular book or source. It remains perfectly plausible, however, that one may seek to speak of a total ‘biblical theology’ ¹ There have been some partial exceptions to this. Some Old Testament theologians have included some consideration of the later Wisdom works (ben Sira, Wisdom of Solomon) in their thinking, and some New Testament theologians have likewise included ‘Early Christian Literature’ (Didache, 1 Clement, Gospel of Thomas, Ignatius) as at least marginally a part of their material. Occasional suggestions that Old Testament Theology should take rabbinic thought into consideration have not been widely followed: cf. James Barr, The Concept of Biblical Theology: An Old Testament Perspective (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 284-5. The Qumran documents have added to the force of the suggestion.

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or ‘theology of the Bible’. Such a theology, unless it simply denied the possibility of differing theologies of different books or sources, would have to exist on a higher level of generalization or abstraction. We shall have to consider whether an advance in this direction is really desirable. For the purpose of this chapter, the area on which I want to concentrate is that indicated by my point 4 above. I want to argue that the locus of the ‘unity’ we seek lies, not in the collection of books, even if we view their contents ‘holistically’, but in the relation of the biblical collection to the formation of doctrine, of theology, of law, or of whatever it may be. Specifically, the locus of ‘unity’ lies in the regulative decisions that, though arising in part from the Bible, become the interpretative guide for the religion afterwards. Regulative decisions of this kind, as I say, exist within the Bible, and the biblical text may provide evidence of them. Sometimes the words reported of speakers in the stories may be examples. Thus, when Joseph says (Gen. 50: 20) ‘As for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive,’² or when the centurion says about Jesus (Mark 15: 39) ‘Truly this man was the Son of God,’ they are saying things that are more like true theology than is true of the average content of the books in which these sayings occur. But these regulative decisions are decisions that were formed within the community and which came to be transferred into the post-biblical stage not necessarily as interpretations of particular passages or particular books, but as decisions that we have to describe in another way. In Christianity they can be thought of as theological, doctrinal formation. In Judaism they may perhaps be categorized primarily as law. For the moment we stay with the situation in Christianity. There is an overlap, as I see it, between doctrinal formation within the biblical period and similar formation after it. But that which originates within the biblical period is embodied in the biblical stories and letters, while afterwards it gradually takes a different ² Gerhard von Rad thought deeply about this verse: see e.g. his Theologie des Alten Testaments (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1957), i. 60, 176, 438, 452, id., Old Testament Theology, trans. D. M. G. Stalker (New York: Harper, 1962), i. 52, 173, 440, 454; id., Wisdom in Israel, trans. James D. Martin (Nashville: Abingdon, 1972), 200.

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form and becomes doctrine, intended as a coherent statement of what the church affirms. The doctrinal production is thus something different from what can be stated as the product of a ‘biblical theology’, especially if the latter is expressly related to the boundary of the canonical books. This can be particularly well illustrated from my point 4, the relation of Old Testament to New Testament within Christianity. There can be no question of the enormous importance of the Old Testament within the New Testament books or within New Testament Christianity, whichever way we express it. Yet the fact remains that it is very hard to obtain from the New Testament a completely coherent and comprehensive picture of the relationship, such as would cover all books and all the many difficult cases. Conversely the christologies and the trinitarian concepts that arose in patristic times could not be validated as a necessary deduction from biblical data. Rather, they are a development from thoughts already present in biblical times, Old and New Testaments, that attained to regulative status in the late New Testament period or afterwards. The total material of the Bible—whether cited in later texts or not—functions not as the source or proof for these doctrines, but rather as a place from which complementation, or adjustment, or indeed objection and restatement, may follow. Those who seek to establish a clear and consistent application of the Old Testament for Christianity thus probably cannot meet their goal on the basis of the biblical documents themselves. Thus I quote a significant utterance of Räisänen, ‘It seems to me that almost any early Christian conception of the law is more consistent, more intelligible and more arguable than Paul’s . . .’³ Yet Paul’s position is likely to enjoy primacy within many or most theological currents. From another standpoint, the idea of a biblical theology of the entire Christian Bible, i.e. bringing the Old and New Testaments together in one theology, has often been rejected as practically impossible and academically unacceptable. I agree that it might be practically impossible, because the variety of the ³ Heikki Räisänen, The Torah and Christ: Essays in German and English on the Problem of the Law in Early Christianity, ed. Ann-Marit Enrogh, Publications of the Finnish Exegetical Society, no. 45 (Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society, 1986).


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material might be too great to grasp within a meaningful scope. I do not think on the other hand that the attempt is academically unacceptable, as if to say that theology of this kind lies outside the realm of the modern academic world and must therefore not even be attempted. It is of course possible to argue that New Testament interpretations of the Old are often incorrect, that the Old did not in fact look forward to anything resembling what early Christianity produced, that the New Testament sheds a bad light on Jews and Judaism, all of these things. But this does not show that a theology seeking to embrace both Old and New Testaments would be improper, or academically unacceptable as something to be done in a university. The early Christians and the New Testament did in fact build their religion around an overlap or interpenetration of the Old and the New, and whether they did this well or badly does not matter essentially. It is a fact of history that this was done and is not disputed, and this sort of interpenetration of two partly different religions, with the use of texts from one by the other, is something that is by no means abnormal in religions. So it is not unreasonable that it should be studied as such. Thus a Christian biblical theology of the entire Christian Bible is not an impossible thing to contemplate, in theory. But here we ought to consider whether something similar might apply on the Jewish side. I have in mind the position of Mattityahu Tsevat which I outlined in my The Concept of Biblical Theology.⁴ As he sees it, a ‘positive’ Jewish theology cannot stand on the basis of the Hebrew Bible alone. Rather, it is a theology of the way in which the Hebrew Bible is linked with Midrash and Talmud. If this is right, then there would seem to be a sort of analogy between Jewish theology and Christian theology, at least on a level of high generalization. This might fit in with another observation: it might mean that there would be no necessary difference or failure to fit together as between Jewish work and Christian work on the Hebrew Bible, as long as it is just that, i.e. work on the Hebrew Bible. Once we move into the way in which Christians link the Old Testament with the New, through their post-New Testament doctrinal formation, it is uncertain how Jewish scholars would feel. ⁴ Barr, The Concept of Biblical Theology, 289-91 and 581, 585.

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Conversely, if we go into the way in which the Bible is linked with Midrash and Talmud in Judaism, not too much Christian scholarship has gone into that area. In both cases the theology thus perceived would be more than a biblical theology: it would explicitly go into post-biblical areas. In both cases the ‘unity’ of the Bible would depend on integration with material from outside the Bible. In a certain sense the activity would be historical, thus it would seek to perceive various stages in which the Bible formed the base for Midrash and Talmud in Judaism, similar to how Old and New Testament together related to doctrinal development in Christianity. But it would not depend on purely historical reasoning. Rather, it would seek to form a perception that was theologically meaningful within the categories of either religion. We thus make a distinction between biblical stories, letters, and other materials on one hand, and the development of regulative statements, on the other hand, of which some exist already within the Bible but most are formulated after the Bible. In Judaism, they are found in law and also in Midrash, which might be thought of as a kind of secondary story; and in Christianity they are prominent in creeds and similar summaries. When we do this we have to avoid giving the impression either that things become better or that they become worse as we move from one to the other. At least in Christianity, a creedal statement is believed to be more precise and more comprehensively related than a biblical story or an utterance of some character within a biblical story. But that does not mean that a creedal statement is somehow better. Even if doctrinal formulation is necessary and has more of the character of true theology, something is lost as we move from scripture to theology. This is why, even if the theology is more regulative, the Bible remains the basis and foundation, and especially the primary resource for church life and personal relationship. We move back therefore from theology to scripture. I argue, therefore, against the position that the text of the Bible, especially if it is perceived in a holistic manner as a complete entity, provides in itself the picture of the reality to which it ‘points’. This has been argued quite a lot in recent times. The Bible is not to be seen ‘in itself’, rather it ‘points’ to that of which it speaks. This has been thought to provide some sort of ‘key’ to biblical theology. The Bible is not in itself the referent, the real-


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ity referred to, but nevertheless the factual shapes of the Bible taken as a whole define the essential shapes of that reality and there is nothing beyond this. Biblical theology is thus definitive. There may be other modes of theology that lie beyond this, but they cannot alter the regulative character of the shapes defined by biblical theology. Of course the Bible ‘points’ to a reality other than itself—it is difficult to see how it could be otherwise. God or kingdom or righteousness are referents to which the elements in the text ‘point’. But the referent is not there in the text. It is more accurate, as I see it, to say that the referent to which it points lies ‘behind’ the text. Otherwise we would reach a somewhat ‘positivistic’ position whereby the configuration of the referent could be read off directly from the text. Modern emphases on ‘holistic’ readings of various kinds make it more desirable to recognize this. Theology then, in the sense of normative Christian theology (and I leave open the possibility of something analogous in Judaism), exists only on the basis of the formation of doctrine that may have its basis in the Bible, may be anticipated in the Bible, certainly derives from suggestions thrown up by the Bible, but in itself is something other than the Bible, for its fullness arises and becomes evident only in the times after the Bible is complete. Strictly biblical theology, by contrast, works within the boundaries of the biblical books and their environment. (This is the same whether we work with one book or with a group like the Prophets or Wisdom, or if we take the canonical groupings and evaluations that vary between one communion and another— this makes no difference for the present argument.) If this is so, it may be asked what use or value can biblical theology have? Is it not condemned to be eternally inferior to the combination of doctrinal theology with the biblical text? No, for though we have said that doctrinal formulation is essential for the theological understanding of the Bible, a return into the scriptural text is essential for the functioning of the religion. Meditation on scripture is essential and is supposed to be fostered by preaching (though often it is not!). But the return of the mind into scripture, given the other modes (historical, comparative, sociological, etc.) in which we now understand the Bible, is now incomplete unless we have something like a

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biblical theology as its locus. Biblical theology is an approach that—unlike the original formation of doctrine in the immediate post-biblical period—is integrated with these historical and other modes and yet also differs from them.

6 Interpretative Unity of the New Testament¹ C L

THE QUESTION The question regarding what makes the New Testament texts into a canon—or at least a part of the canon—can be answered in many different ways. The many dimensions to the problem and the differing perspectives on the question do not mutually exclude each other. Rather, the plurality makes it obvious that there is not just one answer to this question. It was issues surrounding the history of the canon that shaped the early parameters of the canon question. Its high point was the influential two-volume work written at the end of the nineteenth century by Theodor Zahn.² At this early stage, the controversy focused on the problem of dating the four canonical gospels, as the debate between Theodor Zahn and Adolf von Harnack documents.³ On ¹ I thank Christine Helmer for her translation of this chapter. All German texts quoted in this chapter are also translated by Christine Helmer. Except when otherwise noted, all Bible translations are from the New Revised Standard Version in The New Oxford Annotated Bible, ed. Bruce M. Metzger and Roland E. Murphy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994). ² Theodor Zahn, Geschichte des neutestamentlichen Kanons, 2 vols. (Erlangen: Deichert’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1888–92; reprint, Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1975). On the history of canon research until the end of the nineteenth century, see the overview by Bruce M. Metzger, The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin, Development, and Significance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), 25–36. ³ Cf. Adolf von Harnack, Das Neue Testament um das Jahr 200: Theodor Zahn’s Geschichte des neutestamentlichen Kanons (Erster Band. Erste Hälfte) geprüft (Freiburg im Breisgau: J. C. B. Mohr (Paul Siebeck), 1889); Theodor Zahn, Einige Bemerkungen zu Adolf Harnack’s Prüfung der Geschichte des neutestamentlichen Kanons (Erster Band. Erste Hälfte) (Erlangen/Leipzig: A. Deichert’sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1889).

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the whole, attention was directed to the time periods and geographical regions in which specific lists were acknowledged to be writings binding on specific communities. The canon lists were compiled by individual persons or by church synods, and had authoritative character—at least that was the claim.⁴ It is significant that the particular biblical or New Testament books mentioned by these canon lists did not have the same relevance for each community. For example, the extant Christian library lists written on papyrus do not always include all biblical writings, but only in a few cases record a complete New Testament.⁵ The process of canonization can in general terms be summarized as ‘the process by which texts are made binding for a group by a particular elite’.⁶ By the canonization of particular writings, the elites also intended to determine and preserve the community’s identity. ‘By making a text binding [on a group], the [elites] intended that no one could explicitly challenge the foundational character of these texts without placing him or her⁴ Cf. Barbara Aland, ‘Kanonlisten’, in Hans Dieter Betz, Don S. Browning, Bernd Janowski, and Eberhard Jüngel, eds., Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 4th edn. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998– ), iv. 779. On the discussion of the question concerning the formation of the canon, see Caspar René Gregory, Canon and Text of the New Testament (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1907); Ernst Käsemann, ed., Das Neue Testament als Kanon: Dokumentation und kritische Analyse zur gegenwärtigen Diskussion (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970); Karl-Heinz Ohlig, Die theologische Begründung des neutestamentlichen Kanons in der alten Kirche, Kommentare Beiträge zum Alten und Neuen Testament (Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1972); Brevard S. Childs, The New Testament as Canon: An Introduction (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1985); Metzger, The Canon of the New Testament; Eduard Lohse, Die Entstehung des Neuen Testaments, 5th rev. edn., Theologische Wissenschaft, no. 4 (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1991), 12–17; Geoffrey Mark Hahneman, The Muratorian Fragment and the Development of the Canon, Oxford Theological Monographs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992); Lee M. McDonald, The Formation of the Christian Biblical Canon, rev. and expanded edn. (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1995); David Trobisch, Die Endredaktion des Neuen Testaments: Eine Untersuchung zur Entstehung der christlichen Bibel, Novum testamentum et orbis antiquus, no. 31 (Fribourg: Universitätsverlag; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996); John Barton, Holy Writings, Sacred Text: The Canon in Early Christianity (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1997). ⁵ On this theme see Christoph Markschies, ‘Neue Forschungen zur Kanonisierung des Neuen Testaments’, Apocrypha 12 (2001): 237–62, 243–9, 262. ⁶ Ibid., 242.

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self in a specific way outside the group or its consensus.’⁷ For the purpose of historical reconstruction, the processes by which a canon is authorized by a theological or churchly elite must be studied. Nevertheless, the canonization process cannot be reduced to such a purely formal process. The reasons for the formation of the New Testament canon are especially complex.⁸ The reasons why such canon lists could finally arise, at least among particular groups, within definite regions, and for specific time periods should also be considered from the theological and hermeneutical perspective.⁹ The formation of the canon lists must be understood to presuppose an important claim. The texts contributed a decisive aspect to the way a group determined its understanding of the world, and thereby the possibility of shaping a distinct world context (Lebenswelt). The canonical texts have a semantic-ontological potentiality, which must be considered in order to answer questions concerning the unity of the canon in theological-hermeneutical perspective. Without such a semantic-ontological unity-shaping potential, the canon would lose significance as the elites lose their authority and influence. The texts of the biblical canon contribute to such an understanding of the world, of human relations, and of God. However, this was not only the specific function of the canonical texts, but also the function of many subsequent texts of church tradition. Without the canonical texts, the particular understanding of the world and God developing in relation to these texts could not begin to take shape. The church’s tradition only grew on the ground established by the canonical texts. Nevertheless, I argue that it was the expectation that the canon would contribute to an understanding of self, world, and God that decisively motivated the canon’s reception. Even with all of its semantic openness and semantic heterogeneity, the canon contributes to ⁷ Ibid. ⁸ Cf. McDonald, The Formation of the Christian Biblical Canon, 7, 228–49, who gives a detailed discussion of the aspects pertinent to the historical study of the formation of the New Testament canon as well as mentioning the canonical criteria relevant for early Christianity: apostolicity, orthodoxy, antiquity, inspiration, and usage. ⁹ Hahn rightly emphasizes that ‘the New Testament canon . . . could not at all have come about without inner reasons’. Ferdinand Hahn, ‘Das Zeugnis des Neuen Testaments in seiner Vielfalt und Einheit: Zu den Grundproblemen einer neutestamentlichen Theologie’, Kerygma und Dogma 48 (2002): 253.

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a definite understanding of self, world, and God. Its effects can be described as a plurality oriented to a unity of understanding self, world, and God.¹⁰ By virtue of its semantic perspective, the canon guards the continuance of the church’s stock of symbols.¹¹ For any sociologically definable group, such a safeguarding of foundational symbols is necessary for the group’s longevity. As a consequence, the process of canonization is a movement oriented to the determination of contents. The determination of contents is not an end in itself, but has at least the continuance of the group’s identity in view. During the long process of the canon’s history, semantic determinative contents can change within specific parameters. Moreover, a plurality of determinative contents is shown by the semantic heterogeneity of respective biblical texts themselves and is grounded in the different contextual locations of biblical texts.¹² Questions concerning the development and the justification of the canon’s content cannot be adequately answered if the content, meaning the semantic ordering, of the many canonical writings is not considered. These introductory remarks lead to further aspects of fundamental importance for determining the biblical canon’s unity. First, the canon shapes the group’s distinct identity. This shaping can be seen by the effects of these texts throughout church ¹⁰ In connection with this idea, it must be clarified that ‘unifying’ is not used in the sense of a flattening of perspectival differences as accesses to an understanding of world and God. What I mean by unity presupposes plural accesses to reality. The reason for plurality is that neither a text nor its reception can ever be described from a holistic perspective, by which a complete determination in view of semantics would be possible. A text and its reception never mediate an exhaustive understanding of the world. Specific text semantics might contribute to a sufficient determination of our life-world, although this takes place under human finite epistemic conditions. Nevertheless, such a determination must naturally be corrected, given changed contextual conditions. On the open semantic value of texts and especially of New Testament texts, see Christof Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, no. 113 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999), 479–96. ¹¹ Cf. Eilert Herms, ‘Was haben wir an der Bibel? Versuch einer Theologie des christlichen Kanons’, Jahrbuch für Biblische Theologie 12 (1997): 99–152. ¹² The differing contextual situation is obviously not the only reason for semantic heterogeneity. Sometimes even attempts to determine an understanding of self, world, and God can be observed to be inconsistent with one another within the canon.


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history.¹³ Second, the biblical canon is of essential importance for forming the religious contents of the faith community. The Christian church received the biblical texts as foundational texts, constituting the community’s textual points of reference. By this reception, the Christian community is also constituted as a community of interpretation. Its interpretations are directed to determining the semantic potential of biblical texts and, thereby, to a determination of the world focused by this religious perspective. The semantic range of biblical texts is a further unity-shaping aspect playing a key role in the functional unity of the New Testament canon. In semantic perspective, the unity of the canonical writings makes possible a unity-shaping effect. Effect and semantics are two dimensions of the linguistic potential of every text. Both can be recognized as factors in the canon’s functional unity when the text’s potential, if not actual, unity is seen as one part of the text’s linguistic potential. So, it is not only that the New Testament canon reinforces the continuance of the church’s group identity by guaranteeing the continuity of its stock of symbols. Rather, beyond this, the church also makes use of the canon to obtain its unity-shaping effect and to stabilize group identity. This use can be seen throughout church history: in the original development of different canon lists, through the actual use of biblical books in the libraries of antiquity, as well as in contemporary uses of the Bible for both worship and studies. Third, the pragmatic aspect of the canon must be mentioned in this discussion. Finally, fourth, the canon can only be perceived as such because it was formed on a specific basis that distinguishes canonical formation from unity-shaping effect. This distinction is evident in the different canon lists and different uses of biblical books in actual congregations and theological discussions. The canon is also perceived as such in view of its internal divisions and structuring of the entire text corpus. The canon’s structure plays an essential role in its unity. In general terms, the dimensions of each text’s linguistic potential are outlined by its structure, semantics, pragmatics, and ¹³ The biblical canon is self-evidently not the only factor that safeguards in historical terms the Christian church’s group identity. For this purpose, additionally pertinent factors can be the tradition or the liturgy that have contributed in significant ways to the institutional stabilization of the church throughout its history.

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effects.¹⁴ In view of these four dimensions, the question of the canon’s unity can be posed in a meaningful way. If the canon’s unity is to be explored in a comprehensive way, then all of these linguistic levels should be thematized when posing the question. In this chapter, I will pose the question concerning the canon’s unity in a restricted sense. First, I will restrict the subject matter to the unity of the New Testament canon. Second, I will view the New Testament’s canonical unity from a semantic perspective.¹⁵ Given the inter-connections between the four linguistic levels, I will consider the other three levels only if it is necessary to do so. INTERPRETATIVE ACCESS TO THE WORLD Our understanding of the world is eminently dependent on language. As humans, we access the world only through language in all its dimensions. Our world, meaning the world insofar as and in what ways it is accessible to us, is discursively constituted.¹⁶ Without discursive determination, we would have neither an inter-subjectively communicable knowledge of the world nor the possibility of a common, goal-oriented activity in the world. ¹⁴ Classic semiotics takes as its point of departure linguistic structure at three levels of language, namely pragmatic, semantic, and syntactic. ‘Pragmatics is that portion of semiotics which deals with the origin, uses, and effects of signs within the behavior in which they occur; semantics deals with the signification of signs in all modes of signifying; syntactics deals with combinations of signs without regard for their specific signification or their relation to the behavior in which they occur.’ Charles W. Morris, Signs, Language, and Behavior, 2nd edn. (New York: Braziller, 1955), 219. This disjunction is to be supplemented by the ‘effective’ level of language. This level names the effect of language. On the differing levels of language cf. Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, 28–37. ¹⁵ A comprehensive discussion of the question concerning the unity of the Christian Bible must obviously take the Old Testament as well as the Septuagint into account; cf. Christoph Dohmen and Franz Mußner, Nur die halbe Wahrheit: Für die Einheit der ganzen Bibel (Freiburg: Herder, 1993); Bernd Janowski, ‘The One God of the Two Testaments: Basic Questions of a Biblical Theology’, trans. Christine Helmer, Theology Today 57 (2000): 297–324; Hans-Jürgen Hermisson, Alttestamentliche Theologie und Religionsgeschichte Israels, Forum Theologische Literaturzeitung, no. 3 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2000), 16–24. The question concerning the unity of the entire Christian Bible must be considered in view of all four levels of language. ¹⁶ A detailed justification is given in Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, 9–107.


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Every text and every linguistic expression contributes to the determination of the world in a specific way. Situated in its respective semantic-ontological context, an expression depends on that context for its determining potential. As context-dependent, every discursive articulation is inevitably an interpretation of a feature in the world. The world is only accessible as an interpreted world. Our access to the world is constantly interpreted with thoroughly constructionist elements. To cite Hans Lenk in this regard, All types of both representations of and accesses to the world are profoundly shaped by interpretation, from the knowing and acting subject, to one’s personal situation, to the human in its activity and world context (life-world). All these aspects are structured by and soaked with schematic interpretation. In view of their representations and general comprehensibility, they are unavoidably saturated with interpretation. The ground rule of methodological interpretationism (interpretational constructionism) is that all knowing and acting are interpretatively saturated. Only in profoundly interpretatively dependent ways can we comprehend, conceive, mean, and structure anything at all, and act in a way distinguishing between component parts. This rule stands beyond all shadow of a doubt.¹⁷

Fundamental interpretationism leads one to observe that access to the world is never and can never be exhausted under the conditions of finitude. Accesses to the world can only be comprehended plurally, which does not mean arbitrarily. Plurality is an inevitability if one claims inter-subjective communicability for our linguistically comprehended, interpretative accesses to the world. Inter-subjective communicability is a necessary presupposition for access to the world, at least within each interpretative community. Language itself opens up the possibility for inter-subjective communication that is necessary to a community of action and life. The question whether the discursive expressions really contribute something to the determination of the world, whether they also really offer something to ¹⁷ Hans Lenk, Interpretationskonstrukte: Zur Kritik der interpretatorischen Vernunft (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1993), 607–8. In view of Lenk’s work, it is to be pointed out that an entire array of questions arises in connection with the claim of a methodological interpretationism, especially the question concerning the semantic-ontological status of the respective interpretational constructs.

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be understood from the world and thereby make goal-oriented activity possible, is to be answered in light of the coherence question.¹⁸ With the means of a logic of coherence, discursive expressions are tested for their comprehensiveness, consistency, and cohesiveness.¹⁹ The logic of coherence tests those expressions that, as inter-subjectively communicable, come to be recognized as interpretational constructs. These constructs are in turn comprehended plurally. Because they reflect a finite perspective, they do not represent a unified or coherent system. The decision as to which interpretational construct contributes to the determination of the world or can give something about the world to be understood can only be made when a preference criterion is chosen. One interpretational construct can be chosen from among many when a preference criterion, itself not grounded logically, is selected. Language has a fundamentally interpretative function. Only through interpretation do we have context-conditioned access to the world. The logic of coherence takes into account the semantic-ontological interconnection between language and world. Beyond this logic, however, language opens up the actuality of inter-subjective communication. At this juncture, it is necessary to make the following remark. In connection with the insights of Umberto Eco,²⁰ and of Wolfgang Iser²¹ in the German-speaking world, many post-modern, linguistically oriented, radically reader-oriented, linguistic-hermeneutic, and linguistic¹⁸ The determination and justification of coherence in a holistic perspective demands a complex semantic-ontological mode of argumentation. Cf. Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, 9–107, and the summary on 103–7. ¹⁹ Ibid., 60–74. On the logic of coherence cf. Nicholas Rescher, The Coherence Theory of Truth (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1982), 72–97, 168–86. ²⁰ Umberto Eco, Lector in fabula: Die Mitarbeit der Interpretation in erzählenden Texten, 3rd edn., Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, no. 30141 (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1998); id., Die Grenzen der Interpretation, trans. Günter Memmert, 2nd edn., Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, no. 30168 (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1999). ²¹ Wolfgang Iser, Der implizite Leser: Kommunikationsformen des Romans von Bunyan bis Beckett, 2nd edn., Uni-Taschenbücher, no. 163 (Munich: Fink, 1979); id., Der Akt des Lesens: Theorie ästhetischer Wirkung, 3rd edn., UniTaschenbücher, no. 636 (Munich: Fink, 1990).


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literary scientific approaches to language emphasize, with justified arguments, the reader’s crucial role in the interpretation of a text.²² On the other hand, the claim is made that author, text, and reader have to be weighed equally when interpreting a text.²³ Nevertheless, a description of the complex web of interpretative relations is not exhausted by an analysis of author, text, and reader. A text is always oriented to the determination of the world, as much as both author and reader. An interpretation can make sense or be meaningful; in view of reality and the world, however, it can fail entirely. There can finally be no useful interpretation that does not consider the reality of the world, even if that reality is ultimately accessible only by interpretation. But what does ‘only’ mean in this context? It means that the only possible candidate for an inter-subjectively communicable access to the world under the finite conditions of human epistemological possibilities is one that makes claims to reality. Interpretative access to the world is, as such, access to the world. It accesses reality, not only a text that can be conceived independently of the world. A text is only relevant in the sense that it can mediate knowledge of goals and action. A text is useful when it gives and is able to give something of the world to be understood.²⁴ Interpretative access to the world proves itself to be an appropriate realistic approach because it considers the thoroughgoing linguistic dependence and the fundamental openness of our access to the world.²⁵ ²² A brief summary of some such approaches is mentioned in: Gerd Schunack, ‘Neuere literaturkritische Interpretationsverfahren in der angloamerikanischen Exegese’, Verkündigung und Forschung 41 (1996): 28–55; Manfred Oeming and Anne-Ruth Pregla, ‘New Literary Criticism’, Theologische Rundschau 66 (2001): 1–23. ²³ Cf. W. Randolph Tate, Biblical Interpretation: An Integrated Approach, rev. edn. (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1997), 255: ‘If the interpreter takes any of these interpretive thrusts in isolation (i.e. author-centred, text-centred, or reader-centred), consciously or unconsciously excluding the other two, hermeneutics becomes an unbalanced discipline.’ ²⁴ When a text intends to communicate something about the world to be understood, then it also intends a truth claim. It is really a truth claim when the text really does communicate something about the world to be understood (cf. Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, 438–44). ²⁵ The interpretative access to the world presupposed here is anchored in a holistic-pluralistic immanent realism (on this cf. ibid., 85–90). This understanding of ‘realism’ presupposes the interpretational theoretical insights represented by someone like Hans Lenk. See Hans Lenk, Interpretationskonstrukte: Zur Kritik der interpretatorischen Vernunft; id., Interpretation und Realität: Vorlesungen über Realismus in der Philosophie der Interpretationskonstrukte, Suhrkamp Taschenbuch Wissenschaft, no. 1179 (Frankfurt am

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Christof Landmesser THE NEW TESTAMENT CANON AS INTERPRETATIONAL CONSTRUCT AND AS INTERPRETATIONAL OBJECT

The general ground rule for the interpretative function of language is valid also for religious language and for religious texts. To summarize, given our human conditions for knowledge, we have no access to the world other than an interpretative one. If this claim is extrapolated to religious texts, then these texts too are to be comprehended as interpretational constructs. As such, religious texts also claim to give something to be understood about the world, humans, and God. They can also adequately determine an understanding of the world, interpersonal relations, and God.²⁶ What can be claimed for religious texts is also the case for the New Testament. By contributing to a determination of world, interpersonal relations, and God, the texts of the New Testament canon prove themselves to be interpretational constructs.²⁷ Like other texts, religious texts are interpretational constructs that are methodologically regulated and have a semantic-ontologically determinable status. And like those texts, New Testament texts as interpretational constructs never offer a complete determination of the world, interpersonal relations, and God. The semantic-ontological heterogeneity in the texts of the New Testament canon, and their occasional semantic inconsistency, point to the unavoidable penultimate status of any interpretational construct. Furthermore, the subject matter of the New Testament texts is embedded in their context location. Context is determined by the text’s semantic-ontological perspective as well as by the finitude of the linguistically conMain: Suhrkamp, 1995). My approach, however, differs on important points from Lenk’s interpretational constructivist realism, which should be explained in another essay. ²⁶ In this sense religious texts make a decisive truth claim, as do all discursive expressions in principle. No truth claim, however, is ever absolute because it is to be understood according to its context and because it is always conditioned by the human limits of knowledge. ²⁷ Redaction-historical criticism has contributed significantly to this insight. ‘The transmission of tradition is available only and simultaneously as interpreted tradition.’ Gerhard Barth, ‘Über Probleme und Trends bei neutestamentlichen Theologien’, Kerygma und Dogma 48 (2002): 266.


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stituted access to the world of the authors, the tradents, and the redactors of the New Testament texts. The claim that the texts of the New Testament canon are to be regarded as interpretational constructs does not yet explain the complexity of possible accesses to the world by means of these texts. For the reader in his or her respective contemporary context, the texts are a part of the world that is to be determined and interpreted. The processes of reading with comprehension and methodologically controlled exegesis are interpretational processes of reading and interpreting texts as a part of the world. As a result of these processes, original interpretative texts become objects of interpretation. The open-ended determination of the world conditions the open-endedness of complex interpretational processes.²⁸ The continuous reinterpretation of the world, and thereby the continuous reinterpretation of canonical texts, is a necessary process if the texts of the New Testament canon are not to be lost to posterity. Texts are interpreted as constituent elements of the world in their respective contemporary situation. Interpretation is to be understood as an aspect of the respective contextualization of these texts in semantic-ontological perspective. If the New Testament texts are to contribute to the determination of the world in the contemporary situation, then they must be interpreted. They must be understood and reconstructed as a part of the contemporary semantic-ontological context of the world. I will summarize my concluding observations of this section. The texts of the New Testament canon can be understood as interpretational constructs in two ways: First, the texts themselves are interpretations of the world. Second, if the texts are to be perceived in their respective contemporary context as giving something of the world to be understood, then they must be interpreted.²⁹ ²⁸ Cf. Lenk, Interpretationskonstrukte: Zur Kritik der interpretatorischen Vernunft, 609. ²⁹ This description obviously represents a great reduction in complexity insofar as the New Testament texts themselves are complex interpretations of interpretations. A clear example of this reduction can be seen in the synoptic gospels. The synoptic gospels each have different sources; they take up and adapt different traditions, and in the process naturally interpret these traditions. The history of the interpretation of New Testament texts exposes a complexity that

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Christof Landmesser INTERPRETATIVE UNITY OF NEW TESTAMENT TEXTS

The texts of the New Testament canon altogether make the claim that they explain the world to their readers.³⁰ In more precise terms, the New Testament texts make the claim that they are determining part of the world. Which part? These Christian religious texts determine the part of the world or reality that is most important for the God–human relation. In traditional categories, this means that the New Testament texts make the claim to explain what is absolutely essential for human salvation. This is not the most unimportant part of the world or reality. Nevertheless, this claim does not by itself explain the canonization of New Testament texts. The claim that the texts say something essential, perhaps most essential, about God’s relation to humankind is also articulated in the Christian tradition. Also, many texts have made this claim without having been judged canonical in the course of history. The pragmatic claim of the New Testament texts does not suffice to explain their canonicity. In light of this insufficiency, I now turn to the question concerning the common reference point of the New Testament. In this section, I argue that a discussion of the reference point from a semantic-ontological perspective can provide an answer, at the first level of interpretation constructs, to questions concerning the unity of the canon. The answer to the question concerning the common issue in New Testament texts from a semantic-ontological perspective appears to be quite simple. The New Testament texts have in common one relation to the person of Jesus Christ.³¹ This relation is specified in idiosyncratic ways by the New Testament authors, except for 3 John, who does not explicitly thematize this relation. All the New Testament writings agree with each can never be entirely and unambiguously determined. Such a complexity continues to condition contemporary interpretations as well. ³⁰ On the concept of the world used here see Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, 85–90, 439 with n. 20. ³¹ ‘The decisive point of reference for the entire New Testament tradition is the revelation of the person of Jesus Christ.’ Hahn, ‘Das Zeugnis des Neuen Testaments in seiner Vielfalt und Einheit’, 245.


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other on one further point: humankind’s salvation depends on one’s understanding of this person Jesus Christ. This point can be documented by many examples. In the following paragraphs, my remarks on a few texts are organized according to the order of the New Testament canon. 1. From the opening chapter on Jesus’ genealogy, the gospel of Matthew makes clear that a salvation-historical change for the chosen people of Israel and for the Gentiles is integrally connected with the entry of Jesus into the world. In Matthew 1: 2-16, Jesus’ lineage is divided into three chronological sections of altogether fourteen generations. These three sections span the entire history of Israel from Abraham to Jesus. Each of the three parts concludes with an extraordinary event in the history of Israel. In Matthew 1: 6, the appearance of King David is mentioned; in Matthew 1: 11–12, the Babylonian captivity; and finally in Matthew 1: 16, Jesus is named. In fact, the entire genealogy summarizing Israel’s history is oriented to Jesus’ appearance as its culmination. The construction of this genealogy is ‘an expression of the divine plan, which rests above the history of Israel leading to Jesus’.³² Not only is Jesus’ salvific entry into the world intended for the people of Israel. Christ’s salvation is also for the Gentiles. The universal implications of salvation are made clear by the genealogy with the conspicuous naming of women who do not belong to Israel: Tamar (Matt. 1: 3), Rahab and Ruth (Matt. 1: 5), and finally the wife of Uriah (Matt. 1: 6).³³ Even the Gentiles are included in God’s history with humankind; Jesus’ entry into history spells the all-encompassing salvation of humanity. The decisive element in Jesus’ entry into the world is described ³² Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, i: Mt 1–7, 2nd edn., Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, no. 1/1 (Zurich: Benziger Verlag, 1989), 95. ³³ Uriah’s wife was originally an Israelite. In Jesus’ genealogy, however, she was mentioned in conjunction with the other women who did not belong to the people of Israel. This is made clear with the naming of her husband Uriah, who was a Hittite. See also Hartmut Stegemann, ‘Die des Uria: Zur Bedeutung der Frauennamen in der Genealogie von Mt 1,1–17’, in Gerd Jeremias et al., eds., Tradition und Glaube: Das frühe Christentum in seiner Umwelt (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1971), 176, 261–6. At the time of Uriah, the Hittites were known in Jerusalem as ‘foreign elements’. On this point cf. Fritz Stolz, Das erste und das zweite Buch Samuel, Zürcher Bibelkommentar Altes Testament, no. 9 (Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1981), 236.

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in two ways with the giving of his name. In a dream, Joseph is told by an angel of God to name the son of Mary Jesus, ‘. . . for he will save [s*sei] his people from their sins’ (Matt. 1: 21). The second part of the naming stresses a further aspect: Jesus is the Emmanuel, ‘God with us’ (cf. Matt. 1: 23). Both these aspects, that Jesus is the subject of forgiving sins and that he is God with us, are threaded through Matthew’s entire gospel. The gospel concludes with this precise motif. As God with us, Jesus is with his disciples and his church until the end of the age: ‘And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age’ (Matt. 28: 20). With the preceding commissioning for mission, the author of Matthew proclaims that Jesus’ entry into the world spells universal salvation for all humankind. According to Matthew, Jesus’ presence thematizes as an essential moment of salvation the possibility as well as the demand to fulfil God’s will.³⁴ The author of Matthew interprets the sources and traditions at his disposal about the entry of Jesus into human history as God’s decisive salvific activity. God’s activity interrupts the history of human sin. Humankind is transferred to a new location in which life can be lived in accordance with the divine will.³⁵ 2. Similar to the beginning of Matthew’s gospel, the superscript of Mark’s gospel clearly articulates its central focus on the person of Jesus Christ: årc¶ toı eÛaggel≤ou ∞ Ihsoı Cristoı uÈoı qeoı; ‘The origin of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God’ (Mark 1: 1; trans. C. H.). Mark’s gospel grasps the subject matter of interpretation as the beginning (årc&), the origin, precisely the foundation of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the son of God. For Mark’s gospel, ‘it is Jesus Christ who is the sole content of the gospel’.³⁶ The salvific kingdom of God in its nearness and presence is indivisibly bound together with Jesus’ entry into ³⁴ Cf. Matthew 5: 20, 48; 7: 21 among others. In the great commissioning, the double structure of Matthew’s soteriology is clarified by the command to the disciples (1) to make disciples of the nations (which is accomplished by baptism) and (2) to teach them everything that Jesus had entrusted to his disciples (Matt. 28: 19–20). ³⁵ Cf. Christof Landmesser, Jüngerberufung und Zuwendung zu Gott: Ein exegetischer Beitrag zum Konzept der matthäischen Soteriologie im Anschluß an Mt 9,9–13, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, no. 133 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 5–48. ³⁶ Hans Weder, ‘ “Evangelium Jesu Christi” (Mark 1,1) und “Evangelium Gottes” (Mark 1,14)’, in Einblicke in das Evangelium: Exegetische Beiträge zur


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the world (Mark 1: 14–15). The motif of Jesus as the son of God structures Mark’s gospel from its starting-point as an inclusion. Mark’s author takes up this motif in chapter 15: 39 in order to highlight this very point. In this verse, the heathen centurion says from the foot of the cross, ålhq0ß o˜toß Ø £nqrwpoß uÈÏß qeoı Án; ‘Truly this man was the Son of God’ (trans. C. H.).³⁷ The motif is also anchored at the gospel’s centre. At the scene revealing Jesus on the mountain, God points to Jesus as Ø uÈÎß mou Ø ågaphtÎß, ‘my Son, the Beloved’ (Mark 9: 7b). This beloved son of God is the one whom humans should hear (Mark 9: 7b: åko»ete åutoı). The soteriological dimension to Jesus’ entry into human history is also designated by the terms of Mark’s motif. Right before the beginning of the passion story, the author of Mark programatically announces that Jesus, the son of man, has come to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10: 45). In his gospel, the author of Mark portrays Jesus’ entry into the world by interpreting Jesus as the son of God in whom the salvific kingdom of God comes to humankind. 3. Similarly to Matthew and Mark, Luke–Acts also discloses its central theme in the Prologue to Luke’s gospel. In Luke 1: 1– 4, the author announces that he will provide an ‘orderly account of the events’ which have been handed down to him. By events, Luke’s author specifically refers to those surrounding the person of Jesus. He reports on these events in order to open the eyes of Theophilus and all other subsequent readers of the gospel. This is paradigmatically captured towards the end of the gospel when the Emmaus disciples had their eyes opened as Jesus broke bread with them (Luke 24: 31). Eyes are opened to the events that Christ had to die and be raised on the third day, as well as that the repentance of all people to the forgiveness of sins be proclaimed in his name (Luke 24: 46, 47). The central soteriological point of Luke’s gospel is captured in Peter’s speech before the high council in Acts 4: 12: ‘There is salvation (swthr≤a) in no one neutestamentlichen Hermeneutik. Gesammelte Aufsätze aus den Jahren 1980–1991 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992), 53. ³⁷ The determinate translation of uÈÏß qeoı results from the fact that this expression functions in this sentence as a predicative noun to which normally no article is assigned. Cf. Ernst G. Hoffmann and Heinrich von Siebenthal, Griechische Grammatik zum Neuen Testament, 2nd edn. (Riehen, Switzerland: Immanuel-Verlag, 1990), § 135a.

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else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved (swq[nai).’ Luke–Acts is oriented entirely to the salvation of humankind, which is inextricably connected to Jesus Christ. Adapting special material (Sondergut) not found in either Mark or Matthew, Luke frames his gospel with his soteriological focus in Luke 1: 1–2: 52 and 24: 13–53. The author of Luke connects his gospel with Acts through the appearance of the risen one to his disciples in Jerusalem; Christ’s appearance as the risen one concludes the gospel and begins the book of Acts. From Jerusalem, the place of Jesus’ appearance, the mission extends to Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the world (Acts 1: 8).³⁸ The salvation inaugurated by Jesus Christ is universal. From this universal perspective, the author of Luke– Acts interprets the events surrounding the person of Jesus, the history of the first Christians succeeding those events, and the mission accomplished by the early Christians. 4. The gospel of John begins its Prologue with the highest christological claim: ƒn årc∫ Án Ø lÎgoß, ka≥ Ø lÎgoß Án prÏß tÏn qeÎn, ka≥ qeÏß Án Ø lÎgoß; ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was of divine nature’ (John 1: 1; trans. C. H.).³⁹ John’s entire gospel tells the story of this lÎgoß, who is one with the Father (John 10: 30). Attention must be paid to the original conclusion to John’s gospel: ‘But these— meaning the entire gospel [insertion C. L.]—are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name’ (John 20: 31). Through its narrative, the gospel interprets the person of Jesus Christ, who himself is the sole and unique object of faith. According to John’s gospel, faith is already eternal life itself. Jesus is the essence of salvation for all humankind.⁴⁰ ³⁸ The expression in Acts 1: 8, 1wß ƒsc3tou t[ß g[ß, refers to Rome, the center and capital city of the world at that time. According to Acts 28: 31, Paul proclaimed the basile≤a toı qeoı in Rome and taught t¤ per≥ toı kur≤ou ∞Ihsoı Cristoı, meaning everything that had to do with the person of the Lord Jesus Christ. ³⁹ On the christological hymn in John 1: 1–18 and its theological foundation in John’s gospel, cf. Otfried Hofius, ‘Struktur und Gedankengang des LogosHymnus in Joh 1,1–18’, in Otfried Hofius and Hans-Christian Kammler, Johannesstudien, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, no. 88 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 1–32. ⁴⁰ Cf. John 3: 36 and especially John 17: 3: ‘And this is eternal life, that they


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5. Arising naturally in this discussion is Paul, the apostle of Jesus Christ,⁴¹ who proclaims the gospel of Jesus, the son of God (Rom. 1: 1–7). Paul designates this gospel as the power of God unto salvation (ejß swthr≤an), for Jews and Gentiles, for all humans alike. This universal salvation is revealed to the believer; for her, the reality of salvation is present in its justification of the sinner (Rom. 1: 16 –17; 5: 1). According to Paul, justification is integrally connected to faith in Jesus Christ (Gal. 2: 16). The centre of Paul’s preaching to his missionary congregations is God’s activity in the Christ event (2 Cor. 5: 14-21). Paul interprets Jesus’ death on the cross as the d»namiß qeoı, the power of God for those whom God has saved (1 Cor. 1: 18). 6. The Letter to the Hebrews begins its exordium with a basic theological proposition articulating the theological cantus firmus of the entire letter.⁴² Now, God has finally and definitively spoken to us through his Son, whom God has appointed as inheritor and who is also the mediator of creation (Heb. 1: 1–2). Jesus Christ the son of God is the true and faithful high priest, who offered himself up as a sacrifice in order to remove the sins of many (Heb. 9: 26–8 and in other passages). The theme of Jesus Christ also plays the crucial role in the Letter to the Hebrews. In this letter, salvation comes to humankind in Jesus Christ. 7. Finally, for the book of Revelation there is no other theme than the person of Jesus Christ. According to Revelation, Jesus is the first-born, the Lord over the kings of the earth. He is the lamb, who alone is worthy to open the book with the seven seals, the lamb, by whose death humans from all nations were bought back for God. These humans have subsequently become kings and priests for God (Rev. 5: 9–10). And at the end of the ages, this Jesus Christ will return as the one who is as God himself: alpha and omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end (Rev. 1: 8 with 22: 13). The bride, the community of believers, waits [meaning all to whom the Father gave the Son] may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.’ ⁴¹ In most of his preserved letters, Paul represents himself right in the salutation with the designation åpÎstoloß ( ∞Ihsoı Cristoı) or doıloß ( ∞Ihsoı Cristoı) (Rom. 1: 1; 1 Cor. 1: 1; 2 Cor. 1: 1; Gal. 1: 1). By this designation, he stresses the constant reference of his preaching to the person of Jesus Christ. ⁴² Cf. Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer, Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, no. 17/1 (Zurich: Benziger Verlag, 1990), 47–8.

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expectantly and with longing for Jesus’ return. With his coming again, the final time of salvation will have begun. Salvation will be the reality of God dwelling with humankind. Then, God will wipe away every tear and death will be no more (Rev. 21: 4). This is the all-encompassing shalom, salvation in its essence. From the above overview, I have shown that the New Testament texts form a unity in a twofold perspective. First, the New Testament texts all represent their respective interpretations of the Christ event from their respective contexts. Second, the New Testament texts all relate their discussion of the Christ event to a view of human salvation that is both effected by the Christ event and established by God. From these observations, I draw the following interim conclusion. The New Testament texts altogether make a claim that is connected throughout to a specific manner of speaking. The texts maintain that they are articulating a decisive claim concerning God’s relation to humankind when they speak concretely about Jesus Christ. It is this claim of Jesus Christ that I have summarized in the above section as the common reference point and unity-shaping element of the New Testament texts.⁴³ DIFFERENCES BETWEEN NEW TESTAMENT TEXTS My original question was: In view of their content, what forms the New Testament texts into a canon in the sense of unity? As an interim conclusion, I made the point that the New Testament texts make an altogether specific claim in relation to the Christ event and its significance for humans. Or, in other words, faith in Jesus Christ, the son of God who brings salvation to humankind, is the red thread connecting all the New Testament writings. ⁴³ Connected to my proposed unity in twofold perspective are further theological, christological, pneumatological, soteriological, ecclesiological, and eschatological themes. These topics are thematized with great diversity in the New Testament. For a summary see Hahn, ‘Das Zeugnis des Neuen Testaments in seiner Vielfalt und Einheit’, 254–8; Eduard Lohse, Grundriß der neutestamentlichen Theologie, 4th edn., Theologische Wissenschaft, no. 5/1 (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1989), 161–4; James D. G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New Testament: An Inquiry into the Character of Earliest Christianity, 2nd edn. (London: SCM Press, 1990).


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Nevertheless, this statement does not yet disclose any specific information. There are recognizable differences between various New Testament texts in their descriptions of salvation for humans by the person of Jesus Christ. In fact, the differences are so serious that they threaten to conceal the common element. I will explain such a difference by the following example. If it is confirmed that the New Testament writings offer entirely different interpretations of the meaning of salvation, then the question concerning the canon is intensified in view of content.⁴⁴ How can the salvation established in Jesus Christ be concretized? Here I am not referring to the classic difference between Paul and James, which can also be used as an example of this case.⁴⁵ The question of how salvation, the all-encompassing shalom for humanity, is efficacious is answered in two different ways within the New Testament. The answer given by the author of Matthew’s gospel differs in a significant way from the Apostle Paul’s understanding of salvation. As I have shown above, according to Matthew’s gospel, Jesus as God with us has come into the world in order to forgive God’s people of their sins. The soteriology of Matthew’s gospel is inextricably bound together with the person of Jesus Christ. Matthew’s soteriology is shaped by an important twofold structure that is apparent in many texts of this gospel. I choose here the parable of the king’s marriage feast (Matt. 22: 1–14). This is a parable that is not taken from Mark’s gospel, and its version in Matthew differs significantly from the parallel story told in Luke as the parable of the great dinner (Luke 14: 15–24). In Luke’s version, a man sends an invitation to a great dinner. He sends his servants out in order to remind guests about the invitation. Regrettably, the guests do not come, giving excuses that they ⁴⁴ For an overview of the different attempts to describe the unity and diversity of theological perspectives in the New Testament, see Barth, ‘Über Probleme und Trends bei neutestamentlichen Theologien’, 265–71. ⁴⁵ On the differences between Paul and James in view of soteriological questions, see Markus Lautenschlager, ‘Der Gegenstand des Glaubens im Jakobusbrief ’, Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 87 (1990): 161–87; Friedrich Avemarie, ‘Die Werke des Gesetzes im Spiegel des Jakobusbriefs: A Very Old Perspective on Paul’, Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 98 (2001): 282–309. In their review of literature, Hahn and Müller give a brief overview concerning the discussion of the theology of James. See Ferdinand Hahn and Peter Müller, ‘Der Jakobusbrief ’, Theologische Rundschau 63 (1998): 1–73.

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have what they consider to be more important things to do. As a result of this rejection, the host becomes angry and sends his servants out again—entirely in accordance with Luke’s theology— this time to the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame.⁴⁶ In Matthew’s version, Luke’s ordinary citizen becomes a king (Matt. 22: 2). With this modification, as is the case in the parable of the wicked servant (Matt. 18: 23–35), the author of Matthew has God himself in view.⁴⁷ Furthermore the author of Matthew gives a dramatic description of how the invited guests, one after the other, decline the invitation. In grotesque reaction to the king’s reminder of his invitation, these guests mock the king’s servants, capture them, and finally kill them. Corresponding to this turn of events is the king’s reaction. He sends his soldiers out in order to both kill the murderers of his servants and burn the city to the ground. This narrative element is undoubtedly an allusion to the destruction of Jerusalem in 70  and an explanation for the rejection of the Christian missionaries by Israel.⁴⁸ Nevertheless, this aspect of the parable is not as significant for my argument as is the story’s sequel. When the initially invited guests do not arrive at the wedding banquet, the king lets his servants stream out and pick up off the streets whomever they might find, good and bad alike. The festive hall is filled (Matt. 22: 10b). At this juncture, the parable’s theological claim concerns how God turns to humankind. Without any merit on the part of humanity, and unconditionally, God invites humans to his feast, to his salvation. This is the first step on the path of salvation. Whoever takes part in the wedding feast is saved. ⁴⁶ On the various groups invited in this parable and their significance for Luke’s theology, see Willi Braun, Feasting and Social Rhetoric in Luke 14, Society for New Testament Studies, Monograph Series, no. 85 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 64–97. ⁴⁷ Matthew 18: 23, 35. On this point see W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, Jr., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, ii: Commentary on Matthew VIII–XVIII, International Critical Commentary (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1991), 796–7. ⁴⁸ On the allusion to 70  in Matthew 22: 7 see W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, Jr., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, i: Introduction and Commentary on Matthew I–VII, International Critical Commentary (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1988), 131–2; Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, iii: Mt 18–25, Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament, no. 1/3 (Zurich: Benziger Verlag, 1997), 242.


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In contrast with Luke’s gospel, Matthew’s version does not end at this point. For the author of Matthew’s gospel, the addition over and against Luke is an essential part of the story. With the last-minute invitation of the guests, participation in the wedding feast—meaning participation in eschatological salvation—is not yet definitively guaranteed.⁴⁹ There is just one more condition impinging on all the guests in order that they might truly participate in the banquet. The king walks between the rows and checks to see if the guests are clothed with an πnduma gamoı, an appropriate wedding garment. And he does in fact discover one guest who is not suitably dressed: ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe? And he was speechless’ (Matt. 22: 12). The king’s reaction is cruel. He commands the attendants to expel the man into the darkness, ‘where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth’ (Matt. 22: 13b). Matthew’s parable ends with an image of the eschatological judgement (cf. Matt. 8: 12; 13: 42, 50; 24: 51; 25: 30). With this ending, the author of Matthew’s gospel permits a closer glimpse into his soteriology. The guests are invited to the marriage feast without any merit on their part. The king’s invitation is quite surprising. It is truly God’s invitation, and has an effect similar to Jesus’ call of the disciples.⁵⁰ The guests belong to the Christian community. The invitation is effective, and as such it is a necessary condition for eschatological salvation. However, it is not yet a sufficient reason. ‘[I]t is not enough just to be called.’⁵¹ In order really to take part in the wedding feast, a second condition must be fulfilled. The guest must put on a wedding robe. In the context of Matthew’s gospel, the metaphor of the wedding garment is not difficult to understand. Already in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus demands that his disciples ⁴⁹ The king’s entry into the wedding hall is a metaphorical play on the last judgement. Cf. Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans, 1982), 439; W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, Jr., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, iii: Commentary on Matthew XIX– XXVIII, International Critical Commentary (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1997), 203–4; Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, iii. 244–6. ⁵⁰ Cf. Matthew 4: 18–20; 4: 21–2; 9: 9. ⁵¹ Davies and Allison give this precise formulation in Davies and Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, iii. 207.

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surpass the righteousness of the Pharisees if they want to enter into the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 5: 20). The disciples must be perfect, even as their father in heaven is perfect. In contrast, the wicked servant loses the forgiveness offered to him after he acts in an unforgiving way to the man in his debt (Matt. 18: 21–35). And at the last judgement, human salvation is ultimately decided by the correspondence of their activity to the will of God (Matt. 25: 31–46). In the context of Matthew’s gospel, the parable of the king’s marriage feast expresses the soteriology of Matthew’s author. For the author, human salvation is truly grounded in God’s turning towards humankind in Jesus Christ. Human salvation is nevertheless connected to a second condition. The human, to whom God has turned, must completely fulfil the requirements of the divine will.⁵² I call this the ‘secondary conditioning of salvation’ according to Matthew’s gospel.⁵³ The Matthean version of soteriology is not common property within the New Testament. The Apostle Paul articulates another interpretation of the Christ event. From his soteriological perspective, Paul does not admit any secondary conditioning of salvation. Rather Paul speaks against this conception and argues for the present certainty of salvation in a way with which Matthew’s author cannot possibly agree: ‘Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ’ (Rom. 5: 1). Those who have been justified by faith can doubt no more about their salvation. In Romans 8: 38–9, Paul speaks of faith’s certainty in almost hymnic tones. ‘For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ Over and against Matthew, Paul attributes the entry into salvation to the creative act of God.⁵⁴ God is the one who ‘gives life to the dead and calls ⁵² Cf. Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, iii. 246. ⁵³ For details on the structure of Matthew’s soteriology see Landmesser, Jüngerberufung und Zuwendung zu Gott. ⁵⁴ The entry of humans into the salvation effected by God is described metaphorically as an act of creation not only by Paul. Rather this is precisely the central soteriological motif which can be found in many New Testament writings. This soteriological motif is evident in John 3: 1–21 with the meta-


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into existence the things that do not exist’ (Rom. 4: 17). The one who is in Christ, is a ‘new creation’ (2 Cor. 5: 17; cf. Gal. 6: 15).⁵⁵ In Paul’s theology, the action of Christians is of immense significance. According to Paul, however, the action of Christians is not a condition for entrance into salvation, but a consequence of the new creation; it is the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5: 22).⁵⁶ In the context of his theology, Paul cannot entertain a secondary conditioning of salvation.⁵⁷ In this regard, it is Paul’s theology, not Matthew’s, that has significant implications for understanding human freedom and the certainty of faith. In this section, I have shown that there is a serious difference in the concrete explication of salvation between the author of Matthew’s gospel and Paul. In view of this central question posed in early Christianity, it is difficult to detect a unity for the New Testament canon, at least not between Paul and Matthew. This phor of the new birth. On this latter point see Otfried Hofius, ‘Das Wunder der Wiedergeburt: Jesu Gespräch mit Nikodemus Joh 3,1–21’, in Hofius and Kammler, Johannesstudien, 33–80. It is also captured in 1 Peter 1: 3 and Titus 3: 5 with the metaphor of rebirth. Finally, the parable of the lost son (Luke 15: 11–32) narrates the return to life as a creative act of God. For a study of this parable see Christof Landmesser, ‘Die Rückkehr ins Leben nach dem Gleichnis vom verlorenen Sohn (Lukas 15,11–32)’, Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 99 (2002): 239–61. ⁵⁵ On the foundational significance of Paul’s metaphor of new creation see Samuel Vollenweider, Freiheit als neue Schöpfung: Eine Untersuchung zur Eleutheria bei Paulus und in seiner Umwelt, Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments, no. 147 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), and Ulrich Mell, Neue Schöpfung: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche und exegetische Studie zu einem soteriologischen Grundsatz paulinischer Theologie, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, no. 56 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1989). ⁵⁶ According to Paul, those believing in Christ are empowered to act. On the significance of and possibility for action, see Christof Landmesser, ‘Der paulinische Imperativ als christologisches Performativ: Eine begründete These zur Einheit von Glaube und Leben im Anschluß an Phil 1,27–2,18’, in Christof Landmesser et al., eds., Jesus Christus als die Mitte der Schrift: Studien zur Hermeneutik des Evangeliums, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft, no. 86 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1997), 543–77. ⁵⁷ On the difference between Matthew and Paul’s soteriology see Landmesser, Jüngerberufung und Zuwendung zu Gott, 149–57; Martin Hengel, ‘Zur matthäischen Bergpredigt und ihrem jüdischen Hintergrund’, in Judaica, Hellenistica et Christiana: Kleine Schriften, ii, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, no. 109 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1999), 253–4.

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difference cannot be erased by assuming that the same state of affairs is described from two different perspectives. For the early Christian communities and their missionaries, the question concerning the certainty of salvation was a question of life or death. In view of this concrete and life-crucial question, Matthew’s gospel and Paul’s letters cannot be brought into semantic agreement. Both offer radically different interpretations of the Christ event. NEW TESTAMENT TEXTS AS INTERPRETATIONS OF THE CHRIST EVENT The New Testament texts all refer to the appearance of Jesus in history and its implications. Unified by a common focal point, the texts are all interpretational constructs of this event, which they comprehend theologically as the Christ event in which the divine activity is recognized. From this common interest arises an interpretative unity of the New Testament canon. Every inter-subjectively communicable interpretation, even of this Christ event, must by necessity be captured in language. Hence every interpretation of the Christ event in the New Testament stands under the same conditions of language. This claim has far-reaching implications. If a more precise determination of the Christ event is made accessible to us only through language, then our access to the Christ event is always dependent on language—and thereby on the limits of language. Discursive access to the Christ event is never identical with the Christ event itself. The Christ event is always presupposed by, and must remain the presupposition of, any of its descriptions. In order to access the Christ event at all, the event must be discursively accessible. The Jesus story must be narrated; commentary must be given for it. In traditional terminology, the Christ event must be proclaimed, and in theological terms, the Christ event must be interpreted.⁵⁸ ⁵⁸ The New Testament texts describe the Christ event by making a claim for a more appropriate specification of the semantic level. On the basis of human finite reason, the open-endedness of the world, and the contextual location of each human cognition, the semantic value for such a specification must always be


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No text of the New Testament exhaustively describes the Christ event. Human language is never fundamentally in a position to grasp something in a completely adequate or comprehensive way. A description always remains open to further additions, corrections, and new perspectives. No one apprehension can take all aspects of the thing to be described into consideration. All New Testament texts are discursive reconstructions or interpretations of a rich body of material about the history of Jesus. The New Testament authors each appeal to very different traditions, variants, stories, opinions, and representations of the Christ event. Living in different places and writing at different times, the authors offer very different interpretations of the original story. Each interpretation, however, attempts to give coherence to the individual statements. Without coherence, an understanding of the world, as well as an interpretation of the Christ event, would not be possible. At least in the context of inter-subjective communication, a more or less incoherent interpretation would not be convincing. In spite of a striving for coherence, an interpretation can never take all aspects of the event into account. In each interpretation, some aspects must be chosen, others left out of the picture. Coherence is the criterion measuring whether or not an interpretation is appropriate under the conditions of human possibilities of knowing; coherence serves to tell whether a claim has the right to be made or not. The rich body of data, multifarious traditions, and many variants make possible a diversity of differing coherent representations. A problem arises with respect to this diversity. This is precisely the problem with the New Testament. Nevertheless, the New Testament texts do have something in common. They all agree with each other about a meta-criterion overarching their interpretations. Common among them is a reference to the person of Jesus Christ. Or, formulated in another way, the common element of all New Testament texts is the faith in Jesus Christ that is not at anyone’s disposal. The New Testament authors disclose the fact that they themselves are grasped by faith in Jesus Christ. This faith determines the selection of available sources and the composition of their interpretations of indicated as an open semantic value. See Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, 479–92. (Italics in original.)

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the Christ event. Faith in Christ is the christological preference criterion.⁵⁹ THE NEW TESTAMENT TEXTS AS CANON FOR THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH At this point in the argument, the following claim can be made. The New Testament texts form an interpretative unity in at least two respects. First, they are all related to Jesus’ entry in human history. Second, the New Testament texts all have a christological preference criterion as an essential element in their interpretations. Even when the contextual and the semantic differences resulting from the contextual differences between the New Testament texts are not overlooked, these two aspects are sufficient in order to speak about an interpretative unity of the New Testament. With all its diversity, the New Testament is an example of how the first Christians interpreted the Christ event under the conditions of faith in Jesus Christ. This claim, however, does not address the question concerning how Christians can understand the New Testament writings in semantic perspective as a relevant canon for the contemporary church. Persons of every generation must work out their respective understandings of the world in their respective contexts. Each understanding of the world is always contextually situated in relation to the tradition and the history shaping that specific context. The context is, however, not identical with the tradition and the history conditioning it. Every new context demands a reinterpretation of tradition and history. This reinterpretation can be understood as a recontextualization of tradition and history. By being interpreted in the contemporary context, the interpreted texts, and among them the New Testament texts, contribute to a determination of the world in that context. Only through interpretation can the texts’ understanding of the world contribute something to our contemporary understanding of world, self, and God. The aim of such an interpretation is to pro⁵⁹ On a more precise determination of the christological preference criterion see Landmesser, Wahrheit als Grundbegriff neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, 459–79. The sole referent of the christological preference is the person of Jesus Christ, meaning the fact of faith in Christ. The content of this criterion is to be distinguished from the criterion itself.


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duce a coherent picture of the texts’ semantic-ontological claims. Although in a holistic perspective, the interpreted picture is nevertheless context dependent and thereby open-ended. When such an interpretation is produced within the contemporary discursive-ontological context, the New Testament texts can be said to contribute to the determination of the world. Obviously, very different accesses to the New Testament texts can be presented. The Bible as a whole is not only an object of interpretation as seen by the Christian church. The biblical texts are also world literature in the best sense. There is a crucial difference between a literary study of the New Testament texts and an interpretation conducted within the church. In the church, the New Testament texts are evaluated by the same christological preference criterion that the New Testament texts themselves presuppose. Believers in Christ read the New Testament texts with the knowledge that they have the same faith in Jesus Christ as those who wrote the texts. And this sameness of faith points precisely to the process of the canonization of the New Testament texts in view of both their content and their semantics. In view of their content, the New Testament texts are not canon by themselves. Rather, they become canon where they are interpretationally grasped as the original texts of the Christian church and as the necessary reference texts for Christians.

7 Unity of Scripture Constituted through Jewish Traditions of Interpretation¹ A S

INTRODUCTION Throughout its history, halakhic tradition established a unique relationship with scripture, which it viewed as reflecting the original word of God, and therefore sacred. The biblical text was interpreted and understood within the boundaries of this tradition, which reread the text and determined its meaning based on halakhic parameters. Given the assumption about the sacredness of this text, we would expect Halakhah to develop a disposition of careful attentiveness and subservience towards scripture when attempting to decode its meaning. Instead, we find an active disposition and readiness to create the text through interpretation. Yeshayahu Leibowitz, among the most prominent Jewish philosophers of the twentieth century, locates the biblical text within halakhic tradition through one of his characteristically radical formulations: Halakhah is founded on faith, yet at the same time constitutes this faith. In other words, Judaism as a living religion creates the faith upon which it is founded. This is a logical paradox but not a religious paradox. The Halakhah is not an external wrap clothing Jewish religion or faith. It is the sole form in which they can be embodied, the collective manifestation of Judaism.²

¹ I thank Batya Stein, my translator, for her excellent translation, her editorial suggestions, and the substantive comments she contributed to this paper. ² Yeshayahu Leibowitz, Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State, ed. Eliezer Goldman, trans. Eliezer Goldman, Yoram Navon et al. (Cambridge,

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 187 Leibowitz understands Jewish religion as a constitutive system, namely, one that establishes rather than regulates activity in a given domain.³ In his words: ‘We characterize Judaism as an institutional religion . . . This description is intended to reflect the peculiarity of Judaism, for which the institutions of halakhic practice are constitutive. Apart from them, Judaism does not exist.’⁴ This is the foundation of Leibowitz’s claim that ‘Judaism . . . creates the faith upon which it is founded’, meaning that Halakhah creates all its institutions of legal authority and the norms as well as the institution of scripture. The ‘infrastructure’ of Jewish religion, then, is the institution of Halakhah: Jewish religion as the world of Halakhah, of the Oral Law, was not created in scripture. Instead, scripture is one of the institutions of Jewish religion. As Halakhah determines . . . the holy day in the year designed for atonement, so does it determine, according to its own considerations, the writings meriting the description of sacred.⁵

According to Leibowitz, Halakhah determines the meaning of scripture, and thereby its status. Having Halakhah determine the status of scripture is a striking inversion of the apparently logical order, whereby the Written Law precedes the Oral Law. Leibowitz argues against this order: ‘From an ideological-religious perspective, but also from a logical-causal one, the Oral Law, which is the world of Halakhah, precedes the vision and values of the Written Law. The institutional law creates the faith on Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992), 11. For an analysis of Leibowitz’s perception of scripture see my article, ‘Contending with Modernity: Scripture in the Thought of Yeshayahu Leibowitz and Joseph Soloveitchik’, Journal of Religion 77 (1997): 421–41. ³ Searle described in detail the meaning of a constitutive system. See John R. Searle, Speech Acts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 32–42. On the links between Leibowitz and Searle see Asa Kasher, ‘ hl)# Nmys ,sqwdrp’ (Paradox, Siman She’elah = Paradox, Question Mark), Iyyun 26 (1975): 238 n. 1. (Editors’ note: Transliterations and their English equivalents are given for all Hebrew works cited in this essay.) ⁴ Leibowitz, Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State, 4. ⁵ Yeshayahu Leibowitz, l)r#y tnydmw ydwhy M( ,twdhy (Yahadut, Am Yehudi u-Medinath Israel = Judaism, the Jewish People, and the State of Israel) (Jerusalem: Schocken, 1976), 349. Excerpts from this book have appeared in translation in Judaism, Human Values, and the Jewish State, cited above. Whenever translations are available, I refer the reader to the latter.

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which it rests.’⁶ Halakhah thus determines not only the meaning, but also the status of the Bible: The Oral Law did not sanctify the Written Law as a historical or literary document, as a science book or as a moral guide, and not even as a constitution. Halakhah actually uproots scripture whenever it deems so necessary. Halakhah consecrated the Written Law as divine revelation. The Jew lives by the Oral Law, but he sets the Lord always before him, as revealed in the Written Law.⁷

According to this approach, scripture reflects divine revelation, but the contents and the meaning of this revelation are determined by halakhic tradition. God’s word becomes subject to human interpretation, which determines its import and significance.⁸ Even if Leibowitz’s formulations are slightly radical, he does represent a mainstream voice in Jewish tradition in general and in halakhic tradition in particular, which developed a unique hermeneutical approach concerning the interpretation of the biblical text. In this chapter, I attempt to explicate this view by analysing the approach of Nahmanides (c.1194–1270), a towering exegete and halakhist whose work is a paragon of rabbinic thought. The analysis of Nahmanides’ approach and its manifestations in later Jewish tradition may suggest plausible answers to a range of questions in the history of Jewish hermeneutics that remain open. At the centre, however, two questions beg further investigation. First, why did a general hermeneutical theory fail to develop in traditional Judaism, as it did, for instance, in Protestantism? Second, why did the problems evoked by biblical criticism, and chiefly the unity of the biblical text, enter intra-Jewish discourse only during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries?

⁶ Leibowitz, Yahadut, Am Yehudi u-Medinath Israel. ⁷ Ibid. ⁸ For a more detailed critical analysis of Leibowitz’s position see my article, ‘Contending with Modernity’. See also Avi Sagi, ‘Yeshayahu Leibowitz—A Breakthrough in Jewish Philosophy: Religion without Metaphysics’, Religious Studies 33 (1997): 203–16.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 189 NAHMANIDES AND THE OPENNESS OF SCRIPTURE Is there an autonomous biblical text, whose meaning does not depend on a hermeneutical tradition? What is the nature of this text and what is its relationship to halakhic interpretation? These questions recur often in Nahmanides’ writings. His basic assumption is that the biblical text is open in principle to many interpretations, implying that it is a polysemic text: For the Torah⁹ was given to us by Moses in written form, and it is known that not all opinions concur on newly arising matters. God commands us to heed the Great Court on everything they say, regardless of whether members of the Court claim to rely on traditions received from him [Moses],¹⁰ or claim that this is the meaning and intention of the Torah according to their own view, because it is subject to the judgment of halakhic authorities that God commands us and gives us the Torah.¹¹

Nahmanides’ view concerning the openness of scripture rests on the perception of this text as normative—as a source for drawing practical conclusions. When engaging in normative inferences from a written text to a new reality unknown in the text, we are not necessarily drawing a deductive inference. Instead, we are exercising discretion. The text does not ‘speak’, nor does it determine the normative conclusion. In his introduction to another of his works, Milhamot ha-Shem, Nahmanides clearly distinguishes ⁹ Translator’s note: I have retained the Hebrew term ‘Torah’ because it appears in Nahmanides’ discussion in all its multivalent connotations: law or instruction (as the verses in Deuteronomy 8–11 discussed below are translated in the King James version and in other modern translations of the Bible), but also scripture and Jewish texts in general. English translations of scripture in the present chapter, preserving the word Torah, are from The Holy Scriptures (Jerusalem: Koren, 1986). ¹⁰ See Nahmanides’ exegesis on Deuteronomy 17: 11 in Commentary on the Torah, trans. Charles B. Chavel (New York: Shilo Publishing House, 1973), 207: ‘whether they received its interpretation by means of witness from witness until Moses [who heard it] from the mouth of the Almighty’. ¹¹ N’bmrh twg#h M( ,M’bmrhl twwcmh rps (Sefer ha-Mitzvoth le-haRambam, im Hasagot ha-Ramban = Maimonides’ Book of the Commandments, with Nahmanides’ Critical Glosses), ed. Hayyim Dov Chavel (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1981), 17. Subsequent references from this work will be cited in the text as Glosses.

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deductive inferences, such as those of logic or mathematics, from halakhic inferences: ‘Any student of the Talmud knows that the parties to a hermeneutical controversy do not adduce conclusive evidence . . . that this wisdom [talmudic commentary] does not rely on clear proof, as is true of the calculation of fractions or astronomical experiments.’¹² Although Nahmanides speaks here of talmudic commentary rather than of the Talmud itself, this is only because this is his subject. Both this statement and the previous one in Glosses suggest that, concerning halakhic inference, human values and human discretion play a crucial role in the decision of how to apply a textual instruction to a particular case. Consequently, the text remains open. In Glosses, Nahmanides merely indicates that, in principle, this is an open text, without pointing to the difficulties ensuing from this openness. In his Commentary on the Torah, however, Nahmanides’ final work and thus later than Glosses, he argues that this inherent openness is problematic: ‘It is known that not all opinions concur on newly arising matters. Disagreements would thus increase and the one Torah would become many Torahs.’¹³ His concern over the openness of the biblical text is twofold: practical and theological. From a practical point of view, ‘disagreements would thus increase’, implying fears about social disintegration. From a theological perspective, the potential for various normative conclusions enables the existence of several Torahs, all of equal standing, without any ability to determine God’s commands or wishes. To contend with these problems, Nahmanides assumes that the meaning of the text is determined by its interpreters. In the statement, ‘because it is subject to the judgement of halakhic authorities that He commands us and gives us the Torah’, Nahmanides refers both to the text’s intrinsic meaning and to its normative implications. Nahmanides deals with both these aspects when stating that we are bound to obey the normative halakhic inference of the halakhic authorities, and we must also rely on their interpretation of the halakhic text. In this regard, it is irrelevant whether this interpretation originates in an ancient ¹² ‘h twmxlm (Milhamot ha-Shem = Nahmanides’ Glosses on R. Itzhak Alfasi, published with the Babylonian Talmud). ¹³ Nahmanides, Commentary on the Torah, 207.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 191 tradition or is the product of interpreters acting as autonomous exegetes: ‘this is the meaning and intention of the Torah according to their view’. Nahmanides thus points to a tension between a biblical text viewed as entirely open and assumptions concerning a specific Torah commanded by God. This tension is resolved by making scripture subservient to an halakhic authority that determines its meaning and the ensuing conclusions. This authority does not disclose the original word of God, but fulfils God’s will.¹⁴ NAHMANIDES AND DECONSTRUCTIONISM This analysis points to the affinity between Nahmanides and Hans-Georg Gadamer concerning the relationship between application and interpretation. Like Gadamer, who claims that interpretation unfolds through the application of a legal instruction to a specific situation,¹⁵ Nahmanides claims that interpretation develops within a legal process of normative inference from the text. However, whereas Gadamer preserves a measure of independence for the text and argues that the hermeneutical process is a fusion of horizons between text and reader, Nahmanides’ position is more radical: interpretation constitutes the meaning of the text. The affinity between Nahmanides and deconstructionism emerges in that both reject the existence of an independent text and point to the reader’s decisive role in its creation. In order to shed light on this matter, let us return to Nahmanides’ view in Glosses. Here, he relates his view of interpretation to the mandatory interpretation of the biblical text described in Deuteronomy: If there arise a matter too hard for thee in judgement, between blood and blood, between plea and plea . . . : then shalt thou arise, and go up to the place which the Lord thy God shall choose; and thou shalt come to the priests the Levites, and to the judge that shall be in those days, and enquire; and they shall tell thee the sentence of judgement: . . . according to the sentence of the Torah which they shall teach thee, and ¹⁴ For an extensive discussion of this question see my article, ‘Halakhic Praxis and the Word of God: A Study of Two Models’, Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy 1 (1992): 305–29. ¹⁵ See Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method, trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall (New York: Crossroad, 1988), 275.

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according to the judgement which they shall tell thee, thou shalt do: thou shalt not deviate from the sentence which they shall tell thee, to the right hand or to the left. (Glosses, 17: 8–11)

With his acute hermeneutical sensitivity, Nahmanides senses that the term Torah in this passage refers to the instruction of the authorities and makes the instruction synonymous with scripture. Hence, he states: ‘And whatever the majority decides, this is what the Torah has commanded us’ (Glosses, ibid.). This is his opening statement in the discussion, which then recurs in the previously noted formulation: ‘because it was subject to their judgement that He commanded us and gave us the Torah’. Torah, then, is not synonymous with the biblical text, but with its authorized exegesis. Nahmanides, like Leibowitz after him, holds that scripture directs us outwards; hence, he draws a distinction between the Torah and the text pointing to the Torah. The Torah, meaning the instruction of the authorities, grants meaning to the text, which should not be interpreted outside this context. This analysis clarifies Nahmanides’ next statement in Glosses: And whoever transgressed [namely, a member of the court who deliberately ignores the consensus of the court] was considered a rebellious elder, at the time the court used to sit on criminal cases, as is written, ‘and the man that will act presumptuously, and will not hearken to the priest’ (Deut. 17: 12). As punishment, he lost this world and the world to come, and these are the Sadducees, who in the East are called Karaites. For the Torah was given to us by Moses in written form. (Glosses, ibid.)

In this text, Nahmanides compares the rebellious elder to the Sadducees and the Karaites, although this comparison is highly questionable. Sadducees and Karaites do not recognize the authority of the Oral Law and cling to the biblical text as the exclusive source of authority. By contrast, the rebellious elder is one in a court of halakhic sages and surely acknowledges the Oral Law. His sole transgression is his categorical opposition to a specific instruction of the court, as demonstrated by his insistence in following his own counsel when ruling. How, then, could Nahmanides identify him with the Sadducees and the Karaites?¹⁶ ¹⁶ Hanina Kazis raises this question in his commentary, which is published

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 193 A key to this question may be found in Nahmanides’ hermeneutical theory. He holds that the text’s openness precludes a fixed, uniform meaning, except for that determined by the sages who abide by the halakhic rules of inference he describes in Glosses (17). This assumption clarifies that the Sadducees and the rebellious elder are guilty of the same transgression: they believe that the meaning of the biblical text can be construed without outside authorization. Sadducees hold that the biblical text bears an independent meaning, and exegetes as well as halakhic jurists must listen to the text and bow to its authority. Unlike them, the rebellious elder accepts the authority of the Oral Law as constitutive of our approach to the biblical text, but mistakenly believes that halakhic sages compete in the search for the best interpretation. Since the rebellious elder believes that his interpretation or his halakhic conclusions are more congruent with the meaning of the text, he refuses to accept the consensus of the court. Contrary to these approaches, Nahmanides holds that the biblical text assumes its meaning from and within the hermeneutical and legal context of the halakhic authorities, who constitute the text’s meaning. The controversy of the rebellious elder with his colleagues, then, hinges on the status of halakhic authority. The rebellious elder holds that halakhic authority rests on knowledge and understanding of the text. He supports an epistemic model of authority. Believing he has the truth, he refuses to accept a majority ruling. For Nahmanides, however, halakhic authority is deontic, meaning that halakhists have authority to determine the halakhic norm. This authority does not rely on knowledge but on the power they have been granted to determine the norms.¹⁷ Nahmanides explicates this position in Glosses: ‘As was the case concerning R. Joshua and Rabban Gamaliel on the Day of Atonement according to his reckoning.’ He refers here to the talmudic story (Rosh Hashanah 25a) about a time when R. Joshua and Rabban Gamaliel disagreed on the specific timing of the new together with Maimonides’ Book of the Commandments, Myrpws t)nq (Kin’at Soferim). ¹⁷ On these two models of authority see Avi Sagi, ‘Models of Authority and the Duty of Obedience in Halakhic Literature’, Association of Jewish Studies Review 20 (1995): 1–24, and the sources discussed there.

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year. This controversy entails implications for the dating of the Day of Atonement, and Rabban Gamaliel, who was the presiding judge, commanded R. Joshua: ‘I order you to come to me carrying your walking stick and your coins on the day that, by your reckoning, is the Day of Atonement.’ Abiding by this order was extremely hard for R. Joshua, but R. Akiva taught him: ‘I learn from this that anything Rabban Gamaliel does is done, as is written: “These are the feasts of the Lord, holy gatherings, which you shall proclaim” (Lev. 23: 4), whether in their time or not in their time’ (Glosses, ibid.). The sages, then, have absolute authority to determine the timing of the holy gatherings, regardless of any actual reality. Nahmanides, by referring to this source, draws a parallel between the sages’ absolute authority to determine the holy gatherings and their absolute authority to constitute the biblical text. The view that the sages’ interpretation need not pass a test of suitability to the text’s meaning is not easily reconciled with the statement in TB Horayot 2b. The mishnah in Horayot 1: 1 deals with the possibility of halakhic mistakes and limits the duty of compliance with the authorities’ instructions. This duty only applies when their instructions are true, meaning that they reflect scripture. On the surface, then, this mishnah supports an epistemic model of authority: If the court issued a ruling and one of them knew they had erred, or a disciple who was himself capable of ruling on matters of law acted in accordance with their ruling, whether they acted and he acted with them . . . he is liable since he was not dependent upon the ruling of the court. (M. Horayot 1: 1)

The Talmud explains the nature of the mistake requiring a disciple to offer a sacrifice: ‘as he knew it was prohibited, but he erred concerning the commandment to obey the sages’ (TB Horayot 2b). In other words, even when an halakhic authority commands a specific act, this is not a sufficient reason for obeying a wrong instruction. In this case, obedience is wrong, and compliance is a sign of misunderstanding. Nahmanides cannot disregard this talmudic discussion, which subverts the basic assumptions of his hermeneutical stance. Indeed, in Glosses, he contends with this talmudic passage and limits its scope considerably:

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 195 If a sage who was fit to rule lived at the time of the Sanhedrin, and the Great Court ruled that a certain matter should be allowed while he holds that they erred, he is not commanded to heed the sages, nor is he permitted to allow himself something forbidden, and he must not compromise. This is most certainly the case if he himself sits in the Great Court. He should then come before them and argue his case, and they will discuss it with him. And if most of them agree to reject his view and they confuse his argument, he must retract and follow their ruling, after they have dismissed him and have agreed concerning his claim . . . And in any event, he must accept their ruling, after they have agreed. (Glosses, 17)

Nahmanides assumes that the injunction in this talmudic passage instructing a member of the court to cling to his view is not universally applicable and relates to one specific situation only, namely, if the court fails to discuss his claims. If he does have a chance to present his views, however, he must abide by the court’s decision, regardless of whether he finds it persuasive or not. The duty of a member of the court to heed the court’s decision is not based on the assumption that, following the discussion, its view is truer or more pertinent. Possibly, argues Nahmanides, the rebellious sage may come to accept the justice of his colleagues’ claim in the course of the discussion, but this is not the basis for his duty to comply with the court’s decision. Nahmanides stresses this point when stating that the basis for compliance is that ‘they have agreed concerning his claim . . . and in any event, he must accept their ruling, after they have agreed’. Their agreement, rather than the victory of truth, validates the sages’ decision. We may therefore conclude, as did all later halakhic authorities, that Nahmanides does not regard the sages’ obligation to explain their decision as a necessary condition for compliance. They may, or they may not, explain their grounds for agreement. Thus, for instance, Zevi Hirsch Heyyot states: ‘Nahmanides emphasized that [this ruling applies] when absolute agreement to oppose him prevails, regardless of whether they provided arguments and reasons, or dismissed his view without reason, or even when [they claimed] that left is right—we heed only the majority.’¹⁸ ¹⁸ twyx C’yrhm yrps lk (Kol Sifrei Maharit’z Heyyot = Zevi Hirsch Heyyot, The Complete Works) (Jerusalem: Divrei Hakhamin, 1958), i: 376. Heyyot (1805–85) is an Eastern European rabbi.

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This analysis enabled many halakhists who relied on Nahmanides to preserve halakhic pluralism to a considerable extent, while specifically defining the nature of the sages’ ‘agreement’. If one or several sages did not participate in the discussion of this issue, or if no such discussion took place, the duty to comply with a majority ruling did not apply.¹⁹ This conclusion is consistent with Nahmanides’ approach in Glosses, whereby the halakhic ruling is not designed to reveal any truth but to establish one Torah binding all. Hence, as long as the authorized institution ‘subject to [whose] judgement He commanded us and gave us the Torah’ has not convened, a normative openness fitting the openness of the text is possible. NAHMANIDES’ MULTI-LAYERED APPROACH Nahmanides’ deconstructionist approach, however, is largely toned down in other texts of Glosses as well as in other statements. The most structured expression of this change appears in his Commentary on the Torah, which reflects an attempt to temper and restrain the deconstructionist perception by acknowledging an autonomous text independent of interpretation. Here, Nahmanides recurrently cites texts from Glosses with correctives designed to preempt a deconstructionist interpretation. The deconstructionist stance assumes that the text is constituted through a process of interpretation, whereas the moderate approach assumes the existence of an autonomous text, independent of interpretation. The biblical text, however, is multilayered. The overt, external layer is the literal one, understood through the relevant context, while the inner layers include what the sages disclose through their exegesis. The sages’ exegetical and applied activity does not create the Torah, but exposes its ¹⁹ This analysis appears, for instance, in Joseph Caro, N#wx rw+ .Pswy tyb +p#m (Beit Yosef: Tur Hoshen Mishpat) (Jerusalem: Machon Hatam Sofer, 1965), #13; Jonathan Eybeschutz, Mymtw Myrw) (Urim ve-Tumim) (Vienna: 1818); Moshe b. Shlomo Ibn Habib, +w#p +g (Get Pashut) (Zolkiew: 1834); Heyyot, Complete Works, i. 97–111, 363–7, 370–90; Yosef Babad, txnm Kwnyx (Minhat Hinukh = Glosses on Sefer ha-Hinukh) (Jerusalem: 1961), 91, commandment 34; Elhanan Wasserman, Myrw(y# Cbwq (Kovets Shiurim) (TelAviv: Friedman, 1963), ii: 109–15, and many others.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 197 inner layers. Already in his first critical gloss, discussed so far, Nahmanides states: ‘Because the Torah [referring to scripture] will interpret, and command, and declare, and suggest’ (Glosses, 19). Nahmanides, then, assumes that scripture comprises several meanings, some overt and some covert, which are exposed through the halakhists’ hermeneutical endeavour. Nahmanides’ second gloss is an excellent illustration of the moderate position. In the second principle of his Book of the Commandments, Maimonides postulates that the standing of halakhic norms, even when derived through the application of the standard rabbinic rules of hermeneutics, is not equivalent to that of a Torah instruction. A legal inference is not of equal status to the Torah, and is considered subsidiary rabbinic legislation, unless the sages attest to this inference as part of the Oral Law, thereby conferring on it the status of a Torah ruling. This definition severely reduces the number of norms defined as part of the Torah, since most talmudic halakhic activity takes place through the application of traditional rules of inference. In a responsum, Maimonides states: Nothing inferred through inference, or a fortiori, or through the application of one of the thirteen hermeneutical rules, is a Torah law, until the sages explicitly declare that it is part of the Torah . . . And nothing is from the Torah unless explicitly mentioned in the Torah, such as mixed cloths, and mixed species, and the Sabbath, and incest, or unless the sages declare it is from the Torah, which pertains only to three or four matters.²⁰

Maimonides, then, accepts the postulate assuming a one-layered biblical text, exclusively literal. On this issue, Maimonides²¹ relies on the Talmud: ‘A verse cannot depart from its plain meaning’,²² implying that the meaning of the biblical text is synonymous with its simple, explicit meaning. Ultimately, this analysis turns most talmudic halakhic material into subsidiary legislation. Nahmanides rejects this approach categorically. In a scathing formulation, he objects to Maimonides’ second principle because ²⁰ M’bmrh twbw#t (Teshuvot ha-Rambam = Maimonides, Responsa), Blau edn. (Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1986), #355. ²¹ Maimonides, Book of the Commandments, 45–6. ²² TB Shabbat 63a.

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‘it uproots and abolishes many talmudic rules . . . eradicating the foundation of our Oral Law, which was established through the Thirteen Hermeneutical Rules, and most of the Talmud resting upon them’ (Glosses, 30–1). For Nahmanides, the fundamental assumption of talmudic discourse is that a conclusion reached through the implementation of the rules of inference is identical with what appears in the Torah, because, ‘for them [the sages], the rules are as written in the Torah’ (Glosses, 32). Contrary to Maimonides, Nahmanides considers that in order for a halakhic norm to become subsidiary rabbinic legislation, the sages must say so explicitly: ‘Hence, we should say the opposite [of Maimonides]: everything inferred in the Talmud through one of the Thirteen Rules is from the Torah, unless they say the inference is an “asmakhta” ’ [namely, unless they explicitly claim that the inference is merely an illustration and the norm they are enacting is an independent act of legislation] (Glosses, 34). Nahmanides could ostensibly have proven his point by relying on his first gloss, stating that the interpretive process determines the meaning of the text. For his second gloss, however, he chooses a different strategy. In his view, the rules of inference create the interpretation of the Torah, which is identical to the Torah: All that is inferred in the Talmud through one of the Thirteen Rules is Torah, an interpretation of the Torah told to Moses at Sinai, whether specifically . . . or generally, and they were commanded to expound the Torah through the Thirteen Rules, and the sages agreed in their expounding of every single command. (Glosses, 37)

Why are interpretation and inference synonymous with the Torah? Because the text is multi-layered rather than because of the openness of scripture. The entire hermeneutical endeavour is meant to expose the text’s hidden layers: ‘All are included in the written word . . . the written word includes everything’ (Glosses, 44). This perception of the text as multi-layered emerges in Nahmanides’ interpretation of the talmudic saying, ‘a verse cannot depart from its plain meaning’. As noted, Maimonides had relied on this saying to conclude that the written text was identical to its literal meaning, thereby rejecting the notion of a multilayered text. Nahmanides reads this saying entirely differently: ‘ “A verse cannot depart from its plain meaning,” but [the verse] has its exegesis beside its plain meaning, and it does not depart

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 199 from either; the written word will accept everything, and both are true’ (Glosses, 45). Nahmanides’ assumption, then, is that the text has a simple, overt meaning and, therefore, ‘a verse cannot depart from its plain meaning’. However, the sages, he believes, do not intend to claim that the biblical text is identical only to its plain meaning; rather, the other layers of scripture include the sages’ exegeses as well. In this passage, Nahmanides assumes that the exegeses and the plain level of scripture are of equal standing: ‘both are true’. Assertions concerning the multi-layered nature of scripture recur in other of Nahmanides’ writings. Thus, for instance, he writes: ‘“a verse cannot depart from its plain meaning,” “God has spoken once: twice have I heard this.” ’²³ ‘Hence we learn that the Torah has several faces of truth.’²⁴ The most radical formulation of the view supporting the multi-layered character of scripture appears in Nahmanides’ introduction to his Commentary on the Torah: ‘Everything that was transmitted to Moses our teacher . . . was written in the Torah explicitly or by implication in words, in the numerical value of the letter, that is, whether written normally or with some change in form . . . or in the tips of the letters and their crownlets.’²⁵ This statement, written in a mystical spirit, allows us to identify the text’s various layers. The first is ‘what was written in the Torah explicitly’. This layer is identical with the plain meaning of scripture, whose text is contextual. The other, ‘inner’ layers, are not context-bound, and are reached through smaller linguistic units: ‘letters’ or syllables, through which the contextual framework can be transcended.²⁶ ²³ The verse is Psalm 62: 12, and Nahmanides hints here at the talmudic exegesis in Sanhedrin 34a, ‘one verse may convey several teachings’, meaning it can be interpreted in several ways. ²⁴ N’’bmrl twsxwymh )’b#rh t’w# (Shu’t ha-Rashba ha-Meiyuhasot laRamban = R. Shlomo b. Adret, Responsa Ascribed to Nahmanides) (reprint, Warsaw: Goldman, 1884), #285. ²⁵ Nahmanides, Commentary on the Torah, 10. ²⁶ This link between the plain level and context on the one hand, and the expounding of smaller linguistic units, ‘letters’ or words, on the other, was already formulated by Isaac de Leon in rts) tlygm (Megilat Esther), a commentary that is published with Maimonides’ Book of the Commandments: ‘Exegesis . . . is not concerned with the plain literal level, because the exegesis focuses on a letter or a syllable, and the term plainness (peshat) does not apply to it, since we only learn about the verse from its entire context (hitpashtut)’ (52).

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What is the basis for assuming that the biblical text is multilayered? According to Nahmanides, this assumption relies on the text’s divine character: ‘The Torah of the Lord is perfect [Ps. 19: 8], no letter is superfluous or missing, all were written wisely’ (Glosses, 44). The perfection of the text is manifest in its infinite fullness, which includes various layers, some explicit and some hidden. In the introduction to the Commentary on the Torah, Nahmanides goes further and states that the biblical text, as known to us, is only one of its possible articulations. Scripture was originally written in a sequence: The writing [of the Torah] was contiguous, without break of words, making it possible for it to be read by way of Divine Names and also by way of our normal reading, which makes the Torah and the commandments explicit. It was given to Moses our teacher using the division of words which expresses the commandment.²⁷

Although this passage suggests a mystical-kabbalistic interpretation of scripture, its assumptions convey Nahmanides’ general hermeneutical stance, which assumes a multi-layered biblical text. Let us now return, in light of this analysis, to Nahmanides’ commentary on Deuteronomy 17: 11. Nahmanides opens by describing the duty of compliance derived from the verse ‘thou shalt not deviate from the sentence which they shall tell thee, to the right hand, or to the left’: Even if you think in your heart that they are mistaken, and the matter is simple in your eyes just as you know [the difference] between your right hand and your left hand, you must still do as they command you. You are not to say: ‘How can I [permit myself to] eat this real forbidden fat, or execute this innocent man’; instead, you are to say, ‘The Lord who enjoined the commandments commanded that I perform all His commandments in accordance with all that they, who stand before Him in the place that He shall choose, teach me to do. He gave me the Torah as taught by them, even if they were to err.’ . . . And surely you are obligated to think that they say ‘right’ what is truly right; because God’s spirit is upon ‘the ministers of the sanctuary’ (Ezek. 45: 4), ‘they are preserved for ever’ (Ps. 37: 28) from error and stumbling.²⁸ De Leon creates a link between the plain level and the context by pointing to the similar roots (pashat) of these two Hebrew words. ²⁷ Nahmanides, Commentary on the Torah, 14–15.

²⁸ Ibid. 206–7.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 201 The segment in italics is additions to the passage that do not appear in the parallel text in Glosses. They are, therefore, particularly interesting, because they point to the turnabout in Nahmanides’ approach. He acknowledges a biblical text that is not contingent on interpretation for its meaning when he claims that errors of understanding are possible. In Glosses, Nahmanides states: ‘because it was subject to their judgement that He commanded us and gave us the Torah’, whereas in this passage, his formulation is: ‘He gave me the Torah as taught by them, even if they were to err.’ This change explains also the following one. In Glosses, Nahmanides does not assign crucial weight to the claims of the person who is the subject of Halakhah and he believes his interpretation is correct because the sages are the ones who constitute scripture. By contrast, in his Commentary on the Torah, Nahmanides must contend with the subject’s claims, since he now supports a view holding that the text has an autonomous meaning. The answer to the subject’s claim is twofold. First, the Torah itself grants absolute authority to halakhic sages to interpret it as they see fit, even if they err. Second, the subject of Halakhah can be certain that the sages do not err, and ultimately disclose the truth, ‘preserved for ever’ from error and stumbling by virtue of the divine inspiration that accompanies Halakhah. Nahmanides does not deal here with the claim about the text’s multi-layered nature, but this is still his underlying argument. Identifying one interpretation as true, despite the appearance of error, confirms the existence of a hidden textual layer. The claim, ‘He gave me the Torah as taught by them’, is no longer interpreted to mean that interpretation constitutes the text, but as a more moderate contention. The sages’ understanding represents the legitimate interpretation of the text, since they are authorized, and indeed able, to disclose its meaning, and what they disclose is the Torah commanded by God. MULTI-LAYERED SCRIPTURE AND HERMENEUTICAL FREEDOM Let us now reconsider the relationship between the deconstructionist position and the more moderate stance Nahmanides endorses later. I have so far argued that Nahmanides presents two contradictory views, but a closer analysis reveals this judgement

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as slightly simplistic, on several grounds. First, the deconstructionist view appears only in the first of his critical glosses; by the second, Nahmanides is already offering the thesis of a multilayered text. Second, in his introduction to the Commentary on the Torah cited above, Nahmanides claims that everything ‘was written in the Torah explicitly or by implication in words . . . or in the tips of the letters and their crownlets’. For this claim, he relies on a known talmudic legend: ‘When Moses ascended to heaven he found the Holy One, blessed be He, engaged in attaching crownlets to the letters of the Torah.’ When Moses enquired into the purpose of this activity, God answered: ‘One man will arise, Akiva b. Joseph, who will interpret heaps and heaps of laws on their basis.’ Moses then asked to see a study session at R. Akiva’s academy. When he was brought there, ‘he sat down behind the eighth rank of disciples but was unable to follow the arguments, and was deeply grieved, but then heard the disciples asking R. Akiva, “Whence do you know this?” When R. Akiva replied, “This is a law given to Moses on Mount Sinai,” he was comforted’ (TB Menahoth 29b). This wondrous tale, which provides Nahmanides’ justification for his view of the biblical text as multi-layered, does not offer any mechanism for coping with the transition between the layers. Not only does Moses fail to understand the halakhic discourse, but the only link between the biblical text and the exegesis is ‘a law given to Moses on Mount Sinai’, a term in talmudic literature for describing halakhic norms lacking textual source. Interpretation, then, is not predicated on semantic foundations but on extra-textual tradition. It is on these grounds that Nahmanides emphasizes divine inspiration in his Commentary on the Torah. Since a semantic transition between the text and the meaning its interpreters find in it is not always present, the only guarantee of any correspondence between the text and its interpretation is divine inspiration. Although the interpretation in this legend creates only a visual link to the text, in the crownlets of the letters, it conveys the hermeneutical freedom of the halakhic sage. Nahmanides explains this legend as an indication of the transition between textual layers, but he also understands that this transition is not necessarily preceded by rigorous semantic analysis. The meanings generated through interpretation exist in the text in some

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 203 form, but no method is prescribed as a necessary requisite for the shift between layers. Hence, even when Nahmanides writes of the multi-layered text of scripture, the emphasis is on the hermeneutical freedom of halakhic sages. The range of approaches that Nahmanides suggests, then, is meant to clarify the relationship between two typical features of rabbinic thought that are not easily reconciled: first, the assumption that scripture is sacred and canonical, and second, the hermeneutical freedom of halakhic sages to interpret this text. The sacralization of the biblical text could lead us to hypothesize limitations restricting the hermeneutical liberty of halakhic sages, but the opposite occurs. Halakhic tradition extolled hermeneutical freedom, gradually lessening the significance of the Sinai theophany, as illustrated, for instance, in the TB Menahoth legend. Nahmanides seeks to explain these discrepancies in several ways by asserting that halakhic sages have authority to implement the traditional rules of interpretation, which become increasingly central in determining the text. According to the second gloss of Nahmanides, these rules are given together with the text and, consequently, their concrete implementation determines the text. However, Nahmanides knows that the halakhic endeavour is not confined to the inference of norms through these rules, and the sages’ hermeneutical enterprise is wideranging, ultimately reflecting their subjective understanding of the text. How can religious-theological significance be attached to this effort? Where is the proof that it reflects God’s word? Nahmanides’ answer is that, first, halakhic sages are empowered to determine the text. Through this act, they do not convey God’s original word but God’s will.²⁹ Second, their concrete deeds ultimately disclose the text’s hidden layers. The deconstructionist perception and the more moderate stance represent two complementary aspects of an approach seeking to contend with the relationship between a sacred text and hermeneutical freedom. The sacred text is multi-layered and, precisely on these grounds, halakhic sages create the text, since the shift between layers does not necessarily rely on semantic analysis. Nahmanides’ acknowledgement of scripture’s polysemic character and of the text’s inherent openness have been widely ²⁹ See Sagi, ‘Halakhic Praxis’.

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accepted in Jewish thought since the rabbinic period. The relationships that Nahmanides outlines between text and exegesis express the primacy of the Oral Law over the Torah. Intimations of this approach, favouring the Oral Law, appear already in the Talmud: ‘God made a covenant with Israel only for the sake of the Oral Law.’³⁰ Scripture’s subservience to the interpretation of the Oral Law is a recurring motif in rabbinic literature. Yitzhak Heinemann, a prominent scholar of rabbinic literature, claims that, according to rabbinic tradition, ‘the Torah not only allows but commands independent expounding’.³¹ The legend from TB Menahoth 29b, cited above, assumes that future exegesis will represent the fulfilment of God’s will. Elsewhere, we read: ‘when the Holy One, blessed be He, gave Israel the Torah, He gave it only as wheat to make flour from, or as flax to weave cloth from’.³² Another image of the Torah appears in an exegesis of the verse ‘like a hammer that shatters the rock’ (Jer. 23: 29): ‘Just as this hammer fractures it into many splinters, so may one biblical verse convey many teachings.’³³ The most blatant instance of the approach affirming human activity appears in TB Bava Metsiah 59a–b, rejecting the intervention of the divine legislator in the hermeneutical procedure by invoking the principle of ‘it is not in Heaven’: the Torah was given to human beings to interpret and understand. R. Yom-Tov b. Abraham Ishbili³⁴ is a paramount talmudic commentator and a disciple of R. Shlomo b. Adret, Nahmanides’ disciple. He contends with a problem emerging from a passage in TB Eruvin 13b dealing with the controversy between the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai that states: ‘these and these are the words of the living God’: The French rabbis, of blessed memory, asked: How can both [the rulings of the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai] be the words of the living God when one allows and the other forbids? And they ³⁰ TB Gittin 60a; PT Peah 2: 5–17a, and others. ³¹ Yitzhak Heinemann, hdg)h ykrd (Darkei ha-Aggadah = The Methods of Aggadah) (Givatayyim: Magnes and Massada, 1970), 11. ³² )+wz whyl) rds (Seder Elyiahu Zuta), ed. M. Ish-Shalom (Jerusalem: Wahrman, 1969), 172. ³³ TB Sanhedrin 34a. See also TB Shabbat 88b. ³⁴ Known as Ritba, end of thirteenth and beginning of fourteenth centuries in Spain.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 205 explained that, when Moses ascended to Heaven to receive the Torah he was shown, concerning every matter, forty-nine reasons for forbidding and forty-nine reasons for allowing. And he asked the Holy One, blessed be He, about this matter, and he was told that it would be for the sages of Israel in each generation to decide.³⁵

Ritba’s comments resemble the saying in the Palestinian Talmud: ‘Said R. Yannai: If the Torah were handed down cutand-dried, [the world] would not have a leg to stand on. Said he [Moses]: “Master of the Universe! Teach me the Halakha.” Said God: “Follow the majority. When they acquit, acquit, and when they condemn, condemn, so that the Torah may be expounded in forty-nine ways in favour of ritual fitness and in forty-nine ways in favour of unfitness” ’ (PT Sanhedrin 4: 2). What is the relationship between Ritba’s commentary and this passage in the Palestinian Talmud? Is this a paraphrase? Is it an alternative source? An independent exegesis? Whatever the answer, the comparison between the two sources is instructive. R. Yannai holds that the Torah is not ‘cut-and-dried’ because of practical considerations: ‘[the world] would not have a leg to stand on’, meaning the Torah needs to be sufficiently open to respond to the challenges of reality. For R. Yannai, the openness of the text is a satisfactory mechanism for shrinking the gap between the letter of the law and reality. The open text is implemented by the sages who constitute it according to a given reality. By contrast, Ritba offers a more radical theological approach, whereby God engages in a move opposed to the one Moses expects. Moses expects a Torah, namely, cut-and-dried instructions, Halakhah, whereas God proves to Moses that this expectation should be abandoned. God shows Moses ‘forty-nine ways in favour of ritual fitness and forty-nine ways in favour of unfitness’. The Torah as given at Sinai is not Halakhah, but a plenitude of infinite interpretations. Ritba thus points to two basic meanings of the Torah: as a plenitude of infinite contents and as a practical system of instructions. God represents the plenitude, and Moses’ expectation from the Torah is a system of norms. God’s reaction to Moses’ expectation is to point to the mechanism for deriving the required instruction from this plenitude: ³⁵ Ritba, Nybwr( tksml My#wdyx (Hiddushim le-Masekhet Eruvin = Novellae on the Eruvin Treatise) (Tel-Aviv: Or Torah, 1958), 13b, s.v. elu va-elu.

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‘the sages of Israel in each generation’. God deconstructs the scripture he gave to Moses, to turn it into an infinite Torah. Ritba preserves the deconstructionist trend of the rabbi who had taught his teacher, Nahmanides. As Simon Rawidowicz noted, the talmudic endeavour is not a commentary on scripture: Insofar as we can speak of the creative endeavour of the Second Temple [Rawidowicz’s term for the talmudic period] as interpretation, all that this interpretation has in common with explanation and commentary, with ‘hermeneutics’ in the usual sense of this term, is the name . . . If ever there was interpretation in the Second Temple—it was an uprooting, subversive interpretation, constituting and stabilizing all at once, uprooting, establishing, subverting, and stabilizing, in an intellectual endeavour that is almost unparalleled.³⁶

Talmudic and post-talmudic literature place scripture within a web of meaning that is outside scripture itself, and reads it anew. One can hardly disagree with Susan Handelman when she states, concerning rabbinic tradition: ‘The boundaries between text and interpretation are fluid in a way which is difficult for us to imagine for sacred text.’³⁷ Heinemann describes the rabbinic perception of scripture’s inherent openness to interpretation, and the limits confining this process: Our ancestors saw a progression of three principles [in the interpretation of scripture]: (1) All the minute details of Scripture must be rigorously expounded. (2) The purpose of all the details is only to impart knowledge. (3) All parts of speech (letters, words, verses, chapters) can be understood not only through their human context, as human testimonies; they also retain, besides the meaning dictated by the context, full independence and endless possibilities of combination.³⁸

Commenting on the principle that ‘a verse cannot depart from its plain meaning’, Heinemann states: ‘Even when [this principle] was accepted, it never annulled the right to multivalent interpretations.’³⁹ Heinemann then adds: ‘On this issue, Nahmanides ³⁶ Simon Rawidowicz, Myl#wryw lbb (Bavel v-Yirushalayim = Babylon and Jerusalem: Towards a Philosophy of Israel’s Wholeness) (London: Ararat, 1957), 81. ³⁷ Susan Handelman, The Slayers of Moses (Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press, 1982), 41. ³⁸ Heinemann, Darkei ha-Aggadah, 96. See also 100–3, 108, 129. ³⁹ Ibid., 12.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 207 has proved more justified than Maimonides.’⁴⁰ This view of the relationship between the text and its interpretation raises the obvious theological questions: What was given at Sinai? What is the nature of revelation? Many theories were developed in order to answer these questions,⁴¹ but the crucial element in the talmudic and post-talmudic discourse on this question is the acknowledgement of hermeneutical freedom, as it is manifest in halakhic and aggadic literature. Not only was the legitimacy of this freedom never questioned, it was and is the basic phenomenological datum of rabbinic literature. In this sense, Nahmanides’ voice is the voice of the rabbinic tradition. FURTHER HERMENEUTICAL DEVELOPMENTS AND THE INFLUENCE OF BIBLICAL CRITICISM Let us now turn to the questions I posed at the beginning. The issue raised in the first question was: Why did a general hermeneutical theory fail to develop in traditional Judaism, as it did, for instance, in Protestantism? The answer to this question may be sought in the assumption underlying the emergence of theories in general and of hermeneutical theories in particular. Theories function as explanations for puzzling phenomena and do not usually emerge to explain the obvious; the need for theory arises in situations of disharmony, to restore a disturbed balance between various elements. The background for the rise of hermeneutical theories was the problematic relationship between three elements: the author, the text, and the reader. The source of the problem was the polysemic nature of the written text, when various hermeneutical theories suggested different interpretations. For instance, the Lutheran tradition, which turned the notion of the text’s independent meaning into a dogma, had to develop a hermeneutical theory or theories to regulate the text–reader relationship: How can the reader grasp the plain meaning of scripture? What, ⁴⁰ Ibid., 201 n. 109. ⁴¹ On this issue, see Avi Sagi, ‘Both are the Words of the Living God: A Typological Analysis of Halakhic Pluralism’, Hebrew Union College Annual 65 (1995): 105–36; Avi Sagi, The Open Canon: On the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse (forthcoming).

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exactly, is the plain meaning of scripture? What, precisely, must the reader understand? These and other questions provided the impetus for the continuous development of general hermeneutical theories. Although Jewish literature does contain the rudiments of a hermeneutical theory, some of which were mentioned above, we can find no parallel to the Protestant undertaking. Nahmanides and Maimonides offer more general hermeneutical theories of the biblical and talmudic text and come closest to formulating one, precisely because of a ‘disturbance’. A discussion of the reasons that urged Maimonides to engage in theorizing lies outside the confines of this article. The ‘disturbance’ that prompted Nahmanides to develop a hermeneutical theory was his controversy with Maimonides concerning the status of scripture, as well as the need to clarify the status of halakhic authority and the obligation of compliance with it. Both these problems are linked to the question about the status of the text and its meaning. Does the text have intrinsic meaning, independent of its interpretation, or is it constituted through the interpretation process? Yet, Nahmanides’ (or Maimonides’) hermeneutical approach makes the absence of other theories even more glaring. Although we would expect a culture that constitutes itself through interpretation⁴² and that is constantly confronting the sacred biblical text to develop general hermeneutical theories, such theories are extremely rare in Judaism. The dearth of theory originates, I believe, in the obviousness of the rabbinic hermeneutical endeavour. The rabbis had seldom contended with the hermeneutical question because they saw no problem in the polysemy of linguistic expression. More precisely, this polysemy was taken as solid evidence of the licence, and even the duty, to establish textual meaning. Understanding the text was not considered a serious problem in the rabbinic tradition because the text was not perceived as a unit bearing intrinsic meaning, unconditioned by its interpretation. To understand the text was to shape it in the course of an interpretive process. This rabbinic tradition reached lucid formulation in Nahmanides’ hermeneutical theory. The second question posed at the beginning was: Why was ⁴² See Moshe Halbertal, People of the Book (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997), who refers to the Jewish community as ‘text-centred’.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 209 biblical criticism not perceived as a challenge to the rabbinic tradition, as it was, for instance, in Protestantism? Put another way, why was Judaism, which focuses on scripture, oblivious to the problems raised by biblical criticism, finding no need to contend with these questions? Leibowitz, as noted, offers a formal answer to this question, when he claims that scripture is but one of the institutions of Halakhah. But this formal answer does not explain why the rabbinic tradition failed to take on the challenges of biblical criticism concerning the unity of the biblical text. The preceding analysis shows that the unity of scripture becomes a problem when the biblical text is isolated as an autonomous unity of meaning, divorced from an interpretive context. This isolation compels recourse to literary tools of analysis in order to decode its meaning. This methodology could lead, and indeed has led, to a breakup into different textual units of the text so far perceived as unified. Protestant tradition thus played a crucial role in paving the way for the deconstruction of the biblical text, because it isolated it and presented it as an autonomous unit of meaning. By contrast, the rabbinic tradition, even without adopting the deconstructionist position intimated in Nahmanides’ Glosses, acknowledged the biblical text as multi-layered, together with an obligation to interpret it in various modes. For this purpose, it developed a hermeneutical style enabling it to cope, through interpretation, with the literary-philological questions of biblical criticism. Leibowitz’s formal stance, which views scripture as an institution of Halakhah, is congruent with Nahmanides’ approach, whereby the text’s meaning emerges through interpretation. This view does not provide fertile ground for biblical criticism, which is viewed as merely another opportunity for human interpretation. Interpretation, instead of contesting the sacredness of scripture, is the deepest expression of a perfect text with broader horizons than those revealed in a simplistic, open reading.⁴³ Secularization made deep inroads in European Jewish society during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. As a result, the ⁴³ Compare Moshe Halbertal, Ntwwhthb twyn#rp twkphm (Mahapehot Parshanyiot be-Hithavutan = Interpretative Revolutions in the Making) (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1997), 190–1.

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biblical text assumed independent status, as manifest in its progressive severance from the religious rabbinic legacy on the one hand, and in the anchoring of Jewish identity in the biblical, prerabbinic era on the other. Once the text became an independent unit of meaning, a new Jewish culture began to deal with scripture in ways resembling those adopted in the scientific study of texts, reading it with literary, philological tools. The biblical text lost its unified status and became an aggregation of separate units. As twilight descended on the traditional era, adherents of tradition facing the challenges of secularization began to adduce the typical defences of the unity and sanctity of scripture. Moses Mendelssohn (1729 –86), who translated the Bible into German (and also wrote some sections and was the general editor of the exegesis known as Beùr), was familiar with modern biblical criticism and even used some of its findings in his commentary.⁴⁴ Nevertheless, he sought to preserve traditional approaches from the encroachment of secularism: When the peshat is contrary to the derash . . . the peshat will be the main meaning . . . and the derash will be the secondary meaning . . . When, however, what seems to us to be the peshat is different and contradicts the accepted interpretation, and is transferred through the rabbis in a way that makes it impossible for both to be right . . . then it is our duty to follow the derash and translate the text accordingly.⁴⁵

Mendelssohn adopted this guideline not only concerning the translation but also concerning his commentary. Hence, he writes: ‘Whenever the apparent meaning of the literal level of scripture contradicts the rabbinic tradition in the laws and statutes, the commentator must relinquish the literal level altogether and take the path of authentic tradition or, if possible, adopt a compromise.’⁴⁶ ⁴⁴ For evidence of this influence see Perez Sandler, l# hrwtl rw)bh wtwxtpthw wtwwhth .wt(ysw Nwsldnm h#m (ha-Beur la-Torah shel Moshe Mendelssohn ve-Siyàto: Hithavuto ve-Hashpaàto = The Exegesis of the Pentateuch by Moses Mendelssohn and His Faction: Its Development and Influence) (Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1984), esp. ch. 4. ⁴⁵ Preface to Mwl# twbytn (Netivoth Shalom = Paths of Peace) (Vienna: 1846). This passage appears, with slight modifications, in David Weiss Halivni, Peshat and Derash (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), 29. ⁴⁶ Mendelssohn’s introduction to his exegesis on My+p#m (Mishpatim = Exodus, chs. 21–4) (Vilna: Yosef Rom, 1852).

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 211 On the surface, Mendelssohn’s is the traditional approach. When a conflict emerges, he translates and explains the text within the hermeneutical context, but his comments show that he is aware of the tension between the text and rabbinic interpretation. His decision to prefer it to the literal meaning of the text is the deliberate choice of someone who is already in the conflict and acknowledges several options for understanding it. This awareness is the first departure from a tradition that, as noted, had read scripture within a web of meaning. Mendelssohn is a modernist, if only because he acknowledges a range of options and then affirms the traditional hermeneutical approach out of this modernistic stance.⁴⁷ Against the background of this modernistic position, two other trends that overcome the conflict between the text and its interpretation by denying the text are even more prominent. The first was formulated by the talmudist and biblical commentator Meir Loeb Malbim (1809–79), among the foremost European scholars of his generation, who saw his life endeavour as the interpretation of scripture vis-à-vis contemporary challenges.⁴⁸ His commentary⁴⁹ relies on the assumption that rabbinic interpretations do not transcend the plain meaning of the text but, instead, represent its quintessential manifestation. In the introduction of his commentary to Leviticus, he points to the uniqueness and originality of his own commentary, which has one purpose: To explain . . . the tradition of the rabbis, pointing to language structures and to the laws of . . . logic . . . where I show and expound how the rabbis had . . . hidden rules and set principles of grammar, language and logic that had mostly been unknown and hidden to the sages who came after them . . . showing and demonstrating with reliable evidence that derash is truly the most literal level, compelled by and imprinted in the

⁴⁷ Compare Peter L. Berger, The Heretical Imperative (New York: Garden City, 1979), 29–30. ⁴⁸ Noah H. Rosenbloom, Nyrwtsmw (dm hypwswlyp ,twn#rp .Myblmh Myblm #wbyyl ry)m brh ybtkb (ha-Malbim: Parshanut, Filosofiah, Mada u-Mistorin be-Kitvei ha-Rav Meir Leibush Malbim = Malbim: Exegesis, Philosophy, Science and Mysticism in the Writings of Rabbi Meir Loeb Malbim) (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1988). ⁴⁹ hwcmhw hrwth (ha-Torah ve-ha-Mitzvah = The Torah and the Commandment) (Jerusalem: Menorah, 1973).

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depth structure of language . . . All the Oral Law is already written in divine, explicit Scripture.⁵⁰

Malbim, then, rules out the conflict between interpretation and text by claiming that rabbinic interpretation is based on semantic rules. These rules, contrary to Nahmanides’ claim, do not lead to other layers in the text but disclose the actual literal level. Even if this approach appears artificial, it is ultimately based on the traditional assumption that assumes no dividing line exists between the text and its interpretation. Malbim, however, as someone living in the era of biblical criticism, renounces the assumption that the text should be read within the context of talmudic interpretation, attempting to argue that this context is simply an explication of the text’s actual meaning. The second trend was formulated by Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808–88) who ruled out a conflict between the text and its rabbinic interpretation, but on grounds contrary to those of Malbim.⁵¹ For Hirsch, interpretation does not reflect scripture as it is. Instead, scripture is part of a larger normative system and is not self-sustaining. Hirsch formulates his stance vis-à-vis the moral dilemma posed by the biblical text on the issue of slavery (Exod. 21: 1–12), stating that a person can sell his neighbour, and a father, his daughter. Hirsch does not try to support this biblical injunction, and categorically rejects it as an ‘unthinkable enormity’.⁵² Yet, this dismissal cannot negate the actual biblical text. To contend with this problem, Hirsch re-examines the status of scripture in Jewish tradition: It is quite a different matter if the written work, the ‘Book,’ is not the real source of the Jewish conception of Rights, if this source is the traditional law, which was entrusted to the living word to which this ‘book’ is only to be an aid to memory and reference, when doubts arise . . . After ⁵⁰ M’yblmh #wrp M( )rqyw rps (Sefer Vayikra im Perush ha-Malbim = Leviticus, with Malbim Commentary) (Jerusalem: Menorah, 1973), 1. Malbim restates this view in his work rx#h tlyy) (Ayelet ha-Shahar), 3b, which is printed as part of the introduction to Leviticus. ⁵¹ On the relationship between Malbim and Hirsch see Yekutiel Yaakov Neubauer, Myrpws yrbd l( M’bmrh (ha-Rambam al Divrei Sofrim =Maimonides on the Sayings of the Soferim) (Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1957), 168–73. My analysis relies largely on this work. ⁵² The Pentateuch, translated and explained by Samson Raphael Hirsch, rendered into English by Isaac Levy (Gateshead: Judaica Press, 1989), ii. 287.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 213 all, it was not out of this book that the law was to have been acquired. This book was to be given into the hands of those who were already well informed in the Law, simply as a means of retaining and of reviving ever afresh this knowledge which had been entrusted to their memories; and also to the teachers of Law as a means of teaching to which the students can go for references to the traditional actual laws, so that the written sentences lying before them would make it easy for them to recall to their minds the knowledge they had received orally.⁵³

According to this view, halakhic tradition has a preferred status unconditioned by scripture, whose role is only educational. Hirsch, like Leibowitz after him, reverses the hierarchical order between scripture and halakhic tradition, except that Hirsch goes further. He is aware of the theological problem arising from the minimization of the biblical text. Religious tradition holds that scripture is the word of God, so how can the original word of God be limited to an exclusively educational role? To contend with this question, Hirsch offers a different description of the theophany and of the role of scripture within it: The btkb# hrwt is to be to the hp l(b# hrwt in the relation of short notes on a full and extensive lecture on any scientific subject. For the student who has heard the whole lecture, short notes are quite sufficient to bring back afresh to his mind at any time the whole subject of the lecture. For him, a word, an added mark of interrogation, or exclamation, a dot, the underlining of a word, etc., etc., is often quite sufficient to recall to his mind a whole series of thoughts, a remark, etc. . . . For those who had not heard the lecture from the Master, such notes would be completely useless. If they were to try to reconstruct the scientific contents of the lecture literally from such notes they would of necessity make many errors . . . The wisdom, the truths, which the initiated reproduce from them (but do not produce out of them) are sneered at by the uninitiated, as being merely a clever or witty play of words and empty dreams without any real foundation.⁵⁴

According to this description, the written text has no primacy in the theophany, which was oral and was only a means to the end of acquiring the knowledge that God taught his listeners. The written text plays only a marginal role in this context; it is not part of the revelation as such. It is not the word of God, ⁵³ Ibid., 287–8, emphasis in original. ⁵⁴ Ibid., 288–9, emphasis in original.

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only notes for the listeners. Malbim’s search for semantic rules as tools used to understand the depths of the biblical text is thus pointless. Rosenbloom holds that Hirsch’s view is purposefully polemical, stating ‘In his zeal to strengthen the Oral Law, Hirsch developed a paradoxical stance, namely, that the Oral Law surpasses the Torah in value . . . Hirsch had obviously not intended this Copernican revolution, but the polemical style of his exchange with his adversaries led to this exaggeration.’⁵⁵ Rosenbloom’s view, however, is untenable on two counts. First, the identity of the purported adversaries is not clear. The text does not reveal a polemical trend. Rather, as I argued, it contends with a moral dilemma emerging from the confrontation with scripture. Hirsch is not concerned with strengthening the Oral Law, but with solving a moral problem. Hirsch thereby continues a trend that is pervasive in traditional Jewish literature, which does not flinch from new readings of scripture when faced with moral dilemmas.⁵⁶ Second, as Neubauer shows, Hirsch formulates this stance elsewhere in his writings.⁵⁷ Hirsch returns to this thesis, as Leibowitz would do later, when attempting to contend with modern trends seeking to detach the text from other contexts of meaning and analyse it with the tools of textual criticism. CONCLUSION In my view, it is Hirsch rather than Malbim who represents the fundamental trend of the Jewish tradition I have analysed in this chapter, whereby the Torah is not synonymous with scripture. Even if his formulation is radical, Hirsch is close to the deconstructionist position we found in Nahmanides, although he differs from him. Nahmanides accepted the primacy of scripture over the oral element—the Oral Law, but assumed that the ⁵⁵ Rosenbloom, Malbim: Exegesis, Philosophy, 150. ⁵⁶ On this question see my articles, ‘The Punishment of Amalek in Jewish Tradition: Coping with the Moral Problem’, Harvard Theological Review 87 (1994): 323–46; ‘“He Slew the Egyptian and Hid Him in the Sand”: Jewish Tradition and the Moral Element’, Hebrew Union College Annual 67 (1966): 55– 76. For a broad discussion of this question see my book, rswml td Nyb .twdhy (Yahadut: Bein Dat le-Musar = Judaism: Between Religion and Morality) (TelAviv: Hakibbutz Hameuhad, 1999). ⁵⁷ Neubauer, Maimonides on the Sayings of the Soferim.

Unity of Scripture and Jewish Traditions of Interpretation 215 text granted the sages the authority to interpret it, and even to constitute it. In this sense, Nahmanides was aware of the conflict between God’s word, the written text, and God’s will, in its rabbinic interpretation.⁵⁸ By contrast, Hirsch overcomes the conflict by neutralizing the written text and making the theophany an oral event. Hence, when Hirsch makes the oral element the constitutive foundation of Jewish tradition, he is launching a ‘Copernican revolution’. This revolution, however, fits traditional halakhic practice, which had located the text within its interpretation. Malbim’s stance is exposed to linguistic criticism, be it philological or literary, whereas Hirsch’s is not. The challenges of biblical criticism pose no threat to him, not because Hirsch has answers to all its objections, but because all objections become irrelevant. Scripture remains unified, not because this is a sacred, divine text, but in the unity of notes and summaries. This is clearly a radical transformation of Jewish tradition, which begins with the actual demotion of the text in favour of the body of knowledge accumulated in the tradition or, more precisely, of the readers of scripture. The return to scriptural unity will only take place, if at all, through the return of exegesis and interpretation as the constitutive tools of scripture. In other words, only to the extent that scripture is integrated into a comprehensive web of meaning, which we bring to its reading, might its unified status be reinstated. These perceptions of the status of scripture in Jewish tradition are close to post-modern views of the Bible, which Edgar McKnight formulates as follows: The post-modern perspective which allows readers to use the Bible today is that of radical reader-oriented literary criticism, a criticism which views literature in terms of readers and their values, attitudes, and responses . . . A radical reader-oriented criticism is post-modern in that it challenges the critical assumption that a disinterested reader can approach a text objectively and obtain verifiable knowledge . . . The reader and the text are interdependent. The text is actualized by the reader in a fashion that the text may be said to actualize the reader.⁵⁹ ⁵⁸ On this issue see Sagi, ‘Halakhic Praxis’. ⁵⁹ Edgar V. McKnight, Post-Modern Use of the Bible (Nashville: Abingdon, 1990), 14–15.

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In Jewish tradition, the unity of the text is constituted through the endeavours of the hermeneutical halakhic community; people, not God, establish the sacred text and its unity. Similarly, in post-modernist approaches, the unity of scripture is displaced from the text to the community of its readers.⁶⁰ A dialogue between these two approaches enriches and increases the chances of a renewed link with scripture, although both Christian and Jewish approaches that view scripture as the actual word of God will obviously find it hard to adopt the argumentation developed in this article. Approaches granting primacy to the written text of scripture must endorse other hermeneutical mechanisms to support the unity and holiness of the text. These approaches are those that ultimately enabled the growth of biblical criticism and the deconstruction of scripture into its units. Religious practice, and Protestantism in particular, which ‘purified’ the text from extra-textual contexts, acted out of deep religious motivations, persuaded that the text itself embodied the word of God. This adherence to the written text, however, engendered the critical sensitivity that pulverized scripture. In an approach assuming the absence of oral, extra-textual contexts, establishing scripture as a unified text was a problematic undertaking. Jewish tradition, however, represents a radical and fascinating manifestation of an alternative option. ⁶⁰ Edgar V. McKnight, Post-Modern Use of the Bible, 16.

8 The Unity Behind the Canon N W

I In this chapter I propose to explore what I shall call ‘the unity behind’ the Christian canon, in contrast to ‘the unity within’. I think the best way to introduce the issues I have in mind is to present a brief narrative of a certain part of the history of modern hermeneutics. In Wilhelm Dilthey’s narrative of the origins of modern hermeneutics, Friedrich Schleiermacher is the great hero; in Hans-Georg Gadamer’s narrative, Schleiermacher is the principal culprit. There is very little difference in the chronicle of their tellings; Gadamer follows Dilthey, for example, in assigning to Schleiermacher a decisive role in the origins of modern hermeneutics. What makes their narratives nonetheless strikingly different is the difference in their evaluation of Schleiermacher’s role. The creative moves by Schleiermacher that Dilthey praises are regarded by Gadamer as fatefully mistaken. Let it be said that Gadamer happily echoes Dilthey’s praise of Schleiermacher for having finally posed the fundamental question, ‘What is interpretation?’ It is Schleiermacher’s answer to that question which Gadamer disputes. Or more precisely, it’s the answer that Gadamer, following Dilthey, interprets Schleiermacher as having offered that he disputes. Among the charges Gadamer lodges against Schleiermacher is that Schleiermacher proposed replacing interpretation of the text with exploration into the psyche of the author. I think Schleiermacher proposed no such thing. He did not, indeed, share Gadamer’s insistence that it is for the meaning of the text that we interpret. He proposed that we interpret for the discourse, the speech acts, that the author used the text to perform; and authorial discourse is not to be identified with the meaning of a text. But neither is it to

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be identified with the psyche of the author.¹ On this occasion I must set this important issue off to the side, however, along with most other parts of Gadamer’s critique, so as to focus on a point in Gadamer’s criticism where I think he is correct—correct both in the view he attributes to Schleiermacher and in the criticism he makes of that view.² At the heart of Schleiermacher’s hermeneutic, so says Gadamer, is the proposal that we replace all forms of dogmatic interpretation with the so-called ‘hermeneutic circle’. Rather than interpreting a text in the light of certain convictions we already have that we bring with us to the text, we should interpret the text in terms of itself, said Schleiermacher. What that comes to, concretely, is that after arriving at a tentative interpretation of the parts, we then, in the light of that tentative interpretation of the parts, proceed to a tentative interpretation of the whole; that done, we reverse direction and, in the light of our tentative interpretation of the whole, refine our interpretation of the parts, and so forth, back and forth, constantly adjusting our tentative interpretations of parts and whole until, finally, we arrive at interpretative equilibrium, that is, at an interpretation that is stable at all levels. This strategy, when applied to the interpretation of Christian scripture, has the obvious implication, for the relation between interpretation and dogma, that rather than perpetuating the traditional practice of interpreting scripture in the light of dogmatic convictions brought to the interpretation, we allow dogma to emerge from our interpretation. For all his praise of Schleiermacher, Dilthey thought there was one point on which Schleiermacher failed to carry through on this programme of allowing dogma to emerge from our interpretation of scripture rather than employing it in the conduct of our interpretation. In his biblical interpretation, Schleiermacher ¹ I develop these points in detail in my Divine Discourse: Philosophical Reflections on the Claim that God Speaks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995). ² The relevant text of Gadamer is of course Part II of his Truth and Method, trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall, 2nd rev. edn. (New York: Continuum, 1993). Currently the best collection and English translation of the relevant writings by Schleiermacher is Friedrich Schleiermacher, Hermeneutics and Criticism, And Other Writings, ed. and trans. Andrew Bowie, Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998).

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took for granted the unity of Christian scripture. That must be seen, said Dilthey, as the last remaining point at which dogmatic conviction is allowed to guide and shape interpretation. Rather than assuming unity in advance and then interpreting in the light of that conviction, we must allow such unity as there may be in these writings to emerge from our interpretation of the whole in the light of the parts and the parts in the light of the whole. Whereas Dilthey chastised his hero, Schleiermacher, for having thus stopped just short of carrying through his project of dogma-free interpretation, Gadamer repudiated the project itself—the project of emptying one’s head of all preconceptions about the text and, by the employment of the hermeneutic circle, simply interpreting the text in terms of itself. Impossible, says Gadamer. Schleiermacher is here reflecting his Enlightenment historicist background. We always and unavoidably approach texts with ‘prejudices’—that is, prejudgements—concerning verbal meaning and propositional content. In that regard, interpretation is always and unavoidably ‘dogmatic’. This is not some sad lamentable fact about interpreters. Quite to the contrary; prejudgements are a condition of interpretation, they make interpretation possible. Interpretation requires that one approach the text with more or less appropriate prejudgements (praejudicia) concerning verbal meaning and propositional content. In the actual process of interpretation the text then talks back. It allows this prejudgement here to stand, while saying about that one there that it is mistaken. Having received this negative assessment, we discard that prejudgement there and replace it with a new and—so we hope—improved prejudgement. If the text now allows this replacement to stand, we move on to another prejudgement that the text tells us is mistaken. We correct that one. And so it goes until, in the ideal case, the text has nothing but affirmative things to say concerning our prejudgements. The back-and-forth between whole and part in Schleiermacher’s theory is replaced, in Gadamer’s theory, by a back-and-forth between the prejudgements of the interpreter and the talking back of the text. I am myself of the view that Gadamer’s attempt to free himself from the objectivist assumptions of the Enlightenment in his description of how interpretation does and must work is considerably less thoroughgoing than he and his followers suppose.

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For consider that process whereby the text tells us whether our prejudgements concerning verbal meaning and propositional content are correct or incorrect. It is a process that Gadamer, strangely, never discusses in its own right. But presumably it consists of an engagement of the interpreter with the text whereby a belief is produced in the interpreter concerning some point of verbal meaning or propositional content, that belief then being compared by the interpreter with the belief on the matter that he holds as a prejudgement. Nowhere does Gadamer suggest that the interpretative engagement with the text, whereby beliefs are produced concerning verbal meaning or propositional content, is itself in any way shaped by prejudgements on the part of the interpreter. He talks about that belief-forming process as if it were immune in its workings to one’s immersion in tradition. I make these comments about Gadamer so as to provide a context for my calling attention to a type of interpretative prejudgement that Gadamer never takes note of, namely, an interpretative prejudgement concerning the unity behind the text. But before I get to that, let me observe that modern biblical scholarship strikes me as fundamentally Schleiermacherian in its self-understanding, rather than Gadamerian. I speak here as someone who reads around in biblical scholarship but is himself not a member of the guild of biblical scholars; I am, accordingly, subject to correction by specialists. But it is my clear impression that the great majority of leading biblical scholars regard interpretation conducted in the light of dogmatic convictions as a fundamental violation of proper interpretative practice. They often put the point in terms of not ‘violating the text’: to interpret in the light of dogmatic convictions is to violate the text. There is nothing per se wrong with interpreting a biblical text for its doctrinal content, assuming it has such; but it would violate the text to interpret it in the light of doctrinal convictions that one brings to the text. If doctrine is to put in its appearance anywhere in our interpretation, it must emerge from the interpretation. Convictions about the unity of some book of scripture would be included among doctrinal convictions; the modern interpreter accepts Dilthey’s criticism of Schleiermacher’s practice. Rather than interpreting in the light of one’s prior convictions about some book’s unity, let such unity as it may have emerge from one’s interpretation.


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The relative unity and disunity of individual biblical books has in fact been a matter of major concern for biblical scholars in the modern period; it is, after all, the perceived disunity of some biblical books that motivates the claim, made over and over in the modern period, that the text we have is a collage of pre-existing units. This intense concern with unity and disunity does not carry over to the Bible as a whole, however. Most biblical scholars are pretty much indifferent to whether or not the Christian canon has unity as a whole. Perhaps the canon seems to them on the face of it to lack any unity worth talking about; or perhaps there is nothing in their background convictions that makes the issue of any interest or significance to them one way or the other. There are important exceptions. Some scholars, out of whatever motivation, have engaged in the project of trying to discern unity within the canon—not to impose it but to discern it. That attempt has taken three main forms. And let me say, here, that in all that follows I will confine myself to speaking of the Christian canon and its interpretation; the canonical texts of Judaism, along with the history of their interpretation, are different in important ways. There was, for some time, a biblical narrative movement, according to which the writings comprising the Christian canon are united by the connected narrative they offer of God’s mighty acts. A second development was the biblical theology movement, according to which these writings are united by a shared theology. And thirdly, there has been the movement of so-called canon criticism, spurred by my Yale colleague Brevard Childs. I am not fully confident that I understand this last movement; but it is my impression that it consists, for the most part, of emphasizing the ways in which the writings comprising the Christian canon contain intertextual references, allusions, quotations, and so forth. One might wonder whether we should mention, as yet a fourth way of trying to discern unity within the canon, Karl Barth’s suggestion that what principally unites the Christian canon is that all its parts, each in their own way, are a witness to Jesus Christ. I think not. Barth’s suggestion was never meant as a thesis concerning a unity that emerges inductively but as a proposal for a unifying dogmatic interpretation of scripture. Let me add, lest there be any misunderstanding, that I myself do not regard this

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as a flaw in Barth’s approach; my point is rather that Barth’s proposal belongs to a different species from the others. It would distract from my purpose in this paper were I to offer an evaluation of these three proposals. Let me confine myself to two observations. First, we should resist the rigid insistence that each and every book in the canon fully exhibit the unity proposed; no text except the very briefest would ever count as unified on that insistence. And secondly, it is my judgement that each of the three proposals has succeeded in calling to our attention interesting and important modes of unity in the Christian canon. I myself continue to think, for example, that the canon as a whole exhibits the interlocking themes of divine creation, redemption, and consummation; the fact that the book of Ecclesiastes, for example, says nothing about redemption and consummation, but speaks only of God as creator and of our human existence within creation, seems to me to count not at all against that interpretation. II One assumption that all of us bring to most of our interpretative endeavours, whether or not it be scripture that we are interpreting, is that what we have in hand is a work. Not always. Sometimes we have no idea, one way or the other, whether that is the case. And sometimes we conclude that what was presented to us as a work, and what we initially assumed to be that, is not really a work. The conclusion of many biblical interpreters about the biblical book of Isaiah is an example of this last point. Though it is presented in our canon as a work, most biblical interpreters are of the view that it is really two works—or perhaps even three. When I spoke above of a species of prejudgement that eludes Gadamer’s attention, I had in mind the prejudgement that one is dealing with something that has the unity consisting in its being a work. What makes something a work? That strikes me as an exceedingly important question for the theory of interpretation. Unfortunately, it is also one to which neither I nor anyone else—to the best of my knowledge—has ever worked out a satisfactory detailed answer. Paul Ricoeur comments in various places about the concept of a work, his main point always being that a work


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is a very different sort of entity from a sentence.³ A sentence belongs to the language in a way in which a work does not; conversely, a work is a product of labour in a way in which a sentence is not. That’s true; but it doesn’t get us very far. I judge that the main question we want answered is what individuates and differentiates works. For example, what determines whether the component in the Bible called ‘Isaiah’ is one work, two works, three works, or more? Ricoeur gives no help in answering that question—other than the suggestion that the answer may just possibly have something to do with the labour that resulted in the writing that our Bibles call ‘Isaiah’.⁴ Clearly contradiction within what one has in hand is not proof that it’s not a single work; many among those of us who have written lengthy works have suffered the indignity of some critic pointing out that we contradicted ourselves within the course of our discussion—or if not quite contradicted ourselves, wrote passages that are in one and another sort of logical tension with each other. Nor do repetitions establish that we’re not dealing with a single work. I mean absent-minded repetitions; it’s obvious that repetitions which play a literary or rhetorical function do not establish that it’s not a single work. Many among those of us who have written lengthy works have also suffered the indignity of some critic pointing out that we have needlessly repeated ourselves at various points. Nor does the fact that at certain points the writing in hand is a collage of words taken verbatim from some other work establish that the writing does not constitute a single work. My own Lament for a Son is a collage of this sort. Mainly it consists of sentences that I myself composed. But there are also passages taken from scripture, a passage from Augustine’s Confessions, one from a sermon of John Donne, another from Maria Dermoût’s The Ten Thousand Things, and yet another from Henri Nouwen’s A Letter of Consolation. The ³ See for example, chapters 5 and 8 in his Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences, trans. John B. Thompson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981). ⁴ An interesting and important question, for the answering of which I have no expertise, is when the concept of a work emerged. A highly esteemed scholar of antiquity to which I put the question replied that it had definitely emerged in Greek culture by 500 ; it was his impression that it had emerged even earlier in Hebraic (or Semitic) culture.

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totality is me speaking, even though I did not myself compose all the sentences. I would reject out of hand the suggestion that, because I did not myself compose all the sentences, the text as it stands does not constitute a single work. That which determines whether the writing one has in hand is a work is something that lies behind the text, rather than being a discernible feature of the text itself. Discernible features of the text may provide some evidence, one way or the other; but as will be clear from the points made in the preceding paragraph, the use of discernible features as evidence for whether or not one has a work in hand is a tricky matter. More specifically, it appears to me that what determines the identity and diversity of works is an intentional act of a certain sort. Yes, that old bug-bear of modern hermeneutics: intention! Though it would not be a misuse of English to call it ‘authorial intention’, nonetheless, given the standard use of ‘authorial’, it would be misleading. ‘Authorial’ is standardly connected with our English verb, ‘to author’. I did not author those passages that I just mentioned in my work Lament for a Son; I incorporated them into my work without having authored them. I recall reading somewhere that Walter Benjamin once contemplated composing a work that would consist entirely of passages taken from other writers. Had he done so, that would then have been a work of Benjamin no part of which he would have authored. Whether or not Benjamin did contemplate composing such a work, one can imagine someone doing it—though unless it were very brief, it would be staggeringly time-consuming. Far more efficient oneself to compose the sentences for what one wants to say, rather than finding all of them somewhere else! In addition to our verb ‘to author’, we also have the verb ‘to authorize’. It is that verb which expresses the relevant idea. Whether or not the words one has in hand constitute a work is not determined by authoring but by authorizing. The issue is whether someone authorized this totality as a work. The origin of the sentences in our present book of Isaiah is neither here nor there with respect to the determination of whether it is a work; what matters is whether someone authorized the totality of these words as a work. If so, they constitute a work, no matter where the sentences came from; if not, they do not constitute a work. Of course, even if our present book of Isaiah was authorized


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as a work, it’s possible that there are two or three parts of our present book each of which had itself previously been authorized as a work. Works can come in layers: works within works within works. And what is it to authorize something as a work? That’s the central question! I have done it. That is, I have authorized something as a work—this present essay being one example of that. No doubt everyone reading this chapter has done so as well. But I confess to not having a very firm reflexive grip on what it is that I did. Authorizing a text as a work presupposes one’s judgement that it satisfies one’s demands for completeness. That final chapter, that final section, that final sentence, finishes it, makes it complete, ready to be sent out into the world as a unit. But what sort of completeness? After all, a paragraph also has a certain sort of completeness, as does a section of a chapter and a chapter. As does a sentence. I agree with Ricoeur, however, that the unity of a sentence is significantly different; sentences belong to the language in a way that paragraphs, sections, chapters, and books do not. III Perhaps the best way to understand what’s going on in our authorization of something we have written as a work is to borrow and adapt a line of thought that is regularly used in musical analysis. Those who analyse music standardly think of musical works as multi-layered structures of relative tension and relaxation.⁵ Tension is the property notes have of, as it were, calling for other notes to follow them; relaxation is the property notes have of answering that call. In 3/4 meter, for example, the first beat in a measure calls for two following weak beats. When one superimposes rhythm on meter, when one adds the intervallic relationships inherent in melody and harmony, when one adds the dynamic contrasts characteristic of music of the modern West, and so forth, one then gets layer upon layer of ⁵ An excellent presentation of this way of thinking, along with references to the primary literature, can be found in Jeremy Begbie’s Theology, Music, and Time (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).

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tension–relaxation structures, with the final note finally bringing all these dynamic structures to the halt that the composer wanted. Of course one can play individual movements of a work separately, and individual sections of movements; often there is value in that. But the composer judges that something of worth is missed if one does only that; something important in the multilayered tension–relaxation structure of the whole will be missed if the entire work is not played and listened to. No doubt most of us have listened to one and another of the individual variations making up Bach’s Goldberg Variations by itself, and found it worth doing so. But most of us also know that to listen to the work piecemeal is to miss out on a quite incredible spiritual experience that can only be achieved by listening to the whole work at one sitting. I suggest that it is along such lines that we should also understand written works. To authorize a sequence of words as a work is to declare that one wants one’s readers to read it as a totality, on the ground that only thus will they experience the kind of completeness—of tension and relaxation—that one was aiming at. Sometimes one judges that they will not even adequately understand the parts without reading the whole. But that’s not always the issue. Sometimes, for example, one adds a certain chapter because one wants to say something about questions that will naturally and properly have occurred to the reader in the course of the discussion, even though no misunderstandings threaten if the chapter is not included. It was this sort of consideration that led me to compose and include, as the final chapter in my Divine Discourse, what I called ‘Historical and Theological Afterword’. It was not the aim of the chapter to forestall and preclude misinterpretations. Rather, I judged that the preceding discussion would have raised in the mind of virtually every reader a question that, if I said nothing at all by way of addressing it, would leave them feeling unsatisfied with the entire discussion. It was in that way that the book would have been incomplete without the final chapter. Ignoring that question would have been acceptable for an article, but not for a book. An implication of that last point is this: not only are tension–relaxation structures of different sorts; they also come in different magnitudes. The magnitude of an article contributes to determining what need not be included.


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To authorize a sequence of sentences as a work is to declare that it has a good and proper tension–relaxation structure, and to invite the reader, for that reason, to experience it as a totality. To experience it only in fragments and not in its totality would be to miss out on something of worth in its multi-layered tension– relaxation structure. Correspondingly, for us, the readers, to interpret it as a work is to accept that invitation of the authorizer and to read and interpret it as a whole. Of course it is sometimes a struggle to discern why the authorizer made the judgement that he did. We fail to see how a certain part contributes to the tension–relaxation structure of the whole; it seems an interference. Or we feel strongly that something is missing. The fault may not be ours; authorizers make mistakes on such matters. But the more we esteem the authorizer, the harder we try. Add that authors sometimes grow weary and publish what is not, even in their own judgement, a completed work. There is another mode of unity in the region that I shall mention but discuss only briefly; namely, the unity among works constituted by the fact that they are all works by the same author. They all belong to the same corpus. A book that comes to hand with the title Lectures on Philosophical Theology will be interpreted rather differently depending on whether or not we take its author to be Immanuel Kant. There are interesting differences between interpreting sentence-sequences as together constituting a single work, and interpreting them as constituting distinct works belonging to a single corpus. To mention just one example: what we would regard as regrettable contradictions if they occurred in a single work will be understood as changes of mind, or perhaps forgetfulness, if they occur in a corpus. Werner Jaeger’s way of treating Aristotle’s Metaphysics was, in effect, to treat it as works of a single corpus rather than as a single work; so too for Norman Kemp-Smith’s way of treating Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. One sort of work that is an important exception to what I have been saying about the role of tension–relaxation structures is the work which is a collection, a good example of such a work being a dictionary. The judgement that the composer of a dictionary— or any other sort of collection—makes as to whether his work is complete has nothing to do with tension–relaxation structures. The author simply has in mind to collect all examples of a certain

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sort; when she judges that she has done that, she authorizes the totality as a work. With this sort of exception in mind, along with the standard case, my thesis then is this: what determines whether the text in hand is a single work is something that lies behind the text itself, in the presence or absence of a certain intentional action. It is determined by whether or not someone authorized the text as a work. A corollary, present in my discussion more by implication than by explicit argumentation, is that the judgement of the reader that the text in hand was authorized as a work will and should in various ways shape her interpretation of the text (collections being the exception). The reader may be mistaken in that judgement—just as the authorizer may be mistaken in thinking that his collection is complete or that his text has the tension–relaxation structures that he thinks it has. But if the reader is mistaken in her prejudgement that what she has in hand is a work, the text will not talk back in anything like the way that Gadamer thinks happens when texts tell us whether our prejudgements about verbal meaning and propositional content are correct or incorrect. For, as I have argued, the unity of the text as a work is a mode of unity that lies behind the text. IV It seems all but certain that a good many of the books in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures were assembled by editors from pre-existent texts and/or oral traditions. I have argued that such origins do not prevent the resultant text from being a single work; there may well have been some person, or group of persons, who authorized it as a work. This observation naturally suggests to those of us who are Christians the question as to whether we should regard the Bible as a whole as one work with sixty-plus chapters, the exact number depending on which canon one favours. If what I have said about that mode of unity which is a work is correct, then there is nothing in principle against this highly diverse collection of texts all together constituting a single work; the question is just whether there has been the requisite intentional act of authorizing it as a work. And even that question comes to something less than the reader might think, given what I have said thus far. There is nothing to prevent an


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interpreter of some text, or a community of interpreters, from performing the requisite authorization: ‘Be it hereby resolved that these texts be interpreted as a single work.’ The authorizer need not be either author or editor. I anticipate that some biblical scholars will reply that there is something in principle against interpreting the Christian Bible as a single work. What’s against it is that to treat it thus is to violate the integrity of its constituent books. A variant on this objection is the insistence of some Jewish scholars that the inclusion by Christians of the Hebrew Bible within their canon is a violation of their Hebrew Bible. Given the point I made earlier, that there may be works within works, I fail to see that this protest has any solid basis. To argue for the legitimacy of interpreting the book of Isaiah as a component within that large work which is the Christian Bible is not thereby to question the legitimacy of interpreting it as a work in its own right, thereby fully honouring its own integrity. As I mentioned earlier, not only is there worth in listening to the entire Goldberg Variations; there is worth in listening to individual variations by themselves. Let it be added, though, that when one knows the entire Variations, it is almost inevitable that that knowledge will shape, in subtle ways, how one hears an individual variation; the tension–relaxation structure that one hears and feels in the individual variation will be different from what it would be if one knew nothing but that variation. Of course it would be possible to insist that some variations are best heard with no echoes whatsoever in one’s mind of the entire set. Correspondingly, it would be possible for a Jewish interpreter to insist that ‘listening to’ Isaiah with echoes in mind of the entire Christian canon is a decisively inferior way of ‘listening to’ it. But that then is the issue: the worth of ‘listening to’ it thus, not the legitimacy. What, if anything, is the worth of Christian interpreters treating the Christian canon as having that mode of unity constituted by its being a single work? That, as I see it, is the decisive question. And let me say yet one more time that concluding that there is worth in such interpretation does not imply the worth-lessness of interpreting individual biblical books as distinct works; surely there is worth in that. The question is whether there is also significant worth in interpreting individual books as chapters in one

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single work—a work whose opening chapter speaks in narrative form of God’s work as creator and whose closing chapter speaks in apocalyptic form of God’s work of consummation, with most (though not all) of what lies between speaking of God’s work of redemption. Given the way the Christian canon is typically presented to us, namely, as so-called ‘books’ bound together in a fixed order in a single binding, I think it is virtually inevitable, for the Christian who knows the totality, that that knowledge will shape a good deal of her interpretation of the constituent books. I think it is all but impossible not to have the gospels echoing in one’s ear as one reads the messianic passages in Isaiah, and vice versa; not to have the passages in Paul about the creative activity of Christ echoing in one’s ear as one reads the opening of Genesis, and vice versa; not to have the prologue of John’s Gospel echoing in one’s ear when one reads certain passages in the Wisdom literature, and vice versa—and so forth. It is almost impossible for those who know the whole Christian Bible to not, in practice, treat it as a single work. The overall structure of the Christian canon, in its long-agofixed sequence, is clear. There is a New Testament consisting of five narratives concerning Jesus and the spread of the news about him by the apostles, followed by a number of letters concerning the significance of Jesus, presented for the most part as coming from one and another apostle, with the whole package then culminating in an apocalyptic sketch of human consummation. This package is preceded by an Old Testament which, though much more diverse, nonetheless exhibits two interacting story lines: a story line of creation and providence, and a story line of redemption. In both cases, the phrase ‘story line’ is a bit misleading; but I don’t know of a better. The creation–providence theme sometimes becomes minimally narrative in its mode of presentation; not much narrative in Ecclesiastes or Proverbs! And though the theme of redemption is, overall, far more narrative in its mode of presentation, it too sometimes becomes rather minimally so; witness some of the prophets. Once one has this overarching thematic or story-line structure of the Christian canon in mind, be it acquired intuitively or theoretically, then, so it seems to me, it becomes all but impossible for that structure not to influence in subtle ways one’s reading and interpretation


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of individual books, sections, pericopes, and the like. It is all but impossible not to interpret the various books as belonging to a huge tension–relaxation structure beginning with the opening of Genesis and not finally resolved until the conclusion of the Apocalypse. The reader will have noticed that I have said nothing about the ways in which interpreting a biblical book as a chapter within that large work which is the Christian canon, rather than as an independent work, influences what one takes to be the propositional content of the individual books; I have said nothing, for example, about a christological interpretation of the messianic prophecies. I regard the issues here as exceedingly important. Jesus already both offered interpretations of the Hebrew Bible— the ‘scriptures’—and appealed to the Hebrew Bible as the interpretative context for the understanding of himself. The apostles continued this two-way appropriation of the Hebrew Bible, apparently going well beyond anything that Jesus himself offered in the details of their interpretations. The church has continued this pattern of two-way appropriation, in its details going well beyond, in turn, anything that we find in the apostles. In many cases the interpretation offered, by Jesus, apostles, or church, of what is expressed by a passage in the Hebrew Bible, is definitely different from what the original authorizer of that passage would have meant by it. This gives the modern interpreter pause: the New Testament appears to him full of misinterpretations of the Hebrew Bible, and later interpreters seem to him even worse offenders. But that’s how it goes when extant texts are incorporated within new, more comprehensive, works: some of the words of the extant text will now have to be interpreted as expressing something different from what they expressed originally. I mentioned that I had incorporated a brief passage from Maria Dermoût’s The Ten Thousand Things within my work Lament for a Son. In the context I gave it, the passage definitely expressed something different from what it expressed in its original context of her novel about Indonesia. Are those who interpret the passage within the context I gave it thereby misinterpreting it? That seems to me not the right way to describe what is going on in such interpretation. Let me say again that this issue is important: the ways in which certain passages from individual books of the Bible acquire

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new propositional content when treated as components of that single work which is the entire Christian canon. I spent some time discussing the matter in my Divine Discourse. But I have come to think that it is a mistake to let what we say on this issue become all-determinative for our decision as to whether or not the church should treat its canon as a single work. It is only one aspect of the larger issue. What led me to see this was reflecting on my own experience of deciding when a book of mine was a finished work, and my discovery that I had to resort to an adaptation of the categories of musical analysis to understand fully what went into my own decisions. The musical analogue released me from what I now see as my fixation on propositional content. In music there usually isn’t any propositional content; nonetheless, there are works, and we perform and hear passages as parts of works. The relevant overarching categories, so I have suggested, are those of tension and relaxation. V Those readers of this chapter who have read my Divine Discourse may well have expected from me a quite different treatment of the unity of the canon from that which I have presented here. They will have expected me to talk about that unity of the canon which consists of God being its ultimate authorizer. But in my book I not only explored the suggestion that God is scripture’s ultimate authorizer; I also claimed that if one does regard God as related to scripture in that way, one will regard scripture as God’s work, not as God’s collected works. I now see that regarding God as the authorizer of what stands in the Christian scriptures does not settle, one way or the other, whether those scriptures should be regarded as one work or many—God’s single opus or God’s opera omnia. I continue to find attractive the idea I developed in Divine Discourse, that God is scripture’s ultimate authorizer. Here I have gone beyond that to reflect on what is at stake in the issue of whether, in authorizing scripture as his own speech, God authorized sixty-six-plus works, or one single work.

INDEX OF AUTHORS

Abraham, W. J. 38 n. 79 Aland, B. 160 n. 4 Alexander, E. S. 113 n. 10 Allison, D. C. 178 n. 47, 179 n. 49 Assmann, J. 60 Avemarie, F. 177 n. 45 Babad, Y. 196 n. 19 Bacher, W. 111 n. 7, 118 n. 24, 120 n. 31, 123 n. 41 Barkay, G. 131 n. 62 Barr, J. 110 n. 3, 112 n. 8, 132 n. 65, 138, 152 n. 1 Barth, G. 168 n. 27, 177 n. 44 Barton, J. 112 n. 8, 138, 160 n. 4 Baumgarten, A. I. 142 n. 92 Beckman, G. 53 n. 6 Beckwith, R. 60 Begbie, J. 225 n. 5 Begrich, J. 117 n. 22, 139, 139 n. 83 Ben-Yehudah, E. 111 n. 7, 120 n. 31 Berger, P. L. 211 n. 47 Bickerman, E. J. 54 n. 14 Blenkinsopp, J. 63 n. 42, 77, 78 n. 58, 140 n. 86, 141 n. 87 Blidstein, J. 111 n. 6 Blum, E. 63 n. 42 Braun, W. 178 n. 46 Breuer, M. 149 n. 105 Broshi, M. 66 n. 47 Brown, D. 110 n. 3 Brunner, E. 25 n. 34 Brunner, H. 52 n. 2 Burstein, S. M. 53 n. 8

Carmignac, J. 92 n. 71 Caro, J. 196 n. 19 Carr, D. M. 60, 63 n. 42, 96 Chapman, S. B. 1 n. 1, 62–3 Childs, B. S. 15, 48, 137 n. 75, 144, 146, 160 n. 4 Clancy, T. 34 n. 68 Clines, D. J. A. 77 Collins, J. J. 104 n. 85 Crawford, S. W. 64 n. 46 Crüsemann, F. 59 n. 29, 63 n. 42 Davies, W. D. 178 n. 47, 179 n. 49 Dimant, D. 104 n. 85 Dohmen, C. 164 n. 15 Dulles, A. 110 n. 3, 115 n. 13, 123 n. 39, 125 n. 46 Duncan, J. A. 98 n. 78 Dunn, J. D. G. 176 n. 43 Eco, U. 166 Ego, B. 82 n. 67 Eichrodt, W. 144 Eissfeldt, O. 59 n. 29 Eliade, M. 135 Elman, Y. 113 n. 10, 114 n. 12– 13, 116 n. 17, 127 n. 54, 139 n. 81, 145 n. 98, 147 n. 102 Eybeschutz, J. 196 n. 19 Fabry, H.-J. 60, 96 Finkel, I. L. 52 Finkelstein, L. 117 n. 22, 125 n. 49 Fishbane, M. 117 n. 22, 138 n. 80, 139 n. 82, 141 n. 87 Fitzmyer, J. A. 66 n. 48

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Index of Authors

Flint, P. W. 59 n. 29, 66 n. 49 Foster, B. R. 53 n. 6 Fraade, S. 113 n. 10, 114 n. 12, 124 n. 45, 125 n. 49, 145 n. 96 Frank, M. 21 n. 24 Frei, H. W. 48 n. 109 Frei, P. 63 Gadamer, H. G. 34, 191, 217– 20, 222, 228 García López, F. 139 n. 82, 140 n. 85, 142 n. 90 Gardiner, A. H. 52 n. 2 Garfinkel, S. 147 n. 103, 149 n. 107 Gerhardsson, B. 113 n. 10, 120 n. 31, 124 n. 43, 130 n. 59 Gerrish, B. 25 n. 34 Gershoni, I. 114 n. 12 Gitay, Y. 114 n. 11 Golinkin, D. 125 n. 47 Goshen-Gottstein, M. 129 n. 57 Grässer, E. 175 n. 42 Greenberg, M. 146 n. 101, 149 n. 107 Gregory, C. R. 160 n. 4 Gruber, M. 116 n. 19, 122 n. 37, 143 n. 92 Gundry, R. H. 179 n. 49 Habib, M. 196 n. 19 Hahn, F. 161 n. 9, 170 n. 31, 176 n. 43, 177 n. 45 Hahneman, G. M. 160 n. 4 Halbertal, M. 121 n. 34, 122 n. 35, 128–30, 131 n. 60, 133 n. 69, 145, 208 n. 42, 209 n. 43 Halivni, D. W. 115 n. 14, 116 n. 19, 127 n. 53, 133 n. 67, 134 n. 71, 143–4 n. 94, 145 n. 98, 210 n. 45

Hallo, W. W. 53 nn. 6–7 Handelman, S. 206 Harnack, A. von 159 Harris, J. 115 n. 15, 127 n. 53 Hayes, C. 116 nn. 18–19 Heinemann, Y. 204 n. 31, 206 n. 38 Helmer, C. 1 n. 1, 13 n. 3, 15 n. 7, 32 n. 58, 48 n. 109, 49 n. 111 Hengel, M. 181 n. 57 Heppe, H. 27 n. 39 Hermisson, H. J. 164 n. 15 Herms, E. 46 n. 102, 162 n. 11 Herr, M. D. 122 n. 38, 123 n. 41, 124 n. 44 Heschel, A. J. 111 n. 5, 112 n. 7, 118 n. 25, 125 n. 48, 133 n. 66, 136–7 Hoffmann, E. G. 173 n. 37 Hofius, O. 174 n. 39, 181 n. 54 Hölscher, U. 54 n. 13 Hurowitz, V. A. 52 n. 4, 53 n. 9, 54 n. 11, 101 n. 81 Iser, W. 166 Jaffee, M. 113 nn. 9–10, 114 nn. 12–13, 115 n. 16, 116, 120 n. 31, 121 n. 33, 122 n. 37, 123 nn. 40–1, 127 n. 52, 142 n. 92 Janowski, B. 15 n. 8, 48, 160 n. 4, 164 n. 15 Jenson, R. W. 44 n. 97 Kalimi, I. 121 n. 34 Kant, I. 17, 227 Käsemann, E. 160 n. 4 Kasher, M. M. 118 n. 26, 119 nn. 28–9 Kaufmann, Y. 139 n. 84, 141 n. 87

Index of Authors Kazis, H. 192 n. 16 Keel, O. 131 n. 62 Kellermann, U. 63 n. 41 Kidwell, C. S. 49 n. 111 Kimelman, R. 149 n. 107 Kloppenborg Verbin, J. S. 31 n. 56, 32 n. 58 Knohl, I. 138 n. 79 Koch, K. 63 n. 41, 104 n. 85 Kooij, A. van der 60 Kraeling, E. G. 16 n. 9 Kraemer, D. 116 n. 19, 121 n. 32, 122 n. 38, 124 nn. 44–5, 126 n. 50 Lambert, W. G. 53 n. 10 Landmesser, C. 1 n. 1, 14 n. 6, 37 n. 76, 38 n. 82, 162 n. 10, 164 n. 14, 166 n. 18, 167 n. 24, 170 n. 30, 172 n. 35, 180 n. 53, 181 nn. 54, 56, 183 n. 58 Lange, A. 66 n. 47, 70 n. 53, 73 n. 54, 93 n. 73, 96 n. 76, 102 n. 83 Lautenschlager, M. 177 n. 45 Leibowitz, Y. 186–8, 192, 209, 213–14 Leiman, S. Z. 59 n. 30, 60 Lenk, H. 165, 167 n. 25, 169 n. 28 Leon, I. de 199 n. 26 Levinson, B. 134 n. 69, 138 n. 78 Levenson, J. 142 nn. 90–1, 146 n. 100–1, 150 n. 108 Lewis, J. P. 59–60 Lichtheim, M. 52 n. 2 Lieberman, S. J. 52 n. 5, 113 n. 10 Liedke, G. 139 n. 82, 140 n. 85 Lohse, E. 160 n. 4, 176 n. 43 Lust, J. L. 60 n. 34, 66 n. 48, 98 n. 79

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Luz, U. 171 n. 32, 178 n. 48, 179 n. 49, 180 n. 52 McDonald, L. M. 160 n. 4, 161 n. 8 McKnight, E. 215 Maier, J. 92 n. 71 Maori, Y. 149 n. 106 Markschies, C. 160 n. 5 Martinez, F. G. 79 n. 62 Mell, U. 181 n. 55 Metzger, B. M. 159 n. 2 Meyer, E. 63 n. 41 Milgrom, J. 79 n. 61, 140 n. 84, 141 n. 87 Milik, J. T. 64 n. 46 Montanari, F. 54 n. 13 Moore, C. A. 74 n. 55, 82 n. 67 Morris, C. W. 164 n. 14 Müller, P. 177 n. 45 Mußner, F. 164 n. 15 Najman, H. 141 n. 88, 142 n. 89 Neubauer, Y. Y. 212 n. 51, 214 Neusner, J. 113 nn. 9–10, 122 n. 37, 127 n. 54, 142 n. 92 Nevins, D. 134 n. 69 Newsom, C. A. 98 n. 79 Niditch, S. 114 n. 11 Noley, H. 49 n. 111 Oeming, M. 110 n. 3, 167 n. 22 Ohlig, K. H. 160 n. 4 Parsons, E. A. 54 n. 13, 55 n. 15 Perlman, L. 133 n. 66 Person, R. 114 n. 11 Peterson, C. 139 n. 82, 140 n. 85 Pfeiffer, R. 54 n. 13, 55 n. 15 Pregla, A. R. 167 n. 22 Rad, G. von 144, 153 n. 2 Räisänen, H. 154

236

Index of Authors

Rawidowicz, S. 206 Rawlinson, H. C. 52 n. 3 Rescher, N. 166 n. 19 Rochberg-Halton, F. 52 n. 5 Rogers, E. F. 44 n. 95 Rosenbloom, N. H. 211 n. 48, 214 Rosenthal, A. 111 n. 6, 113 n. 9, 115 n. 14, 120 n. 31, 121 n. 33, 126 n. 51, 131 n. 64, 143 n. 94 Rüterswörden, U. 63 n. 43 Safrai, S. 113 nn. 9–10, 130 n. 59 Sagi, A. 145 n. 97, 188 n. 8, 193 n. 17, 207 n. 41, 215 n. 58 Sanders, E. P. 117 n. 21, 119 n. 27, 142 n. 92 Sanders, J. A. 62–3 Sandler, P. 210 n. 44 Satlow, M. 114 n. 13, 127 n. 52, 147–8 Schaeder, H. H. 63 n. 41 Schäfer, P. 59–60, 112 n. 9, 113 n. 10, 115 n. 15, 116 n. 19, 121 n. 33, 123 n. 40, 142 n. 92 Schechter, S. 109 n. 2, 124 n. 42 Schiffman, L. H. 106 n. 88 Schleiermacher, F. D. E. 8, 16–30, 32–50, 217–20 Schmid, H. 27 n. 39 Schmidt, E. A. 54 n. 13 Schniedewind, W. 114 n. 11 Schunack, G. 167 n. 22 Schwartz, B. 124 n. 44 Schwarz, F. H. C. 16 n. 9 Segal, M. 78 n. 59 Shupak, S. N. 52 n. 2 Siebenthal, H. von 173 n. 37 Siegert, F. 92 n. 71 Silman, Y. 111 n. 5, 112 n. 7, 125 n. 48, 133 n. 66, 145 n. 98 Simon, U. 147 n. 103, 149 n. 107

Smend, R. 16 n. 9 Smith, M. 103 n. 84 Sommer, B. D. 38 n. 81, 56, 146 n. 101 Steck, O. H. 60, 86 n. 69 Stegemann, H. 79 n. 64, 102 n. 83, 171 n. 33 Stemberger, G. 59–60, 127 n. 53 Steudel, A. 94 n. 75, 102 n. 82 Stolz, F. 171 n. 33 Strugnell, J. 79 n. 64 Sweeney, M. A. 13 n. 2 Talmon, S. 62, 64 n. 46 Tate, W. R. 167 n. 23 Tinker, G. E. 49 n. 111 Torn, K. van der 105 n. 87, 131 Tov, E. 55 n. 17, 64 n. 44, 68 n. 52, 78 nn. 59–60, 94 n. 74, 99 n. 80 Trobisch, D. 36 n. 75, 160 n. 4 Troyer, K. de 30 n. 50 Tur-Sinai, N. H. 111 n. 7, 120 n. 31 Uehlinger, C. 131 n. 62 Ulrich, E. 57, 62, 78 n. 59, 99 Urbach, E. E. 113 n. 9, 119 n. 27, 121 nn. 32–3, 124 n. 44 VanderKam, J. C. 66 n. 48, 104 n. 86 Verheyden, J. C. 35 n. 72 Vielhauer, R. 88 n. 70 Vollenweider, S. 181 n. 55 Wasserman, E. 196 n. 19 Watts, J. W. 63 n. 43 Webster, J. 41 n. 87 Weder, H. 172 n. 36 Weinfeld, M. 131 n. 62 White, S. 78 nn. 59–60

Index of Authors Wiesehöfer, J. 63 n. 43 Williamson, H. G. M. 78 n. 57 Wolterstorff, N. 37 n. 77 Yadin, A. 116 n. 20, 122 nn. 36, 38

Yadin, Y. 79 n. 63 Zahn, T. 159 Zakovitch, Y. 138 n. 80 Zenger, E. 105 n. 87 Zsengellér, J. 61–2 n. 37

237

INDEX OF REFERENCES

I. HEBREW BIBLE Genesis 1: 1 50: 20

137, 149 153

Exodus 13 13: 9 17: 14 19: 20 20: 1 20: 2 20: 2–3 20: 15 24: 3–7 34: 27

131 n. 62 131 n. 62 123 n. 38 137 137 n. 75 137 n. 75 14 137 n. 75 123 n. 38 121

Leviticus 6: 2 6: 5–6 6: 9 6: 12–13 7: 37 22: 28 23: 4 23: 40 23: 42

78, 140 78 78 78 140 106 194 141 83, 141

Numbers 6: 23–7 24: 15–17 31: 21

131 n. 62 98 140

Deuteronomy 1: 5 6 6: 6–9

140 131 n. 62 131

11 11: 18–20 13: 6 13: 19 17: 11 17: 12 17: 17 23: 4 24: 16 29: 20 30: 14 31: 9–11 33 33: 8–11

131 n. 62 131 67 82 189 n. 10, 200 192 67 140 n. 86 82 140 144 123 n. 38 94 n. 75 98

Joshua 13–22

120

II Samuel 7: 10–14

94 n. 75, 102

II Kings 14: 6

82, 140

Isaiah 8: 11 8: 16 10: 34–11: 1 20

101 140 101 140

Jeremiah 25: 11–12

103–4

Ezekiel 45: 4

200

Hosea 8: 12

140

Index of References Habakkuk 2: 2–4 Zechariah 9–14

121 n. 33

68

Malachi 2: 6

128

Psalms 19: 8 37: 28 62: 12 119: 72

200 200 199 n. 23 111

Job 32: 2

93 n. 72

Ecclesiastes 9: 7–9

14

Daniel 2 9 9: 2 9: 24

96 103–4 104 96

Ezra 1: 1 3: 2 6: 18

103 140 141 n. 88

Nehemiah 8 8: 14 8: 14–15 10: 35 13: 1–13 13: 31

141 n. 88 83, 101 141 77–9 140 77

II Chronicles 25: 4 36: 22

82–3, 101 103

239

II. ANCIENT JEWISH LITERATURE Baruch 1–5

86 n. 69

Ben Sira 38: 34b–39: 3 39: 1–3 44–9 44–50 44: 16 49: 15–16

75 61 80 59 80 n. 65 80 n. 65

I Enoch 91: 12–17 93

93 93

Jubilees 1: 27 4: 26 8: 2–4 8:19 50

104 105 53 n. 8 105 105

I Maccabees 12: 9

55 n. 18

II Maccabees 2: 13–14

60

Tobit 1: 6 1: 21–2 2:10 11:19 14: 3–4 14:10

82 n. 67 74 n. 55 74 n. 55 74 n. 55 82, 101 74 n. 55

240

Index of References

III. QUMRAN CD 5: 2 5: 21 14: 2

67 67 121 n. 33

1QapGen XIX 10–XX 32

70 n. 53

1QpHab

121 n. 33

1QS I 2–3 Vff.

61, 94 92

1Q16 4QDeut 4QJuba IV 7–8 4QMMT B 37–8

93 98 104 106

4QMMT C 10–11 10: 17

94 61

4QpaleoJobc 4QRPc 23: 9–11 4QTestimonia 4QtgJob 4QtgLev 4Q166 4Q167 4Q171 4Q173 4Q174 III 15 4Q175 21–30 4Q177 XI 7 4Q185 4Q256 IX 1 4Q258 I 1 4Q265 I 3 4Q266 II 20 4Q270 7 II 15 4Q300 Ia ii–b 1

94 78–9 98 64 64 88 n. 70 88 n. 70 93 93 101 98 101 74–5 92 92 101 92 92 96

4Q300 Ia ii–b 2 4Q365 4Q370 ii 5–9 4Q379 22 ii 7–15 4Q379 22 ii 13–13a 4Q460 9 i 3 4Q468e 4Q524 11QapPs

96 78–9 74 98 74 74 66 n. 47 79 75

11QTa XXIII 3–4 LV 13–14

79 82

11QTb VI 11–15

77, 79

11QPsa XXVI 9–15 XXVII 10 XXVII 11

80 74 93 n. 73

11QtgJob 11Q11 11Q19–21

64 74 79

IV. JOSEPHUS Against Apion 1. 29, 42 1. 37–43 1. 38

55 55 56

Antiquitates 13. 74 18. 16

61 n. 37 61

V. NEW TESTAMENT Matthew 1: 2–16 1: 3 1: 5

171 171 171

Index of References 1: 6 1: 11–12 1: 16 1: 21 1: 23 4: 18–20 4: 21–2 5–7 5: 20 5: 48 7: 21 8: 12 9: 9 10 13: 1–52 13: 42 13: 50 18: 21–35 18: 23–35 22: 1–14 22: 2 22: 7 22: 10b 22: 12 22: 13b 24: 51 25: 30 25: 31–46 28: 20

171 171 171 172 172 179 n. 50 179 n. 50 32 n. 58 172 n. 34, 180 172 n. 34 172 n. 34 179 179 n. 50 32 n. 58 32 n. 58 179 179 180 178 177 178 178 n. 48 178 179 179 179 179 180 172

Mark 1: 1 1: 14–15 9: 7b 10: 45 15: 39

172 173 173 173 153, 173

Luke 1: 1–2: 52 1: 1–4 14: 15–24 16: 16

174 173 177 61 n. 36

241

24: 13–53 24: 27 24: 31 24: 44 24: 46–7

174 61 n. 36 173 61 n. 36 173

John 1: 1–18 1: 1 1: 14 3: 1–21 3: 36 5: 39 8: 23 10: 30 15: 11–32 16: 13 17: 3 18: 36 20: 31

174 n. 39 174 44 180 n. 54 174 n. 40 30 14 174 181 n. 54 38 174 n. 40 14 174

Acts 1: 8 4: 12 24: 14 28: 31

174 173 61 n. 36 174 n. 38

Romans 1: 1–7 1: 16–17 4: 17 5: 1 8: 38–9 9–11 11: 33–6

175 175 181 175, 180 180 14 14

I Corinthians 1: 1 1: 18 1: 20 1: 25

175 n. 41 175 14 14

242 II Corinthians 1: 1 5: 14–21 5: 17

Index of References 175 n. 41 175 181

175 n. 41 175 121 n. 33 181

Philippians 1: 6

50

Sukkah 3: 1–2

181 n. 54

Hebrews 1: 1–2 9: 26–8

175 175

I Peter 1: 3

181 n. 54

I John 4: 18

49

III John

170

116

VIII. TALMUD YERUSHALMI Berakot 1: 8

Titus 3: 5

Peah 2: 5–17a 2: 6

132 n. 64

204 n. 30 115, 120, 122 n. 38, 125 n. 47, 127 n. 53

Megillah 1: 5 Hagigah 1: 8 Sota 21c

115 115, 117 61 n. 37

Sanhedrin 4: 2 22a

205 115 n. 17

IX. TALMUD BAVLI 175 175 176 175

VI. MISHNA Peah 2: 6 Hagigah 1: 8 Eduyot 8: 7 Horayot 1: 1

59 116

VII. TOSEFTA

Galatians 1: 1 2: 16 3: 10–11 6: 15

Revelation 1: 8 5: 9–10 21: 4 22: 13

Yadayim 3: 5 4: 3

116 127 n. 53 116 194

Berakot 5a

11 47b

112 n. 7, 118–20, 134 n. 70 132 n. 64 61 n. 37

Shabbat 31a 63a 88b

117 197 n. 22 204 n. 33

Index of References Eruvin 13b Rosh Hashanah 25a Megillah 1: 5 Nedarim 22a 22b 37b Gittin 60a

60b

Qiddushin 66a Baba Metsiah 59a–b Baba Bathra 14b–15a Sanhedrin 34a Horayot 2b Menakhot 29b

145 n. 97, 204 193 115

119 119–20 55

124 n. 45, 127 n. 53, 204 n. 30 122 n. 38, 126, 127 n. 53, 145 n. 97 126, 148 204 58, 94 199 n. 23, 204 n. 30 194 56, 115, 202, 204

Hullin 4b 22a 33b

61 n. 37 61 n. 37 61 n. 37

Temurah 15b–16a

133 n. 69

X. MIDRASHIM Avot deRabbi Nathan A15/B29 Canticum Rabbah 1: 2

Exodus Rabbah 28: 6 47: 1 Leviticus Rabbah 22 Leqah. Tov to Exodus 20: 2 Kohelet Rabbah 5: 8 Mekhilta deRabbi Ishmael Vayyisa Par. 1 Numeri Rabbah h.uqat § 4 Seder Eliahu Zuta 2 Sifra Beh.uqotai 8: 12 8: 13 Shemini Par. 1 § 9

243 123 134 n. 70 125

125 n. 47 137 n. 75 115 n. 15

115 116 n. 17 115 n. 17 118 115 n. 15 115

Sifre to Deuteronomy 48 115 56: 1 61 n. 37 306 125 351 115, 117 Tanhuma 11 Ki Tissa 34

134 n. 70 124 n. 42

XI. ANCIENT CHRISTIAN LITERATURE Epiphanius of Salamis Panarion 1. 2.1 61 n. 37

118 137 n. 75

Origen Commentary on John 3. 26 Contra Celsum 1. 49

61 n. 37 61 n. 37

244

Index of References

Philastrius of Brescia In librum de haeresibus 7 61 n. 37 XII. GREEK AND LATIN AUTHORS Aristophanes Equites 115–30, 1002–50

54 n. 12

Aves 959–60

54 n. 12

Herodotus 5. 90 8. 6, 20 8. 6, 77 8. 6, 96 9. 43

54 n. 12 54 n. 12 54 n. 12 54 n. 12 54 n. 12

Plato Res Publica 364e

54 n. 12

INDEX OF SUBJECTS AND NAMES Abraham of Minsk 119 Abrahm Ibn Ezra 148 Access 10, 40, 42–3, 164–5, 167–9, 182 Actualization 3–4 Aeschylos 54 Apologetics 23–4 Apostolicity 34 Aristotle 227 Artapanos 76 Augustine 223 Author 12, 17, 28, 34–5, 40, 42–3, 49, 54, 56, 83, 100, 104, 137–8, 150, 169, 172–3, 177–81, 207, 217–18, 224, 227, 229 Authority 52, 54, 57–9, 62, 67, 78, 81, 83, 109, 143, 147–8, 161, 187, 190–5, 201, 203, 208, 215 Authorization 12, 63, 225, 228 Avraham of Sochochow 139 Barth, K. 221–2 Benjamin, W. 224 Bible 1, 4, 6, 8–9, 11, 13, 15, 27–8, 47–8, 108–9, 111, 121–2, 128–9, 136, 139–40, 144, 151–7, 163, 185, 188, 210, 215, 221, 223, 228– 30 Hebrew 8, 13, 48, 51–2, 55, 57–8, 60, 62–5, 67, 75, 93–4, 99, 106, 131, 142, 155, 229, 231 Buhl, F. 58, 62

Calvin, J. 48 Canonicity 109, 127–8, 130, 135 Canonization 65, 160–2, 185 Childs, B.S. 221 Christianity 16, 18–19, 21–4, 26–7, 29–32, 34–6, 39, 45, 47–9, 102, 152–5, 181 Church 14–16, 27, 29, 31–3, 37, 39–40, 46, 48–9, 125, 154, 161–3, 184–5, 231 Coherence 17, 43–4, 166–7, 183 Coherent 185 Communication 29–30, 42, 50, 106, 165–6 Community 2–7, 11–12, 14, 29, 33, 41, 50, 57, 61, 103, 109, 144, 153, 160, 163, 165, 175, 179, 182, 216, 228 Comprehensiveness 45–6 Concept 20–4, 26–8, 50, 56–8, 63 Content 13, 162, 231–2, 185 Context 2–5, 7, 11–12, 17, 31, 49, 102, 147–8, 161, 165, 168–9, 184–5, 192, 209, 211–13, 231 Continuance 162–3 Continuity 3, 5, 7, 9, 15–16, 24–5, 32, 40, 46, 48, 163 Creation 12–13, 29, 77, 104, 181, 191, 222, 230 Criticism 10, 46, 66, 152, 188, 209–10, 212, 214–16, 218, 221 Culture 19, 57–8, 64, 99–100, 107, 122, 148, 208, 210

246

Index of Subjects and Names

Decision 4, 11, 14, 48, 153, 166 Demetrios 76 Dermoût, M. 223, 231 Determination 19, 24, 35, 39, 47, 164–9, 182, 185 Dialogue 22, 43, 150 Difference 11, 14, 24, 41, 135, 151–2, 155, 157, 177, 184–5, 217 Dilthey, W. 34, 217, 219–20 Diversity 5, 11, 13–16, 36, 42–3, 46, 48–9, 183–4, 224 Doctrine 154, 157 Donne, J. 223 Driver, S. 148 Eichhorn, J. G. 32 Enlightenment 219 Essence 8, 16, 18–21, 23–4, 26–7, 29, 34, 39–40, 47, 174 Ethics 21 Euripides 54 Eusebius 77 Evidence 153 Exegesis 1, 147, 196 Existence 36, 112, 191, 196, 222 Experience 2–3, 17, 28–30, 32, 34–6, 42–3, 46, 48, 50, 232 Expression 19, 34, 165–6 Faith 3–4, 8, 10–11, 29, 42, 44, 46, 144, 163, 180–1, 183–5, 187 Gemara 112, 118, 125, 129–30 God 2, 6–7, 11–12, 14–15, 30, 36, 42, 48, 55, 65, 81–3, 104, 107, 119, 124, 129, 133, 146, 153, 157, 161–2, 168, 170–8, 180, 184, 186, 191, 203–6, 213, 215–16, 222, 229, 232 Gospel 15, 159, 171–2, 174, 177–8, 180, 230

Grace 19, 25–7 Graetz, H. 58, 62 Griesbach, J. J. 32 Group 60, 76, 96, 98, 109, 160, 162–3 Halakha 56, 129, 186–8, 201, 205, 209 Halakhic 11, 56, 92, 106, 116, 129, 186–7, 189–91, 193–8, 202–3, 207–8, 213, 215 Halevi, Y. 136 Haran, M. 148 Hermeneutical 3, 5–6, 8, 11, 15, 34–7, 40–1, 43, 47, 135, 161, 188–9, 192–3, 202–3, 207–9, 211, 216 Hermeneutics 2, 188, 197, 217–18 Heterogeneity 7, 161–2, 168 Heyyot, Z. H. 195 Hillel 148 Hirsch, S. R. 212–15 History 3, 5–6, 15–16, 18–20, 22, 24, 32–4, 40, 46, 48, 50, 55, 57–8, 60, 62–3, 66, 81–2, 107, 132, 159, 163, 170–4, 182–4, 186, 188, 217, 221 Holy Spirit 37, 110 Homer 54 Homogeneity 146 Hug, J.L. 32 Idea 28–9, 39, 43, 45, 47, 49–50, 60, 62, 102–3, 105, 110, 112, 144, 222 Identity 9, 19, 25, 28, 37, 41–2, 46, 56, 160, 162–3, 210, 214, 224 Individuality 34, 36, 42, 46 Intention 11–12, 26, 34, 41, 46 Intentional 12, 228 Interpretation 1–4, 6–7, 11–12,

Index of Subjects and Names 15, 30, 34, 46, 93, 104, 106– 7, 134, 136–7, 144, 147–8, 152–3, 163, 166–7, 169–70, 176–7, 180, 182, 184, 188– 91, 193–4, 196, 198, 201–2, 205–9, 211–12, 215, 217–22, 230–1 Islam 19, 102 Israel 15, 77, 107, 117, 119–20, 125, 171, 178, 206 Jaeger, W. 227 Jesus Christ 8, 10–11, 15, 18, 21, 25–32, 34–6, 40–2, 44, 46–7, 50, 170–7, 179–85, 221, 230–1 Judaism 19, 23, 47–8, 51, 55–7, 60, 65, 67–8, 73, 76–7, 81, 83, 92, 98, 100–2, 107, 111, 122, 127–9, 131–3, 136, 138, 152–3, 155–6, 187–8, 208–9, 221 Justification 32, 162, 175 Kemp-Smith, N. 227 Language 8, 13, 19, 26, 34, 41, 47, 50, 67, 110, 164–6, 168, 182, 223, 225 Leibniz, G. W. 20–1 Lessing, G. E. 31 Linguistic 163–5, 167 List 7, 9, 12, 160–1, 163 Literature 9, 14, 52–4, 57–8, 65, 67, 73, 75–7, 81–4, 92, 94, 96, 98, 101–8, 111–12, 114, 117, 119, 121, 134, 138, 140, 145–6, 206–8, 214 Luther, M. 14–15, 48 Maimonides 129, 197–8, 208 Meir Loeb Malbim 211–12, 214–15

247

Mendelssohn, M. 210–11 Messiah 174 Messianism 128 Mishnah 112, 115, 118–20, 122, 125, 129–30, 142, 148, 194 Monotheism 56 Nahmanides 137, 139, 188–203, 206–9, 212, 214–15 Nissim Gerondi 145 Nouwen, H. 223 Object 10–11, 26–7 Paul VI 110 Paulus, H. E. G. 32 Perception 152 Perspective 3, 8–10, 12, 18, 39, 43, 46, 48, 128, 159, 161–4, 166, 168, 170, 174, 176, 180, 183–4, 190 Philo 143 Philo the Epic Poet 76 Philosophy 19, 21, 23 Plato 17 Plurality 3, 5–6, 10–11, 13–14, 17, 26–7, 48, 65, 83, 102, 105, 107, 150, 152, 159, 162, 165 Polemic 23, 48 Politics 19–20 Potential 161, 163, 165, 190 Potentiality 161 Prejudgement 219–20, 222, 228 Principle 15 Protestant Orthodoxy 22, 27, 30, 33, 40 Protestantism 188, 209, 216 Providence 12, 230 Pseudo-Eupolemos 76 Qumran 9, 57, 63–6, 78, 84, 92–4, 98–9

248

Index of Subjects and Names

Radak 148 Rashbam 148 Reader 11–12, 169–70, 191, 207, 226–7 Reality 2–8, 26–7, 49, 104, 106, 156–7, 167, 189, 205 Reception 161, 163 Redemption 12, 18, 21, 25, 29, 36, 41–2, 222, 230 Reimarus, H. S. 31, 34 Religion 2, 5, 8, 11, 16, 18–21, 23–7, 39–40, 42, 46, 49–50, 153, 155–6, 186 Revelation 24, 30, 81–2, 104–5, 110, 115–16, 133–4, 135–7, 145–6, 175, 188, 207, 213 Ricoeur, P. 222–3, 225 Rosenzweig, F. 136–7 Ryle, H. E. 58, 62 Salvation 172, 174–82 Scripture 9, 11–12, 14–15, 30, 49, 55–8, 63, 65–7, 84, 101– 7, 109–11, 119, 121, 123, 125, 132, 138, 142–4, 146–9, 156, 186–9, 191–2, 197–200, 203, 206–11, 213–16, 218– 22, 228, 232 Semantic 10, 40–1, 161–2, 164, 168–70, 182, 184–5, 202, 212 Semantics 48, 163, 185 Semler, J. S. 33 Septuagint 3, 8, 80, 99 Shammai 148 Shlomo b. Adret 204 Similarity 8, 42, 151 Sin 19, 25, 172, 177 Sophocles 54 Soteriology 177–8, 180 Stability 16 Strauß, D. F. 35 Symbol 162

Talmud 112, 119, 121, 144, 148, 155–6, 190, 194, 197–8, 204–5 Testament Old 8, 12, 14, 28, 46–7, 154–5, 230 New 8, 10–14, 16–17, 27–32, 34–9, 41–8, 51, 154–5, 159– 61, 163–4, 168–70, 176–7, 180–5, 230–1 Text 1–6, 8–11, 16–17, 28–32, 34–5, 37, 39, 43–4, 46–7, 50, 52–3, 57–9, 62, 67, 73, 78, 81–2, 92–4, 98, 100, 106–7, 113, 115–17, 120, 122, 128–30, 134–5, 138, 146–8, 150, 152, 155–7, 159, 162–3, 167–8, 170, 176–7, 182–3, 184–6, 188– 94, 196–202, 207–20, 222, 224, 228 Theodotus 76 Theology 1–2, 15, 22–3, 26, 28, 47–8, 109–10, 147, 149–50, 152–3, 155, 157, 181 biblical 1–7, 10, 48, 50, 109, 111, 143, 146, 149–52, 154–8, 221 doctrinal 10 exegetical 8–9, 17, 22, 27–8, 32, 34, 39–40, 45, 50 historical 22, 28 philosophical 16, 18, 20, 22–3, 27–8, 50 systematic 9, 14, 17, 22, 39– 40, 42, 44–6, 49–50 Time 7, 10, 20, 24, 26, 31–2, 39–40, 45, 73, 92, 101, 160– 1, 176, 178, 183 Torah 11, 59, 61, 63, 73, 75, 78, 94, 96, 104–5, 111–12, 117, 120, 122–8, 130–1, 133, 135, 137, 139–42, 147–50,

Index of Subjects and Names 190–2, 196–202, 204, 206, 214 Oral 8–9, 111–35, 137–40, 142–9 Written 8–9, 111, 113–14, 116–29, 131–40, 142–3, 147–9 Tosefta 115, 122, 142 Tradition 3–12, 15, 17, 25, 27–8, 37, 42–3, 45–6, 48, 75, 108–11, 123, 125, 134–5, 140, 142–3, 146, 148–9, 152, 161, 184, 188–9, 191, 203–4, 207–11, 213–16, 220 Truth 42, 49, 193, 195 Tsevat, M. 155 Unity 2–12, 14–15, 17–20, 23–8, 34–9, 42–6, 48–9, 65, 105–9,

249

118–19, 122–5, 128, 135–6, 142, 145–7, 150–1, 153, 161–4, 170, 176, 182, 184, 209, 215–17, 219–22, 225, 227–8, 232 objective 3, 12, 16, 44–6 subjective 3, 12, 16, 44, 46 Verification 40–2, 44–5, 47 Wellhausen, J. 148 Wildeboer, G. 58, 62 World 2–3, 5, 10–11, 14, 19, 46, 161–2, 164–8, 170–3, 183–5 Yom Tov Ishbili 145, 204–6 Zadok Hakohen of Lublin 139

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One Scripture or Many?: Canon from Biblical, Theological, and Philosophical Perspectives

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Lessing: Philosophical and Theological Writings

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One Grave Too Many

One Corpse Too Many

One Grave Too Many

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One Grave Too Many

One No, Many Yeses

One Grave Too Many

One Grave Too Many

One Grave Too Many

One Grave Too Many

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One Corpse Too Many

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