From Two Kingdoms to One Nation - Israel and Judah: Studies in Division and Unification

From Two Kingdoms to One Nation – Israel and Judah

Studia Semitica Neerlandica Editor-in-Chief

Prof. dr. K.A.D. Smelik Editorial Board

Prof. dr. P.C. Beentjes, Prof. dr. W.J. van Bekkum, Dr. W.C. Delsman, Prof. dr. H. Gzella, Prof. dr. J. Hoftijzer, Dr. W. Th. van Peursen, Prof. dr. J. Van Steenbergen, Prof. dr. E. Talstra, Prof. dr. M. Tanret

VOLUME 56

From Two Kingdoms to One Nation – Israel and Judah Studies in Division and Unification

By

Shamai Gelander

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2011

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Gelander, Shamai. From two kingdoms to one nation : Israel and Judah : studies in division and unification / by Shamai Gelander. p. cm. — (Studia Semitica Neerlandica) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-20346-4 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Jews—History—To 586 B.C. 2. Bible. O.T. Prophets—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 3. Jacob (Biblical patriarch) 4. Abraham (Biblical patriarch) 5. Bible. O.T. Genesis—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 6. Bible. O.T. Exodus—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 7. Hezekiah, King of Judah. 8. David, King of Israel. 9. Bible. O.T. Kings—Criticism, interpretation, etc. I. Title. II. Title: Israel and Judah : studies in division and unification. III. Series. DS121.6.G45 2011 221.9’5—dc22 2011011811

ISSN 0081–6914 ISBN 978 90 04 20346 4 Copyright 2011 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change.

CONTENTS Acknowledgements ............................................................................... Abbreviations.........................................................................................

vii ix

Introduction ........................................................................................... Israel.................................................................................................... The Secession Slogan........................................................................

1 6 13

Chapter One The Evidence of the Early Prophet Stories ........... I. The Man of God in His Weakness ........................................ 1. The Man of God in Bethel ................................................. 2. Elijah at Horeb..................................................................... 3. “And the Lord has Hidden it from Me” ......................... 4. Elisha and Naaman’s Leprosy ........................................... II. The Attributes of the Northern Man of God....................... Healing ....................................................................................... The Elements of Surprise and Astonishment ...................... The Danger of Contact with the Man of God ..................... Acts of Magic ............................................................................ III. Failure and Crisis ......................................................................

19 21 21 27 32 36 38 41 43 46 49 51

Chapter Two The Evidence of the Patriarchal Stories ................ I. Introduction............................................................................... II. Style: in the Speech of Abraham and in the Speech of Jacob ........................................................................................... III. Direct Speech in Context ........................................................ The “One-sided” Speech .......................................................... The Dialogues ............................................................................ Direct Speech: Style and Vocabulary .................................... The Social Aspect...................................................................... The Religious Aspect ................................................................ Bethel ..........................................................................................

59 59 62 68 69 74 79 89 92 95

Chapter Three The Evidence of the Doctrines ............................. 99 I. The Exodus Traditions............................................................. 99 The Relationship Between Myth and Historiography ........ 109 Exodus in the Pentateuch ....................................................... 116

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contents II. The Zion-David Traditions ..................................................... The Bringing of the Ark up to Jerusalem............................. The Controversy over the Building of a House for God .... The Story of the Census and the Pestilence .........................

Chapter Four

140 146 157 175

One Nation ................................................................ 193

Conclusion ............................................................................................. 233 Bibliography ........................................................................................... 235 Index of Biblical Sources ..................................................................... 245 Index of Authors ................................................................................... 257

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I am deeply indebted to Jonathan Orr-Stav for his English Language Editing of this book. His queries, remarks and suggestions not only caused me to clarify some of my main ideas, but also turned the editing process into a fruitful dialogue. Lots of gratitude are due to Sylvia Simmons for her impeccable work as copy-editor. I am also grateful to the Brill publishers, mainly to Liesbeth Kanis, Franca de Kort, and Mirjam Elbers, who endowed me with a warm and generous attitude. Many of the ideas in this book have crystallized in the process of classroom dialogue for too many students to be mentioned here. I am grateful for the opportunity I had of studying for them and by them.

ABBREVIATIONS ANET

Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament ATD Das Alte Testament Deutsch BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research BKAT Biblischer Kommentar zum Alten Testament BMECCI Bulletin of the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan BN Biblische Notizen BZ Biblische Zeitschrift BZAW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly EI Eretz Israel HAR Hebrew Annual Review HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual ICC The International Critical Quarterly IEJ Israel Exploration Journal JAOS Journal of the American Oriental Society JBL Journal of Biblical Literature JCS Journal of Cuneiform Studies JJS Journal of Jewish Studies JQR Jewish Quarterly Review JSOT Journal of the Studies of the Old Testament JSS Journal of Semitic Studies OTL Old Testament Library OTS Oudtestamentische Studiën Proceedings Proceedings of the World Congress of Jewish Studies RB Revue Biblique SHNATON An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies [Hebrew] VT Vetus Testamentum ZAW Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft ZThK Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

INTRODUCTION What portion have we in David? Neither have we inheritance in the son of Jesse.

This slogan, proclaimed when Jeroboam son of Nebat divided the kingdom, was not coined on that occasion. It had been uttered – with a very slight variation – some decades earlier by Sheba son of Bichri (cf. I Kings 12:16 and II Samuel 20:1). This alone would suggest that the breakup of the Kingdom of Israel into two should not be seen as the product of a single “historical accident”; indeed, all the indications are that the creation of a unified Israelite kingdom by King David had failed to erase the differences between the northern and southern tribes, and the feelings of discrimination and abuse among the northern tribes persisted throughout the reign of both David and Solomon. Although this observation is not new, the main purpose of this current study is to explore the range of differences and distinctions between Judah and Israel, as reflected in the various forms of Old Testament literature: in narrative, historiography and, in some instances, in poetry. Taken together, these glimpses add up to a picture that allows us to examine the extent of differences between the two regions in terms of their respective ways of life, faith and religious norms. Even their traditional narratives, in terms of literary composition and style, reflect separate ideologies and purposes. Moreover, this is true not only in historiography: the same divergence is apparent in their respective versions of the Patriarchal Narratives. The literary form and style of the southern stories of Abraham are easily distinguishable from those of the northern stories of Jacob, and, needless to say, such differences reflect the discrete ideologies and spiritual preferences of each region. Above all, they are evident in the main literary traditions that emerged in the two kingdoms – namely, the doctrines of Exodus in the north vs. the doctrines of Zion and The House of David in the south. Along with various descriptions of divine revelations, some of the most significant of these differences may be seen in the portrayal of the archetypal man of God. This is very different in the north compared to the south, and being God’s “representative,” he reflects the way in which God Himself is perceived and the customs of belief in

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Him, which are distinct between the two kingdoms. But the essential difference may also be seen in the descriptions of the Patriarchal narratives. The literary form of the southern stories of Abraham is completely different from that of the northern stories of Jacob. These stylistic differences stem, it seems, largely from the diverging ideological trends in the stories. Of course, the differences between Judah and Israel are reflected in the central traditions that emerged in each of the kingdoms: the northern traditions about the Exodus from Egypt, vs. the southern traditions of the House of David and of Zion. Before we set out on a closer examination, it is worth noting some observations about common scholarly approaches to the subject: In the final chapter I will outline the beginnings of the process of cohesion and integration, which led to the historiographer’s concept of one unified nation. First, however, some remarks on approaches to research:

1. As many researchers have pointed out, the overall picture of the history of the Israelite people is based mainly on the Deuteronomistic ideal, i.e. the school of thought which sets out the distillation and redaction of early biblical historiography. According to this concept, the Israelite nation is a federation of twelve tribes, initially chosen in Egypt and subsequently reorganized on the steppes of Moab; King Solomon’s reign is seen as the supreme fulfillment of the divine promise (Deut. 12:10–11): But when ye go over Jordan, and dwell in the land which the Lord your God giveth you to inherit, and when he giveth you rest from all your enemies round about, so that ye dwell in safety; Then there shall be a place which the Lord your God shall choose to cause his name to dwell there; thither shall ye bring all that I command you.1

Nevertheless, with reference to the history of the two monarchies, it is widely accepted that research should be limited to political issues of the period from the entry and settlement of the Promised Land by the twelve tribes, through to the time of Ezra and Nehemiah. The religious issues which arise within this framework are concerned mainly with evaluating the actions of each monarch, or with describing the

1 See recently: G.N. Knoppers, Two Nations Under God: The Deuteronomistic History of Solomon and the Dual Monarchies, Vol. I, Atlanta 1993 pp. 57–90 and bibliography there.

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struggles against idol worship and foreign cults. As for the stories of the Patriarchs in the book of Genesis, these are not regarded in biblical research as true historiography, and are therefore hardly, if ever, treated as historical evidence of the essential differences between the two monarchies. It is nevertheless widely accepted that the southern source (E) was written no earlier than the division of the kingdom, and that the historical reality depicted in the Patriarchal narratives is in fact that of a relatively late period, and certainly no earlier than the settlement of the Tribes in the land.2 Even those who can detect where the early Deuteronomistic stratum – known as the Ephratite Composition – meets the later stratum, prefer to limit their analyses to the historical parts of the Hebrew Bible, beginning with the Book of Joshua, and do not find it necessary to point to common literary and ideological characteristics between the Ephratite Composition and those of the Patriarchal narratives originating in the North, i.e. the vast parts of the Jacob cycle.3 This, despite the awareness that the Patriarchal cycles are based on reflective writing, and the Jacob cycle serves mainly northern views, while the Abraham cycle serves

2 Seeligmann maintains that the structure of the Patriarchal narratives, founded on the premise that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were indeed a father-son-grandson succession from which sprang the twelve tribes of Israel, is none other than an artificial and tendentious structure. From other biblical writings, an in particular prophetic literature, we may learn that these narratives are in fact comparatively late compositions about three separate figures of essentially different periods, and that the affiliation of each of these figures to other places is still reflected even in the Book of Genesis. See I.A. Seeligmann, “From Historical Reality to Historiosophical Concept in the Bible,” Studies in Biblical Literature, Jerusalem 1992 pp. 102–140 [Hebrew]. Seeligmann also maintains that the concept of the land as an endowment to the conquering forefathers, and the concept of God’s oath to the Patriarchs, belong to late phases of Israelite historical thought – and both bear little resemblance to historical reality. Similarly: A. Malamat, “On the Study of the Israelite Pre-History of the People of Israel,” L. Levine – A. Mazar (Ed.) The Controversy over the Historicity of the Bible, Jerusalem 2001 pp. 112–123 [Hebrew]. Before them B. Mazar also maintained that the historiosophical concept of the Patriarchal narratives reflects the national religious spirit of the times of the united Israelite Kingdom: B. Mazar, “The Historical Background of the Book of Genesis,” Canaan and Israel, Jerusalem 1972 pp. 131–143 [Hebrew]. See also: N. Na’aman, “The Land of Israel in the Canaanite Period,” I. E’fal (Ed.) The History of the Land of Israel, Vol. I, Jerusalem 1982 pp. 131–213 [Hebrew]. 3 A. Rofé, “The Ephratite Composition Versus the Deuteronomistic Composition,” Beit Mikra 132 (1992) pp. 14–28 (= Introduction to the Historical Literature of the Hebrew Bible), Jerusalem 2001 pp. 44–51 [Hebrew]. Rofé defines the composition of Joshua 24 through I Samuel 12 as belonging to a “late Elohistic school,” namely, an Ephratite composition.

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mainly southern interests.4 In this study I will demonstrate how certain identifying literary and ideological features in the northern parts are identical to those in the historiographical sections of the Ephratite Composition, and that this school almost certainly includes some earlier elements, and its composition began before the division of the kingdom. 2. It is generally agreed nowadays that the Deuteronomistic School comprises the composition of Deuteronomy – comprising the compilation and redaction of the four portions of the Book of Deuteronomy, and the Deuteronomic composition itself.5 The work involved in the Deuteronomic composition relates to the reforms of King Josiah and apparently completed before the destruction of the First Temple, while the date of the Deuteronomistic Composition is still in dispute. Haran maintains that there is no sound evidence of any post-destruction events, and that the redaction work was completed in Egypt.6 This composition was not completed “in one sitting.” Rather, three different editors are discernible: one of the redactor himself, and the other two being the two sources which served as references for his composition, namely E and J, the presence of which persists throughout the Books of the “early Prophets,” i.e. from Joshua through II Kings – although, with the exception of a few passages, the Deuteronomist drew mainly from E: It was the redactive efforts of the Deuteronomist that drew together these two sources – albeit only from the chapter dealing with the death of Moses onwards. In doing so, the latter also added his conjunctive passages, his pragmatic judgmental-evaluations and historiosophical reflections.7 4 Thus, for example, the story of the revelation at Beth-El is identified as the hieros logos of that site, testifying to the origins of its sacredness, and the story of the meeting between Abram and Melchizedek serving to justify the status of Jerusalem as the capital of the (united) kingdom. 5 See M. Haran, The Biblical Collection, Vol. II Jerusalem 2003 [Hebrew], on the first three portions of Deuteronomy, pp. 51–61, and on the fourth and the methods of their editing and compilation, ibid. 6 Ibid. pp. 230–233. 7 Ibid. p. 188. In this, Haran agrees with M. Noth (see ibid. note 32). Haran identifies three types of biblical books of an anthological nature: the large compositions of the Pentateuch (to which one must add the composition of Deuteronomy, including its work of compilation and editing), the Deuteronomistic composition, and the Chronicler’s composition. All are “synthetic” compositions – i.e. combinations of compilations and creative works. Alongside these, there are the works which could be considered as works of “one brush-stroke,” where no subsequent editing is apparent.

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This view presents some difficulties: if indeed the Deuteronomist drew almost exclusively on the northern source, it is difficult to explain why the Exodus doctrine – which northerners regarded as the single most significant nation-building event – is so clearly upstaged and marginalized by the doctrines of Zion and the House of David, via the blatant preferential treatment and ideological emphasis of the latter. This is especially apparent in the chapters describing King David’s religious enterprises, of which more later. I shall also support the premise that the Deuteronomistic redaction is made up of a number of strata.8 3. The question of the historical authenticity of the biblical historiography has arisen repeatedly – in recent years more than ever. Among those who deny there is any authenticity we mainly find the “minimalists,” who, in the absence of any substantial non-Israelite or archaeological evidence, tend to assume that the history of the period of the monarchy in Israel is mainly no more than a product of late invention.9 Proponents of the historical authenticity, on the other hand, generally lean toward to more lenient view: while stopping

These are the Books of Ruth, Esther, and probably Job, too (even if the author of Job did use early literary materials), and the book of Ecclesiastes (although it includes some conventional maxims). See: Idem, Vol. I, Jerusalem 1996 pp. 39, 69 [Hebrew]. 8 Yet, based on other criteria, Kuenen maintained that at least in the Books of Samuel and Kings an editorial stratum was added to the initial Deuteronomistic one, which he marks as “the second dtr” (similarly: Wellhausen). See: A. Kuenen, Historisch – kritische Einleitung in die Bücher des A.T. I–II, Leipzig 1887–1890 pp. 101–104. Kuenen also maintained that the text of the Book of Samuel was submitted for alterations and supplements after 450 bc, influencing the Book of Chronicles. (See also: J. Wellhausen, Die Composition des Hexatheuch, Berlin 1885 p. 235. 9 See mainly T.L. Thompson, The Mythic Past: Biblical Archaeology and the Myth of Israel, London 1999. He follows J. van Seters, In Search of History, New Haven 1983 pp. 277–291. See also on criticism which is mainly based on political orientation: K.W. Whitelam, The Invention of Ancient Israel, London 1997. On the rejection of any advantage of the Book of Kings over the Book of Chronicles in terms of reliability, see: A.G. Auld, Kings Without Privilege, Edinburgh 1994. For more moderate reservations – that the depiction of the unified kingdom as a period of unprecedented prosperity in Israelite history is historically unfounded – see: N. Na’aman, “The Bible as a Source for the History of Israel in the First Temple Period: Feasibility and Limitations,” L.I. Levine, A. Mazar (Ed.) The Controversy Over the Historicity of the Bible, Jerusalem 2002 pp. 124–134. Nevertheless, in the same paper Na’aman contends that some of the underlying material in the books of the “Former Prophets” could be used as the basis of historical reconstruction, and that the history of the Kingdom of Judah from the times of Manasseh through to the destruction is based primarily on the historical memory of the Deuteronomist and that of his successor who lived in exile in Babylon (compare with Haran’s aforementioned approach) – hence it includes many details which reflect the earlier reality.

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short of a full acceptance of the biblical account as historical truth, they nevertheless reject the notion that it is mere fiction, a figment of the authors’ imagination.10 In this study I do not wish to focus on the debate about historical authenticity. However in my attempts to uncover the underlying messages and teachings of the narratives under discussion, this issue will inevitably arise from time to time. In doing so, I find ever-growing support for my premise that the settings and lifestyle emerging in the biblical descriptions – especially in the more casual, incidental passages – may be regarded as historically authentic, both ideologically and in terms of their literary style. The differences between Judah and Israel become more apparent in the light of two kinds of literary materials. One consists of formulas, appellations, and short descriptions, mainly short chronicles of a formal nature. The other type are narratives of one sort or another, in which the occasional glimpse can be seen of the underlying historical reality, as well as something of the author’s ideological intentions and purposes. To these one may add various pieces of evidence from biblical poetry and from prophetic literature of the kind that allow one to raise plausible hypotheses about the situation at the time of writing. Examples of the former type are the varied use of the name “Israel” and the aforementioned repeated partition slogan. Examples of the latter kind will be explored below, each in its own chapter. Israel My basic premise in this matter is that when an ethnic or national entity is defined in various contexts and in many places in the same manner, it is a sign that the authors believe that the name, appellation or defining formula is sufficient for the readers’ comprehension. The same is true of place names. Where Genesis 2:14 says: “And the

10 See M. Cogan’s arguments against Van Seters’ notions in: “The History of the Kingdoms of Judah: History or Reconstruction after Fact?,” L.I. Levine – A. Mazar, (Ed.) Ibid. pp. 90–96. Also: B. Oded, “ The History of Biblical Israel – History or Myth?,” Beit Mikra 168 (2001) pp. 25–32 [Hebrew]. T. Fenton and B. Oded, “The Invention of Ancient Palestinian People. Silencing the History of Ancient Israel – A Critical Review,” Jewish History 17 (2003) pp. 77–79. Also: Nili Shupak (Ed.), The Origin of Israel: Biblical Tradition and Modern Research, Beit Mikra 176 (2003), Including the articles of B. Oded, Zipi Talshir, M. Haran, Trude Dothan, N. Rösel, S. Ahituv, Nili Shupak, and A.V. Hurovitz. Also: S. Ahituv, “The Origins of Ancient Israel – The Documentary Evidence,” Beer Sheva 12 (1998) pp. 135–146.

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fourth river is Euphrates,” it is clear that the storyteller trusts his readers to know precisely which river he means. Earlier, though, when he explains: The name of the first is Pison: that is it which compasseth the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold; And the gold of that land is good: there is bdellium and the onyx stone. (ibid.: 11, 12)

The detail suggests that the name “Pison” means nothing to the readers, so its route requires further explanation, and even embellishment and praise. All of which suggests that this river is no more than poetic invention on the writer’s part, and thus the description of the four rivers in fact depicts a place that lies somewhere between reality and imagination.11 It is likely that the same applies to the following description (I Samuel 14:4–5): And between the passages, by which Jonathan sought to go over unto the Philistines’ garrison, there was a sharp rock on the one side, and a sharp rock on the other side: and the name of the one was Bozez, and the name of the other Seneh. The forefront of the one was situate northward over against Michmash, and the other southward over against Gibeah.

When a name or an appellation bears a variety of meanings and significances, a closer examination of the literary contexts is called for. Many findings from the ancient Middle East attest to just how much the meaning of names, appellations, and attributes changed from one context to the next. Sometimes the same appellation signifies both an ethnic entity and a way of life. The name of the Amorite tribes, for example, appears in at least four different meanings.12 Likewise the name “Habiru.”13 But when a name has different meanings in a single text, this may indicate that the text is either an amalgam of various sources, or that the precise meaning of the name was already obscure to the author or to the editor. In fact, both possibilities could be true.

11 This interpretation is further supported by a similar pattern in the description of the other two rivers – the Gihon and the Hiddekel (Tigris) – where in the latter case the author stresses that he indeed means the well-known partner of the Euphrates, while the former he is content to leave in the realm of legend (Gen. 2:13, 14). 12 M. Liverany, “The Amorites,” D.J. Wiseman (Ed.), Peoples of the Old Testamental Times, Oxford 1973 pp. 100–133. Also: M. Anbar, The Amorite Tribes in Mary and the Settlement of the Israelites in Canaan, Tel Aviv 1985 [Hebrew] idem: “Mari und Bibel,” Beit Mikra 170 (2002) pp. 195–198 [Hebrew]. 13 J. Levy, “Habiru,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, Vol. 3, Jerusalem 1958 pp. 11–15 [Hebrew].

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This seems to be the case with “the Amorites” in Genesis 15. While in vs. 16 this name is used as the generic term for the inhabitant nations of the land of Canaan, in vss. 20–21 it refers to only one of them. The name “Israel” also has a variety of meanings in the Hebrew Bible. The most prevalent are two: as the collective name of all the Israelite tribes, and the other denoting the northern kingdom only.14 As we shall see later, in some instances it is difficult to decide which of these two meanings is intended. However, the main controversy surrounds the historical background of the name “Israel” as the label for the nation as a whole: is this the ancient and authentic meaning, or is it perhaps a later invention that was applied anachronistically by the authors? This issue pertains most particularly to the debate over the historicity of the books of the “early Prophets,” but the present study deals only with the conclusions that may be drawn from the diverse use of names and appellations. A few examples illustrate the difficulties of the subject. In I Samuel 9:16 we read: Tomorrow about this time I will send thee a man out of the land of Benjamin, and thou shalt anoint him to be captain over my people Israel, that he may save my people out of the hand of the Philistines.

Here it seems most feasible that the name refers to all the tribes, including Judah, since later on we read “He will deliver my people from the hands of the Philistines.” This delivery could not possibly be meant for the northern tribes only. Yet, in Saul’s first battle we read And when [Saul] numbered them in Bezek, the children of Israel were three hundred thousand, and the men of Judah thirty thousand (ibid. 11:8).

The same distinction occurs in the description of the war against the Amalekites, but there it says “the people” instead of “Israel,” which 14 Linville lists the various meanings of the name “Israel.” Among them is Jacob’s personal name, an appellation of his personal sons, an appellation of a group of tribes or of a pre-monarchic group in Ephraim, and also an appellation of the united Israelite Kingdom, as a substitute for the name “Judah” after the destruction of Samaria, and as the name of the community in the Persian prefect of Judah, but also as a late borrowed appellation of the disciples/followers of old traditions. In the following discussion we shall see that at least some of these distinctions are controversial and/ or ambiguous. See: J.R. Linville, Israel in the Book of Kings: The Past as a Project of Identity, Sheffield 1998 p. 43.

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obscures the meaning: “And Saul gathered the people together, and numbered them in Telaim, two hundred thousand footmen, and ten thousand men of Judah” (ibid. 15:4).15 But then we read: “And the men of Israel and of Judah arose, and shouted, and pursued the Philistines . . . ” (ibid. 17:52), and, further on: “All Israel and Judah loved David” (ibid. 18:16). All these passages indicate that the author did not have at his disposal a single consistent name encompassing both entities. We may therefore assume that even Saul’s words, in Chapter 9, on the same occasion of the first quoted passage, were not necessarily addressed to the nation as a whole but only to the northern tribes: “But I am only a Benjaminite, from the smallest of the tribes of Israel . . . ” (ibid. 9:21). This conclusion finds support in the meaning of the name “Benjamin,” namely “son of the south,” and in Saul’s own emphasis in identifying himself as such: for Saul’s tribe could be thought of as “southern” only in a national context that excluded Judah and the other southern tribes. A similar situation occurs in II Samuel 2:9, where we read about the coronation of Ish-Bosheth by Abner: “. . . and made him king over Gilead, and the Ashurites, Jezreel, Ephraim, and Benjamin – over all Israel.” Since we know that Abner did not appoint Ish-Bosheth as king over Judah, we may surmise that in other cases, too, when we encounter the expression “all Israel,” it does not necessarily mean all twelve tribes, including Judah, even if this is the meaning in other instances in I Samuel, such as 12:1; 13:4, 13, 19, 20; 15:17, 26, 29, 30, 35; 16:1, as well as in the conclusive description of David’s victory over Goliath: “and the Lord wrought a great victory for all Israel” (19:5). The same applies to the descriptions of the reign of Solomon, I Kings 1:20; 20:15. But this does not mean that there is a consistent difference between “all of Israel” and merely “Israel”: In his reply to Bathsheba’s request, David says: “The oath I swore to you by the Lord, the God of Israel” (ibid. vs. 1:30), and this is also the meaning there in verse 34: “Let the priest Zadok and the prophet Nathan anoint him there king over Israel.” Again, in his last instructions to Solomon, David describes both Abner and Amasa as “Two commanders of Israel’s forces” (ibid. 2:5), Yet, in the same chapter, Solomon makes a distinction by saying “. . . Abner son of Ner, the army commander of Israel,

15

The same obscurity occurs in I Samuel 10:20, 11:3, 7 in particular due to vs. 8.

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and Amasa son of Jether, the army commander of Judah” (vs. 32). In contrast to this ambiguity, we find no such distinction between Judah and Israel in the Prayer of Solomon: there Solomon repeatedly addresses God as “the Lord, God of Israel,” always in the meaning of the entire unified kingdom (I Kings 8:15, 17, 20, 23, 25).16 The meaning in I Kings 2:4 is less clear: “Then the Lord will fulfill the promise that He made concerning me: If your descendants are scrupulous in their conduct, and walk before Me faithfully, with all their heart and soul, your line on the throne of Israel shall never end.” These words of David’s in his will to Solomon are not included in God’s promise to David (II Samuel 7), nor were they mentioned before. God’s promise to David about his descendants was never conditional. Indeed, “Nathan’s Prophecy” stresses that God’s favor is forever secure and will never be withdrawn. Therefore, the phrasing of I Kings 2:4 echoes the Deuteronomostic view, which, among other things, also tries to explain the split of the monarchy by putting the blame on the sins of David’s descendants. Even the terminology in this paragraph is overtly Deuteronomistic in its terminology.17 Thus, the assumption that the words “The throne of Israel” here refer to northern Israel only seems reasonable. The same applies to I Kings 8:25; 9:4–5, in contrast, however, to vs. 8:20 or 10:9.18 From all the above a possible distinction emerges: when God is mentioned or quoted, the name “Israel” refers to the united kingdom or all the tribes of Israel. In other contexts the meaning varies, but more often than not refers to the northern kingdom only. Since prophetic speeches spoken in God’s name are attributed to the Deuteronomist, we may also ascribe to him the wider, encompassing meaning of the name “Israel.” However, this assumption still does not solve the problem of inconsistencies in other contexts. In modern biblical research the spectrum of interpretations of the name “Israel” ranges from an amphictiony – namely a federation of twelve tribes of the pre-monarchical era – to the claim that Israel in fact never existed as a unified kingdom and is therefore merely a later 16

According to LXX also vss. 26, 28. See on these verses: B. Oded, The World of the Bible: I Kings, Tel-Aviv 1998 pp. 28–29. 18 Linville cites Friedmann and Nelson, but also counters their argument, maintaining that while Jeroboam was promised a “lasting dynasty” (or “House”) as was promised to David, the “Throne of Israel” was never promised to him. See: Linville, ibid. pp. 149–154 and notes there. 17

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invention dating from the Persian period. The former view, championed mainly by Noth, is nowadays widely rejected. The latter argument has been fiercely attacked, principally by Israeli scholars. Sarah Japhet has demonstrated that the notion of “all Israel” is inconsistent with the historical reality of the Persian period.19 Based on her arguments, Rösel attacks the notion that “Israel” is a post-exilic construction, and rejects the assertion that before the fall of Samaria (720 bce) the name “Israel” referred only to the northern kingdom, and that only later did its meaning take on the wider meaning. In the end, Rösel supports Noth in maintaining that the origins of the name “Israel” are in fact ancient.20 His main arguments are that21 1. The northern kingdom lasted only about two hundred years – possibly less, during which the regime was mostly unstable, with no lasting dynasties. It seems doubtful that such a tenuous kingdom could be taken as the historical basis for the biblical meaning of “Israel.” To this he adds the fact that the information available to the author on the kings of Judah of the 9th c. bce is more comprehensive than that about the kings of Israel – including details about their enterprises, their foreign relations and even their mothers’ names and their ages on ascending the throne. 2. There is no explanation as to why a Judean author should seek to embrace the name of a kingdom that had so recently exited the stage of history because of its sins, nor why, for the purpose of inventing a new ideal of a united kingdom, the name of an iniquitous and

19 S. Japhet “Can the Persian Period Bear the Burden? Reflections on the Origins of Biblical History,” Proceedings of the Twelfth World Congress of Jewish Studies, Division A, Jerusalem 1999 pp. 35–45. 20 See N. Na’aman, who maintains that the earliest date that the name “Israel” referred to all inhabitants of Judah and the worshippers of Jehovah in the land is 720 bc when it lay unclaimed. Thus, compositions on the history of Israel cannot precede the 7th century bc, ibid. 21 H.N. Rösel, “The Emergence of Ancient Israel – Some Related Problems,” BN 114/115 (2002) pp. 151–160; and see there a review of attitudes and bibliography. This paper is relevant to the question of the Deuteronomistic composition – whether it should be conceived of as a unified entity, as per Wellhausen, or of various strata, each representing a different view, especially concerning issues of crime and punishment, and referring to the religious reforms which had been initiated at various historical stages. See idem: “Does a Comprehensive ‘Leitmotiv’ Exist in the Deuteronomistic History?,” T. Römer (Ed.) The Future of the Deuteronomistic History, Leuven 2000 pp. 195–211.

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introduction hated one should be chosen, the epitome of all that was negative.22 Rösel therefore assumes that the name “Israel” in its wider meaning is used here in its earlier, pre-monarchical sense, where it bears no negative connotations.23

These arguments are based mainly on reasoning, which, in the absence of any means of resolving the issue, is a satisfactory basis on which to proceed. However, this reasoning also assumes that throughout all the periods following the split in the kingdom – and especially after the destruction of Samaria – the kingdom of Israel was seen as an ignoble entity, its very name charged with negative connotations. I believe this assumption to be flawed on at least one count, namely, that it is quite possible that precisely after the destruction of Samaria, in the days of King Hezekiah, a certain trend of reconciliation and appeasement emerged towards the northern kingdom. Indeed it is likely that the reforms carried out by Hezekiah’s were linked in some ways with the efforts to absorb refugees from the northern kingdom, efforts that included a certain legitimization of the northern traditional and religious rituals. These in turn led to a favorable change toward the northern kingdom and its symbols, and to a lessening of the earlier negative connotations hitherto of the name “Israel.” This issue will be explored further in the final chapter of this book, but for now we may assume that there was a time when the name “Israel” referred at once to both parts of the kingdom: the one that was destroyed and the other that was still in existence. All this leaves us still with no firm grasp on the meaning of the name “Israel” and of the historical background of its various definitions. However, for our purposes what is important to understand is one telling fact, namely that precisely in the contexts that seek to present the House of David dynasty as the ideal regime and as the perfect

22 This remark is aimed mainly at R.G. Kratz, “Israel als die Staat und als Folk,” ZThK 97 (2000) pp. 1–17, who claimed that after the destruction, the name “Israel” was used as a sort of model for a new ideal portrait, doubly so since northern Israel was supposed to serve as a lesson for Judah. Kratz even maintains that the synchronization paragraphs of the Book of Kings were meant to evoke an historical consciousness of national unity – however Rösel argues that this synchronization may in fact be the result of such a consciousness, rather than its cause. See Rösel, idem. Notes 17–19 there. 23 As evidence of the name’s antiquity, Rösel points to the stele of Marnepthah, although he admits that the meaning of “Israel” in this inscription is fraught with many difficulties. See idem. Notes 18–19.

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fulfillment of cherished unity, the biblical author has no single name to encompass both parts of the kingdom. After listing King Solomon’s officials, the scribe reports: Judah and Israel were as numerous as the sands of the sea, they ate and drank and were content (I Kings 4:20).24

Here, as in other passages where the unified kingdom is “justified” by the peace and prosperity arising from Solomon’s expanded territory – “. . . the whole region west of Euphrates . . . from Tiphsah to Gaza . . . All the days of Solomon Judah and Israel from Dan to Beersheba dwelt in safety” (5:5) – the author has no single appellation for the unified nation, just as Uriah the Hittite has no such word when describing the people’s unity in the war against the Ammonites: the Ark and Israel and Judah are located at Succoth, and my master Joab and Your Majesty’s men are camped in the open . . .

(II Samuel 11:11). In other words, even in the passages describing the glory days of the unified kingdom the name “Israel” refers to the northern tribes only. We may therefore conclude that the period when all the Israelite tribes were united under a single organizational entity was too short for the formation of a common tradition or identity acceptable to all. The Secession Slogan We have no portion in David, no share in Jesse’s son! Every man to his tent, O Israel! (II Samuel 20:1). We have no portion in David, no share in Jesse’s son! To your tents, O Israel. (I Kings 12:16).

The first verse quotes Sheba son of Bichri; the latter is the cry of “all of Israel,” in response to Rehoboam’s rejection of their demands. Both calls are therefore proclamations, the first of which led to a revolt, and the latter to a full-scale secession. Some interpreters have found it necessary to sharpen the distinction between the two: they point out that the revolt by Sheba son of Bichri differed from the split in

24 Linville (ibid. pp. 127–130) rejects the suggestions to add to this list another prefect from Judah, whose name was allegedly omitted, maintaining that the list consists of twelve names and is therefore complete without one from Judah.

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the kingdom, as the latter is presented as an initiative of the entire people and even the product of a divine plan, in other words the entire event had been predicted and even prophesized by the man of God, Ahijah of Shilon (I Kings 11:29–39). Even the chosen site – Shechem, linked to the tradition of the renewed covenant between God and the nation – has symbolic significance.25 On the other hand, the revolt led by Sheba son of Bichri also enjoyed widespread support by “all the men of Israel” (II Samuel 20:2), although it is unclear how this expression should be interpreted. Some interpret it in the wider sense, as a form of hyperbole implying the entire Israelite nation; others see it as a military term, meaning fighting men, as in “the men of Judah” or “the men of Ephraim.”26 In any case, the revolt is not justified by the historiographer, who describes Sheba son of Bichri as “a scoundrel.” Nevertheless, despite the differences between the two events, there is no doubt that in both instances the slogan proves to be very effective and a succinct and apt expression of the rebels’ sentiments. In this respect, there is no need to dwell too much on the precise meaning of the idiom “share and portion,” its two components separated and assigned to the two parts of the poetic proclamation. Suffice is to say that it includes a hint to the past – since share and portion are associated with inheritance – and at the future, since “share” appears in various contexts in the sense of “reward” or “remuneration.” In any event, the declaration states that the rebels do not recognize the shared past nor the shared future that they might have with Judah. The fact that in both these serious events the proclamation was used to immediate effect shows that it was not an invention of its proclaimers but an expression of a heartfelt and deeply rooted sentiment of the northern tribes, and that the sense of unity was not shared by both parts of David’s kingdom.27

25

Linville, ibid. pp. 171–175. The former interpretation is more prevalent. See esp. H. Reviv, N. Na’aman. The latter is based on H. Tadmor, as supported by Y. Amit. See: Yaira Amit, “The ‘Men of Israel’ and Gideon’s Refusal to Reign,” Annual of Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, XI, Jerusalem 1997 pp. 25–31 [Hebrew]. 27 This has already been noted by Wellhausen, whose arguments were later tempered somewhat by Von Rad. They maintain that as far as the Israelite leaders participating at the Shechem assembly, the declaration of secession from the reign of Rehoboam was seen as liberation from decades of oppression. See: Knoppers (ibid. 1993 pp. 2–3). On the revolt of Jeroboam and his reign as a legitimate kingship see: A. Wolfenson, “Political Oppositions in Biblical History,” Beit Mikra 157 (1999) pp. 163–173 [Hebrew]. 26

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Nevertheless, the split in the kingdom was clearly seen as a traumatic event of unprecedented proportions, as evident in the words of Isaiah son of Amoz: The Lord will cause to come upon you and your people and your ancestral house such days as never had come since Ephraim turned away from Judah – that selfsame king of Assyria (Isaiah 7:17).

He says this to King Ahaz of Judah, who feared the threat of Rezin king of Aram and Pekah son of Remaliah king of Israel. The prophet explains to the king that the evil awaiting him from these two is not substantial: it will pass quickly and both these kings will disappear from the stage of history. He can, however, expect serious harm from the hands of Assyria, to an extent that the nation has known only once before, namely when the Ephraimite kingdom seceded from Judah. Undoubtedly, this example that Isaiah cites cannot be a figment of his imagination. It is highly unlikely that the author would have the prophet cite an imaginary event to illustrate the magnitude of the evil that is to befall him. The words of the prophet were written – either by himself or by an editor – for the benefit of an audience that was expected to understand the full significance of these examples which were meant to reinforce certain ideas. Things are said here in a prophetic context whose ideological message is that the proper way to deal with political difficulties and military threats is through faith. The prophet’s intervention in political affairs guarantees the substance of his religious ideas. The historical example of the secession that he uses as an illustration is an example that the author cites in all innocence, revealing that indeed, as far as the people of Judah were concerned, and especially their rulers, the Secession had been a catastrophe. It would therefore be right to say that just as the slogans were faithful echoes of a genuine, historical sentiment common among the northern tribes during the unification that was imposed upon them, Isaiah’s words demonstrates how the Secession was perceived by Judah and its rulers. Similar evidence, in principle, is found in the description of the struggle for the release of David after Absalom’s rebellion (II Samuel 19:41–44), which clearly sets out to portray David in the most flattering light possible, by suggesting that both parts of the nation were concerned for his welfare. The words put in the mouths of the people of Israel were meant to show that the northern Israelite tribes also identified with the king – in marked contrast to the David’s own words when he first learned of the rebellion, namely “The hearts of the men of Israel have gone after Absalom” (II Samuel 15:13), and to the words of Sheba son of Bichri who, in the name of “all the men of Israel” proclaimed

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introduction We have ten shares in the king and in David, too – we have more than you. Why then have you slighted us? Were we not the first to propose that our king be brought back? (19:44).28

Even in such a partisan portrayal, therefore, the conflict between north and south is apparent – the ten northern tribes’ indignity on the one hand, vs. Judah’s presumptuous sense of entitlement to the monarchy, on the other. * Evidence of the latter kind will, therefore, be discussed in greater detail under the relevant headings in each chapter: 1. The first chapter deals with stories about the prophets that preceded the prophetic literature. Most of these concern the prophets in the northern kingdom, in a decidedly northern setting. These northern men of God repeatedly display characteristics that are completely absent from the descriptions of their southern counterparts, and even though comparatively little is said about the latter, the differences between them and the northern prophets are clearly not accidental. In the portrayal of the northern holy men there is a recurring theme of awe and fear in the encounters with God: He is mysterious, enigmatic in his replies, and contact with Him is dangerous. This is consistent with the view of God as depicted in northern sources, in which we find a recurring motif of fear of death in divine revelations or encounters with divine entities. We find this, too, in one of Moses’ speeches (Deut. 5:19–22 cf. Exodus 20:14–16). Also notable is the fact that, in many stories, the northern man of God acts on his own initiative, only rarely praying or asking for God’s guidance. Having identified these traits, it is easy to detect an implicit irony in the stories, suggesting a subtle criticism of the northern prophet. By contrast, the southern prophets Nathan and Gad – and Samuel in his meetings with David – operate very differently: they act only under divine guidance and instruction, and, like the later, “classic” prophets, serve exclusively as divine emissaries. In addition, the northern men of God work in groups: we read about “a band of prophets” or “disciples of prophets,” suggesting

28 The difference between “all the men of Israel” in verse 42 and “the men of Israel” in verse 44 suggests that in the former it was meant literally, while in the latter pressure indeed came from the army, as has been suggested above.

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that prophecy is a vocation acquired through study and apprenticeship. Descriptions such as these are totally absent in the early prophets of Judah,29 while in the case of the later prophets the mission is thrust upon them unexpectedly, often against their will.30 Put together, these clues provide strong grounds for the argument that many of the substantive differences between early and later prophecy were not necessarily the product of evolution, introspection or refinement, but due to differences of place and religious perceptions between North and South. Significant conclusions about the trends of the historiography may be drawn from the fact that much of the material consists of stories about the prophets – that is, legends concerned mainly with the individual. These center around the figure of the prophet, and even when the story-line is about a religious or political conflict, the public, political and national contexts serve only as a backdrop – often so subtle as to be beyond reconstruction. In general, the story is focused on the individual, describing phenomena and attributes with no direct bearing whatsoever on the political or military events of the time. Clearly, the author chooses to express his views on national history and its events through the personal dimension, and the religious dimension clearly interests him much more than the wider historical aspects of political developments. Thus, for example, of all the events in the life of Jeroboam son of Nebat, who reigned for twenty-two years, the only ones described are his encounters with Ahijah the Shilonite and with the Judean man of God, and the story mentions only the issue of the shrines and the cult worship.The mysteries surrounding the northern man of God are very similar to aspects in the northern sources of the stories of the Patriarchs – indeed, the appearance of an anonymous man of God in the north is reminiscent of the stories about angels who suddenly appear and vanish. As in the stories about Jacob, and the stories in the book of Judges, the angels, like the anonymous man of God, are personifications of a divine mission: once the mission is accomplished they disappear, never to

29 In what may be a deliberate disparity, with Samuel the “bands of prophets” appear only in contexts relating to Saul, never with David. 30 Even the nature of the irony changes in the transition from northern prophets to the “classical” one: in contrast to God’s rebuke of Elijah at Horeb (I Kings 19), the admonishment that Jeremiah receives is softer and more direct, and includes encouraging guidance (Jeremiah 12:5). This is also apparent in the scenes themselves, and in the stories about Elisha.

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return. In I Kings 13 the man of God is a mortal, but compare this with how Elijah is seen by the widow (I Kings 17:18, 24), and see also I Kings 20:13, 28, 35, II Kings 1:3, 16 and elsewhere. 2. The second chapter deals with the evidence of the patriarchal cycles. These reflect conspicuous differences between the northern (E) and the southern (J) sources – specifically, between most of the Jacob cycle and the Abraham cycle. This is apparent both in the descriptions themselves of the religion and organization, and in the literary style. Here one can also identify differences in motivation and perspective. When portraying the figure of Abraham, the author is really envisaging a personification of certain values – a reflection of the author’s notions of nationhood. His hero is an exemplary figure, whose personal experiences are merely illustrations of certain values and moral preferences. The portrayal of Jacob, on the other hand, is altogether different: the Jacob cycle is based mainly on personal events and personal conflicts and on communication with God, which initially has nothing to do with a national consciousness. The latter – to the extent that it appears at all in the northern sources – is the product of a secondary stratum, or of a later editorial addendum. This in itself is evidence that the northern source is ancient, and began its formulation well before the Secession. 3. The third chapter deals with the two major national doctrines: the Exodus doctrine and that of the choosing of House of David, which is turn is linked to that of God’s choosing of Zion. The diverse treatment of Exodus in various parts of the historiography, and the ideological messages they reflect, point to stages in the formation of the historiography. The House of David doctrine is concerned mainly with the significance of David’s religious enterprises. Close examination of the literary descriptions reveals that the author saw these not as a mere change but as a radical transformation in the perception of God, that is to say, as profound religious reform. In chapters II Samuel 6, 7 in particular, the very establishment of the House of David is presented more as a religious, rather than an national-administrative event. 4. The fourth chapter presents aspirations for national unification and re-integration of the separated parts of Israel. It also traces the evolution of the ideology depicting Israel as a single nation with a common history from the outset. This process began and continued primarily in the reign of King Hezekiah, through his national-religious reforms. Such a Deuteronomistic design is closely linked with Hezekiah’s various efforts at absorbing the remnants of the northern kingdom – their religious customs and traditions – into his own.

CHAPTER ONE

THE EVIDENCE OF THE EARLY PROPHET STORIES In this chapter I wish to set aside the issue of the historicity of the historiographer’s account, and focus instead on what can be gleaned from the texts themselves through various interpretative methods. In my opinion, what we read there about the prophets’ behavior, their methods of operation, and the people’s attitudes toward them can tell us much about the nature of the religion at the time and about the religious milieu. To put it another way, since the man of God was seen as God’s representative, the attitude toward him echoes the people’s idea of God Himself. If the prophet acted in mysterious ways, his figure secretive and intimidating and all contact with him was deemed potentially fatal, so too must God have been perceived by the believers. The backdrop for the events described in all prophetic stories in the Book of Kings is the northern kingdom. This being the case, it follows that either the author was familiar with northern religious customs as described, or these represented his ideas about the customs of the northern kingdom. By “ideas” I mean not only the information preserved from the past, but also the author’s subjective interpretations of the religious customs of the North. In other words, I do not entirely rule out the possibility that a significant part of the elements describing the northern religious customs were invented by the author or based on preconceived ideas or on popular descriptions built up in various traditions before reaching him.1 By “characteristics” I do not mean the plot line or course of the narrative, but the setting’s implicit attributes.2 Since specific characteristics appear repeatedly in many of the prophetic stories as incidental to the main theme, or only read 1 See: A. Rofé, The Prophetical Stories, Jerusalem 1983, esp. pp. 31–43 [Hebrew]; U. Simon, Reading Prophetic Narratives, Jerusalem – Ramat-Gan 1997 pp. 189–193 [Hebrew]. Also: A. Rofé, Introduction to the Historical Literature of the Hebrew Bible, Jerusalem 2001 pp. 7–56. 2 Of recent sources, see: N. Rösel, “The Emergence of Ancient Israel: Some Related Problems, BN 114/115 (2002) pp. 151–160 and bibliography there. As is widely known, it was de Wette who first pointed out that the editing of the books of the early prophets had been carried out by Deuteronomistic authors: W.M.L. de Wette, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Alte Testament, Halle 1806, reprinted 1971. See also M. Haran, ibid.

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“between the lines,” I am inclined to find them credible, as they are qualitatively different from the attributes arising from the descriptions in the Books of Samuel and Kings of events in the southern kingdom. We can say, therefore, that if indeed the final redaction of the books of the early prophets was the work of one man, he was conscious of the differences between the northern and southern kingdoms. If, on the other hand, more than one editor was involved, a different picture emerges, of distinct religious customs in the two kingdoms. We must also bear in mind that the descriptions of the northern kingdom in the Book of Kings (I and II) are not objective. Generally, the author’s position is decidedly “anti-northern”: northern kings are cast in a negative light as sinful leaders who incite others to sin, and the men of God confronting them represent the author’s religious-moral world outlook, and are therefore depicted as true prophets. This being the case, if the descriptions of the northern man of God are consistently different from those of his southern counterpart, this must indicate that these differences are genuine, as clearly it was not the author’s intention to portray the northern man of God as anything other than pious. That said, in some of the stories the man of God is presented somewhat ironically – indeed, in some instances, that is the central theme of the story’s ideological message. Since the author’s attitude toward the northern prophet is essentially positive, we must assume that these descriptions were not whimsical but a form of subtle criticism of conduct that deviated from the authors’ normative demands. This combination of uniquely northern attributes and ironic narrative underlines the distinctions between the religious customs of north and of south. Of course, one cannot overlook the fact that northern prophets operated mostly during the period before written prophecy, while in the south they were mostly prophets of the written word. Evidently, in the oral tradition, over time, certain attributes of the early prophets gave way to others. Nonetheless, in this study I shall try to show that the unmistakable contrasts between northern and southern prophets are the product not just of this historical circumstance, but attest to fundamental differences between the religious climate and lifestyle in the two kingdoms. This study is divided into two sections. In the first we review the stories that have an ironic tone to the prophets’ outlook and conduct, to gain a better understanding of the basic ideological messages behind them. In the second section we examine the characteristics of the northern man of God in detail, and compare them with those of his southern counterpart.

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I. The Man of God in His Weakness3 1. The Man of God in Bethel (I Kings 13), or: The Finer Points of Obedience This story has been discussed many times in the literature and been the subject of numerous analyses.4 Here I shall focus on the issue pertaining to our study, namely, the testing of the man of God. We first hear about the prohibition placed upon the Judean man of God from the man himself, not from God. He mentions it twice: once to Jeroboam, and again to the resident prophet at Bethel – namely, to the two figures whom he meets and confronts in the course of the narrative, and at two critical junctures of the story. On the third occasion the prohibition is reiterated once again, this time by God Himself – indicating that it is the narrative’s central theme. To Jeroboam he says: Even if you give me half your wealth, I will not go in with you, nor will I eat bread or drink water in this place. For so I was commanded by the word of the Lord: You shall eat no bread and drink no water, nor shall you go back by the road by which you came (v. 8–9).

To the prophet at Bethel he explains: I may not go back with you and enter your home; and I may not eat bread or drink water in this place; the order I received by the word of the Lord was: You shall not eat bread or drink water there; nor shall you return [to go] by the road on which you came (v. 16–17).

and in the words of God Himself: Because you have flouted the word of the Lord and have not observed what the Lord your God commanded you, but have gone back and eaten bread and drunk water in the place of which He said to you, ‘Do not eat bread or drink water . . . (v. 21–22).

3 I herein use the title “man of God” in its broadest sense of prophet (‫)נביא‬, seer (‫)רואה‬, or visionary (‫ – )חוזה‬on the assumption that in the books of the “Early Prophets” all these served identical functions, and distinctions between them are somewhat arbitrary. See however: J.A. Holstein, “The case of ” is hā’elohim’ Reconsidered: Philological Analysis Versus Historical Reconstruction,” HUCA 48 (1977) pp. 69–81. 4 See: U. Simon, “I Kings 13: A Prophetic Sign – Denial and Pertinence,” HUCA 47 (1976) pp. 81–117, and an examination of the history of commentary of this story. Also: A. Rofé, ibid. pp. 144–154, and especially p. 148 and note 101 there.

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The repetition tells us two things: It is almost formulaic. The minor variations between first and second occasion are significant only inasmuch as they indicate that the man of God acknowledged the prohibition, but did not necessarily appreciate it fully. The addition of the words “there” and “to go” in the second utterance – absent the first time – are a deliberate expansion, suggesting that the words took on further weight in his consciousness upon repetition. The fact that the author does not quote God directly the first time is a sign of a certain sophistication in the story’s design. To minimize repetition, the author provides information only where it has the greatest impact. This textual frugality recurs again later on in the narrative: although it renders the text a little awkward, it is clear that God’s message to the Judean man of God is in fact delivered to his host, the prophet at Bethel, but the words are delivered to the reader only once – when the prophet relays the message: The word of the Lord came to the prophet who had brought him back. He cried out to the man of God who had come from Judah: ‘Thus said the Lord . . . (v. 21–22).

(It is also possible the text has been corrupted in some way and some of the Lord’s words to the prophet at Bethel were omitted. But in my view what we see is indeed a deliberate abridging by the author for the aforementioned reasons. By indicating that the Lord spoke first to the prophet, we learn not only what God said to the man of God but that the prophet knew it, too. The fact that only after the man of God’s death does the prophet understand that his prophecy about Bethel will come to pass is an indication that the Bethel prophet had relied upon tangible signs, and was not content with God’s word.) To understand the meaning of the test to which the man of God is subjected, we must examine the meaning of the divine injunction. In principle, there are two possible interpretations. One is that the ban in question was not arbitrary but of clearly symbolic significance – and if so, the man of God failed the test because he did not fully appreciate its meaning.5 The other is that the injunction is indeed an arbitrary one:

5

This has far-reaching implications. The different positions taken by various biblical commentaries no doubt reflect the shifting approaches of Jewish traditions down the ages. The issue of the moral basis for God’s commandments, for example, repeatedly arises: must they be obeyed because they are moral, or should they be seen as

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the man of God is tested on his unquestioning obedience, and he must comply come what may, even if it goes against his ideas and understanding of what constitutes a righteous act, and not be tempted by the old prophet: only God Himself, who issued the ban, may undo it. Most scholars lean toward the former interpretation, in which the prohibition reflects an outright rejection of Bethel.6 It must be boycotted as it is considered unclean: eating and drinking implies tacit acceptance of its customs, and even returning by the same route must be avoided, to deny it the status of being the purpose of the journey. I lean toward the latter interpretation. In my view, the test that the Judean man of God failed is of total obedience: he should have obeyed the prohibition even if it appeared to be a purely arbitrary decree whose symbolic purpose was unclear to him. There are several reasons for this: One is the triple repetition of the injunction. If the author had intended to hint at its symbolic purpose or to provide an ideological/ unquestioned decrees. Thus, we find that in the tractate Berachot (5,3) it is said that in his prayers, the invocator must refrain from including the words: “Thou hast mercy even on a bird’s nest” (‫ – )על קן צפור יעירו רחמיך‬a phrase based on the law in Deut. 22:6 forbidding the removal of a mother bird from its young. According to the Mishnah, whoever adds this sentence must be silenced. The Talmud (Babli, Berachot 33 p. 2) debates the question what is wrong with this sentence, and one of the replies is that by reciting these words, one perceives God’s prohibitions as to do with mercy, when in fact they are simply commands that must simply be obeyed without question – in other words, the validity of divine decrees is not a function of their morality. The question of “Morality as Divine Decree” has been repeatedly debated down the ages, giving rise on the one hand to the notion of total dependence – i.e., God’s decrees are not contingent on their degree of morality – and on the other to the notion of “lenient dependence,” according to which God’s commandments are not necessarily arbitrary, but derived from His wisdom and goodness. That said, mankind may not yet have reached the degree of insight and understanding necessary to appreciate their full meaning. In his comprehensive review of this topic, Avi Sagi concludes that it is only in recent decades that the doctrine of total dependence has predominated: in earlier periods most interpreters and adjudicators leaned toward the more lenient approach, by which there is no contradiction between understanding God’s commandments as decrees and finding a moral basis for them. See: A. Sagi, Judaism: Between Religion and Morality, Tel-Aviv 1998 [Hebrew]. 6 This is based on the Talmud (Babli, Avodah Zara 81, 12 p. 1), which states that a man must not enter an idolatrous town, and in traditional commentaries Bethel of the days of Jeroboam is indeed seen as a place of idol-worshippers. (See Kimhi, Abarbanel et al.). U. Simon (ibid.) endorses this interpretation (See idem: “I Kings 13 – A prophetic Sign Overcomes its Transgressors,” Reflections on the Bible, volume 2, Tel-Aviv 1976 pp. 171–186 [Hebrew], but A. Rofé (ibid. note 10) has his reservations, pointing out that the word “sign” (‫ – )אות‬a central term in prophetic literature – is entirely absent here, while the word “potent” (‫ )מופת‬does occur in v. 3 and 5, which even Simon agrees must be a later insertion.

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moral justification, he would probably have found a way to do so on the third occasion, when the Lord tells the man of God about the punishment that awaits him. We find support for such an interpretation in other stories – for example, when one of the prophet’s disciples (“sons”) expounds upon the significance of symbolic acts to explain why the king of Israel sinned by setting free Ben-Haddad King of Aram (I Kings 20:35–43). Similarly with Joash, king of Israel, who struck the ground with arrows only three times – instead of five or six – and is told that he will therefore prevail against Aram in battle only three times (II Kings 13:14–19). But in our story, the almost verbatim repetition of the command reinforces the impression that it is meant to emphasize the idea that the man of God was expected to execute it to the letter. Had the decree been repeated more loosely, it might have been given to various interpretations. In other words, while a symbolic meaning requires understanding, a literal formulaic repetition implies learning by rote, which in turn emphasizes the duty of total obedience. It is not entirely clear that the story purports to present Bethel as a place of irredeemable wickedness that must be rejected outright. Although the rites conducted by Jeroboam and his priests, and its customs, are condemned, it is also the abode of a prophet to whom the word of the Lord is revealed, and who serves to test the man of God’s obedience. The “agent” that God sends to punish the man of God is a lion. The use of an animal to punish a prophet or man of God who fails his mission is a recurring theme in several biblical stories. By describing how the animal carries out its mission faithfully even when it is against its nature, the errant prophet is cast in an ironic light. Thus, the lion kills the man of God but leaves his body untouched, nor harms his ass. The fish that swallows Jonah whole spews him out onto dry land unharmed after three days. Balaam’s she-ass sees what Balaam the prophet does not: “. . . beholds visions from the almighty, prostate but with eyes unveiled” (Numbers 24:4).7 Similarly, in the description of the leviathan in the Lord’s reply to Job, the lion who kills the man refuses to harm the prophet’s disciple (I Kings 20:35–36) and. In all these stories, the animals represent total obedience, irrespective of understanding,

7 On the resemblance between this story and the tale of Jonah see also A. Rofé (ibid.) pp. 145–146.

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in marked contrast to the man of God who fails to carry out the divine decree. So, it would seem, is the case in our story.8 In this respect, the story about the Judean man of God serves as a prelude to the narratives of the other prophets in the Book of Kings, which betray a similar ironic – not to say condescending – tone toward the northern men of God, whenever they act of their own accord and even perform feats of magic without first praying to the Lord, that is, not exclusively at the Lord’s command or guidance. The Judean man of God, by contrast, who is held to a higher standard and pays with his life for a minor indiscretion, is a paradigm of the true man of God as the author sees it: first and foremost, he must act only as the Lord’s emissary. It appears, therefore, that notwithstanding the author’s generally approving attitude toward such prophets as Elijah and Elisha, there is some reservation in his stories, as if the northern man of God does not quite measure up to the standards required of a proper prophet, while the Judean man of God pays with his life for deviating, even inadvertently, from a divine edict. The theme of a hero undergoing a strict test of total obedience to a divine edict, for no apparent moral purpose, recurs in other biblical stories. In the binding of Isaac Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice supersedes any morality or logic, and in the story of the waters of Meribah, if we interpret it literally, Moses and Aaron pay a very heavy price indeed for the slightest mistake in executing the divine command.9 We might surmise that, from the historiographer’s viewpoint, the main point of the story is the prophecy concerning Jeroboam’s altar,10

8 That said, it should also be noted that the theme of lion as a tool of punishment appears as a curse in the ancient Near East – and a common one at that. The treaty of the Assyrian king Esarhaddon with the king of Tyre, for example, states that if either party breaks their accord, he shall be handed over “to the devouring lion” by the gods. See: M. Weinfeld, The World of the Bible: Genesis, Tel-Aviv 1993 p. 171. Also: idem. “The Loyalty Oath in the Ancient Near East” and “The Vassal Treaties of Essarhaddon – an Annotated Translation,” Shnaton, an Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Volume I (1975) pp. 52–88; 89–122. 9 Yet see the discussion of this story in: S. Gelander, “The Story of the Waters of Meribah – to the Meanings of this Story in Context with the Other Rebellion-Stories in the Torah,” Tura, Studies in Jewish Thought 2 (1992) pp. 9–18 [Hebrew], which seeks to explain the sin of Moses and Aaron in the light of the “type scene” of these stories, mainly Exodus 14 and 17. Such a comparison might lead to better understanding, mainly about the way in which Moses and Aaron failed to meet both God’s and the people’s expectations. 10 See: D.W. Van Winkle, “I Kings XII 25–XIII 34: Jeroboam’s Cultic Innovations and the man of God from Jehudah,” VT 46,1 (1996) pp. 101–114. But Van Winkle

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as this goes to the heart of Jeroboam’s broader sin of religious secession which lies at the root of the political calamity that ultimately brings about the kingdom’s demise. But it is also possible that while writing the story, various other ideas occurred to the author which came to take center stage, such as the said confrontation between the Judean man of God and the prophet of Bethel. The reason for believing this may be that this case serves several useful purposes. First, he recognizes that the Judean man of God’s prophecy concerning Jeroboam’s altar is true (although that much could be inferred from the Lord’s words to him – v. 21). Secondly, it provides a pointed illustration that less is expected of northern prophets than of southern ones: although the prophet of Bethel is clearly hostile and knowingly incites his colleague to defy an explicit divine injunction, he is not shown in a damning light. From the care and calculation with which he goes about it (v. 13: “ ‘Saddle the ass for me,’ he said to his sons. They saddled the ass for him and he mounted it.” – cf. the description in the story of the binding of Isaac, Genesis 22:3), his testing of the Judean man of God is clearly not impulsive, but premeditated and deliberate. He is also mainly preoccupied with his own interests – even concerning his final request about his burial. Yet, despite all this, he is shown as merely flawed – while the Judean man of God, who is held to a much higher standard, loses his life for the smallest of transgressions. There are many other examples of “total obedience” among the early prophets – notably, as far as we can tell, in the story of the first fall-out between Samuel and Saul (I Samuel 1:13). Although Saul’s decision to go ahead with the sacrifice at the altar without waiting for Samuel, despite strict instructions not to do so (ibid. 10:8) appears to be “logically” justified under the circumstances, because he disobeyed the divine injunction conveyed to him by the prophet, he is told then and there that his dynasty will not endure, and that God “seek out a man after His own heart and . . . will appoint him ruler over His people” (ibid. 13:13–14).11

links the prophecy to the innovation of the golden calves, while U. Simon infers that I Kings 12 is a separate literary unit, since neither calves nor cult places are mentioned in Chapter 13 and, significantly, the man of God addresses the altar, not the golden calf (ibid. 1976). 11 A. Rofé (ibid. pp. 128–144) sees in Samuel’s reactions in these stories – especially during the second rift with Saul (I Samuel 15, see mainly vs. 29) – evidence of a deterministic outlook, while in the story of Jonah he sees a challenge to such notions.

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2. Elijah at Horeb (I Kings 19) This story, too, has been the subject of much debate, leading to two competing schools of thought in contemporary commentary. According to one, the entire story is highly critical of Elijah the Prophet, depicting him as a tired, self-interested prophet, who neglects his mission and chooses merely to denounce Israel instead.12 The other interpretation sees no negative overtones in the story whatsoever, but merely a description of how God strengthens Elijah’s resolve and urges him more emphatically to continue in his struggle.13 Both interpretations rely, to a large extent, on a comparison between Elijah and Moses: the former that the comparison underlines the differences between the two figures, and the latter maintaining that in fact it is meant to cast Elijah in a favorable light.14 Comparisons between Elijah and Moses have many precedents in biblical research. In Talmudic literature Elijah is presented as Moses’ disciple.15 Some identify the cave in which Elijah sleeps as the one where Moses dwelled.16 Several midrashim list ten identical traits between the two figures; Abarbanel even finds several dozen points they have in common.17 The comparison is an obvious one, and probably intentional. However, as the purpose of the comparison is somewhat uncertain, it begs closer scrutiny.18

12 See Y. Zakovitch, “A still small voice, form and Idea in I Kings 19,” Tarbiz 51 (1993) pp. 329–346 [Hebrew], mainly based on Malbim’s interpretation. Also: idem, Through the Looking Glass: Reflection Stories in the Bible, Tel-Aviv 1995 p. 42. But see also A, Steinsalz, “The Prophet Elisha,” Biblical Heroes, Tel-Aviv 1980 pp. 80–87 [Hebrew], who notes that Elijah anoints Elisha as prophet in his place at God’s behest, because he failed to complete his mission – as if to say (according to the Sages) that since Elijah was not up to the task, he may way as well ascend to heaven in a fiery chariot. Steinsalz also compares the relationship between Elijah and Elisha to that between Moses and Joshua. 13 U. Simon, ibid. pp. 246–278. 14 See: Frieda Clark Hyman, “Elijah, Accuser and Defender,” Judaism 39, 3 (1990) pp. 282–295. By contrast, others prefer to stress the ironic aspect of this story: R. Gregory, “Irony and the Unmasking of Elijah” A.J. Hauser – R. Gregory (ed.), From Carmel to Horeb: Elijah in Crisis, Sheffield 1990 pp. 91–169. 15 Babli, Sotah Chapter 1 p. 12:2. 16 See Babli, Pesahim Chapter 4 p. 53:2, according to which the cave was one of the ten things which were created on Sabbath eve. 17 See Abarbanel, who abides by Pesikta Rabati’s interpretation of the Books of the Early Prophets (based on the Rabi Jaakov Pidanki edition), Jerusalem 1957 pp. 586–589 [Hebrew]. 18 See: B.P. Robinson, “Elijah at Horeb: I Kings 19:1–8, a Coherent Narrative?” Revue Biblique 98,4 (1991) pp. 513–536.

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Of the two conflicting views of this story, I am inclined toward the former. The dispute, it seems to me, stems from a fundamental difference in how this story is perceived in the wider context of the Elijah stories. Uriel Simon sees Chapter 19 as an integral part of the Elijah cycle and a direct continuation of the two preceding chapters, citing, by way of evidence, various identical expressions and word combinations that he finds using the close-reading method.19 However, the abrupt change between the charismatic and exemplary man portrayed of Chapters 17, 18, and the listless figure shown here is hard to explain, and although the text indeed has many literary and linguistic features in common with the preceding two chapters, I believe Chapter 19 was originally a separate and independent story.20 Were it indeed a direct sequel to Chapter 18, it would be difficult to explain the sudden and total omission of any mention of Elijah’s recent triumph or of Ahab’s reconciliation with him – particularly in light of Elijah’s impressive feat of running in front of Ahab’s chariot all the way from Mount Carmel to the Jezreel Valley (I Kings 18:46). Indeed, there is no trace of this positive ending in the opening words of this chapter. Instead, there is only a very perfunctory statement: “Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done.” In an apparent acknowledgment that this is almost too bland, the author seems compelled to add “and how he had put all the prophets to the sword” – a phrasing that in itself suggests that Ahab’s exposition was not, in fact, a full account. A fuller description would have featured a more balanced construction – that is to say, instead of “all that Elijah had done,” more like the detail in the second part of the verse, say, “how the sky grew black with clouds and wind and a heavy downpour fell.” In the absence of such detail, we are given to understand that “all” in “all that Elijah had done”

19 However, a slight error in one place led to a misleading emphasis of the hints or leading words. Simon points out the words “You” (‫ )אתה‬or “are you” (‫ )האתה‬as leading-words for Jezebel’s conduct. Where the original says (in translation): “If thou art Elijah, I am Jezebel,” the LXX version has it “if thou art Elijah and I am Jezebel . . .” (Ει συ Ηλιου και εγω Ιεςαβελ). 20 For a review of the complexities of this story and its various interwoven themes, see: Z. Weisman, “The Story of the Revelation at Horeb,” Beit Mikra 27 (1967) pp. 140–143 [Hebrew]. Also: J. Keinänen, Traditions in Collision, a Literary and Redaction – Critical Study in the Elijah Narratives I Kings 17–19, Göttingen 2001 pp. 157–182. Keinänen rejects the notion of different traditions in I Kings 19:1–10 and 15–18, but accepts that the description of Elijah’s despair in v. 3–6 is probably founded on an older tradition, while the rest is the work of minor, unifying redaction, whose intent was clearly “anti-Baalistic.”

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refers to the slaying of all the prophets of Baal. Thus, it is difficult to accept this verse as a true depiction of Ahab’s account to Jezebel, or as a direct sequel to the preceding story. Rather, it should be regarded as a conjunctional repetition – a device commonly used by redactors to join together two disparate, independent stories.21 Indeed, we may consider this portrayal of Ahab as yet another illustration of his weakness when dealing with Jezebel, as in the story of Naboth the Jezreelite (I Kings 21) – in marked contrast to his independence and assertiveness in Chapters 17–18. (In Chapter 18 we learn that he dispatches agents “to every nation and kingdom” to track down Elijah, following the latter’s prophecy about the drought; see, too, his words about Elisha, for the same reason: “. . . if the head of Elisha the son of Shaphat remains on his shoulders . . .” (II Kings 6:31). Even more telling is Elijah’s repeated complaint in our story: “people of Israel have . . . torn down Your altar and slain Your prophets with the sword, I alone am left . . .” (v. 10, 14). In the preceding story, in Chapter 18, it was in fact the prophets of the Baal who had torn down the altar, and they – rather than the Lord’s prophets – are the ones subsequently put to the sword. If, indeed, those events immediately preceded the story of Chapter 19, it seems unlikely Elijah would count himself “alone.” At this point it is worth noting the subtle criticism of Elijah – the implicit irony woven into the story. At first glance, the first scene, where Elijah prays that he might die (v. 4), recalls Jeremiah who, in his despair, wishes for death by cursing the day of his birth: Cursed be the day on which I was born! The day when my mother bore me, let it not be blessed! Cursed be the man who brought the news to my father, ‘A son is born to you’ making him very glad. (Jeremiah 20:14–15. cf. ibid. 15:10).

Job, too, utters similar sentiments (Job 3). However, both Jeremiah and Job utter these curses to galvanize themselves for renewed struggle – as if abolishing their very birth,22 suggesting that he who does so and survives can thus see himself as a new-born, an altogether different 21 On the conjunctional repetition see: C. Kuhl, “Die Wiederaufnahme, ein literarisches Prinzip,” ZAW 64 (1952) pp. 1–11. 22 On the power of curse, and the magic power of spoken words, see: H.C. Brichto, The Problem of ‘Curse’ in the Hebrew Bible, Philadelphia 1968. Also: M. Weinfeld, “Curse,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, volume 7, Jerusalem 1976 pp. 185–192 [Hebrew]; M. Malul, Knowledge, Control and Sex, Tel-Aviv – Jaffa 2002 pp. 204 ff; 262; 431 ff.

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person. And indeed, from that point onwards both Jeremiah and Job devote their lives totally to their struggles.23 Their curse is a sharp protest against the course of events, which they believe is entirely unjust. However, this is not the case with Elijah. He does not curse the day of his birth, but merely wishes to die. In other words – at least on this occasion – it is fatigue that makes him succumb and give up, and accordingly he immediately lies down and falls asleep under a broom bush. The repetition of “a broom bush” suggests that it was one that he found at random – i.e., he did not even bother to choose a suitable place to sleep. The main irony lies in the very mention that he lies down and falls asleep. As in the story of Jonah, the fact that a prophet withdraws into himself and finds refuge in sleep is in itself ignoble. The prophet is supposed to be the nation’s watchman : his eyes must always be open, he must never “lie down on the job.” Lest the reader fails to notice this dereliction of duty, we are told that he lies down again and returns to sleep even after being awakened by the angel. Even assuming that he did not realize at first that it was an angel (see Simon, note 13 above) – a surprising lapse for a prophet – Elijah is clearly failing to exercise any judgment of his own.24 Indeed, he seems to act like an automaton: the angel tells him to rise and eat, so he does, but in the absence of any further instruction, he lies down again to sleep. Only the second time, when the angel tells him that “else the journey will be too much for you” (v. 7), does he eat and continue on his journey. The journey lasts forty days and forty nights, suggesting that Elijah has now gained new powers and that by eating he was filled with the spirit of God, as during his miraculous run in front of King Ahab’s chariot (ibid. 18:47). However, it might be just another symptom of unthinking, robotic behavior: since the angel tells him to get

23 U. Simon (ibid. p. 260) attributes Jeremiah’s complaint to his perception of himself as a complete failure as a prophet, given the acute antagonism he felt from the people he preached to. But Jeremiah does not ascribe his solitude merely to his own weakness, but also to the difficulty of his task. Had God not imposed his ministry upon him, he could have been quite sociable: “I have not sat in the company of revelers and made merry! I have sat lonely because of Your hand upon me. For You have filled me with gloom.” (Jeremiah 15:17). 24 Nor does Elijah come off favorably in the comparison often made with Hagar, who was similarly rescued by an angel. For Hagar immediately realizes she is experiencing a revelation (Genesis 16:13), and in both versions of the story (cf. Genesis 21) immediately resumes her journey with renewed strength, fully conscious of her destiny. (See also: Zakovitch, ibid.) On the folkloristic motif of this story see: Weisman (ibid.).

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up and walk, he does so without stopping since he has been given no other command. Although this interpretation may seem unkind and somewhat exaggerated, it is not altogether unfounded. After all, the number 40 is a known typological number, symbolizing substantive and qualitative transformation or metamorphosis. An individual or society undergoing a process lasting forty days and nights – or forty years – is no longer the same. The timeframe of “forty” therefore is supposed to mark the forging of a new identity.25 Yet clearly this is not the case with Elijah. He appears to undergo no change whatsoever: after forty days and forty nights he merely arrives at the mountain of God at Horeb, where he spends the night.26 In other words, he resumes his inward withdrawal and finds refuge in sleep. In this respect, at least, Elijah comes out the worst in comparison with Moses. Moses, who ate no bread and drank no water for forty days and forty nights, descends from Mount Sinai bearing the two tablets of the Covenant. Eating and drinking has a symbolic meaning, too: as in the story of the Judean man of God, here, too, the partaking of food and drink represents the routine of daily life.27 Thus, Moses’ fast during his time on the mountain implies complete detachment from routine life and necessities. Not so Elijah. The angel who urges him to arise and eat certainly is clearly urging him to resume his activities as prophet – but instead, Elijah continues to flee. Even the words “Come out and stand on the mountain before the Lord” (v. 11) may hint at God’s exasperation with his conduct. Standing on the mountain, in the open, is a clear, symbolic contrast to Elijah’s hermit-like withdrawal into the cave.28

25 Such is the case in the story of the Flood; the forty years of wandering in the desert; the forty days in the prophecy of Jonah to Nineveh; the forty days of Moses on Mount Sinai; the forty days spent by the men sent to spy on the land of Canaan; the periods of forty years of peace in the land (Judges 3:11; 5:31; 8:28) etc. 26 Abarbanel’s assertion that Elijah is not said to have slept there but only spent the night there (‫ )וילן‬strikes me as possibly tendentious. U. Simon (ibid. p. 254), too, maintains that Elijah did not enter the cave to sleep there, citing other biblical instances in support. However, a cave certainly offers better shelter than a broom bush, and if anything it underlines the notion that Elijah was fleeing still further to the safety of sleep, much as Jonah fled into the inner bowels of a ship and slept there. 27 See especially Jeremiah’s words to the king of Judah (Jehoiakim, son of Josiah): “Your father ate and drank, and dispensed justice and righteousness” (Jeremiah 22:16), that is to say that justice and righteousness were his meat and drink, an integral part of his daily routine. 28 It is possible that the words “Come out and stand on the mountain” refer not only to Elijah’s fleeing, but to his entire method of operation as a prophet: rather than

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Together, these details hint at the main thrust of the criticism leveled at Elijah – namely, that he is self-absorbed.29 Much like Jonah, he appears to be much more concerned with his personal situation and prestige than with his mission as a prophet. Later in the story there are hints – both in the descriptions themselves and in their literary form – that his very understanding of his duties is fundamentally flawed. Elijah’s repetition of the words “I have been very jealous . . .” (v. 10, 14), for example, should be seen perhaps not as a textual aberration, but as a deliberate literary device: just as the forty days and night of walking brought about no discernible change in Elijah’s attitude, neither is his outlook changed by God’s awesome revelation – rather, he continues his complaint. For His revelation, God’s opts for the “still small voice” over the more dramatic demonstrations of fire, earthquake, and the wind as his mode of expression.30 Seeming oblivious even of this subtlety, Elijah repeats his protestations about his uncompromising zeal and the wrongdoings of the people of Israel. The fact that destruction and putting to the sword feature heavily in this indictment hints at the depth of Elijah’s disappointment: as a reward for his response to atrocities committed by the people, he had hoped to be endowed with more power. Instead, he was left alone. With this in mind, I prefer the interpretation of Levi ben Gershon (“Ralbag”) – and, similarly, Malbim – and am inclined towards Uffenheimer’s view: In the author’s words about the ‘still small voice’ we see the first signs of misgivings of the later prophets with the violent ways of their warrior predecessors.31

3. “And the Lord has hidden it from me and has not told me”: Elisha and the wealthy woman from Shunem (II Kings 4) This story, too, contains a number of ironic comments about the man of God. It is a complex story comprising several themes and motifs, lurk in a cave, and be mysterious and secretive, God demands that he practice his craft boldly, out in the open and without ambiguity. See also Y. Zakovitch, “A Still Small Voice” (ibid.). 29 See: Y. Zakovitch, Through the Looking Glass, Tel-Aviv 1995 p. 40 [Hebrew]. 30 See: N.M. Waldman, “Sound and Silence,” Jewish Bible Quarterly 22, 4 (1994) pp. 228–236. 31 B. Uffenheimer, Early Prophecy in Israel, Jerusalem 1999 Chapter 6. See also: J.J. Stamm, “Elia am Horeb,” Judia Biblica et Semitica, Wageningen 1966 pp. 327–334; J. Lust “A Gentle Breeze or a Roaming Thunderous Sound? Elijah at Horeb: I Kings 19:12,” VT 25 (1975) pp. 49–64. See also Y. Zakovitch (ibid.).

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resulting in a wealth of morals and teachings, but for the moment I shall focus on the aspects with a direct bearing on our discussion, namely the implicit criticism of Elisha.32 The fact that the author attributes to Elisha the power to bless a barren woman with a child indicates that that he sees him as a miraculous emissary of God. The fact that he also learns his lesson, acknowledges his weaknesses and admits to his errors also speaks in his favor. However, these very qualities also serve to highlight his ironic portrayal – through Gehazi, his servant, through the Shunammite woman, and even through the conduct of Elisha himself.33 This is done very subtly: the messages are not explicit, but communicated through its literary style and structure. Thus, for example, in describing the Shunammite’s behavior, when she first appears before Elisha, we are told that “When he had called her, she stood before him” (v. 12) But, on the second occasion, we read that “when he had called her, she stood in the doorway” (v. 15) – a significant variation, since the phrase “to stand before” often occurs in biblical literature to denote service, or readiness to serve34 – while the words “she stood in the doorway” suggests a certain distance or even reservation. This change of attitude occurs between the two encounters. In his desire to repay her for all she had done for him, Elisha misses the mark entirely, his notions of a suitable reward geared perhaps to his own needs or outlook as a high-ranking individual: he proposes to speak on her behalf to the king or to the army commander. So preoccupied is he with himself, he is insensitive to her distress, so she is forced to 32 1) The geographical location of Elisha’s activities tell us much about their nature – especially when compared with Elijah, who seems to be untied to any one place, and indeed is often whisked off by the divine spirit to places unknown, as noted by Obadiah (I Kings 18:12) and by the prophet disciples when he is carried off to the heavens (II Kings 2:16). Elisha has a constant route (II Kings 4:8–9), and even a permanent place of abode, and people always know where to find him (v. 25 – cf. II Kings 5:8). 2) The motif of reviving a child carries its own unique messages. However in our story, since it was Elisha who also “granted” the child to the childless woman, this is possibly a modified version of the motif of the barren woman. 33 U. Simon sees this story as a test and exploration of the relationship between Elisha’s miraculous powers and his limits as human being (ibid. p. 287). Simon’s title of this story hints at his conclusion: “The miracle-worker in need of the Lord of the miracle’s guidance.” Conversely, see Y. Amit, “A Prophet Tested: Elisha, the Great Woman of Shunem, and the Story’s Double Message,” Biblical Interpretation 11, 3–4 (2003) pp. 279–294. 34 Witness the wording of Elijah’s oath: “As the Lord the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand . . . ” (I Kings 17:1). See also Genesis 41:46; Deuteronomy 18:7; I Kings 10:8; (cf. II Chronicles 9:7); I Kings 12:7,8; Jeremiah 35:19; Ezekiel 5:11; II Chronicles 29:11 etc.

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put him right, with the simple but pointed retort: “I live among my own people,” – meaning that her material needs are well cared for. When the prophet still does not understand, his servant, Gehazi, spells it out for him: “Well, she has no son, and her husband is old.” (v. 14). The irony is twofold: the Shunammite’s hospitality was proffered without expectation of reward – and Elisha cannot see this, but his servant can.35 Might there also be an implicit sting in the Shunammite’s words: “I live among my own people” – suggesting that the prophet, who talks about the king and commanders, is cut off from the common folk? This may be unfair, for in the Elisha cycle as a whole he is depicted operating among the people as much as he appears before the king. However, the story does serve to demonstrate Elisha’s tendency to misjudge situations, as attested by the remainder of the narrative, when he dispatches his servant to work miracles on his behalf, e.g. by simply laying his staff on a deceased boy’s face to bring him back from the dead. Once again, it is the woman who shakes him out of his arrogance and forces him to do his job properly, vowing: “as the Lord lives and as you live, I will not leave you” (v. 30). The choice of words is not accidental, as they echo the very words Elisha had used, years before, when refusing to accede to Elijah’s requests to leave him, in a demonstration of his own loyalty to master and duty. By placing the same words in the mouth of the Shunammite, the author is hinting, none too subtly, that Elisha himself has yet to learn his own lesson about personal responsibility and limitations.36 While this second half of the story demonstrates other flaws in Elisha’s character, there are early signs of emotional development, as well. As in the earlier encounter with the Shunammite, here, too, Elisha’s initial conduct (by dispatching Gehazi to work miracles on his behalf ) initially displays an imperious detachment.37 But this time there is also a new side to him, a sensitivity and empathy that were not there before, as evident in the questions which he asks the servant

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Cf. Simon, ibid. p. 294. U. Simon rightly notes that he who, as acolyte, had dared to express his expectations of the man of God and eventually won his master’s consent, can well appreciate this unexpected combination of obedience and self-assurance. He also understands that awe and fear of God do not necessarily mean passive obedience, for there are situations where the miracle worker will not succeed other than by daring to guide He who makes the miracles happen (ibid. p. 303 and note 26 there). 37 For more implicit criticism in this story see: B.D. Long, “The Shunammite Woman: in the Shadow of the Prophet,” Bible Review 7,1 (1991) pp. 12–19, 42. 36

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to put to her: “Is it well with you? Is it well with your husband? Is it well with the child?” (v. 26). It is this new-found sensitivity that allows him eventually to see both the woman’s situation and his own personal limitations: “Let her alone, for she is in bitter distress; and the Lord has hidden from me and has not told me” (v. 27).38 Thus, it is thanks to the woman that Elisha learns his lesson: she urges him to follow her,39 and only on arrival at her house does he pray to God.40 However, the true moral of the story – beyond the notion that the prophet’s powers are limited – seems to be that the prophet must always be guided by God. It also tells us that a prophet “granting” a child of his own accord cannot in itself be regarded as complete – indeed, it is destined to lead to misfortune and disappointment unless it is carried out at God’s own bidding, and with His consent. In other words, what is important is not only that God must be obeyed, but also that unauthorized actions have unfortunate consequences that can be put right only when the prophet acknowledges that he is acting solely on God’s behalf. Similarly, invoking God involves being close to others and being fully responsible for them, which means that a prophet must rid himself of all egocentric tendencies.41 As we shall see, the tendency to ascribe to oneself various miraculous powers without first appealing to God is an occupational hazard with northern prophets, and in this, too, they differ from their southern counterparts.

38 There is also a striking difference between Elisha’s references to the woman in the two scenes. In the first story he bids his servant “Call this Shunammite woman” (‫קרא‬ ‫ )לשונמית הזאת‬which comes across as remote and patronizing, but in the later scene he refers to her as “Here is that Shunammite woman” (‫)הנה השונמית הלז‬, where the word “that” in the Hebrew is a far more formal, uncommon form meaning “the aforementioned” – a more respectful reference softened by acquaintance. The subtlety is lost in translation. 39 The words “So he arose and followed her” (v. 30) may in themselves be significant – as in the story of the birth of Samson: “And Manoah arose and went after his wife” (Judges 13:11) and see: A. Ahuviah, “And he Arose and Went After his Wife,” As it is Written, Tel-Aviv 1977 pp. 57–58 [Hebrew]. But cf. Y. Zakovitch, The Life of Samson, Jerusalem 1982 p. 49 [Hebrew]. In both stories it is the woman who bears the significant message. For more on the status of the woman in this story see: B.D. Long (ibid.). 40 In his comparative study of the stories of Elijah and of Elisha, A. Rofé contends that where the latter is described as praying to God, this is incidental to the narrative, and possibly the work of the redactor. Furthermore, he suggests that the prophet’s ability to work miracles, without first praying to God, is evidence of the greater antiquity of the Elisha tales. See: A. Rofé, The Prophetical Stories, Jerusalem 1982 pp. 107–108 [Hebrew]. 41 See: U. Simon, ibid. pp. 279–316.

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chapter one 4. Elisha and Naaman’s Leprosy (II Kings 5)

In this story the criticism is not necessarily aimed at Elisha in particular. Each of the characters in the narrative’s hierarchy contributes to the story’s ideological message, and it is from the delicate irony that emerges from the story as a whole that we see each of them learning the lesson as befits their position – with the exception of the servant girl from Israel. She alone knows the simple, basic truth, and it is she who drives the plot and sets it in motion: “Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy” (v. 3).42 Indeed, as Zakovitch has noted, as we go up the hierarchy of the characters, so too does the significance of the lesson learned: Naaman’s wife learns from the girl the simple fact that there is a cure for her husband’s affliction, if he would only pray before the prophet in Samaria. Much of the story concerns transformation of Naaman – “captain of the host of the king of Syria” – from one form of naïveté to another. When being told by his wife that he must pray before the prophet in Samaria, he begins by appealing not directly to the prophet, but through his king, who in turn asks the king of Israel. When he first visits the prophet, he arrives “with his horses and chariots” (v. 9) – with all the pomp of his rank and position – expecting the prophet “to come out to me, and stand, and call on the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper” (v. 11) – i.e., a proper ceremony of magical healing.43 When Elisha merely sends out his messenger with a prescription, Naaman storms off in a rage, returning only after considerable efforts by his servants to placate him, much as his wife had heeded to the servant girl. He returns to Elisha more humbly this time, without the horses and chariots: “Then he returned to the man of God . . . and he came and stood before him . . . ” (v. 15). (Note: “before him,” not “at the door” as in the case of the Shunammite’s second appearance before Elisha, Chapter 4:12 & 16). When Elisha cures him of his leprosy, Naaman vows that henceforward he will defer to his king for appearances sake only. In his mind, he is “bypassing” his king, much as his king had “bypassed” Elisha by appealing to him not directly but to his equal, the king of Israel. Naaman’s transformation

42 See: Y. Zakovitch, Every High Official Has a Higher One Set Over Him: A literary analysis of II Kings 5, Tel-Aviv 1985 [Hebrew]. 43 A. Rofè, ibid. p. 109.

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is complete when he recognizes that there is no God in the world but the Lord – but his religious belief is still naïve, for he imagines that by taking “two mule-loads of earth” with him, he would be able to worship God, while pretending to worship Rimmon. His faith, in other words, is still pagan in nature: thinking the God of Israel is somehow territorially bound to that land, he must take some of that soil with him to be able to worship Him. The king of Israel, too, is shown in an ironic light, as it does not occur to him that it is not he who is being asked to cure Naaman, but the prophet, who must put him right by telling him: “Let him come to me, and he will learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” (v. 8). Finally, as we reach the summit of the story’s structural hierarchy, our attention is drawn to the prophet himself. The fact that Elisha successfully cures Naaman’s leprosy proves that God is with him and that he is a true prophet. But in the eyes of the author, he should have been more explicit in stating that his powers emanate only from God. By failing to do so he appears to attribute the healing powers to himself, and it is left to Naaman, unwittingly, to deliver the narrator’s implicit rebuke of the prophet: “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth but in Israel” (v. 15). In conclusion, the common thread running through all these stories appears to be the authors’ misgivings about the northern prophets’ modus operandi. Hence, while their feats are recorded for posterity, they are cast in an ironic light. The story about the Judean man of God (I Kings 13) serves as an ideological introduction to this theme, highlighting the firm demand of total obedience from all true prophets. The hostile prophet of Bethel appears to be unfamiliar with this requirement, as its significance dawns on him only when the true man of God dies for his transgression. Clearly, northern prophets are required to have much lower standards than their Judean counterparts, since the prophet of Bethel, who ostensibly serves the same God, is neither tested nor punished. That said, it is equally clear that the authors do not reject the northern prophets out of hand: they are acknowledged to be true prophets. However, their flaws, though comparatively minor, nevertheless symbolize fundamental differences in approach, as evident in the stories about Elijah and Elisha, as follows:

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a) The northern prophet looks out for himself: he values his social position and prestige very highly. He expects rewards for his zeal, demands respect, and woe betide anyone who hurts him. b) The northern prophet ascribes miraculous powers to himself. He sees himself as God’s emissary, but often fails to credit God for his powers. However, it is important to note that this covert criticism of the northern prophets is not the only, or even main, purpose of these stories. The fundamental view of them is essentially positive. The stories preserve many folklore motifs and develop them in various sophisticated ways, always depicting the man of God as one who dedicates his life to his mission. Some researchers detect a hint of polemic against Canaanite motifs at the heart of these stories, as part of the Israelite spiritual struggle with Canaan and its culture.44 But this, too, must be qualified: every literary work that draws on ancient and common motifs, to one degree or another, uses them to its advantage by introducing changes and variations. Inevitably, innovative ideas are added, some of which may be seen as controversial, but this does not mean that the story was meant to be polemical. The main purpose of the stories of the prophets is fairly transparent and obvious, and in this study I am drawing attention to a secondary and lesser-noted trend within them – namely, the implicit criticism of the early northern prophets by the authors. In Section II of this chapter we will discuss specifically at the attributes of the northern prophets. II. The Attributes of the Northern Man of God A general picture emerges from the descriptions of the image and methods of the men of God in the books of Samuel and Kings, highlighting several characteristics that are virtually or entirely absent in their Judean counterparts. These naturally form an integral part of the narrative, since the biblical authors did not, as a rule, incorporate 44 See: Leah Bronner, The Stories of Elijah and Elisha, Leiden 1968. Bronner refers to various Canaanite motifs that emerge in these stories, showing how discrepancies between the Canaanite and biblical versions reflect differences of outlook and of religious concepts. She classifies these motifs by topics, such as Rain (which includes motifs of fire, oil, and flour); Life (motifs of birth, healing, and restoring life) and other categories such as Ascent to Heaven, The River etc.

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redundant descriptions that did not contribute directly to the understanding or promotion of the story-line. Since these attributes occur repeatedly in quite a few of the stories – including those with very different story-lines and little else in common – it seems likely they were an integral part of the general image of the early prophets in the eyes of the authors. I am therefore inclined to believe that they are authentic. However even if some or all of these attributes are mere figments of the authors’ imagination, they are indubitably absent in the Judean men of God, proving once again that the biblical authors viewed the northern men of God differently from their Judean counterparts – which, for our purposes, amounts to much the same thing. Before we begin our detailed examination, a clarification is in order. Comparing the early prophets of the northern kingdom with those of the south might be construed as a judgmental bias in favor of the latter. Even a description of the transition from early, oral, prophecy to its later, written form might suggest an evolutionary process – from the “primitive,” as it were, to the more sophisticated and introspective. But this is not the case.45 In this study I am merely seeking to examine the differences between north and south as perceived by the biblical authors and reflected in their descriptions. Even when contrasting between the magical, or quasi-magical, actions of the northern prophets with the symbolic gestures of their southern counterparts, we should allow for the possibility that even the independent acts of the northern prophets – i.e., those performed without explicit divine guidance or prior appeal to God – nevertheless have a symbolic significance.46 The first point to note is that, as a rule, the work of the early man of God, whether explicitly presented as a mission (e.g. I Kings 21:17–18 45 Conversely, see: T. Fenton, “Israelite Prophecy, Characteristics of the First Protest Movement,” J.C. De Moor (ed.), The Elusive Prophet, Leiden 201 pp. 129–141. Fenton, like many before him, believes that the “new” prophetic movement, namely the literary prophecy, emerged from its predecessor in Canaan and Israel in response to it and in rejection of it. Among other things, he charts the changes that occurred in the characteristics of the movement with the transition to “classic” prophecy – including the gradual distancing from forms of “ecstatic” practice and its manifestations. He concludes by seeing this change as a process of refinement that, occasionally, involves rejection of the ways of the earlier prophets. However he also notes that, even as late as the reign of Pekah son of Remaliah there was no written prophecy (with the exception of Hosea), and so the emergence of the new prophetic movement may also be due to location, not only to historical evolution. 46 For more on symbolic meanings of magical acts see: Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo, Oxford 1966, Chapters 2 and 5.

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onwards – or, as Elijah puts it: “As the Lord lives, the God of Israel whom I serve . . . ” I Kings 17:1), or performed apparently at his own instigation, is seen as something that a lay person may train for – a “vocation,” as it were, or a craft that anyone could learn. This notion is particularly apparent in the descriptions of the prophets’ “sons,” i.e., disciples. However, in the story of Elijah’s ascent to the heavens in a storm, the true difference between prophet and “sons of prophets,” or disciples, is clearly shown to be not merely one of position and authority, but of power of observation and comprehension, too. The disciples, like Elisha their teacher, clearly know what is about to happen, given that both at Bethel and Jericho they ask Elisha: “Do you know that today the Lord will take away your master from over you?” (II Kings 2:3, 5). But when Elijah does actually ascend to the heavens, they have difficulty coming to terms with it and instinctively want to go look for him. Elisha is obliged to scold them: “Did I not say to you, ‘Do not go!’?” (v. 18).47 Clearly, grasping a new reality requires something beyond an acquired skill – an inborn talent that only a true prophet possesses. Thus, although prophecy might appear to be a mere technical skill, when the time comes for Elijah to pass on his mantle, the choice is clear: “And the Lord said to him: go, return on your way . . . And anoint Elisha the son of Shafat of Abel-mehola to succeed you as prophet” (I Kings 19:15–16; also v. 19–21).48 By the time of the written prophets there are no longer any explicit mentions of “sons of prophets,” or disciples. Nor do we find any instances of a written prophet “anointing” a pupil to serve a prophet after him. Indeed – far from undergoing a lengthy period of initiation and training in anticipation of his new calling, the new designated prophet finds the mission imposed upon him directly by God. One might consider these differences between the early and written prophets evidence of an evolutionary process, were it not for the fact that among the Judean men of God there is never any mention of “sons of prophets” (the “disciples” cited in the stories about Samuel appear only in connection with Saul – never in connection with David) – nor is there any instance of transferring the prophetic ministry from

47 As to where the redaction of this story took place in order to understand its ideological messages, see: H.N. Rösel, “2 Kön. 2, 1–18 als Elijah – oder Elisha Geschichte?,” Biblische Notizen 59 (1991) pp. 33–36. 48 R.P. Carrol, “The Elijah-Elisha Sagas; Some Remarks on Prophetic Succession in Ancient Israel,” VT 19 (1969) pp. 400–415.

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teacher to pupil. This, in addition to other phenomena and characteristics, leads us to conclude that the variations we see are due not only to evolution, but to a fundamental difference between Israel and Judah with regard to the perception of the identity and mission of the “man of God.” Healing One of the hallmarks of the northern man of God is that, in one form or another, he is associated with healing. The most notable example of this is the aforementioned story of Elisha and Naaman’s leprosy (II Kings 5). In this regard, Elisha’s initial response – “Let him come to me, and he will learn that there is a prophet in Israel” (v. 8) is very telling, as it shows not only his tendency to attribute his healing powers to himself rather than to God, but also the commonly-held belief that men of God are healers. This is also evident in his conduct surrounding the revival of the son of the Shunammite woman (II Kings 4, esp. v. 29), and in the story of Jeroboam, whose hand “dries up” (becomes rigid) when he orders the man of God to be seized. He pleads to the man of God: “Please entreat the Lord your God and pray for me that I may be able to draw back my arm” (I Kings 13:6). The king’s attribution of the healing power to God rather than to the prophet himself may well be the author’s doing, since the entire story is about the conflict between the purpose and method of the divine mission: the man of God cannot be shown to possess healing powers “of his own,” since, in this instance, he is from Judah.49 Compare this with the case of Ahijah of Shiloh, to whom Jerobaal’s wife appeals to ask about her son, Avijah, and especially Jeroboam’s words: Arise . . . and go to Shiloh. The prophet Ahijah lives there . . . Take with you ten loaves, some wafers, and a jug of honey, and go to him; he will tell you what will happen to the boy (I Kings 14:1–2).

Here there is no mention of prayer, and since the text details the remuneration that must be brought to the prophet, the concept is clearly that healing is one of the prophet’s personal skills. Although

49 The notion of the prophet whose duty it is to heal by means of prayer is evident also in the narrative of Genesis 20, where God commands Abimelech king of Gerar: “Now then restore the man’s wife; for he is a prophet, and he will pray for you, and you shall live” (v. 7), and further on: “Then Abraham prayed to God; and God healed Abimelech, and also healed his wife and female slaves . . .” (v. 17).

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there are a number of instances of the northern man of God invoking a healing prayer, in others there is no such mention, or it is only an afterthought, or – as some have suggested – possibly added at a later period.50 These include Elijah reviving the son of the woman from Zarphat (I Kings 17:17–24);51 Elijah, prophesying that King Ahaziah will never rise again from his sickbed (II Kings 1); Elisha, “curing” the water (II Kings 2:19–22, where “God’s words” appears only after the event, and see too 4:38–41, where he makes no appeal to God whatsoever – cf. 3:9–17 and beyond, where the solution to the water crisis is in the hands of God); Elisha and the ailing Ben-Haddad King of Aram (II Kings 8:7–15); the man who rises from the dead after being placed in Elisha’s grave – probably reflecting popular traditions about the wondrous healing power even in the prophet’s body, and not just his spirit (ibid. 13:20–21); and possibly some details of the story of Saul at Ein-Dor (I Samuel 28).52 Evidence that the power of healing is characteristic specifically of northern men of God may be found in comparisons with similar situations in Judah. In the case of David and Bathsheba’s ailing son (II Samuel 12:14–23), the storyteller goes out of his way to stress that David appeals to God on the child’s behalf through the prophet, rather than to the prophet personally. For his part, the prophet Nathan appears only as God’s messenger: having delivered his message, his work is done, and – as the text emphasizes – he goes home (v. 15). David neither asks the prophet to pray on his behalf, nor does it even occur to him to approach the prophet with such a request. Indeed, from the description it is apparent that Nathan’s very appearance in this context is unusual, an exception to his normal duties. Similarly with the pestilence that is stopped at the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite (II Samuel 24:12–19): the prophet Gad merely delivers God’s words, and David in his prayer appeals directly to God, with no mediation by the prophet.53 Only in one instance is a Judean prophet directly involved in healing, namely, in the case of King Hezekiah

50

Rofé ibid. passim. On the affinity between the respective revival stories of Elijah and Elisha, including the possibility that the latter is the more ancient, see pp. 112–115 and elsewhere. 52 For more on the early prophets’ healing powers see: B. Uffenheimer (ibid. pp. 289–292); A. Rofé (ibid. pp. 60–70). As we said, Leah Bronner, too, (ibid. pp. 68–122) sees in this motif part of the biblical struggle against pagan Canaanite beliefs. 53 For more about this story and its textual difficulties, see: S. Gelander, David and His God, Jerusalem 1991 pp. 69–74. 51

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(II Kings 20:1–11): however, even here Isaiah’s job is merely to deliver a blunt notice to the king about his imminent death. Hezekiah prays to God directly, and the prophet “had not gone out of the middle court, the word of the Lord came to him” (II Kings 20:4) and God tells him to return to Hezekiah to say that his prayer has been heard and he shall live. Notably, in the Chronicles version this entire incident is summed up in a single short verse (and an obscure one at that), with no mention of Isaiah whatsoever (II Chronicles 32:24) – suggesting perhaps that the author found even oblique references to the alleged healing powers of prophets distasteful.54 Not so with the northern man of God, for whom full-scale healing is almost a routine part of his duties, irrespective of whether he speaks in the Lord’s name or not, and the ailing person typically appeals to him, not to God. The Elements of Surprise and Astonishment Encounters with the northern man of God almost invariably involve an element of awe and mystery. Whoever approaches him – especially a king – is struck by this immediately upon meeting him. Occasionally the awe is at his conduct, but more often it is his speech rather than his actions. Over time, we discover that the enigma in his words is the key to solving the problem behind the appeal. In his meeting with Saul, Samuel asks him: “And for whom is all that is desirable in Israel? Is it not for you and all your ancestral house?” (I Samuel 9:20). Samuel’s entire demeanor and conduct in this story is enigmatic and unpredictable: he invites Saul to eat with him and to climb before him onto the stage. He sets aside a special dish for him, and after anointing Saul as king, performs various signs (ibid. 10:2–10). But from other occasions we find that the details of the initial encounter do not necessarily have anything to do with the meeting’s stated purpose – rather, they are intended to surprise the other person, to throw them off balance and evoke an awe beyond even what is normally associated with a person

54 Kalimi maintains that the version in the Book of Chronicles is greatly abridged simply because if the reader is interested they can read the full version in the book of II Kings. The “sign” mentioned here is repeated in v. 31, referring apparently to the story of the shadow that recedes by ten steps. Kalimi believes that the author chose merely to hint at the sign, since in the full version Hezekiah appears to be somewhat skeptical of the prophet’s promise. See: I. Kalimi, The Book of Chronicles: Historical Writing and Literary Devices, Jerusalem 2000 pp. 202–204 [Hebrew].

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of high rank. The man of God demands not only respect and courtesy from those who appeal to him, but fear, as well – the kind elicited when encountering someone capable of summoning transcendental forces. A similar description recurs in the encounter at Ein Dor – but in truth, it characterizes all the encounters between Samuel and Saul. At Ein Dor, too, there is a direct internal link between the ominous situation and the prophecy concerning Saul, his people and the Israelite camp (I Samuel 28:19). The same is true of the two stories of the rift between them (ibid., Chaps. 13, 16). But it is most clearly illustrated during Saul’s anointment as king: as Samuel performs the signs he concludes with the words – And once these signs have happened to you, do whatever your hand finds to do, for God is with you.

After the previous sign he was told that, under the influence of the band of prophets he would turn “into another man.” And, indeed, the author confirms that after Saul leaves Samuel, God gives him “another heart” (I Samuel 10:5–9) – suggesting that the significance of the entire story is that Saul was made king not necessarily by virtue of his skills and personal attributes, but because God, through Samuel, “turned him” into another man – or, to put it another way, he had a “spell” cast on him by the man of God. Significantly, none of these elements are found in Samuel’s encounters with David – underlining not only the contrasts between Saul and David, but also, by extension, the different perceptions within Israel and Judah of the man of God’ identity and function.55 A comparison with literary prophecy helps to sharpen this distinction still further. In the northern kingdom, awe and mystery serve only to magnify the figure of the man of God, who is at the forefront of both the narrative and the storyteller’s consciousness.56 With the written prophets, however, the element of mystery appears in two

55 For a comprehensive comparison of the tendentious differences in the portrayal of David and Saul as reflected in the descriptions of their beginnings, see: S. Gelander, “One Story, Two Stories: On Folktale Motifs as Literary Devices in the Biblical Narratives of Saul and David,” Jewish Folklore and Ethnology Review 14, 1–2 (1992) pp. 62–65. See also: M. Reiss, “Samuel and Saul, a Negative Symbiosis,” Jewish Bible Quarterly 32, 1 (2004) pp. 35–43. 56 See Rofé’s definitions of the legenda and its roles in the prophets’ portrayal, ibid. pp. 19–30, 107.

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contexts: between the prophet and his audience, where the prophet performs a symbolic act at God’s behest; and between God and the prophet, whereby the prophet is charged with “deciphering” a certain vision (Moses, Exodus 3:1–3; Jeremiah 1:11–14; Amos 7:1–9; 8:1–3; 9:1–4). What these two levels have in common is mainly their didactic purpose – both the symbolic act and the prophetic vision must be immediately deciphered, to understand the underlying ideological message. The prophet asks himself “What is this vision?,” or is asked by God “What do you see?,” and the manner of his reply – using verbal/onomatopaeic devices to hint at the vision’s hidden meaning – confirms that he understands. Mystery, in other words, serves as a testing and learning device. The two levels are a sign that the prophet – like his audience – is required to pass a comprehension test. They also demonstrate that what is central to the event is not the prophet’s volatile and forbidding personality, but the level of communication and understanding between the speaker and his audience.57 These depictions of the literary prophets, with the focus shifted from the prophet’s personality to his mission, are a dramatic departure from the portrayals of the warrior prophets. This is an evolutionary change, and therefore not necessarily indicative of differences between Judah and Israel. Nevertheless, the absence of mystery, shock and awe in the descriptions of the Judean men of God is striking, and we must conclude that this, too, is a key difference between north and south that the authors of the Books of Kings and Samuel were well aware of. There are many other examples of men of God engaged in mystifying or unpredictable behavior – such as in the story of Ahijah of Shiloh, who secretly anoints Jeroboam as king (I Kings 11:29–39), or when he recognizes Jeroboam’s wife merely by her footsteps, despite her attempts to disguise herself (ibid. 14:6); the story of the Judean man of God, who refuses to accompany Jeroboam to his house (ibid. 13, esp. v. 8–9); Elijah, who appears at the house of the widow woman from Zarefath and instructs her to make him a cake (ibid. 17:13); the prophet who tells Ahab that “that great host” of the Aramean armies will be delivered into his hands (ibid. 20:13–14); the man of God who promises the King of Israel that the armies of Aram will be delivered 57

In many instances, the meaning of the symbolic act or its analogue is presented immediately after the act itself, occasionally in response to a question by the audience. See: Jeremiah 13:12–17; and cf. Isaiah 20:1–6; Ezekiel 12:9 in its context; 5:1–9 vs. vss 10–12; 4:1–12 vs. v. 13–17, and 12:17–28.

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into his hands, because they said “the Lord is a God of mountains, but he is not a God of the valleys” (ibid. v. 28);58 and the prophet disciple who orders his colleague to strike him for no reason (ibid., v. 35), and when the latter refuses has him killed by a lion, as he predicts (the fact that another man who happens upon the scene carries out the order without hesitation indicates the absolute authority projected by a man of God, as early as the “prophet disciple” stage). Micaiah son of Imlah surprises King Ahab when he abruptly changes his prophecy about the forthcoming battle (cf. I Kings 22:15 and v. 17).59 Bemusement greets Elisha when he forbids the king of Israel to kill the Arameans who ventured inadvertently into Samaria (II Kings 6:22) – and deepens further when he explains why: Did you take them captive with your sword and bow that you would strike them down? Rather, set bread and water before them, that they may eat and drink and go to their master (v. 22).

He could, after all, claim that this victory, like all victories was delivered by God in one way or another. Events prove this to be a shrewd political move – “And the Aramean bands stopped invading the land of Israel” (v. 23) – as are many of the above examples. But even when the explanation of the man of God’s conduct becomes known, it is clear that what matters is the mystification itself, the impression that the prophet’s wisdom is drawn from mysterious sources beyond human understanding. No one illustrates this better than Elisha, who tells Hazael to tell his master that he will be cured of his illness, when God had showed him that in fact he would die (II Kings 8:10); when he instructs a prophet disciple to anoint Jehu son of Nimshi (ibid. 9:1–3, 4–10; for more on this story, see also Section III below); and in his prophecy to the king of Israel about the arrows (II Kings 13:18–19). The Danger of Contact with the Man of God In various stories the northern man of God is depicted as one with whom contact is dangerous, and occasionally fatal. This is neither

58 The king in question is Ahab, and so, too, in the story about Micaiah son of Imlah (I Kings 22) – but on the complexities of the chronology see: J. Gray, I and II Kings (OTL), London 1964 pp. 70–74. 59 On the elements of enigma and volatility as consistent features of both Micaiah and Elijah, see: D.G. Firth, “Backward Masking, Implicit Characterization of Elijah in the Micaiah Narrative,” Old Testament Essays 13, 2 (2000) pp. 174–185.

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unequivocal nor always consistent: while the captains of fifty who behave disrespectfully toward Elijah are consumed by fire from heaven (II Kings 1), Elijah flees for his life after foretelling the imminent drought (I Kings 17:1–6; and cf. ibid. 18:8–13), and for fear of Jezebel’s persecution (ibid. 19:1–3)60 Hence divine protection of the man of God is neither assured nor automatic, and his mission can expose him to danger. But Elijah’s flights to safety have other reasons – in the former instance it represents a trial and test, in preparation for his mission, while in the latter it is brought on by personal crisis, as discussed above.61 In other words, the man of God’s immunity from harm fails when he is being tested or when he is weak, but otherwise he is fairly invulnerable. Indeed, his popular image is of one who is untouchable. As Obadiah, the palace steward, complains: “And as soon as I have gone from you, the spirit of the Lord will carry you off I do not know where” (18:12) – meaning, the divine spirit keeps carrying him off hither and thither beyond capture. A typical example of the dangers of contact with the man of God is the story of the young boys who jeer at Elisha. Although later Midrashic interpretations try to soften the severity of his reprisal, from a straight reading of the text one can only conclude that whoever jeers at a prophet, even a boy, does so at his peril.62 This indeed is true of anyone who harms the prophet – even a person who merely doubts his words is trampled to death, as the king’s captain learns to his cost, in line with Elisha’s enigmatic prophecy the day before (II Kings 6). Even a king of Israel dies for ignoring Micaiah’s warning (I Kings 22); as does the aforesaid disciple who refuses to obey his colleague’s command to strike him (I Kings 20:35). (We later learn that this was a symbolic act illustrating the king’s sin in releasing the king of Aram – he too is destined to pay with his life for his error.) The man killed by the lion for refusing to strike his colleague did not know the reasoning behind the order – although the text states that the other disciple prefaced his command with the words “at the word of the Lord,” phrasing in such

60 A. Rofé maintains that the story of Elijah and the captains of fifty is only an epigone, i.e. a late story in which the authors attempt to imitate the structure and form of such “classical” stories (ibid. pp. 36–37). Nevertheless, it reflects the concept of the man of God’s image is not different in this story than in all the above discussed instances. 61 See: U. Simon, Reading Prophetic Narratives, pp. 193–206. 62 Cf. D.E. Fass, “Elisha’s Locks and the She-Bears,” Journal of Reform Judaism 34, 3 (1987) pp. 23–29.

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a way as to suggest that though God might have spoken to him, he in turn did not address his companion in God’s name. The moral of this deliberately short story is that the duty of unquestioning obedience is absolute, derived from the very authority of the man of God, or even of a prophet disciple. Moreover, even the slightest lapse in execution can cost one dearly – Joash the king of Israel strikes the ground only three times with his arrows instead of the prescribed five or six, and is consequently told he will succeed in smiting Aram in only three of their military encounters (II Kings 13:18–19). The symbolic significance of the act in this case may be self-evident, but whereas in the “classical” prophets of later periods the metaphor and its analogy are cited together for clarity, with the early northern prophets the author is content merely to record the command and the punishment for not carrying it out. So while the reader may understand where the king erred, the storyteller sets out to show only that the king was tested and found lacking. This is echoed in Samuel’s harsh response to Saul’s first mistake (of making an offering without waiting for Samuel ) – even though the prophet himself had erred by being late to his own appointment (I Samuel 13:8–14). It is a matter of principle: although Saul’s decision may have appeared justifiable in the circumstances – Samuel was late and Saul saw that his troops were beginning to disperse and feared he might lose his advantage over the Philistines – Samuel’s uncompromising reaction makes it clear that Saul failed the critical test of obedience, which is not subject to logical reasoning. In this respect, Saul’s falling out of favor in this story is even more serious and fundamental than over the war with Amalek (ibid., 15), where his sin is more readily apparent – sparing the life of the Amalekite king and his best livestock, thereby violating a fundamental Deuteronomic ban, as reiterated in Samuel’s words: “Moreover, the Glory of Israel does not deceive or change His mind, for He is not a human that He should change His mind” (v. 29).63 We will return to this issue later on. While in some of the above examples it could be said that the people harmed in the clash with the man of God are punished for disobeying God, there are other themes at work. One is when a king does not understand that it is God who is delivering his enemies into his hands,

63 See A. Rofé, ibid. pp. 128–144, who considers the book of Jonah a polemic against the deterministic world view as expressed in northern compositions such as in I Samuel 15.

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and in another – where he strikes the ground only three times with the arrows – the issue at stake is not only belief in God but also of belief in one’s own strength (especially since in this instance the man of God does not cite God as the source of the salvation, as he does earlier on in the same scene – I Kings 13:17). Thus, when discussing the general picture emerging from the stories of the prophets, we must distinguish between the core ideological messages and the themes deriving from folklore and tradition – one of these being the danger inherent in faceto-face encounters with the man of God, which complements his aura of enigma and unpredictability. Acts of Magic The work of the northern man of God often borders on the magical, although it is not explicitly described as such.64 The signs that Samuel gives Saul, although they might be interpreted as purely symbolic acts, are what change Saul into “another man” by their very execution, not because their symbolism has been realized.65 After all, their symbolic significance could be appreciated only as Saul’s reign played out, not at its outset. Nearly all the healing acts carried out by Elijah and Elisha are depicted as feats of magic, except when the man of God prayed before performing them.66 Elisha, for example, purifies the water in Jericho, and only then declares, “Thus said the Lord: I heal this water – no longer shall death and bereavement come from it” (II Kings 2:19–22).67 On another occasion, he “heals” some gourds by throwing flour into the pot, with no reference to God (ibid. 4:38–41). Another typical instance is when he cures Naaman of his leprosy – here, too, Elisha prescribes

64

See: B. Uffenheimer, ibid. pp. 289–292. These signs may be interpreted in one form or another as hints at Saul’s kingship. The two first signs may represent his affinities with Benjamin in particular and with all “House of Joseph” tribes in general, as they mention both the tomb of Rachel and Bethel, the temple of which is associated with Jacob. The encounter with the band of prophets in the vicinity of the Philistines may hint at the role of the prophet disciples in rallying the national spirit against the Philistines. Cf. the symbolic clues offered by Abarbanel (Reprint Jerusalem 1956 pp. 219–221 [Hebrew]. For more on the ancestral stories as reflected in the stories of the book of Samuel see: D. Rudman, “The Patriarchal Narratives in the Books of Samuel,” VT 54,2 (2004) pp. 239–249. 66 The story of Elijah and the son of the widow, I Kings 17:20; Elisha and the Shunammite, II Kings 4:32, although in this case Elisha initially sought to perform the healing merely by sending his servant and without any appeal to God. 67 Rofé (ibid. p. 107) suggests that these words are a redactor’s addition, designed to attribute the healing to God. 65

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the required treatment with no mention of God whatsoever: “Go and bathe seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean” (ibid. 5:10). Naaman himself is surprised and disappointed at this: “I thought that he would surely come out to me, and stand, and call in the name of God” (v. 11). The same occurs in other instances, such as the jug of oil and the prophet disciple’s widow (ibid. 4:1–7); Elisha inflicting Naaman’s leprosy on Gehazi (ibid. 5:25–27) – where Elisha is shown also to have powers of divination, too (v. 26); the case of the iron axe that falls into the water (6:1–7); the captains of fifty who are consumed by a fire from the heavens at Elijah’s command (Chapter 1). Bordering on the magical are aspects of other stories, too, such as the signs the Judean man of God (I Kings 13) gives Jeroboam, especially the rending of the altar; Ahijah of Shiloh foretelling the future to Jeroboam’s wife in a manner similar to that of giving a sign (I Kings 14:12); the story of Elisha, king Jehoram and the player (II Kings 3:14–20); and the story of Elisha, alerting the king of Israel about the Arameans (how would he know where the enemy was encamped?) (ibid. 6:9–10). In the latter story, Elisha admittedly prays to God – “Lord, open his eyes and let him see” (v. 17) – but only much later one, and in connection with a minor matter not necessarily related to the essence of the act itself. In the next verse he prays: “Please strike this people with blindness” (v. 18), and then: “O Lord, open the eyes of these men so that they may see” (v. 20) – as if the power to blind people and to cure the blinded is in God’s hands, but foretelling the future and the power of divination are his own abilities.68 It cannot be an accident that all these attributes are absent in the stories about David, and generally in reference to the kings of Judah. Nor can it be explained on the grounds of evolution of faith, since Samuel, Nathan and Gad flourished long before the time of the abovementioned northern men of God. One might argue, with some plausibility, that this difference is a deliberate ploy of the authors – witness how Samuel emulates northern men of God when dealing with Saul, 68 In “Israel’s faith in the age of the monarchies: stability and fermentation,” A. Malamat (ed.), The History of Israel: The Age of the Monarchies – Culture and Society, Jerusalem 1982 p. 82 [Hebrew]. M. Greenberg suggests that victory prophecies such as the aforementioned one by Elisha gave rise to a new concept: the the savior king acting in the name of God, who restores Israel’s borders. Such Messianic hopes were pinned upon kings of Israel before finally resting with the House of David, as we shall discuss later in Chapter 3.

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but behaves differently with David. Nevertheless, judging by the sheer variety of the examples and their common features, I am inclined to conclude that the depiction of the northern man of God is rooted in the reality known to the authors or the editors, even if this knowledge did not come to them at first hand but was drawn from narrative traditions of their predecessors. We shall return later to the question of their intentions in compiling and editing the stories of the early prophets.69 III. Failure and Crisis The story that follows, about a task given to one of the prophet disciples, needs to be prefaced with a short explanation about the significance of such stories in the Hebrew Bible. Stories about messengers or emissaries and how they carry out their missions are a central literary theme in biblical narrative, not merely a technical device to advance the plot. They enable to take in the moral and meaning of changing situations on different levels and in various areas. Mission narratives rely heavily on repetition, and often there is a significant discrepancy between the mission as described by the sender and the way it is accomplished by the emissary. These discrepancies help the narrator to clarify and highlight the various ideas behind the stories.70 The mission bridges different worlds, values, or realities, while highlighting the contrasts between them. In literary terms, it fulfils a role similar in many ways to the image of the train in European (especially Russian) literature, or that of bridges over rivers in various cultures. There are no real travelogues in the Hebrew Bible – even the wanderings of the Patriarchs cannot be considered as such, since they lack the most basic attribute of such stories, such as descriptions of the

69

On the composition and editing of the book of Kings, including a debate on the various layers and their estimated dates, see especially: M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School, Winona Lake 19922, and esp. idem “The Formation of the Deuteronomistic school,” From Joshua to Josiah, Jerusalem 1992 pp. 134–155 [Hebrew]. Also: L.W. Prowan, Hezekiah and the Books of Kings, Berlin – New-York 1988; J.R. Linville, Israel in the Book of Kings, Sheffield 1998; N. Rösel, “The Stories of the Early Prophets – composition and message,” Beit Mikra 154–155 (1998) pp. 245–255 [Hebrew]; M. Haran, The Biblical Collection, volume 2, Jerusalem 2003 [Hebrew]. 70 On the relationship between missionary stories constructed in the repetitionstyle and central tenets of biblical belief see: S. Gelander, Art and Idea in Biblical Narrative, Tel-Aviv 1997 pp. 95–114 [Hebrew].

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differences between places en route and the impressions they evoke in the traveler. Even the most obvious example of a mission story – that of Abraham’s servant being sent to Aram-naharaim (Genesis 24) says nothing about the journey itself, although it must have taken several months.71 Of the 67 verses devoted to the story, only one is used to describe the servant’s departure (v. 10) – in the next he is already arriving: “He made his camels kneel down by the well outside the city.” The same is true with the narrative of Jephthah’s campaign, in which all the places where he smites the Ammonites are listed in but a single verse (Judges 11:33). This is clearly intentional: the narrator does not wish to distract the reader from the main purpose of the story, and so purposely avoids descriptions of exotic places or adventures and events that are incidental to the plot.72 As for the story of the wanderings of Israel in the desert, this does not qualify as a travelogue either, but as the framework of events of the early history of Israel in a single itinerary, the work of priestly redactors who later attached to these events the names of locations, the dates of occurrence, and an etymology designed to interpret the meaning of the names. By highlighting the discrepancy between the emissary’s given mission and its execution in practice, the device of repetition illustrates the differences between conception and execution. Nowhere is this more clearly demonstrated than in II Kings 9:1–10, where a prophet disciple is charged to go and anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king, in secret: Then Elisha the prophet called one of the disciples of the prophets and said to him: Gird up your loins, and take this flask of oil in your hand, and go to Ramoth-gilead. When you arrive there, go and see Jehu son of Jehoshaphat son of Nimshi; get him to leave his comrades, and take him into an inner room. Then take the flask of oil, and pour it on his head, and say: Thus said the Lord: I anoint you king over Israel. Then open the door and flee without delay.

Remarkably, the disciple charged with this highly important task remains nameless, as if it were of no importance. The mission is also notable for other reasons – while the mission is stated extremely briefly – only seven words in the Hebrew – its execution is described in minute detail, indicating that the method of execution is critical to 71

For other travel journals of this sort, see: W.W. Hallo, “Road to Emar,” JCS 18 (1964) pp. 57–88. 72 As noted and explored by Erich Auerbach, “Die Narbe des Odysseus,” Mimesis, Bern 1946 pp. 7–30.

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the mission’s success, even more than its instructions. Secondly, the subject is cited by his full name – Jehu son of Jehoshaphat son of Nimshi – a clear precaution against misidentification that contrasts sharply with the disciple’s anonymity, of which more later. This detail also emphasizes the importance of carrying out the mission in secret, in private and as quickly as possible. In practice, however, the messenger makes every possible mistake. Elisha must have known that it would not be easy to meet Jehu privately, for he instructs his emissary to “get him to leave his comrades.” But far from exercising due discretion, the disciple injects the scene with inappropriate drama, as if wishing to put himself at center stage. Even his words of introduction are unduly melodramatic, inviting expectation: “Commander, I have a message for you.” Rising to the occasion, Jehu draws all the attention to himself, asking: “For which of us all?,” to which the messenger replies: “For you, commander.” At this stage it is clear that any hope of privacy or discretion has been blown. So, too, in quick succession, are other vital aspects of the mission: the messenger fails to take Jehu into an inner room, content to go merely “into the house,” precluding any chance of real secrecy. He then pours the oil on Jehu’s head, but botches the anointment proclamation with clumsy redundancies – “Thus says the Lord the God of Israel, I anoint you king over the people of the Lord, over Israel,” followed, bizarrely, by a wholly unwarranted speech: “And you shall strike down the house of Ahab your master, that I may avenge on Jezebel the blood of my servants the prophets and the blood of all the servants of the Lord. For the whole house of Ahab shall perish; and I will cut off from Ahab every male, bond or free, in Israel. And I will make the house of Ahab like the house of Jeroboam the son of Nebat, and like the house of Baasha the son of Ahiah. And the dogs shall eat Jezebel in the territory of Jezreel, and none shall bury her.” Fifty-eight words (in the Hebrew), instead of seven! Only at this point does the disciple recall his master’s orders: “Then he opened the door, and fled.” Critical commentaries judge this speech to be a later, Deuteronomistic insertion, but for our purposes this is irrelevant.73 The mere contrast between the briefing for the assignment and its execution is enough to achieve the redactor’s purpose. The long-winded details are evidently of no importance to Jehu – they are only meant for the

73

See: J. Gray, I & II Kings (OTL), London 1964 pp. 487–489.

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reader. Therefore, if this passage is indeed the product of an amendment, it was done in a most artful, sensitive way possible, in keeping with the story’s aim.74 The disciple was not, in other words, unfaithful to the spirit of his mission, only to its letter, his verbosity betraying his personal sympathies and identification with its purpose. There is a precedent for this in the prophetic narratives – when Elijah is sent by God to King Ahab, he does not repeat God’s words verbatim, but adds flourishes of his own (I Kings 21:20–24). But there is an important difference – Elijah was not instructed to perform his mission secretly, or expeditiously. In failing this aspect of his mission, the disciple jeopardizes the success of his mission – which in turn leads to a series of negative consequences. The anointing of kings was usually performed in secret by men of God – unlike the coronation itself, which took place in a public ceremony in several stages.75 There were several reasons for this. First, in these instances the anointing was a clandestine act against the reigning king (or, in the case of Saul – against the Philistines). It also allowed for a period of ripening and incubation until the new reign could go public, and by violating the condition of secrecy an inept messenger prevented this from happening. However, this was but the culmination of a series of failures. According to the preceding stories, it was Elijah who was charged with anointing Jehu as king (I Kings 19:16), but failed to do so for some unknown reason, just as he failed to perform the second of his final three missions – to anoint Hazael as king of Aram – which was performed by his successor, Elisha. The fact that Elisha, too, passed on the responsibility for this, the last of Elijah’s assignments, to a nameless disciple, may be symptomatic of a systemic failure that came to light only when it went wrong. A general crisis of the prophetic movement ensued.76 As we know, the prophets’ expectations of Jehu ended in disillusion. He failed to complete the task of clearing the land of Baal worship, and while he did avenge the death of Naboth the Jezreelite on the house of Ahab, he did so with a bloodbath

74 For other instances of artful amendments or addenda to ancient narratives by redactors, see: Yairah Amit, “The Multi-Purpose ‘Leading Word’ and the problems of its usage,” Prooftexts 9, 2 (1989) pp. 99–114. 75 See: Z. Weisman, “The Prophetic Pattern of Anointing Kings in Ancient Israel,” BMECCI volume 1: Monarchies and Socio Religious Traditions in the Ancient Near East, Wiesbaden 1985 pp. 21–26. 76 On the comic aspect of the fulfillment of this mission, see: J.R. Linville, ibid. pp. 191–201.

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of unprecedented proportions. The disappointment with Jehu brought the prophetic movement to a crossroads: from that point onwards, prophets avoided taking an active part in anointing kings. Their political activity was thereafter limited to preaching and offering advice to monarchs and the ruling circles, and was always subordinate to their spiritual work. The practice of literacy, which began about that time, also contributed to an introversion and sublimation of prophetic activity and to a move of its center of gravity toward spiritual activity. An echo of the crisis following the anointing of Jehu is evident in Hosea, one of the first of the literary prophets: “. . . for, I will soon punish the house of Jehu for the bloody deeds at Jezreel . . .” (Hosea 1:4).77 The story seems to provide an oblique reference to the chain of developments. The botched anointing is seen as a partial explanation for the failure of the entire plan: since secrecy was not maintained, Jehu’s rise to power was rushed, thwarting the necessary incubation and preparation. Midrashic literature speculated on a link between the failure of prophets and the failure of their monarchs: David and Solomon were anointed from a horn, and their kingdom lasted. But Saul and Jehu were anointed from a flask, and their kingdom did not last.78

In any event, as far as the historiographer of the Book of Kings is concerned, the verdict is clear: responsibility for the failure lay not with Elijah, nor with Elisha, but with a prophet “apprentice.” Political activism in general, and anointing kings in particular, was not exclusive to northern prophets. The early prophets in Judah also engaged in it: Samuel secretly anointed David; Nathan played a significant part in Solomon’s ascent to the throne in place of Adonijah son of Haggith. Gad’s mission concerning the pestilence – inflicted as punishment for the census – appears to have had a political aspect to it, too, since the census, as we shall see, was an act of political significance and implications, as were the objections to it. But here, in the context of the stories about the prophets of the northern kingdom and in the light of the descriptions of prophet disciples, the criticism goes beyond any single act or phenomenon to be leveled at the essence

77

On the historical background of Hosea’s prophecies, see: Z. Weisman, “Introduction to the Book of Hosea,” The World of the Bible: The Minor Prophets, Volume 1, Ramat-Gan 1994 pp. 14–25 [Hebrew]. 78 Babli, Megilah Ch. 1 leaf 14 p. 1 Kritut Ch. 1 leaf 4 p. 1.

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of the prophet movement in the north, in particular the notion of prophecy by succession. This criticism has a number of complementary aspects: The prophecy movement failed in this instance because the succession principle was abused – instead of transmitting knowledge from master to disciples, it shirks responsibility by foisting it on one’s subordinates. Given their basically positive view of Elijah, the authors might have felt uncomfortable with laying the entire blame for the “Jehu fiasco” at his door, but the sting of the criticism is all the more subtle for it. If the prophet disciples themselves are anything to go by, the “training” for prophecy is woefully inadequate: when Elijah ascends to heaven they fail to understand and insist on searching for him. The benign explanation may be that they found it difficult to come to terms emotionally with losing their master, but in the text’s depiction of how they recognized that “the spirit of Elijah has settled on Elisha” (II Kings 2:15), and how upon approaching Elisha they “bent low before him to the ground,” it seems that the real reason behind their insistence on searching for Elijah is that they were not overly-endowed with spirituality. A far more serious shortcoming in a trainee prophet is evident when Gehazi succumbs to greed (II Kings 5:20–26).79 In general, it is perhaps no coincidence that almost every time one of the prophet disciples approaches his master, the reason is material distress of some sort, and has nothing to do with issues of faith; Quite possibly the same element of criticism against the institutionalization of prophecy is inherent in the stories about Samuel and Eli, where it becomes clear that inheritance is perceived as corrupting – Eli’s sons are corrupt, and so too are Samuel’s sons, who do not follow in his footsteps, and this is even presented as a preliminary argument for monarchy, which itself is frowned upon in the Deuteronomistic view.80 In other words, the people’s demand

79 In Every High Official Has a Higher One Set Over Him, ibid. pp. 95–123, Y. Zakovitch discusses whether this part of the story is an integral part of the original narrative on the healing of Naaman’s leprosy, or was inserted later. However, regardless of whether this is the case, this part is consistent with the rest of the story in terms of the underlying critical message. 80 See: M. Weinfeld, “The Emergence of the Deutronomic Movement: The Historical Antecedents,” Das Deuteronomium (1985) pp. 76–98.

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You have grown old, and your sons have not followed your ways. Therefore appoint a king for us, to govern us like all other nations” (I Samuel 8:5) suggests that the “sins” of the monarchy is echoed in the flawed structure and organization of the prophetic institution.

Although criticism of the northern tradition of prophecy “apprenticeship” clearly originates with the stories’ editors and is not necessarily the product of an authentic historical account, it is tempting to believe that the presentation of Elisha as Elijah’s personal disciple and successor is due to a biased editing of the stories about the two. But this interpretation is unwarranted, on several counts: Elisha is not his master’s apprentice; nor is even a “son of prophet” or disciple, but a farmer, who is called to his ministry from behind the plow.81 Elisha is also not Elijah’s successor, since – notwithstanding their resemblance in some respects – they are more different than alike. For example, Elisha’s whereabouts are always known, and those who wish to see him visit him at home, while Elijah is always about, sent “at God’s bidding” hither and thither. The loneliness that characterizes Elijah and the accounts of his persecution for his zealous belief in God are entirely absent in the stories about Elisha, who is surrounded by servants and well-wishers, and enjoys the respect and veneration of kings and common folk. Even when the king vows to separate Elisha’s head from his shoulders (II Kings 6:31), the prophet comes across not as someone persecuted, but is shown sitting at home, surrounded by elders and unafraid of the king’s envoy. Nor is there any sign of the continuing conflict that marked the relationship between Elijah and the house of Ahab – neither on a religious-ritual level nor on the moral-legal one.82 Indeed, literary analysis suggests that the stories about Elisha were written at an earlier period than those about Elijah, especially given their religious and national outlook.83 If these observations are correct, we may repeat the assertion that the critical sting in these stories is aimed at the notion of prophecy as an acquired vocation, which may be acquired by study or passed on, rather than a divine mission imposed upon the prophet without

81

Steinsalz. Ibid. See: Z. Weisman, “Elisha and the House of Ahab – Continuing struggle or reconciliation?,” The Prophetic Literature in the Bible, Part 2, The Open University 2006 pp. 113–116 [Hebrew]. 83 Rofé, ibid. passim. 82

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warning. Other differences arise from this fundamental distinction, including the focus on the personality and status of the man of God in the north, as opposed to the southern view – represented by the authors – which places the mission itself at the center, and the only conflict of importance is between the word of God on the one hand and the errant recipients on the other. That said, it is important to retain a proper perspective: the main purpose of the stories is undoubtedly to present the men of God as exemplary figures and to glorify their actions. This implicit criticism, such as it is, is designed not to belittle the northern prophets, but to uncover essential differences between the northern and southern perceptions of what constitutes good prophetic practice.

CHAPTER TWO

THE EVIDENCE OF THE PATRIARCHAL STORIES: THE ABRAHAM NARRATIVE VS. THE JACOB NARRATIVE I. Introduction The Abraham Cycle (Genesis 12:1–25:11) differs from the Jacob Cycle (Genesis 25:19–35, 29–36) in several respects.1 First, there is a discernible difference of style and structure, due mainly to divergent cultural patterns and endemic phenomena, as well as contrasting religious concepts. But there is also a different literary approach, as evident in the aims and tendencies of the story. The same goes for the portrayal of the heroes. The broad consensus among critical commentaries is that the main stratum of the Abraham stories is attributable to the southern documentary source (the Judean – J), while that of the Jacob stories is of northern (= Ephratite – E) origin. It has also been commonly thought that the J pre-date those of E – but as Z. Weisman noted recently, this assumption is largely untrue. His analysis reveals the primary stratum in the Jacob stories as the earlier of the two, the passages of J origin being later editorial additions.2 In so doing, Weisman has also succeeded in the resolving some of the basic textual difficulties.3 In our present study there is no room for such an in-depth textual analysis, but as a rule, it is worth noting that southern additions to the Jacob stories are broadly distinguishable by their content and outlook. One fundamental difference is that in the stories of divine revelations to Jacob, God is portrayed mainly as a deity of personal

1 I prefer this sort of division of the stories, although others have chosen to attribute the list of Ishmael’s descendants (Genesis 25:12–18) to the Abraham Cycle, and the list of Esau’s descendants (Genesis 36) to the Jacob Cycle. Some also regard Genesis 25:19–26:35 as an independent entity within the Isaac stories. See: G.W. Coats, Genesis, with an Introduction to Narrative Literature, Grand Rapids 1983. 2 See: Z. Weisman, From Jacob to Israel, Jerusalem 1986. 3 These are particularly apparent in the description of Jacob’s dream at Bethel (Genesis 28:10–22), with its redundancies and inconsistencies (ibid. pp. 57–67) – but also in the stories of the treaty at Gilead, of the struggle at Jabbok and of the birth of Jacob and Esau.

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protection. Even His promises to Jacob are at the personal level; only in the secondary – Judean – stratum are the nationalist aspects added. While inserting these additions, the editor(s) tried to adapt their style and structure to those of the basic stratum – often quite skillfully and sensitively, making the distinction between the strata fairly challenging. For this reason, I prefer to discuss the Jacob Cycle without reference to the documentary division.4 This study will confine itself, therefore, to details that are illustrative of the distinctions between North and South. The Abraham Cycle consists of several discrete stories, each founded on an independent plot and setting. Occasionally, a story might be perceived as a direct sequel of its predecessor – such as the story of the destruction of Sodom (Genesis 19), when the angels arrive at Sodom after having visited Abraham, and reveal to him what is about to happen. But even here the alleged continuity is questionable, as the number and identity of the visitors varies as the story unfolds: one moment we read about three people, who speak and are addressed in the plural; the next moment it is a single person, who speaks and is spoken to in the singular. The story appears, therefore, to be a fusion of two separate narratives. The mention of “the two angels” at the start of the story of Sodom may be a redactor’s attempt to bridge these two accounts, by implying that the three “men” were none other than God Himself and two angels.5 However, later in the story, the text again talks about “men,” not angels. Similarly, the story of the confrontation between Abraham’s herdsmen and those of Lot (chapter 13) might be regarded as a sequel to the story of Abraham and Sarah in Egypt. We are told that on returning from Egypt, Abraham and Lot were both rich in cattle and flocks and herds, and therefore “the land could not support them to dwell together.” Yet apart from this loose connection, the two stories have independent plots, and the conflicts they describe are of a very different nature.

4 For a similar approach, albeit with a different reasoning, see: H. Bloom, Genesis, New-York 1986; R.N. Whybray, The Making of the Pentateuch: A Methodological Study, Sheffield 1994; Idem, Introduction to the Pentateuch, Grand Rapids, Michigan 1995. 5 See: B. Uffenheimer, “Genesis 18–19, a New Approach,” Mélanges André Neher, Librairie d’Amérique et d’Orient, Paris 1975 pp. 145–153. Also: S. Gelander, “Simple stories in the process of becoming composed and complex,” Art and Idea in Biblical Narrative, Tel-Aviv 1997 pp. 20–36.

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In other stories the notion of any continuity is even more tenuous. Early interpretations offered various explanations for this – the most notable being that Abraham’s story is a series of trials, each more challenging than the last.6 But such interpretations tend to be schematic and generalized, and are largely driven by a didactic wish to warn future generations, namely “The deeds of the fathers as signs for their sons.”7 The notion that each of Abraham’s trials is more testing than its predecessor is also highly questionable. The final trial, in the story of the Binding, is undoubtedly harder than God’s demand of Abraham to leave his country, clan, and paternal home. It is also more difficult than the humiliating experience in Egypt, when Abraham feels obliged to conceal his wife’s identity and to sacrifice her honor to save his own life. But there is no clear explanation as to why the story of the “covenant of pieces” (Chapter 15) should be placed after the story of the war between the four kings and the kings of the Jordan plains.8 It seems therefore that the narrative sequence of the Abraham stories is merely in the eye of the beholder, and the authors intended only to present a collection of episodes that together might form a mosaic-like portrait of an iconic figure. The Jacob Cycle is altogether different. Here too, there is at least one marked deviation from the sequential order of events – the story of the rape of Dinah (Chapter 34) – as well as several redundancies or discrepancies. For example, while in one version Jacob has grown wealthy by virtue of his cunning (30:28–43), in another he has done so with the help of an angel’s guidance (31:11). In addition, there are discrepancies in the story of the treaties with Laban (31:44–54). In fact, two separate treaties are struck at the same scene: one concerns Gilead, and is about borders, marked by a stone mound and sealed

6 Avoth 5, 3. See also: S. Spero, “Abraham’s Trials: Tests of Strength or Learning Experiences?,” The Jewish Bible Quarterly XXVIII: 2 (110) April–June 2000 pp. 73–79. 7 Joseph is also attributed success in a series of trials in early midrashim – trials that preconceived by divine decree. Bereshit Rabah 91, 6; Tanhumma “Miketz” 5. Similarly, in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs of the Apocrypha, Joseph tells his sons about his ten trials. See the translation of J. Licht, Testing in the Hebrew Scriptures and in Post-Biblical Judaism, Jerusalem 1973 p. 54 [Hebrew]. This suggests that perceiving Abraham’s story as a series of trials is not necessarily a question of literary sequence, since in the story of Joseph the continuity is self-evident. 8 Medieval commentators tried to resolve the problem of the sequential order of these two stories mainly by suggesting linguistic associations, such as “. . . I am a Shield to you” (15:1 ‫ )מגן‬and “Who has delivered (= ‫ )מגן‬your foes” (14:20). They also interpreted the words “fear not” accordingly. (See Rashi, Kimhi et al.).

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with a feast; the other relates to Mizpah, is concerned with ensuring the rights of the women (Laban’s daughters), marked by a monument, and sealed with a sacrifice (vs. 49–54). However, these discrepancies do not compromise the story’s fundamental integrity. They may even be resolved in a number of ways.9 With the exception of the story of the rape of Dinah, the narrative as a whole revolves consistently around a single axis that forms its central theme. It begins with the story of Jacob manipulating his brother into selling him his birthright, and stealing his blessing. All subsequent developments are a consequence of this act, and ultimately return us full-circle to the original conflict. The key to Jacob’s character therefore lies in the brothers’ rivalry, and the Bible’s attitude toward Jacob’s deception is also fundamental to understanding the message and meanings of the entire story cycle. The reader is thereby also the commentator, whose job it is to trace the link between the various stages of Jacob’s life and his original act which led to everything else. Thus, for example, Laban’s deception of Jacob, by giving him Leah instead of Rachel, is widely seen as retribution or punishment for Jacob’s deception of Esau. By contrast, in the Abraham Cycle, in the absence of any coherent narrative, there is no definitive key with which to judge and evaluate the central figure. For our purposes, the issue of a coherent narrative is intimately linked to how the hero is portrayed. The differences between the two narratives in this respect shed light on the differences in views and concepts of their respective authors. In the following sections, I shall try to show how, in his portrayal of Abraham, the author had fundamentally different aims and views from those of the author of the Jacob cycle. To this end, I will start by analyzing the basic literary elements, namely the components of style and structure. II. Style: in the Speech of Abraham and in the Speech of Jacob The heart and core of any Biblical narrative, as any biblical scholar knows, is in its scenic mode, i.e. in the descriptions presented as

9

For instance, on the discrepancies as to the source of Jacob’s wealth, one may read one version as “the voice of the narrator,” and the other as Jacob’s story to his wives. As for the two treaties, these have been explained by reconstructing the narrative to present them as one, by conjoining the two names into one: Mizpeh-Gilead.

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dramatizations. In these, the reader follows events as they unfold. The centerpiece of such scenes is the protagonists’ dialogue, namely in their direct speech. This is particularly noticeable in biblical narratives, given how these are usually sparing in their descriptions. The landscape of the Promised Land, for instance, is hardly ever described in any detail – if at all – especially in the book of Genesis.10 Only once do we find a detailed depiction, complete with metaphorical constituents: And Lot lifted up his eyes, and saw that the plain of the Jordan was well watered everywhere, like the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt, all the way to Zoar (13:10).

Yet this is possibly the exception that proves the rule, since it occurs within the wider context of a conflict, pitting Lot’s choice against Abraham’s, whereby the detail is inserted to imply that the material advantages of a given location are not necessarily a reliable indication of the right choice. This view is supported by the parenthetic verse – added by either the narrator or the redactor – “This was before the Lord had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah,” implying that Lot was perhaps hasty in his choice (13:6). Even the description of the Garden of Eden leaves much to the imagination: “every tree that was pleasing to the sight and good for food” (2:9). The words serve mainly to deliver the truly pertinent details: “with the tree of life in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and bad.” They also anticipate the woman’s reaction to the snake’s enticement: So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight for the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise.

This suggests that the forbidden fruit was perhaps not visibly remarkable in its external attributes from other fruits of the garden.11

10 Elsewhere in the Pentateuch there are attempts to idealize the Promised Land, with the language adjusted accordingly. See Exodus 3:8, 17; 13:5; 33:3; Numbers 14:8–16:14; Deuteronomy 6:3 and, especially 8:7, 8, 9. Also: 11:9; 23:3; 26:9, 15, 33 etc. It appears, therefore, that in contexts concerned with preparing the people for entry into the country, the narrators know how to describe it in glowing terms. In these contexts, the reported virtues are inseparable from the main message; however, where these advantages are not essential, such descriptions are omitted. 11 The same applies to the description of the garden’s location. The Garden’s boundaries are not described – only the rivers that flowed out of it are mentioned, and these, too, only by name, except one: “The name of the first is Pishon, the one that winds through the whole land of Havilah, where the gold is. The gold of that land is good;

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Extensive or detailed descriptions appear, therefore, to be the exception, and as such, where they do appear, they call for interpretation. I believe that this attribute of biblical stories stems mainly from the difference between them and folk-tales. In biblical stories the narrator does not set out to transport his readers to unknown worlds through amazing and rapturous descriptions, while in folk-tales such devices are an essential part of the storyteller’s stock-in-trade, without which the events have no life of their own.12 Even divine revelations are only rarely described in any detail in the Hebrew Bible. We learn that they occur in nocturnal visions, in dreams, and are sometimes associated with frightening sights or couched in terms of awesome splendor (Chapter 15). In most cases, however, there is no description of the circumstances. Even when divine entities appear before a patriarch – be they angels (mainly in the Jacob Cycle) or “a man” (32:24–30) or “men” (18:2, 16, 22; 19:5, 10, 11, 12, 16,) – no mention is made of anything out of the ordinary in their appearance or in the impression they make. God Himself may occasionally intervene in the course of events – He inflicts mighty plagues upon Pharaoh and his household (12:17), and warns Abimelech king of Gerar (20:3–7) and Laban (31:24) – but the angels of God disappear as quickly as they appear, as soon their mission is complete. Indeed, they are nothing more than personifications of those missions. These findings underline another aspect of the overall ideological aim, namely that communication between God and the patriarchs takes place at the level of faith – something achievable within the boundaries of reality and the framework of human consciousness. Accordingly, we should seek the main thrust of the moral messages of biblical story tales in the verbal exchanges, not in the descriptions.13

bdellium is there, and lapiz luzuli” (= Gen. 2:11–12). The abundance of treasures of that land is portrayed simply, with no metaphors, suggesting that nothing about the Garden of Eden was particularly miraculous or marvelous, besides the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge between good and bad, about which the whole conflict is centered. 12 Cf. J. Licht, “Mimesis as Trait of Biblical Narrative,” J. Licht, G. Brin (Ed.), Hatzvi Israel, Tel-Aviv 1977 pp. 133–142 [Hebrew]. 13 Licht (ibid. p. 134) notes that the mimetic tendency of the narrator is evident mainly in descriptions of people, not of landscapes or of place. This is his way of achieving a reasonable coherence of events, in which people speak in human language, and the dramatic developments emerge from normal situations. In these, the heroes are motivated by a complex range of reasons, revealing personalities in which good and evil are interwoven.

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The importance of direct speech is evident on several counts: a. The first is its sheer preponderance: in the book of Genesis, out of a total of 1534 verses, 651 are of direct speech.14 This suggests that it is the narrator’s preferred means of expression, over the descriptive mode or other forms. b. While it is impossible to establish the precise manner in which people spoke in biblical times, it is almost certain that the direct speech of biblical stories is in no way a reflection of actual daily speech. We can tell this from its structure: everyday speech always includes some formulaic patterns, redundancies, stammering or fumbling for words, and repetitions, at times in order to stress ideas, or because the speaker is searching for the right words. Everyday speech also often features words that do not directly advance the conversation toward its purpose. None of this is true of biblical direct speech: here the elocution is flawless, the dialogues explicit and concise, and each entry clearly helps advance the plot or the illuminate the meaning of the situation at hand. It is nevertheless still human, being neither enigmatic nor mysterious, nor the language of sublime poetry. The greater part of any account of events is conveyed through the protagonists’ speech, suggesting that the narrator prefers to convey his messages through his characters, namely at the level closest to concrete reality. c. The direct speech changes the proportions between the various types of time, i.e. between the erzählte Zeit and the Erzählzeit. While events lasting several hours or even years may be encapsulated in a few short sentences, direct speech conveys a conversation in nearly as long a time as was needed for it in reality. Accordingly, every piece of information conveyed by direct speech is more significant than items reported in any other mode or form. For example, in Genesis 26, everything that happens to Isaac over an entire year is distilled into a single short verse lasting only a few seconds in the reading (v. 12). By contrast, in the same chapter, in an argument with the Philistines over water wells, the words of Isaac’s servants

14 These proportions are close to those of the book of II Samuel, where 269 of the 682 verses are of this type. Other components of style and structure demonstrate an affinity between the Book of Genesis and the book of II Samuel, which is stronger than between any other two books of the Hebrew Bible. See: S. Gelander, “Direct Speech in Biblical Narrative,” Dappim, Research in Literature 8 (1991/2) pp. 123–138 [Hebrew].

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are cited in direct speech form: “The water is ours” (v. 20). The juxtaposition implies that this dispute is more significant than all other events of the preceding year.15 d. Whenever a protagonist speaks, we can never be absolutely sure whether his words are a true reflection of his thoughts and intentions. The remarks may be of an impromptu nature, or the speaker is not sincere. However, when this does happen, the author often marks it with a telltale sign of some sort.16 Significantly, when the speaker’s words – whether spoken or unspoken – are sincere, they are preceded by the word ‫ =( ויאמר‬and X said); when they are not, some other wording is used, such as: “The sons of Jacob answered Shechem and his father Hamor deceitfully . . .” (Genesis 34:13). Another indicator that the speaker is insincere is the use of repetition. In the story of the rape of Dinah, Hamor repeats the offer he made to Jacob to his townsmen. But while doing so, he subtly, but significantly, changes the wording. When the narrator avoids using one of these methods, the protagonists may be taken at their word. I have no unequivocal explanation as to why the biblical authors seemed to prefer direct speech over other forms of literary expression. In ancient Near Eastern literature, various modes of descriptions were prevalent, and the predilection for direct speech is not nearly as obvious as it is here. In the epic of Gilgamesh, for example, there are some long speeches, and some long-winded descriptions delivered by protagonists. But in the Enuma Elish, verses of direct speech are far outnumbered by descriptive ones. This is also the case in many other ancient works. The extent to which the Hebrew Bible uses direct speech appears, therefore, to be unique. It is also consistent with the biblical view of speech and of the spoken word in general. While this may not be enough to conclude that this is the result of deliberate and clever design on the part of the authors, it is nevertheless strongly associated with the book’s contents and trends. The book of Genesis, in particular, sets a number of fundamental precedents on four different levels: the relationship between God and the cosmos, the relationship

15 See also: G. Müller, Die Bedeutung der Zeit in der Erzählkunst, Bonn 1947, and mainly idem: “Erzählkunst und erzählte Zeit,” Festschrift p. Kluchohn und H. Schneider, Tübingen 1948 pp. 195–212; H. Meyerhof, Time in Literature, Berkeley – Los Angeles 1960; A.A. Mendilow, Time and the Novel, Jerusalem 1976. 16 See: R. Alter, “Characterization and the Art of Reticence,” The Art of Biblical Narrative, New York 1981 pp. 114–130.

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between humankind and God, the relationships between individuals, and the patriarchs’ relationship to the Promised Land. In the relationship between God and the cosmos, the world itself is decreed to have been created by divine fiat; in the other three areas, the precedents relate to the mode of negotiation, whereby the outcome is determined not only by what is said, but how. Notably, notwithstanding the extensive use of direct speech in the Genesis narratives, it is very difficult to find any instances of smalltalk or discussions about simple, mundane matters. Virtually every instance of speech has the added role of setting a precedent in negotiations. Many of the protagonists’ utterances appear to have been put in their mouths by the authors with the express purpose of being used and cited by posterity. Inevitably, this approach has direct bearing upon the formation of the characters. As we have seen, the central characters in Genesis are portrayed mainly through their speech – meaning that the authors sought to focus on the traits associated with the heroes’ historical roles. And indeed, although these figures may be examined from various angles and are far from being “flat” or stereotypical, we know next to nothing about their personal, day-to-day lives. We have no idea, for example, whether Abraham was sociable, easygoing or short-tempered. We do not even really know how he behaved toward his wife or whether he was a devoted father. However, as we proceed in this study, we shall see some significant differences between Abraham and Jacob in this respect as well as in others. However, before that, we must appreciate the full significance of direct speech. There can be little doubt that the central role of direct speech comes from the anthropocentric view of the Genesis stories. Not only is humankind considered the zenith and culmination of Creation for whom the entire cosmos has been created, but God even confides with it as to His historical plans for the world (see especially Genesis 15:13–14; 18:17–19). The chosen heroes are even granted the right to express their views on the matter, to negotiate and even to haggle with God as to the actual outcome. Thus, what the protagonists say affects and lays the foundations for the future, and even in conversations between human beings we find direct speech being used to express the conceptual essence of the main idea, message or teaching.17

17 Beside these considerations, it should also be noted that the syntax of biblical language does not lend itself to indirect speech. However, it is difficult to say whether

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As noted earlier, most of the Abraham Cycle consists of short episodes, each comprising a limited number of verses. Accordingly, the passages of direct speech are also short: about 38 paragraphs in total.18 Of these, eighteen are not really dialogues, as they quote only one person, and omit his companion’s reply. Even the dialogues themselves are brief, very rarely extending more than two or three “phases.” Rarer still are instances where they are elaborate and comparatively long: when they are, it is mainly in the context of detailed negotiations. These include Abraham’s argument with God over Sodom and Gomorrah (18:23–32); the negotiations over the cave of Machpelah (23:4–15), and the negotiations conducted by Abraham’s servant at the house of Laban (24:34–61). Significantly, these ratios are very different in the Jacob Cycle. Here we find no fewer than sixty or so direct-speech paragraphs, only eight or so of which are “one-sided” speeches (not counting passages where the mothers declare the names of their children, or where Jacob names places, such Mizpah, Mahanaim, and Peniel ). All other instances are genuine dialogues, many of them longer than those in the Abraham Cycle. This is even more significant given that the Jacob Cycle, at 329 verses, is shorter than the Abraham Cycle at 371. It suggests that the authors of the Jacob Cycle had a marked preference for direct speech, particularly dialogues, over all other literary forms, and confirms the mimetic bias of the stories. However, it also calls for a further distinction between the different forms of speech.

the authors’ clear preference for direct speech led to a syntactic style that discouraged indirect speech, or whether the direct form was chosen because the indirect forms were found to be inherently awkward. Quite possibly, both scenarios are true, but I am inclined toward the former, as I believe that, had they found it necessary, the narrators would certainly have found ways to make indirect speech acceptable. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that in the Book of Genesis we find only few instances of indirect speech – e.g. 29:12; 31:22 and especially 50:2. 18 The precise number of direct speech verses is difficult to determine, since some instances cannot be classified categorically as direct or indirect – for example, in the case in etymological paragraphs, mainly in contexts of appellations.

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The “One-sided” Speech In Genesis 12, the opening chapter of the Abraham Cycle, we find two forms of “one-sided” speech. One is early on the chapter (vs. 1–9), featuring two pronouncements by God, to which Abraham does not reply: Go forth from your country and from your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, and you shall be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you. And him who curses you I will curse. And by you all the families of the earth shall bless themselves (vs. 1–3).

and: To your offspring I will give this land (v. 7).

In this short story, everything not in the form of direct speech is Abraham’s reaction to God’s words, which is presented in the descriptive, not scenic, mode. In this way, the direct speech and the descriptive text themselves form a sort of “conversation” between them: one representing speech, the other – actions.19 Yet the ideological message lies in the two sections of God’s direct speech. In the first part the divine promise is very general. The Promised Land is not identified, and so the rest must be shrouded too, since converting Abraham’s descendants into a great nation is contingent upon a defined geographical area. The second part of the promise brings it closer to fulfillment, for now the land is identified and tangible. Clearly, the factor that propels the divine speech from its first part to the second is Abraham’s response. The ideological purpose of this paragraph is revealed by its outcome: Abraham’s compliance propels the promise toward its realization. The implicit message of the entire paragraph is therefore that the substance of God’s promise is contingent upon how it is received – an illustration of how the literary structure directly serves the idea. Had this passage been mimetic, we would have expected at least some reply from the addressee – for even when the speaker is the divine, it is only natural that the addressee responds in some way, be it nothing more than an expression of humility or submission. It is

19 R. Alter calls it the “summarizing overview” – ibid.: “Between Narrative and Dialogue,” pp. 63–87.

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highly unlikely that Abraham left the scene without uttering a single word, and yet the narrators chose to refrain from telling us what is, in effect, self-evident. In their sensitivity, they found their own expressive modes for conveying their ideas. Although it would be an overstatement to say that extensive use of direct speech was a preconceived device deliberately chosen by the authors as a literary technique, it is nevertheless very characteristic of the Abraham Cycle. The second form of one-sided speech occurs in the second part of this chapter. In this episode, depicting Abram and Sarai’s stay in Egypt (vs. 10–20), there are also two instances of direct speech. The first is Abram’s: I know that you are a woman beautiful to behold; and when the Egyptians see you, they will say, ‘This is his wife’; then they will kill me, but they will let you live. Say you are my sister, that it may go well with me because of you, and that my life may be spared on your account (vs. 11–13).

The second is Pharaoh’s: . . . What is this you have done to me? Why did you not tell me that she was your wife? Why did you say, ‘She is my sister,’ so that I took her for my wife? Now, then. Here is your wife, take her, and be gone (vs. 18–19).

All other incidents of this episode are described in the form of a concluding presentation. The rapid chain of events leading from Abram and Sarai’s arrival in Egypt to Sarai being taken to the house of Pharaoh is described with the utmost brevity. We do not know what exactly the Egyptians told court officials about Sarai, nor the terms they used to praise her to Pharaoh. Yet this is also unnecessary, since the outcome is self-evident: Sarai is immediately taken to the house of Pharaoh, which also confirms Abram’s claim about her beauty were by no means exaggerated. But the point of the story is not Sarai’s beauty, but the relationship between the two passages of direct speech. In a way, they serve as mutual counterpoints, whereby Pharaoh’s words might be understood as the author’s reply to Abram’s words to Sarai. Pharaoh’s rebuke of Abram was no doubt in response to the plagues visited upon him and his household by God. But the significant message is that God’s intervention meant that Abram’s lies were unnecessary. Pharaoh tells Abram that, had he known that Sarai was his wife, he would not have taken her at all. And since his words conclude this scene, they seem to reflect the author’s view, too.

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The two passages of direct speech thus form a kind of dialogue. They contain the essence of the message, and this – rather than the presentation of a mimetic portrait of reality – was their main purpose. Even Pharaoh’s words reflect a stylized structure: they are set in a “3 + 4” cadence – namely, three rhetorical questions, followed by a decisive statement. Such a meter is also common in the “stylized controversy” form, of which more later. The next chapter recounts the strife between Abram’s herdsmen and those of Lot. Here the same literary device is even more evident. As before, the descriptions are brief, culminating in two paragraphs of direct speech. The first presents Abram’s offer: . . . Let there be no strife between you and me, and between your herdsmen and my herdsmen; for we are kinsmen; Is not the whole land before you? Separate yourself from me. If you take the left hand, than I will go to the right; or if you take the right hand, then I will go to the left. (13:8–9).

The second passage of direct speech tells us God’s promise to Abram, but not before we have been told about Lot’s choice and his parting from Abram, in a passage that, incidentally, also reveals the author’s views on Sodom and Gomorrah: . . . The Lord said to Abram, after Lot had separated from him. ‘Lift up your eyes, and look from the place where you are, northward and westward; for all the land which you see I will give to you and to your offspring for ever. I will make your offspring as the dust of the earth; so that if one can count the dust of the earth, then your offspring too can be counted. Arise, walk through the length and the breadth of the land, for I will give it to you (vs. 14–17).

The immediate proximity of the two passages gives the story its ideological component, implying that God’s promise to Abram is a direct response and reward for his magnanimity.20

20 The author’s (or editor’s) remarks about Sodom and Gomorrah also suggest that Abram’s concession was not merely a matter of personal generosity, but reflect religious-ideological motives. They imply that the choice put to Lot may have been a trap, and that the material advantages of the chosen region were deceptive. Conversely, Abraham considered his choice carefully, as it transpires that the sites of his subsequent wanderings coincide with where he experiences his divine revelations. This means that he set greater store in strengthening his bond with God than in settling down. This is lent further support by the aforementioned affinity between Abram’s offer and God’s promise.

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In the Jacob Cycle there are far fewer one-sided speeches than in the Abraham Cycle. But the main difference lies not in the quantity, but in the relationship between spoken words and their contexts. In the story of Jacob’s dream at Bethel (28:11–22), God’s speech is left unanswered, just as in the story of God’s first promise to Abram. Instead, Jacob’s response appears only after waking from his dream, and even then it is more of a thought than a spoken utterance: Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it . . . How awesome is this place. This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven (vs. 16–17).

This is clearly not a direct reply to what God promised him in his dream, but a general response to the entire experience – particularly the sight of the ladder and the ascending and descending angels. Jacob’s subsequent vow (vs. 20–22) is somehow detached from God’s promise, due to an editorial addition designed to give it a nationalist dimension.21 But these two passages of direct speech – God’s words and Jacob’s response to his dream – differ from those of the first revelation to Abram: in Abram’s story there is a clear internal link between the two passages, forming a sort of dialogue. This is not the case in the story of Jacob’s dream. Jacob’s words express his exaltation and emotional response. This is an integral part of the scene and its atmosphere, and the ideological message does not necessarily center on the direct speech. A comparison between the two stories suggests, therefore, that while in the Abraham Cycle the scenes are designed mainly to underline the ideological message, in the Jacob Cycle the emphasis is on the mimetic descriptions, pointing to the situation itself as the main issue. Several examples lend support to this conclusion. In another instance of one-sided speech, “. . . Laban says to him: ‘Surely you are my bone and flesh!’ And he stayed with him a month” (29:14). Reading on, the reason for Jacob’s reply not being stated becomes apparent: immediately after informing us that Jacob stayed with Laban one month, the conversation resumes: “Then Laban said to Jacob: ‘Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?’ ” as if no time at all passed between his two

21 The addition of this nationalist aspect (vs. 13–17) is identified in critical commentaries as a Judean interpolation (J). See esp. Weisman, ibid. pp. 57–67.

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pronouncements. Once again, the author avoids citing Jacob’s reply, abruptly aborting the dialogue with the narrative: “Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the older was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah’s eyes were weak, but Rachel was beautiful and shapely. Jacob loved Rachel.” Only at this point is Jacob’s reply given: “I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel.” In this way, the entire process of negotiation is condensed into one scene, with no time lapse between the two sessions. Having delivered Jacob’s reply, the author then tells us, as if by the by, that Jacob served seven years for Rachel. The condensing of seven years into a single verse aptly illustrates Jacob’s sensation that this period seemed to him but a few days (v. 20). This is immediately followed by another one-sided speech, in which Jacob says: “Give me my wife, for my time is fulfilled, that I may go in to her.” This time, instead of giving us Laban’s reply, the author recounts how Laban deceives him. These examples demonstrate how, in the Jacob Cycle, direct speech and the descriptive mode have equally importance with regard to conveying the story’s message. While in the Abraham Cycle the author also omits direct replies whenever they are self-evident, and in neither cycle is the direct speech merely a mimetic device, in the Jacob Cycle the instances of one-sided speech cannot be extracted from their contexts to form a notional “dialogue” – they are an integral part of the narrative sequence. Unlike the Abraham Cycle, where passages of direct speech are designed to illustrate the implicit teachings, in the Jacob Cycle, they serve to round out the protagonists’ personal portrayals, as part and parcel of the dramatic events of their lives. As Weiss puts it, while the Abraham stories are mainly panoramic in nature, the Jacob stories are primarily scenic.22

22

M. Weiss, Scriptures in their Own Light, Jerusalem 1987 pp. 295–311 [Hebrew]. In a panoramic design, the author describes everything from the viewpoint of an omniscient observer, while the heroes tend to recede into the background. In a scenic approach the author appears to be an active participant in the events, describing them as they happen. Consequently, the panoramic author takes a judgmental position, “summing up” events while emphasizing those which appear to him to be more salutary. In a scenic depiction, the reader has a great say in the verdict. For Weiss the “internal monologue” of the hero’s thoughts which are presented in direct speech also count as instances of one-sided speech, or as a combination of direct speech and review. But in this study I prefer to focus on that which is spoken aloud, for this is how the distinctive nature of the biblical scene can best be highlighted. It is, after all, not “natural,” for in a realistic “natural” scene one would expect to read the addressee’s

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chapter two The Dialogues

The most common types of literary dialogues are of two kinds. One is the contrastive dialogue, presenting the contrasting positions of the two participants, and their divergent attitudes toward the matter at hand. The other might be called the complementary dialogue, in which the two participants exchange ideas or information, with no apparent contrasts between them. One of the participants may yield more information while agreeing with the other, or even support and expand upon his ideas. The role of the supporter may switch from one participant to the other. In the Patriarchal stories, most of the dialogues are of the former type. In none of them can we find a single instance of “small-talk,” where the participants merely enjoy a conversation for its own sake, or to deepen or strengthen their relationship. All the dialogues are of the contrastive type, with one exception: when Jacob decides to return to his country. The author cites two reasons for this decision. One is Jacob’s personal feeling: “Jacob also saw that Laban’s manner toward him was not as it has been in the past” (31:2). The second reason lies in God’s explicit directive: “Then the Lord said to Jacob: ‘Return to the land of your fathers and to your kindred, and I will be with you” (v. 3). This dual reasoning allows the author to expand upon his description, whereby we learn more about Jacob’s inner struggle. Clearly, his decision to return to his native land is by no means an impulsive one, but a purposeful resolution following considerable deliberation. Therefore, Jacob summons Rachel and Leah, and shares his feelings with them: I see that your father’s manner toward me is not as it has been in the past. But the God of my father has been with me. You know that I have served your father with all my strength; yet your father has cheated me and changed my wages ten times, but God did not let him do me harm. If he said ‘The speckled shall be your wages,’ then all the flocks would drop speckled young; and if he said, ‘The streaked shall be your wages,’ then all the flocks would be streaked young. Thus God had taken away the cattle of your father, and given them to me. In the mating season of the flock I lifted up my eyes, and saw in a dream that the he-goats mating with the flock were streaked, speckled, and mottled. And in the dream an angel of God said to me, ‘Jacob,’ and I said, ‘Here I am!’ And he said, ‘Lift up your eyes and see, all the goats which are mating with

reply. For more on the scenic structure see: Yairah Amit, Reading Biblical Stories, The Broadcasted University, Israel 2000 pp. 56–64 [Hebrew].

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the flocks are streaked, speckled, and mottled; for I have seen all that Laban is doing to you. I am the God of Bethel, where you anointed a pillar and where you made a vow to me. Now, arise go forth from this land and return to your native land (vs. 5–13).

In this long speech, Jacob attributes his success not to his own cunning, as described earlier (30:32–42), but to divine guidance. However, it is also a sort of synopsis of the entire history of his relationship with Laban on the one hand, and of God’s protective stance on the other. The long and tense silence that prevailed between him and the women during all the years of his stay with Laban, seems now to evaporate, at this crossroads. The decision to return home apparently creates an opportunity to forge a new relationship, one based on co-operation and communication. Indirectly, the impression is that his departure from Laban and return to Canaan marks a change for the better as far as the internal relationships within the family are concerned. It also implies that the chief culprit for the bad feelings, jealousy and tension was Laban himself, and that the main reason for the toxic emotions of envy and unending rivalry was Jacob’s continuing residence on foreign soil. Returning to his homeland therefore symbolizes Jacob’s returning to his own self. And, indeed, in response to Jacob’s long speech, Rachel and Leah also deliver a comparatively long answer: . . . Is there any portion or inheritance left to us in our father’s house? Are we not regarded by him as foreigners? For he has sold us, and has been using up the money given for us. All the property which God has taken away from our father belongs to us and to our children; now, whatever God has said to you, do (vs. 14–16).

Clearly, this is not a verbatim record of a “natural” conversation of everyday life. Jacob’s speech is fluent and carefully constructed. The one-to-one ratio of the description of Laban’s conduct vs. Jacob’s acquisition of wealth imply a principle of measure for measure. This is further reinforced by the choice of expressions, with its many alliterations and repetitions. In addition, Rachel and Leah speak in unison, as one person. And yet, in all the Patriarchal stories, this is the only dialogue not based on point and counterpoint. In all other dialogues in these stories, the speakers present contrasting positions. This is the case even where, initially, there seems to be agreement: in the first account of the expulsion of Hagar (Chapter 16), Sarai denies all responsibility, casting all the blame upon Abram, telling him:

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chapter two May the wrong done to me be on you! I myself put my maid in your bosom, now that she sees that she is pregnant, I am lowered in her esteem. May the Lord judge between you and me (vs. 5–6).

She is convinced that God will side with her in His judgment, yet Abram’s consent is not a mark of agreement: “Behold, your maid is in your hand; do to her as you please” – namely, both the decision and its implementation are in Sarai’s hands, and therefore the responsibility is entirely hers. All other dialogues of the Patriarchal stories are explicitly of the contrastive type, involving negotiations that often involve hard bargaining, and disputes. The vocabulary in these exchanges often draws on terminology from the legal domain, or from official negotiation protocol.23 Here, too, however, as in the one-sided speeches, there is a clear difference between the Abraham Cycle and the Jacob Cycle. In the latter, Jacob’s utterances are often emotionally charged, often to the point of outburst. Moreover, in the dialogues of the Jacob Cycle, the parties differ not only in opinion or attitude, but even in style and manner of speech, unlike the protagonists in the Abraham stories. Even in the scene of Abraham’s hard bargaining with God over the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah, it is virtually impossible to discern what Abraham is feeling, other than a hint of unease implicit in his repeated apologies (18:27, 29, 31, 32); even the manner in which these apologies are uttered is generic, i.e. no different from what one would expect of anyone addressing their superior. Similarly, Sarai’s emotional outburst to Abram is couched in terms more befitting a judicial procedure: “May the wrong done to me be on you” (‫ )חמסי עליך‬and “May the Lord judge between you and me” (‫)ישפט ה' ביני וביניך‬. The contrast with the Jacob stories is striking. Even in the story of the sale of Esau’s birthright, the difference between Jacob and Esau is not only one of attitude, but of manner and style of speech. Esau’s concern for his immediate needs is so overwhelming, he does not even bother to identify the quality of the food he asks for: “Give me some of that red stuff (‫ )האדם האדם הזה‬to gulp down, for I am famished.” But Jacob is very calculated, his response prepared well in advance. “Swear to me first (‫ ”)כיום‬he says. He even makes sure to repeat this:

23 See: Ch. Mabee, “Jacob and Laban: The Structure of Judicial Proceedings (Genesis 31:25–42), VT 30,2 (1980) pp. 192–207; Asnat Bartor, “The Judicial Dialogue: A Literary Judicial Pattern,” VT 533,4 (2003) pp. 445–464.

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“Swear to me first” (28:30–33). A similar variation in the manner of speech is observable in the story of the stealing of the blessing. Even the hard bargaining between Jacob and Laban in Gilead is replete with emotionally-charged, personal accusations, on both sides. Laban asks Jacob: . . . What have you done, that you have cheated me (or: kept me in the dark = ‫ )ותגנב את לבבי‬and carried away my daughters like captives of the sword? Why did you flee in secrecy, and mislead me and not tell me? So that I might have sent you off with mirth, with timbrel and lyre. You did not even let me kiss my sons and daughters farewell. Now you have done foolishly. I have it in my power to do you harm; but the God of your father said to me last night: ‘Beware of attempting anything with Jacob, good or bad.’ Very well, you have gone away because you longed greatly for your father’s house; but why did you steal my gods? (31:26–30).

Laban, who had cleverly used law and custom to exploit Jacob’s labor, now plays the emotional card to back up his arguments. He also alludes darkly that he has the law on his side. (Such is the meaning of the phrase “I have it in my power.” Some have maintained that this is a reference to a Babylonian deity il ‘idu [= the god of the hand] – a kind of ancient fetish or house-deity, like the Teraphim, which served as Laban’s personal protector.24 However in its biblical usage, as in other ancient Near-Eastern expressions, it is more likely that the words ‫אין לאל ידי‬/‫ יש‬are in fact a legal expression signifying a person’s legal authority.) In other words, as family patriarch, Laban had the legal authority to decide the fate of all members of his family (cf. the Roman patrua potestas).25 Even Laban’s description of how he would have parted from Jacob had the latter bid goodbye properly reveals aspects of official custom. But he also contrives to show some sympathy for Jacob’s feelings: “. . . you have gone because you have longed greatly (‫)נכסף נכספת‬ for your father’s house.”26 These words serve as a cue for an emotional outburst by Jacob, who in response to Laban’s rebuke not only

24 See: H. Cohen – M. Weinfeld, The Biblical Worlds: Genesis, Tel-Aviv 1993 p. 186 [Hebrew]. 25 See: M. Malul and Jonina Dor, “The Legislatory Meaning of the Expression ‫אין לאל ידי‬/‫ יש‬in the Bible,” Beit Mikra 144 (1996) pp. 31–44 [Hebrew]. 26 The Hebrew phrasing is itself ceremonial, through the double rendition of words of the same root (in this case, ‫ – )כספ‬a pattern characteristic of vows. See the vows of Jacob (Genesis 28:22), Jephtah (Judges 11:30–31), Hannah (I Samuel 1:11), Absalom (II Samuel 15:5), and Israel in the desert (Numbers 21:2).

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protests his innocence over the Teraphim, but gives vent to years of pent-up emotions over his abuse and exploitation during the twenty years that he spent in Laban’s service. Within biblical conventions, this scene is mimetic to the utmost degree: where an emotional display is required for the scene’s dramatic development, the narrator gives it full rein – even though, from a purely historical point of view, all that matters in this scene is the treaty between Jacob and Laban in Gilead and Mizpah. In other words, the author does not suppress the personal experience while putting forward the historiosophic teaching. Such an approach is conspicuously absent in the Abraham stories. Here there is no explicit record of the hero’s emotions – only an unswerving focus on the ideological messages and historical teachings. Accordingly, the scenes are structured to avoid any deviation from the main points. A typical example is Abraham’s negotiations with Abimelech of Gerar (21:22–32), which ends: “Then Abraham reproached Abimelech for the well of water which the servants of Abimelech had seized.” Only Abimelech’s reply is reported in the form of direct speech; of Abraham’s feelings there is no mention whatsoever. When comparing between the Patriarchal cycles one gets the strong impression that in the Jacob stories (and, indeed, in the Joseph narratives), the personal portrayals of the heroes are no less interesting to the author than the religious and national teachings. In the Abraham stories, however, at least in their present form, the picture is quite different. Here it seems that the main purpose is to list a set of principles and religious and nationalist precedents, the stories serving merely as anecdotal illustrations. In other words, direct speech in the Abraham stories is used to express a strong ideological line, which the author highlights by limiting it to a single figure. To this end, all diversions are avoided which might require other figures to reply in direct-speech form. By contrast, in the Jacob stories the author appears to aim at providing a comprehensive description of events, with the implicit significance emerging of its own accord from the plot’s development. It follows that the author’s motivation must have been different in the two story cycles. Whereas in the Abraham Cycle the tales are mainly ideological illustrations, the Jacob stories are primarily concerned with the hero’s personal story. Here the plot is powered by two parallel themes of equal weight: the struggle for the birthright, and his love for Rachel. The way in which the story of Esau’s sale of his birthright is structured suggests that the birthright is perceived here

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not merely as a mundane advantage, but as a value in its own right.27 This value comes increasingly into focus in the light of the overall structure of the book of Genesis, which centers on the bequeathing of the divine covenant from one generation to the next as a condition of the divine promise given to the patriarchs. But since emotional attachment is no less important than birthright, the narrators are at pains to portray the ancestral patriarch Jacob as a very human hero, and not merely as a dry personification of ideological precedents. This also has ramifications for the relationships between all the remaining protagonists – especially Jacob’s sons, as evident in the Joseph story. Just as Jacob and Esau’s struggle for the birthright reflects the historical rivalry between Israel and the Edomites, so do the relationships between Jacob’s sons echo the future rivalries between the Israelite tribes. But the literary depiction of the heroes gives them a personal dimension that extends far beyond their representative role. The legitimization of the “House of Joseph” is clearly superimposed upon, and secondary to, the personal narratives. In the Abraham stories, on the other hand, where the ideological message appears to be the starting point the opposite seems to be true. Direct Speech: Style and Vocabulary As we noted earlier, the direct speech in the narrative cycles of the book of Genesis should not be regarded as a faithful representation of daily speech. We know this from its vocabulary and syntax, which are the main hallmarks of this style.28 Since most of the cited verbal exchanges are to do with bargaining, legal or judicial negotiations, obligations, covenants, legal precedents, and, above all, divine promises alluded to in various ways, it is hardly surprising that the text boasts a style and vocabulary to match. Anything outside this remit, such as mundane conversations, for example, is never reported in any detail. Thus, for

27 This idea is supported by the fact that the story is based upon on a sequence of consistent counterpoints. Thus, in sharp contrast to his brother Esau, who seeks only to fulfill his basic and immediate needs to the point where he does not even bother to find out what it is he is about to eat, Jacob personifies the pursuit of something immaterial whose value becomes apparent only over generations. 28 See I.A. Seeligmann, “To the terminology in judicial processes in the vocabulary of biblical Hebrew,” Studies in Biblical Literature, Jerusalem 1992 pp. 245–268 [Hebrew], which notes expressions such as: “‫”נשא ראש“ ;”הכר פנים“ ;”נשא פנים“ ;”יכח“ ;”חמס‬ etc. See also: M. Weinfeld, “Treaty and Grace: Termins and their transfigurations in Israel and the ancient world,” Leshonenu 36 (1973) pp. 85–100 [Hebrew].

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example, when we read “And Joseph brought bad reports of them to their father” (37:2), we are told nothing about the content of these reports. We do not even know if they were sincere and genuine or malicious, let alone their style and language. In all the narrative cycles in the Book of Genesis, the spoken language concerns subjects that transcend daily routine. In this, the Abraham and the Jacob narratives are alike: the spoken language is used to convey either situations of festivity or ceremony, or profoundly spiritual experiences. When the subject matter concerns a negotiation, a treaty or a covenant involving a commitment for generations, the language is styled accordingly, with a vocabulary drawn from the realms of law or sacred custom, as befits something that is intended to be repeatedly cited or referred to in future. This is therefore a highly structured and elevated prose, often verging on poetry in terms of both vocabulary and structure, featuring repetitions and a tendency toward a clear symmetry between phrases that are continually being pitted against one other.29 Witness, for example, Sarah’s poetic pronouncement after giving birth at her advanced age: Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would suckle children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age (21:6–7).

This form is also in keeping with the concluding delivery that introduces this story: The Lord took note of Sarah as he has promised and the Lord did for Sarah as He had spoken. Sarah conceived and bore a son to Abraham in his old age at the set time of which God had spoken.

Abraham gave his newborn son, whom Sarah had borne him, the name of Isaac (vs. 1–3). This loquaciousness has the intended effect of slowing down the narrative process, allowing the reader to savor the ceremonial moment that both they and the protagonists have anticipated for so long. It also helps to emphasize how the divine covenant has been scrupulously

29 In truth, we are dealing with a structure of parallelism – suggesting there is a strong affinity between prosaic direct speech and poetry. See: Ed. Greenstein, “The Direct Speech and Parallelism,” M. Garsiel, S. Vargun (editors), Studies in Bible and Exegesis, Festschr. U. Simon, Ramat-Gan 2000 pp. 33–90 [Hebrew]. Greenstein notes that the literary convention of merging direct speech with the parallel structure is an ancient one, and can be found in the very oldest known document of Western Semitic, namely the inscription of Idrimi, king of Allalah.

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fulfilled to the letter, highlighting the strong affinity, in this respect, between such ceremonial prose and the language of negotiation: both are designed to stress the importance of preserving the strict wording used: Let there be no strife between you and me and between your herdsmen and my herdsmen . . . If you take the left hand, then I will go to the right or if you take the right hand, then I will go to the left (13:8–9).

We see the same in the treaty between Jacob and Laban: . . . That I will not pass over this heap to you and you will not pass over this heap and this pillar to me (31:52).

In Joseph and his Brothers, Thomas Mann addresses the question of whether the biblical heroes were aware that they were living “within a story.”30 He believes they were, citing in evidence that the patriarchs’ conduct and decisions were always motivated by a historical consciousness, and a recognition that they were fulfilling a mission. To this one might add that it appears that the authors deliberately made their heroes speak in a style and manner designed to be recited by future generations: the choice of vocabulary and verse structure was clearly intended for this purpose. This is self-evident in all divine covenants, which are intended to be fulfilled over time, but equally true of other formal treaties. We also find it in other contexts, where the spoken address employs phrases and expressions taken directly from the legal sphere or the language of negotiations, whether in the terminology used or in the syntax and structure. Thus, for example, we find the speech presenting two aspects, or two sides of the same subject, e.g. “. . . His hand against everyone, and everyone’s hand against him” (16:12), or other characteristic hallmarks of negotiating style. Similarly, the phrase: “I will bless those who bless you, and him who curses you I will curse” (12:3), or the blessing by King Melchizedek of Salem: “Blessed be Abram of God most High, maker of heaven and earth, and blessed be God Most High . . .” (14:19–20).31 These words

30 Thomas Mann, Joseph and his Brothers, (translated by H.T. Lowe-Porter), London 1968 Vol. 1: The Tales of Jacob. Also: Vol. III, Part V. 31 A blessing and a curse are integral parts of any sealing of treaties in the ancient Near East. See: M. Weinfeld, “The Loyalty in the Ancient Near East,” Shnaton – An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Vol. 1 (1975) pp. 51–88

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indicate that the occasion is not a mere honorary ceremony, but a hint of recognizing Abram’s right as a sovereign authority in the region.32 So, too, is Abram’s language in his oath to the king of Sodom, later in the same scene: I swear to the Lord, God Most High, Creator of heaven and earth: If I will not take so much as a thread or a sandal-strap of what is yours (vs. 22–23).33

In other instances there is a suggestion of a legally symbolic act: Arise, walk about the land, through its length and its breadth, for I will give it to you (13:17).34

The same language appears in the divine covenants with the patriarchs. Even God’s thoughts about Abraham are quoted in direct speech form, in expressions such as: “For I have chosen him, that he may charge his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice” (18:19).35 Traces of contract or treaty terminology are also evident in exchanges between one of the protagonists and God Himself, especially if suggestive of bargaining:

[Hebrew]. See also idem: “The Covenant Grant in the Old Testament and the Ancient Near East,” JAOS 90 (1970) p. 184. 32 Many commentators maintain that the main purpose of this story is to establish the antiquity of the privileges of the Jerusalem patriarchs. For a comprehensive review of this story, see: W. Schatz, Genesis 14: Eine untersuchung, Bern – Frankfurt 1972. See also: S. Gelander, “Literary Pattern and Historicity,” B.Z. Luria (editor) Festschrift Gevaryahu, Vol. 2, Jerusalem 1991 pp. 48–56 and bibliography there [Hebrew]. 33 Speiser notes that the words “So much as a thread or a sandal strap” echo an ancient Near Eastern formula: “Whether a leaf or a splinter of wood”: E.A. Speiser, “A Figurative Equivalent for Totality in Akkadian and West-Semitic,” JAOS 54 (1934) pp. 200–203. 34 Setting foot upon a purchased piece of land is a symbolic act, denoting consummation of the purchase. See the story of Ahab and Naboth, I Kings 21:16: “And as soon as Ahab heard that Naboth was dead, Ahab arose to go down to the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite, to take possession of it.” 35 The word-pair “righteousness and justice” (‫ )צדקה ומשפט‬is a classic hallmark of kingship or sovereignty. Its provenance is in ancient Near Eastern mythology, whereby whenever a king succeeds to the throne, he is immediately bestowed two gifts by the gods: justice and righteousness. Over time, the phrase acquired a metonymic significance as a byword for kingship – to the point where, when it is said about someone that he is expected to make righteousness and justice, the implication is he is destined to rule. See also: M. Weinfeld, Justice and Righteousness in Israel and the Nations, Jerusalem 1985, esp. pp. 12–33 [Hebrew].

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O Lord God, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the one in charge of my household is Dammesek Eliezer. Since you have granted me no offspring, my steward will be my heir. (15:2–3)

– a statement grounded in accepted legal custom. Even Abraham’s repeated apologies for merely daring to speak during his hard bargaining over Sodom and Gomorrah (18:23–33) appear to be in line with the accepted rules of negotiation etiquette, since similar expressions appear during his purchase of the cave and field of Machpelah (18:23). God’s revelation to Abimelech of Gerar is similarly replete with judicial expressions: “In the integrity of your heart (or: with a blameless heart = ‫“ ;)בתם לבבך‬The man’s wife” (20:6–7); and also “. . . there is no fear of God in this place . . . (v. 11); or “She is indeed my sister, the daughter of my father but not the daughter of my mother; and she became my wife” (v. 12) “this will serve you as vindication” (v. 16).36 The speech of angels – and other divine entities who are not explicitly described as such – share the same tendency toward expressions and cadence borrowed from the language of treaties and contracts: “Return to your mistress, and submit to her” (or: “submit to her harsh treatment” ‫ והתעני תחת ידיה‬16:9).37 Also: “I will not let you go, unless you bless me” (32:27) etc. Nowhere, of course, is this style more evident than in the descriptions of actual treaties and official negotiations. Such is the language of the Covenant of Pieces (‫ – ברית בין הבתרים‬Genesis 15), and in the decree regarding circumcision and its associated divine covenant (Genesis 17).38 It features in the treaty between Abraham and Abimelech and Phicol (21:22–30); the treaty between Isaac and 36 The Hebrew term ‫ כסות עיניים‬is used here as an idiomatic expression, meaning compensation to the victim. In this context it denotes a legal term for a gift, whose purpose is to compensate Sarah so she may put the unfortunate incident behind her. See H. Cohen, “‫”כסות עיניים‬, The Biblical World: Genesis (ibid. p. 114) [Hebrew]. 37 Weinfeld points to an ancient Assyrian document, from the new Assyrian period (8–7th bc), in which a very similar situation is described. According to the local laws of the time, a slave given to the husband can be deprived of her rank and rights by her mistress, if the former shows disrespect. This is how Weinfeld explains “‫( – ”ותענה‬treated her harshly). See: E.A. Speiser, Genesis (The Anchor Bible), Garden City – New York 1964 p. 120; Z. Ben Barak, “The Status and Right of the GEBIRA,” JBL 110/1 (1991) pp. 23–24; M. Weinfeld, The Biblical World: Genesis (ibid. p. 114 [Hebrew]. 38 According to the Documental theories Genesis 17 is related to the Priestly strand (P), but from our point of view this story has stylistic components that are close to all other Abraham stories.

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Abimelech (26:28–29); the negotiations between Hamor, Shechem and Jacob’s son; again in the negotiations between Hamor, Shechem and their townsmen (34:8 ff.); and in the language and structure of Jacob’s vow. (28:20–22).39 However, legalistic terminology may be also be evident in other exchanges, not necessarily of a negotiating nature – such as in Sarai’s angry outbursts “May the wrong done to me be on you” (‫)חמסי עליך‬ and “I put my maid in your bosom; now that she sees that she is pregnant, I am lowered in her esteem. May the Lord judge between you and me.”40 So, too, in Abram’s responses: “Your maid is in your hands” (16:5–6), and in the second story about the expulsion of Hagar: “for the son of that slave shall not share in the inheritance with my son Isaac” (21:10). We also see it in the words of the people of Sodom to Lot: “This fellow came to sojourn, and he would play the judge?” (or “acts the ruler?” = ‫ וישפט שפוט‬19:9); in Abraham’s order to his servant, the oldest of his house (24:2–4); in their ensuing dialogue (vs. 5–8); and in the exchanges within Laban’s household (vs. 33–50, 54–60). Other expressions drawn from the judicial or negotiation vocabulary or from the language of manners and custom, include “found favor in your sight” – meaning recognition of rights or endowing with privilege41 – and the accusative “What have you done?,” meaning that the addressee is charged with having committed a serious transgression.42 This use of language recurs in the stories of Isaac: “Whoever touches this man or his wife shall be put to death” (26:11), and: “Why have you come to me, seeing that you have been hostile to me and have driven me away from you? (v. 27).43 Both the style and structure of Isaac’s words to Esau, when sending him to “hunt some game” in order to be blessed (27:3–4), indicate that this is not an account of a mere casual, private scene, but of an official ceremonial situation – as with all the

39 Cf. other instances of vows in the Bible: Numbers 21:2; Judges 11:30–31; I Samuel 1:11; II Samuel 15:8. 40 Zeeligmann (ibid.) notes that “‫ ”חמס‬is a legal term, originally meaning assassination or attempt to kill. 41 The phrase “X found favor in the sight of Y” – as in “If now I have found favor with thee,” or “Let me find favor in your eyes” – means that Y recognizes the rights of X or approves of their privileges. See Genesis 18:3; 33:10; 47:29 etc. See also M. Weinfeld The Biblical World, Genesis p. 184 [Hebrew]. 42 See Genesis 20:9; 26:10; 29:25. 43 Cf. Judges 11:7, as an opening formula of a harsh negotiation between adversaries.

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other expressions of blessing and cursing in the same story (especially vs. 12–13). These examples also clarify the degree to which the story of the purchase of the field and the cave of Machpelah is regarded by the authors as one of the most important stories of the Patriarch narratives. The entire episode is constructed as a single long dramatic scene, followed by exposition and concluding verse. Meticulous attention is paid to all the niceties and finer points of official negotiation, and to articulating each party’s arguments, including the etiquette of address and general conduct. This careful crafting of the narrative is proof that it is meant as a document for posterity. And indeed, it is subsequently referred to on three more occasions in the Book of Genesis, in various contexts: in the accounts of Abraham’s burial (25:9–10), and of Jacob’s burial (50:13), and in Jacob’s testimony (49:29–32). In each of these instances, there is also reference to the details of purchase and ownership.44 All these features are true of the Jacob Cycle, too. But a closer examination of the respective contexts reveals significant differences. Already in his first meeting with the shepherds, Jacob makes what appears to be a sensible, self-evident suggestion: it is still broad daylight, too early to round up the animals – “water the flock and take them to pasture” (29:7). But they reply in the name of law and custom: “We cannot until all the flocks are gathered together, and the stone is rolled from the mouth of the well; then we water the sheep” (v. 8).45 This clash between Jacob’s personal inclination and local custom or tradition is at the root of conflict throughout the story. From this point on, this alien, foreign land emerges repeatedly as a series of impediments, apparent obstacles or barriers between personal emotions and wishes, and local custom or stubborn conduct of its people. Ultimately, the foreign place seems to become the tangible manifestation of mental alienation or estrangement.46 As Laban puts it: “surely

44 See also Yairah Amit, “The Dramatic Nature of the Biblical Story,” Reading Biblical Stories, Jerusalem 2000 pp. 56–60 [Hebrew]. 45 “We cannot” here means: “We must not.” See also Genesis 24:50; 43:32; Exodus 19:32; Deuteronomy 21:16; 22:19, 29; 24:4 etc. Rolling the rock off the mouth of the well is not merely an act of authority. It also reflects strict local custom, according to which it is forbidden to water flocks until all the partners have gathered – to ensure a proper sharing of the water, according to the rights of each herdsman. 46 This idea is possibly supported in Fokkelman’s notes about the structure of the stories, and certainly by Alter, (ibid.), who notes the role of stones in the Jacob Cycle.

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you are my bone and flesh” (29:14),47 or “Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?” (29:14). “. . . I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel,” Jacob replies. Compare this to the structure and style of Laban’s reply: “It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me” (vs. 18–19).48 This language reveals that Laban’s deceitfulness is not merely willful: he knows the local custom, and he also knows how to exploit the complicated art of negotiation. This pattern repeats later, with Jacob’s demand: “Give me my wife, for my time is completed” (v. 21), and Laban’s response, after the deception: “It is not done so in our country, to give the younger before the first-born.49 Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return, for serving me another seven years.”50 Although not exactly symbols, the stones are representative of the hardships of Jacob’s life during his various adventures. See also: J.P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art in Genesis, Assen – Amsterdam 1975 pp. 46–81. 47 Some interpret these words as part of an adoption formula. Others have tried to compare them to the laws of Nuzi. But the laws of Nuzi relate to heirless persons, who adopt strangers, even a slave, whereby all the undertakings of the adoptee are listed in detail. But further on in our story we read about Laban’s sons (31:1), and thus the meaning of “brothers” in this context is general, meaning kinsmen. Therefore, it is doubtful it is meant as adoption. See: S. Paul, “The Period of the Patriarchs in the Light of the Tables of Nuzi, The Laws of Israel vol. 2 (1981) pp. 23–28 [Hebrew]. But see Parrot’s earlier reservations: A. Parrot, Abraham and his Times, Philadelphia 1968 passim. 48 Jacob’s explicit and precise style of speech throws the severity of Laban’s deception into sharp relief. Laban’s reply betrays his deviousness: in effect, he undertakes to do nothing. But it is worth noting that this exchange is also typical of biblical negotiations. Often it seems that one party replies to the other’s offer in a way that suggests that they are in agreement – even to the extent of using the same words; only on closer examination is it apparent that there is in fact still a gap between the two sides. See the negotiation about the purchase of Machpelah (Genesis 23); the negotiations of Jephtah with the elders of Gilead (Judges 11:5–11); Joshua 2:17–21; Ruth 2:10–13; 4:3–6 etc. See also: S.B. Noegel, “Drinking Feasts and Deceptive Feasts; Jacob and Laban’s Double Talk,” Puns and Pundits, Bethesda 2000 pp. 163–179. 49 “My time is completed” (or “fulfilled” = ‫ )כי מלאו ימי‬refers to the time required to fulfill nuptial commitments. See also the story of David and Michal, Saul’s daughter (I Samuel 18:26–27). Similar demands for the consummation of privileges between the groom and father-in-law occur in Babylonian documents, e.g. in the laws of Eshnunna: “R. Yaron, The Laws of Eshnunna, Jerusalem 1988. Paragraph 25 9, pp. 32, 123. Idem: “The Middle Assyrian Laws and the Bible,” Biblica 51 (1970) pp. 549–557. 50 This is an apparent reference to the seven days of the feast – cf.: Judges 14:2. The next verse implies that Rachel is given to Jacob after this, in reward for his commitment to serve another seven years. The provision of a maiden to each of the daughters seem to follow a custom for which there is some evidence in the Nuzi documents. See: ANET p. 220.

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Later in the story we find other instances of this linguistic pattern. Leah says to Jacob: “for I have hired you” (.‫ כי שכר שכרתיך‬30:16). Jacob says to Laban: “Send me away (or: let me leave = ‫ )שלחני ואלכה‬that I may go back to my own home and country” (v. 25). Laban replies: “Name your wages” (v. 27). We see it again in the negotiations between Jacob and Laban over wages (30:28–34), and in Jacob’s exchanges with Rachel and Leah: “. . . and he changed my wages ten times” (or: time and again);51 “Is there any portion or inheritance left to us in our father’s house? Are we not regarded by him as strangers (foreigners)? (vs. 14–15).52 It is particularly notable in the exchange between Jacob and Laban (31:25–54), with its many legal terms and phrases, such as “upbraided” (or: “took up his grievance with” (‫ – )וירב‬an expression reserved for judicial conflicts); “Set it here before my kinsmen and your kinsmen” (v. 36);53 “and let them decide (‫( ”)ויכיחו‬vs. 37, 42)54 “That which was torn by beasts I did not bring to you. I bore the loss of it myself; of my hand you required it, whether stolen by day or stolen by night” (v. 39). See also: and cheated me (‫ – ותגנב את לבבי‬literally: “you have stolen my heart”); “Like captives of sword”; “. . . flee secretly”; “It is in my power . . .”; “. . . that you speak . . . neither good nor bad”; “point out what I have that is yours”; “you would have sent me away emptyhanded”; “He gave judgment last night”; . . . witness between you and me today”; “May the Lord watch between you and me.” Evidence of judicial terminology also occurs in contexts that are not strictly within the sphere of “stylized conflict.” These include the meeting between Jacob and Esau, with its detailed description of their

51 The Hebrew phrase – ‫ – עשרת מנים‬is used here in the sense of many times, time and again. Cf. Numbers 14:12. 52 Rachel and Leah are referring the wages for Jacob’s service – their brideprice – which, in accordance with the agreement with Laban and similar Babylonian documents of that period belong not to the father-in-law but in theory to the bride. Rachel and Leah are therefore complaining that their father had spent all the money that is rightfully theirs. “Strangers”: From the Nuzi documents we may learn about the preferential treatment given to local daughters over foreign women. In certain situations it is even forbidden to transfer property rights to foreign women. See: Weinfeld (ibid.) p. 184. See also: ZA 16 (1933). 53 The various occurrences of the root ‫ יכח‬imply investigation or arbitration. Cf. Isaiah 1:18. See also Seeligmann (ibid.). 54 In the original: ‫ אחטנה‬rather than ‫ אחטאנה‬meaning missing, loss – cf. the Akkadian hatû. This wording means that had there been any losses in the flock, Jacob would have to pay from his own wages. Cf. the Babylonian , mainly in the Laws of Hammurabi. See ANET pp. 177: 264–267.

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conduct, all in accordance with ceremonial etiquette, and the language of Jacob’s mission to his brother: “. . . and I have oxen, asses, flocks, manservants, and maidservants” (32:6).55 The comparison between the Jacob and the Abraham stories thus highlights two main differences: a. In the Jacob stories the judicial language – or the expressions, style and structure drawn from the spheres of custom or tradition – are integral to the conflict as a whole. To a large extent, they are representative of the root cause of the conflict between the parties: be it between sacred tradition (the birthright and the right for the blessing), as it is in the first part of the story; or between the hero who arrives in foreign parts, and local customs, which are exploited to the full by the locals, as occurs in the latter part. Conversely, in the Abraham stories such language occurs in a variety of situations, not necessarily involving formal confrontation, and appears to be a basic feature of the main characters’ speech. b. In the Jacob stories, accompanying this use of language, we also find strong expressions of the character’s emotions and mental state. Nowhere is this more evident than in the aforementioned argument between Jacob and Laban, when Jacob berates Laban by listing his grievances during his years of service: “These twenty years I have been with you; your ewes and your she-goats have not miscarried, and I have not eaten the rams of your flock. Thus I was; by day the heat consumed me and the cold by night, and my sleep fled from my eyes . . .” (31:38–40). This description is in stark contrast to that subjective impression of the years as “a few days” in both Rebekah’s promise (27:44 = ‫ )ימים אחדים‬and in Jacob’s eyes at the outset (29:20); now, just prior to his return to his homeland, these years are seen in a very different light. All of which goes to prove the extent to which secondary literary devices are directly related to the central theme in the Jacob Cycle.

55 A comparison to similar scenes elsewhere indicates that it was customary for the messenger to describe his master’s property in detail before delivering his message – both to impress the addressee, and to make it plain that his master is not in need, and therefore fully able to fulfill his commitments. See Genesis 24:35. The ox and the ass are also mentioned in other contexts as expressions symbolizing the extent of one’s property. See I Samuel 12:3; cf. Numbers 16:15–16.

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These differences between the two story cycles support our earlier conclusions. Although both cycles are designed to present the Patriarchs as paragons of virtue whose conduct stands as beacons for later generations, in the Jacob Cycle it is all about the personal story and their personal conflicts. Indeed, closer examination may even suggest that the tale of rivalry between two brothers – one an outdoorsman, the other less physical but cunning, who ultimately prevails – is nothing but a retelling of an ancient folk-tale, unrelated to the relationship between Israel and Edom, or indeed free of any nationalist dimension whatsoever. By contrast, in the Abraham stories the focus is altogether different, and centers on how certain moral, religious and national values were personified in the patriarch himself and in the historical precedents that he set. These distinctions of style and structure should be borne in mind when comparing the content of the two cycles. Specifically, we find considerable differences between north and south with regard to lifestyle, social organization, culture and religion. These differences have already been described in detail by Z. Weisman, so I shall cite only the main points here.56 The Social Aspect: Family and Lifestyles The unique position that social life held in the Jacob narratives is clearly evident in the family structure and function.57 The impression here is of a more complex family unit than in the case of either Abraham or Isaac, both in terms of their extent and of inner workings. Isaac had only one wife and two twin sons; Abraham, too, only had two sons, from a wife and a concubine, respectively. Jacob, however, had two wives and two concubines, who between them bore him twelve sons and one daughter.58 Weisman maintains that this difference is not merely

56 See: Z. Weisman, “The Interrelationship Between J and E in the Jacob Narratives – Re-Examined,” The Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies, Division A (1986) pp. 41–35 [Hebrew]. Idem: “Social Divergences in the Patriarchal Narratives,” Henoch 17, 1–2 (1995) pp. 117–127; Idem, From Jacob to Israel, Jerusalem 1986 pp. 27–34; 95–117 [Hebrew]. 57 The nuclear family or “Bet-Ab” is the fundamental social unit in the Patriarchal narratives, as well as in the documents from the First Temple period. See: S. Bendor, The Bet-Ab in Israel from the Settlement to the End of the Monarchy, Tel-Aviv 1986, passim. 58 The genealogy claims that Abraham had another wife, Keturah (Genesis 25:1–6) has been found, in a critical study, to be an artificial and tendentious model of

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personal but typological, in that they represent two distinct types of families – the monogamous vs. the polygamous – the latter apparently being the more prevalent and realistic mode in ancient times, while the former representative of a more ideal state of affairs. The same is true of the relationship between the brothers and their involvement in the family’s affairs. In the Jacob narratives we witness an apparently natural tri-generational structure: Jacob knows Reuben’s two sons, and Joseph’s sons, Ephraim and Manasseh, even have a dramatic meeting with him (Chapter 48). In the Abraham (and Isaac) narratives, on the other hand, there is no evidence of such inter-generational ties. There is no indication that Jacob’s sons ever met their grandfather Isaac, much less shared the same social framework. Similarly, there is nothing to suggest that Jacob knew his grandfather Abraham.59 The family-unit portrayed in the Abraham narratives is of two generations only, and even then there are signs of editorial intervention in an attempt to give the bi-generational relationships a uniform character and appearance. This is particularly apparent in the description of the patriarch’s burial by his two sons.60 Weisman even remarks that the dominant impression of the Abraham and Isaac narratives is of an artificial, simplistic family model, designed with the express purpose of presenting Abraham and Isaac as founders of nations – while the underlying model of the Jacob narratives is more representative of the social reality of the extended family unit.61 Other differences are apparent in lifestyle. Jacob’s lifestyle seems more typical of the semi-nomads. His skill as a shepherd is demonstrated throughout the story cycle – from the outset, in the scene of the meeting with the shepherds, through his years as a hired herdsman for Laban, and beyond. Throughout the entire narrative there is no mention of Jacob having slaves or concubines. Slaves appear only once – in the story of his meeting with Esau (32:17) – but not in his row with Laban after his flight, nor in his stand-off with the people of

late redaction origin, designed to establish an affinity between the peoples of the region – including peoples for whose existence there is no other evidence (See Gunkel’s interpretation to Genesis, p. 260, and especially J. Skinner, Genesis (I.C.C.), Edinburgh 19302 p. 349. 59 This is mainly apparent in the light of the Priestly Genealogy, according to which Jacob and Esau were fifteen years old at the death of Abraham. Cf. Genesis 21:5; 25:7; 25:26. 60 See Genesis 25:8–9; 35:27–29; 50:12–13. 61 Meaning the bet-av. Weisman, From Jacob to Israel, p. 29.

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Shechem. His herds are tended by his sons (37:12), and, when he goes down to Joseph in Egypt, he is escorted by “his own offspring” (or issue = ‫ יוצאי ירכו‬46:26). All these aspects are different in the Abraham narratives. His herds are tended by others (13:7), and his household governed by “his servant, the oldest of his house, who had charge of all that he owned” (24:2). In the battle against the four kings he has three hundred and eighteen “trained men” (or retainers = ‫ חניכיו‬14:14) at his command.62 A similar picture emerges from the stories of Isaac in Gerar: it is his servants who dig his wells, and it is they who then quarrel with the Philistines. Even the treaty with Abimelech and Pichol, his army commander, makes no sense if Isaac is thought of merely as the head of a small family. Like his father, Isaac comes across as a person of political power and influence, at the head of a large unit. As Abimelech himself says: “Go away from us; for you are much mightier than we” (26:16). The two narratives also differ in the patriarch’s position within his family. In the Jacob narratives it is the mothers who give the names to their children (only in the case of Benjamin is there a dual version: Rachel calls him Ben-oni, but the text adds that his father “called his name Benjamin” – 35:18). In the Abraham and Isaac narratives it is the father who gives the names.63 Moreover, unlike his father and grandfather, Jacob is not the sole arbiter in matters concerning the entire family. The decision to leave the house of Laban is also in the hands of his wives, and in the story of the rape of Dinah he leaves all the decision-making to his sons. In the story about Joseph, although the brothers are independent adults, none of them act as heads of families nor as founders of tribes: they shepherd their flocks together, as one unit, and return home together, to the house which is Jacob’s house. Nor can they decide on their own to go down to Egypt without Jacob’s consent. Nevertheless, the general impression is that Jacob is the head of the family, not of a tribe. Even in the description of his preparations for his meeting with Esau, although these are of military nature, his 62 The meaning of ‫ חניכיו‬is uncertain. Suggestions are based mainly on comparisons with ancient Middle Eastern documents, such as a letter in ancient Akkadian in the fifth century bc from an Egyptian official to the Canaanite prince of Taanach. See also: W.F. Albright in JBL LVIII (1939) p. 96; BASOR 94 (1944) p. 24; Th. O. Lambdin, JAOS LXXIII (1953) p. 150; W. Baumgartner, Hebräisches und Aramäisches Lexicon zum A.T., Leiden 1967. 63 According to the Aramaic translations of 25:25, the reading should be “. . . and they called,” thus meaning that Isaac also gave the name to Esau.

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actions are of one ensuring his family’s survival rather than of a true army commander. This impression is repeated in the description of the family’s journey to Bethel: “And as they set out, a terror from God fell upon the cities that were round about them, so that they did not pursue the sons of Jacob” (35:5) – in other words, rather than portray Jacob as a man of military power, the authors preferred to keep the cause of the neighbors’ fears vague and undefined. The Religious Aspect: Faith and Cult Evidence of faith is found in religious customs and cultic practice. The editorial efforts to provide a single, consistent progression from Abraham through Isaac to Jacob, resulted in many differences becoming trivial or inconsistent. Occasionally, a phenomenon typical of one cycle recurs in another. One of these is the role of angels or of other divine entities within the story-line. Jacob, for example, encounters angels in his revelation-dream at Bethel, but also upon awakening. Although the description of his encounter with the angel at Jabbok has some textual difficulties that leave parts of it quite obscure, the enduring impression is of Jacob physically struggling with a divine entity.64 So, too, with the incident at Mahanaim, after his departure from Laban: and angels of God encountered him. When he saw them, Jacob said: “This is God’s camp.” So he named that place Mahanaim (32:3).

In neither instance is there any mention of revelation or dream: the encounter is supposed to have taken place in reality. A third encounter occurs in Bethel, which we shall discuss later. The etymology of the three place names suggests that these episodes have a hierological purpose, namely to explain why they are holy. Thus, Jacob’s struggle at Jabbok is associated with the name of Peniel/Penuel: “So Jacob named the place Peniel, meaning I have seen God face to face, yet my life has been preserved” (32:31). However, later in the story we learn of another possible etymology, one that associates the name of the place with the meeting with Esau: “ for truly to see your face is like seeing the face of God, and you have received me favorably (33:10). The same is true of the name Mahanaim (“Two-Camps”) – the logical name for

64 See: H.F. Knight, “Meeting Jacob at the Jabbok. Wrestling with a Text, a Midrash in Genesis 32:22–23,” Journal of Ecunemical Studies 29, 3 (1992) pp. 451–460; J.W. Rogerson, “Wrestling with the Angel, a Study in Historical and Literary Interpretation,” Hermeneutics, The Bible and Literary Criticism (1992) pp. 131–144.

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a spot where Jacob divided his kinsmen and flocks into two camps (32:8 ff.). Unlike Bethel, there is little suggestion elsewhere that Mahanaim and Peniel were sacred sites.65 But since certain old traditions insisted on associating these places with Jacob, the authors try nevertheless to portray the various stations of Jacob’s journey – Peniel, Succoth, Bethel – as part of a coherent hierological sequence connected with his personal experiences.66 Such is not the case in the Abraham narratives. Here, as already noted, there is an inconsistency in the story of the divine visitation (Chapter 18). The visitors’ identity changes in the course of the narrative, and the story appears to be a fusion of two originally independent tales. Only in the second half of the story (Chapter 19) do we read, alternately, about “angels” and “people.” In the story of The Binding, an angel calls Abraham twice, “from heaven” (22:11, 15) – meaning that the author wished to clarify that this was not an actual encounter.67 Documental theory suggests that the main part of the story is northern in origin. The difference between this and the Jacob narratives is thus twofold: a different perception of the meaning of “appearing angels” and their role in events, and a different attitude to how sacred sites or places of worship came to be founded. Although the story of The Binding later becomes associated with Temple Mount, in the Book of Genesis itself there is no mention of this – nor are there any instances where angelic appearances are connected with the founding of a given site as a place of worship. 65 Mahanaim is described as a central place in Saul’s kingdom. It is there that Abner had enthroned Ish-boshet as king over Israel II Samuel 2:8, 29, and this is where David found refuge in his escape from Absalom (17:24, 27). This is also the residency of Ahinadav, one of Solomon’s officials (I Kings 4:14). Peniel is mentioned in the story of Gideon, as a city that refused to assist him in his pursuit of the Midianite kings, and was therefore severely punished. Late Peniel-Penuel became capitol of the northern kingdom, in the times of Jeroboam son of Nebat (I Kings 12:25). 66 Ruth Fiedler notes that as a rule the northern documents prefer the revelation in dreams to other sorts of revelations. But this does not reflect a tendency of refinement or sublimation. Neither is it an evidence of theological progress toward refinement or introversion. Rather, she prefers to find this as differences of place and tradition. See: Ruth Fiedler, “The Revelation-Dream in Genesis,” The Dreamers Tell False Dreams, Jerusalem 2005 pp. 201–242 [Hebrew]. As a rule, Abraham has various sorts of revelations, from direct encounter (12:1) through vision (15:1). In the Abraham narratives God reveals in dreams or by angels – only to strangers (to Abimelech, 20:3 and Hagar 21:17. From our point of view it is of no importance that these occurrences are drawn from the northern source: they are in line with the prevailing concepts of the Abraham narratives. 67 The angel’s second call is thought to be a later addition, designed to establish a link between the various divine promises and the trials of Abraham.

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There is yet another difference: both Abraham and Isaac built altars in various places, where they called “on the name of God” (Jahveh). But when Jacob builds altars he calls upon the names of various gods, all comprising the component “El” (“El Beth-el” in Bethel, and “El, the God of Israel” in Shechem). The common interpretation is that the many divine names in the Jacob Cycle are various names of the same deity rather than different deities. Examples include: “God of Abraham and the Fear of Isaac” (31:42); “The God of Abraham and the God of Nahor” (31:53); “The Fear of his father Isaac” (31:53); “El Elohei Israel” (33:20); “The God who answered me in the day of my distress” (35:3); and, “The Mighty One of Jacob” (49:24). Similarly, it is commonly accepted that the God whom the Patriarchs brought with them was an ancient deity, the worship and modes of faith of whom gradually crystallized in the face of prolonged exposure to neighboring peoples – even if the actual names and attributes of God in the Jacob stories are clearly derived from Canaanite deities.68 The significant difference is that the altars that Abraham erects are never overtly associated with the founding of sites of worship. This is clearly demonstrated by the fact that when Jacob erects an altar at Bethel, and later in Shechem, he appears to have no knowledge of the fact that his grandfather had done the same at the same locations in the past.69 Also notable is the fact that Bethel is not where God is first revealed to Abraham (see 12:6–7), and that when Abraham erects altars, he does so only to commemorate the revelation event, not to establish the site as a future place for worship. Jacob, on the other hand, proclaims that “. . . this stone, which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God’s house; and all of that thou givest me I will give the tenth (or a tithe = ‫ )מעשר‬to thee” (28:22) Presumably, the commitment of giving a tenth of everything is related to the first part of this verse, meaning that here, in this place that is destined to be the House of God, the tithe will be given in perpetuity. This interpretation is lent further support later in the story, when God identifies himself as “The God of Bethel” (cf. also 35:1, 3).

68 B. Uffenheimer, “Moses’ Faith and the Faith of the Patriarchs,” Ancient Prophecy in Israel, Jerusalem 1973 pp. 60–70. 69 On the different traditions as reflected in names (‫“ = אלון מורה‬The Terebinth of Moreh” 12:6 or ‫“ = האלה אשר עם שכם‬The Oak that was near Shechem” 35:4) see: Z. Weisman, ibid. pp. 24–27.

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Beside tales about the building of altars, the Jacob narratives also feature various ancient customs, such as the erection of pillars (28:18– 19, 22; 31:22:44 ff.; 35:14, 20). This practice, along with other ancient traditions such as the drink offering (or libation), the pouring of oil, the oath and cultic purification, were roundly denounced in the Book of Deuteronomy (7:5; 12:13; 16:22. See also Exodus 23:24; Leviticus 26:1).70 They, too, are missing in the Abraham narratives. A further distinction made in documental theory concerns the divine promises made to the Patriarchs. It is generally agreed that the nationalist dimension of these promises belong to the southern strand (J- which is also the main source of the Abraham narratives), while in the Jacob narratives, which derive mainly from northern sources (E), the divine covenants are confined to the personal domain. However, we should also note that, in the present form of the texts, the divine covenant is the glue that binds together all the Patriarchal narratives. Its purpose is to establish their common ideological message about the deepening bond between the forefathers and God. In this respect, the stories about God’s promises to the patriarchs must reflect a later, unifying redaction. This continuity also highlights another significance of the nature of the divine covenant: for while the covenant is given to Abraham as a reward for success in his trials, the promises made to Jacob are given to him without undergoing any tests – in effect, by birthright. These observations also suggest that the traditions of worship and cult in the Jacob narratives pre-date those of the Abraham ones. But rather than dealing with the history of traditions, I prefer in this study to focus on the differences between the literary evidence of the North vs. that of the South. Bethel The story about Jacob at Bethel (28:11–22) contains ideological messages on several levels. Here, we see how the divine promise made to Jacob is given not as reward for his deeds, nor on condition of any commitment on his part. Since in the ancient stratum of this story the promise remains purely on the personal plane, with no nationalist

70 The pouring of oil, like the act of anointing, is a typical act of dedication. See also Genesis 31:13; Exodus 30:26 ff.; Leviticus 8:10 ff. See: G. von Rad, Genesis (OTL), Göttingen 1972 p. 35.

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overtones whatsoever, it appears that Jacob was not seen, in the original guises of the story, as someone destined to fulfill a national objective, nor did the authors think it necessary to provide any reason for God’s special relations with him. Instead, it is taken for granted that Jacob was chosen over his brother Esau, since from early on the story is conceived as a saga about a patriarchal figure, whose family just happens to develop into a group of tribes. That said, the story of the revelation at Bethel is also an etiological one about the origins of the holiness of the temple at the site. As such, it is part of a conscious effort to legitimize the northern kingdom. That the temple of Bethel was a central cultic site – one of the most important in the mountains of Ephraim and even in the whole kingdom of Israel – is clear from many passages throughout the Hebrew Bible. We see it in the words of Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, in his confrontation with the prophet Amos: “Seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, and eat bread there, and do your prophesying there. But don’t ever prophesy again at Bethel, for it is a king’s sanctuary, and it is a royal palace” (Amos 7:12–13). One might see a parallel between this scene and the clash between the Judean man of God and Jeroboam son of Nebat (I Kings 13). The language that Amos uses to foretell the destruction of Bethel is also reminiscent of that of the Judean man of God (cf. I Kings 13:2–3 and Amos 3:14).71 In his principal graphic analogy featuring rhetorical questions to show the circumstantial link between cause and effect – he asks: “Can two walk together without having met? Does a lion roar in the forest when he has no prey?” (3:3–4).72 The lion analogy, coupled with that of two people walking together, may be a deliberate reminder of the fate that befell the Judean man of God after accepting the offer of hospitality by the prophet of Bethel. One is tempted to think there may be a link between the two stories, or perhaps even that the story in I Kings 13 was inspired by Amos’s confrontation, which seems more authentic – but this would be unduly speculative. Other prophets also condemn Bethel – not necessarily for being a cultic site per se, but due to the nature and substance of the cults affiliated with it – particularly those that have

71 Many commentators identify this particular verse, and particularly Amos’ mention of the Bethel altars, as a later addition. See N. Rösel, Amos, Kefar Bialik 1990 pp. 103–105. 72 See esp. Sh. Paul, “Amos 3:3–8. The Irresistible Sequence of Cause and Effect,” HAR 7 (1985) pp. 203–220.

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nothing to do with moral rectitude. Hosea calls Bethel “Beth aven,” namely the “house (site) of evil” (Hosea 4:15; 5:8). He also repeatedly condemns the fertility-cults of Ephraim, through use of the root P-R-H (4:15; 5:8; 10:5–6, 15 etc.). Similarly, Jeremiah likens Bethel to Chemosh, god of Moab (48:13).73 In the Jacob narratives, the importance of Bethel derives from the fact that in His revelation to Jacob, God declares Himself as “the God of Bethel” (31:13). The significance of this attribution is made clear by its timing, as it is made toward the end of the cycle of events, when God tells Jacob to return to his country. It is reinforced at the end of the story: “God said to Jacob: ‘Arise, go up to Bethel, and dwell there; and make there an altar to the God who appeared to you when you fled from your brother Esau” (35:1). Here the story recounts events in detail, to the effect that: “ . . . Jacob came to Luz, that is Bethel, which is in the land of Canaan, he and all the people that were with him, and there he built an altar, and called the place Bethel, because there God had revealed himself to him when he fled from his brother” (vs. 6–7). In other words, Bethel is identified both as the place where God and Jacob first establish their relationship, and as the place to which Jacob returns and builds an altar – in effect, the most significant site in his life story. Even in his will to Joseph, Jacob identifies Bethel as the place where he forged his bond with God, and where he received the divine promises (48:1–4). As we noted earlier, the description of the revelation ends with a vow or commitment to build a temple, and even to establish a permanent worship: “. . . and this stone, which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God’s house; and all that thou givest to me I will give a tenth to thee” (28:22). Indeed, elsewhere in the Bible, it is clear that Bethel continues to be regarded a sacred place for over a thousand years. In Judges 1:22–23; 21:2 and I Samuel 7:16; 10:3, it is explicitly described

73 Some of the peoples of Syria and Palestine also had deities called “Beth-el” or “Anath Beth-el.” In the treaty between Esarhaddon and the king of Tyre it is stated that “The god of Beth-el and the goddess Anath Bet-el will deliver you into the hand of the rapacious lion” (column 4 lines 6–7). Many theophoric names with the component Bethel also appear in Elephantine documents, possibly brought there from Samaria. It is therefore possible that the real reason for biblical prophecies against Bethel was the fact that Bethel was excessively associated with traditions of other peoples of the region, and therefore no longer suited as a place of worship of the God of Israel only. Similarly, there is evidence of sacred stones that were thought of as divine abodes, which were also named “Beth-el.”

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as a place of pilgrimage – something already discernible in the description of Jacob’s return to Bethel, when he prepares his kinsmen and orders them to remove alien gods, to purify and change their clothes (35:2). Similar scenes recur in the run-up to the split of the kingdom around 926 bc (I Kings 12:28–29). Even after the destruction of Samaria in 721, Bethel still appears to be a distinguished center (II Kings 17:28). As part of his religious reforms, King Josiah, feels the need to destroy it (II Kings 23:15). The fact that Bethel owes its authority to ancient traditions is clear from its very name.74 It is also evident in Jacob’s own interpretation of his vision.75 But these traditions were established only after the split of the kingdom, as the hieros logos designed to prove the holiness of Bethel, to counter that of the Temple in Jerusalem. A hint that the Bethel tradition in its present form is a comparatively late insertion can be found in Jacob’s vow. We are told that Jacob vows that this place shall be God’s house – but not that Jacob built it himself, suggesting that the authors were aware of the more ancient traditions, and therefore could not ascribe the building of this temple to Jacob. The differences between the Abraham and the Jacob narratives are reminiscent in some respects of those between the northern and southern prophetic stories. In the northern stories the protagonist is portrayed as someone granted divine protection automatically, while in the southern narratives such protection is given only in reward for successful performance in trials – namely, by proving unconditional loyalty to God. In addition, while the narratives of the North focus on the hero’s personal experiences, in the South such experiences usually serve only to illustrate certain ideological messages. 74 Although strictly speaking the name “Beth-El” should be interpreted as “The House of El” – the Canaanite deity – not “The House of God.” 75 In his interpretation of the vision, Jacob describes it as “the gate of heaven,” meaning the ladder with ascending and descending angels. This description, in which the ladder seems to bridge between the earth and heaven, is reminiscent of the Mesopotamian ziggurats – tall pyramidal constructions, each with a shrine at its base and another at its summit, signifying the heavenly shrine. This “Upper Shrine” was supposed to be a perfect copy of the lower one (cf. Exodus 25:8–9; 26:30). Sometimes these sacred towers were equipped with flights of stairs leading up to the summit. According to ancient beliefs, the god used to descend this flight of stairs in order to reveal themselves to people. The best known ziggurat is the tower of the city of Babylon, which had seven steps and whose name meant “The ground-house of heaven and earth” (etemenanki). Such is also the temple of the Sumerian deity Enliti in Nipur, named dur-an-ki (the band of heaven and earth). The term “Gate of Heaven” also resembles the Akkadian simmelat sāmāmi. See also: H. Cohen, The Biblical World: Genesis p. 172 [Hebrew].

CHAPTER THREE

THE EVIDENCE OF THE DOCTRINES: THE EXODUS VS. THE ZION-DAVID TRADITIONS I. The Exodus Traditions In this chapter the word “tradition” will be used as a shorthand for its wider meaning of the entire compendium of narratives, references and descriptions that together form a comprehensive and intricate picture of an event, rather than its usual meaning in current biblical studies of the stages before these narratives took on their final form.1 The Exodus is undoubtedly the most described and cited event in the Bible. In addition to its extensive description in the Pentateuch, where it also serves as the narrative framework for all the laws and commandments, it is mentioned on approximately one hundred and twenty other occasions, within various references across all types of biblical literature, including historiography, the prophetic literature and the Psalms. On a purely quantitative level, therefore, clearly the Exodus was seen by the authors as the most significant event in Israel’s history. In the introductory scene where Moses is given his divine mission, God proclaims: . . . and I will take you for my people, and I will be your God . . . (Exodus 6:7).

A proclamation which in many ways is completed in Deuteronomy 27:9: Keep silence and hear, O Israel; this day you have become the people of the Lord your God.

Such declarations, and others like it, may be seen as the essence of the Exodus-related ideology, namely, that it is a profoundly formative event, both historically and religiously.

1 See also: Y. Hoffman, The Doctrine of the Exodus in the Bible, p. 18, who prefers the term “myth.” See note 4 below.

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Nevertheless, there is a divergence of attitudes on this point. While in the northern sources and documents the Exodus is indeed perceived of as a truly historic event par excellence, this isn’t the case in the Judean sources.2 This issue has been widely and extensively discussed by others, including Loewenstamm,3 and, on this specific topic, by Hoffman.4 I shall therefore limit myself in this section to citing the highlights in brief, with the addition of a few comments and clarifications where necessary. As Hoffmann points out, there is not enough evidence about the Exodus tradition in the pre-monarchical period for a full, methodological examination of attitudes at that time. We must focus, therefore, on the evidence in documents from the period of the monarchy onwards. The fact that the importance of the Exodus was viewed differently in various parts of Israel is reflected in the variations of attitude toward it in different parts of the Bible. The Chronicler, for example, downplays it,5 but particularly significant is the fact that Isaiah hardly ever mentions it. In Isaiah chapters 1–33 the Exodus is explicitly mentioned only once: The Lord will dry up the tongue of the Egyptian sea. He will wave his hand over the River With his scorching wind, and smite them into seven channels (‫ = נחלים‬dry riverbeds) that men may cross dry-shod. And there will be a highway from Assyria for the remnant which is left of his people, as there was for Israel when they came up from the land of Egypt (Isaiah 11:15–16).

Elsewhere (19:16–25) he only hints at the wider Exodus tradition. However, most commentaries agree that neither of these passages were in the

2 See: G. von Rad, Old Testament Theology, Vol. II, London 1965 p. 47: “We have every ground for assuming that the David-Zion tradition was fostered in Jerusalem and Judah, while the patriarchal-Exodus tradition lived on in the northern kingdom.” See also below for Hoffman’s attitude. 3 S.E. Loewenstamm, The Tradition of the Exodus in its Development, Jerusalem 1965 [Hebrew], who mainly deals with the ways of crystallization of the various traditions to what he considers as one consistent narrative. 4 Y. Hoffman, The Doctrine of the Exodus in the Bible, Tel Aviv 1983 [Hebrew]. See pp. 13–14 for a scrutiny of studies of this subject mainly from theological aspects or the historical-diachronic aspect (Galling, who mainly dealt with the affinity between the Exodus tradition and the tradition of the Patriarchs). Also: about Von Rad, Noth and others, who concentrated on the relations between the Sinai and the Exodus traditions. 5 See: Sarah Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and its Place in Biblical Thought, Jerusalem 1977, chapter 3.

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prophet’s original prophecies, and were inserted later by redactors.6 Hoffman bases this assessment on the grounds that the evidence of the book of Isaiah as a whole is decisive – in part because Isaiah’s prophecies have been preserved more extensively and fully than those of Micah, his Judean contemporary, but mainly because Isaiah was close to royal circles and may even have been seen as the official court prophet. This being the case, and given his imposing dominant personality as an intellectual and his broad historical-theological outlook, it seems likely, therefore, that his views reflected the prevailing views of the court at the time. Moreover, Isaiah spoke a great deal about historical developments in the world at large and about the function and status of empires, and about the links between national sins and military failures and triumphs. He even spoke of the legality of Israel’s salvation in the future, and, in various contexts, of the relationship between Israel and Egypt. It is highly unlikely, therefore, that the lack of references to the Exodus in his writings was accidental.7 Nevertheless, it may be worth noting one oblique reference to the Exodus in his prophecies, which may help complete the picture of his attitude toward that event.8 In Isaiah 4:5 we read: Then the Lord will create over the whole site9 of Mount Zion and over her assemblies (‫ = מקראה‬meeting place) a cloud by day, and smoke and the shining of a flaming fire by night.

These words are spoken as part of an elaboration on the subject of the “End Days.” Following the “Day of the Lord of hosts,” when all the wrongdoings and disgrace of the present are redeemed through humiliation that culminates in the meting out of punishment for the sin of pride, the moment of salvation bursts forth all at once: In that day the branch of the Lord shall be beautiful and glorious, and the fruit of the land shall be the pride and glory of survivors of Israel (v. 2).

6 See: Hoffman, ibid., who follows H. Wildberger, Isaiah 1–12, Neukirchen 1972 p. 466. Likewise: Duhm, Kissane, von Rad, Löwe, Keiser, Weiser, Eissfeldt, Lindblum, Segal et al. 7 Hoffman, ibid. p. 70. 8 See esp. S.D. Luzzatto, Commentary on the Book of Isaiah (Schlezinger’s edition), Jerusalem 1970 p. 51 [Hebrew]. 9 Luzzatto (ibid.) interprets “‫ ”מכון‬as in the Arabic makaan, meaning “site” rather than “shrine.” But more likely the word is associated with the word “‫ ”נכון‬of the prophecy about “the End Days” in 2:2, meaning the temple.

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The salvation of the chosen remnant (v. 3) reaches its peak in this scene, namely in the everlasting presence of God, represented by smoke and fire. The image of a column of smoke and of fire is undoubtedly a reference to the tradition of being led through the desert, and thus this passage may be seen as a kind of merger of the Exodus and the David-Zion traditions. Unlike Isaiah, Amos makes explicit reference to the Exodus on three separate occasions: 2:10–11; 3:1; 9:7. (Another hint, possibly in allusion to the ten plagues, may be found in 4:10 – but it tells us nothing about Amos’ attitude toward the Exodus tradition.) Some scholars doubt the authenticity of 2:10–11 and 3:1,10 but their arguments are disputed.11 The very fact that Amos felt the need to make repeated reference to the Exodus indicates that his audience, in the northern kingdom, had a greater appreciation for this tradition than Isaiah’s audience. For our purposes, however, it is the content of his words that count, rather more than the number of citations per se. In all three occurrences the Exodus is cited mainly for polemical purposes. In the first passage, Amos accuses Israel of ingratitude: Also I brought you up out of the land of Egypt, and led you forty years in the wilderness, to possess the land of the Amorites. And I raised up some of your sons for prophets, and some of your young men for nazirites. Is it not indeed so, O people of Israel? Says the Lord. But you made the nazirites drink wine, and commanded the prophets, saying, ‘You shall not prophesy’. (2:10–12)

The Exodus is therefore presented as the first of several major benevolent deeds that God did for His people. The second is the bequeathing of the land of the Emorites, and the third is the appointment of prophets and nazirites. The implication is that the Israelites’ rejection of their spiritual leadership is tantamount to a negation and renunciation of liberation from Egypt itself. Nevertheless, in this context the Exodus is merely one of three deeds of divine charity, albeit the most important one. The second passage (3:1) speaks indirectly of Israel’s attitude toward the Exodus itself: apparently, the people see the Exodus as the mark of special divine privilege, one that is unconditional and will protect them from all possible harm for ever. The prophet sets out to disabuse them of this notion. He points out that the special

10 11

Marti (1900); Fosebrok (1956); Wolffe (1969); Vollmer (1971) et al. See: N. Rösel (ibid.) pp. 63–66.

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bonds between God and His people do not entitle them to special privileges. On the contrary – they impose severe responsibilities and commitments upon the chosen people. While other nations will be punished in future only for specific crimes, the people of Israel – as is clear from Amos’ repeated formula in his opening prophecies – will be punished for all their misdeeds. The third occurrence (9:7) is therefore the most significant one: Are you not like the Ethiopians to me, O people of Israel? Says the Lord. Did I not bring up Israel from the land of Egypt, and the Philistines from Caphtor and the Syrians from Kir?

In other words, the Exodus is but one of many acts of God as the ruler of history. Just as He brought the people of Israel out from Egypt, He delivered other nations from their former abodes and changed their destiny. The Exodus does not, therefore, place God under any special obligations, nor does it bestow upon Israel any particularly special status. On the contrary, as the prophet goes on to say: All the sinners of my people shall die by sword, who say, ‘Evil shall not overtake us or come near us’ (v. 10).

So it is that Amos, the prophet from Tekoa in Judea, deliberately tailors his arguments toward his northern Israelite audience by demolishing a fundamental tenet of their national psyche – that of a special relationship that it has with God, based on the Exodus doctrine. A completely different picture emerges in the book of Hosea. This northern prophet, as we know, links his own private, personal destiny with the symbolic significance of his mission. To experience personally the pain, disgrace, and disappointment that God feels due to His people’s betrayal, he takes “a wife of harlotry” with whom he has “children of harlotry.”12 By presenting the relationship between God and his People in such stark terms, the prophet establishes the notion of faith in God as one of a mutual love relationship, in which God sees Himself as a betrayed lover, but as such also as someone who will spare no effort in regaining his beloved – even to the point of transgressing or violating His own laws (since he returns to retrieve her, after sending her away and she became someone else’s wife, in violation of the explicit prohibition of Deuteronomy 24:1–4. See, too, an echo of this 12 I prefer the interpretations that view this divine demand literally, rather than symbolically. See mainly Ibn Ezra and Abarbanel.

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in Jeremiah 3:1.). Significantly, however, this entire saga of unpredictable love is woven around the Exodus. That event marks the start of this romantic involvement, in a highly idealized depiction: . . . And there she shall answer [or: respond = ‫ ]וענתה‬as in the days of her youth, as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt (2:17).

Indeed, the prophet is not even aware of any way of establishing a good and proper relationship, in view of the past transgressions, other than returning to the same framework and forging a kind of new Exodus: Therefore I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. And there I will give her the vineyards, and make the Valley of Achor a door of hope (vs. 16–17).

This new relationship shall be established on equality rather than onesided dependence: And in that day you will call [me] ishi (= my man), And no more will you call me baali (= my husband) (v. 18).

In this manner, the ideological basis for the principled stand against worship of the Baalim is also hinted at.13 It appears, therefore, that the northern prophet knows of no better framework, historically or symbolically, with which to convey both his criticism and his portrayal of an ideal future, than the Exodus itself. Other mentions of the Exodus in the book of Hosea reinforce this notion, e.g.: “But I have been the Lord your God since the land of Egypt” (12:10, 14); and, especially 13:4, where he reiterates: “And you have never known a God but Me.”14 See also 8:13; 9:3. Micah, Isaiah’s contemporary, refers to the Exodus in two contexts. The discussion surrounding these two instances also highlights the two inherent issues pertaining to this subject in the prophetic literature as a whole:

13 Baal meaning also: owner. Because of the inner links between these words and the wider picture that emerges from the mixing of the metaphor with its meaning or moral, I tend to reject the view of some that this verse was a late editorial addition. Cf. A. Rofé, Introduction to the Prophetic Literature, Jerusalem 1992 p. 29 [Hebrew]. Rofé bases his argument mainly on the syntax, which includes changes from present to third voice and from singular to plural. 14 These words appear to be an internal biblical interpretation of Exodus 3:6–17, where we learn that the Israelites’ introduction to “other gods” took place only at a later stage, in Canaan. See also Hosea 2:17.

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1. The references to the Exodus are controversial, as their authenticity is disputed. If we could establish that the two references in Micah, as well those in the books of the Judean prophets, are the product of later editorial additions by the Deuteronomist, then we could also state unequivocally that the prophets’ positive attitude toward the Exodus appears only after a certain date in the prophetic literature. But this is not the case: the jury is still out over on whether these references are indeed in the prophets’ original prophecies or not, and moreover, in the writings of the post-exilic prophets – Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi – there is no mention of the Exodus whatsoever. 2. It is not the number of references that counts in gauging a prophet’s attitude, as much as the content of the prophecies themselves.15 In this respect it seems that Micah’s attitude is not all that different from that of Amos: in the first instance (6:4–5) he mentions the Exodus while reproaching Israel for its ingratitude and forgetting all of God’s deeds of benevolence. He does not deny that the Exodus was a formative event, but criticizes Israel’s perception of it. Understandably, any historical event that is seen as marking the foundation of the nation may be seen as a source of pride and of special privileges, but like Amos, Micah maintains that Israel has no right to bask in the reflected glory of the liberation and the divine miracles, since they have since desecrated the holiness and uniqueness of that kindness. In other words, he denounces Israel for an attitude toward the Exodus that is at odds with the symbolic significance that they attribute to it. The second reference may be interpreted in yet another way. The phrase “As in the days when you came out from the land of Egypt” (7:15), which forms part of a national appeal, may imply that in light of the Exodus, Israel is assured of further acts of salvation in the future. At the same time, the context also makes it plain that the Exodus is not regarded as utterly unique. Like Amos, who compared the delivering of Israel out of Egypt to that of other nations from whence they came, Micah makes similar, albeit more discreet, comparisons with other wondrous deeds that are to be expected in future. This sort of prophetic approach is echoed in two of Jeremiah’s prophecies:

15

See also Hoffman, who follows Kaufmann. Ibid. pp. 40–41.

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chapter three Therefore behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when they will no longer say ‘As the Lord lives, who brought up the sons of Israel from the land of Egypt’, but, ‘As the Lord lives, who brought up and led back the offspring of Israel from the northland and from all the countries where I had driven them.’ Then they shall dwell on their own soil (23:7–8). Behold days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and with the house of Judah. Not like the covenant which they broke, although I was a husband to them [or: so that I rejected them] declares the Lord. But this is the covenant which I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord, I will put my teaching [or: my law] within them, and on their heart I will write it; and I will be their God, and they shall be My people (31:30–32).

Both passages, or parts thereof, are thought by many to be later additions.16 But the criteria for such judgments should be re-examined, for they are based mainly on the premise that the text is a mix of prophetic poetry with prose with a wide range of Deuteronomistic termins – and to my mind, this was merely a literary device, with each style serving to suit the contextual needs. The heavy use of one particular phrasing or another is not necessarily the sign of a different author. In the previous chapter we saw how the use of legalistic terminology is equally prevalent in both southern and northern sources. It is reasonable to assume, therefore, that when a prophet wishes to disprove the moral basis and legitimacy of a claim for special privileges based on the Exodus, he will prefer to deploy a “prosaic” style, including phrases and expressions taken from the world of law, custom and negotiation. Nevertheless, it is evident that here too, the significance of the Exodus has somewhat diminished: the prophet does not consider it to be an event utterly without equal. In both prophecies his words are said as part of a series of short speeches about the End Days, namely about the time of redemption for the misdeeds of the present in order to build an idealized future. The repeated opening formula of these

16 See Hoffman, ibid. p. 49 for a table of attitudes. Mowinckel and Bright maintain that 23:8 is an editorial addition. Weiser suggests that it was shifted from its original place. As to 31:32, Rudolph and Weiser consider it original, while Bright assumes that it was adapted. Yet if we remove 23:8, the whole paragraph remains incomplete, for it seems unreasonable that the original intention was merely to annul the vow of the covenant of the Exodus. Rather, the intention was to replace it with a new vow. This is even more true about 31:32, since verse 30 speaks about a new covenant. It is therefore reasonable that the prophet also detailed the contents of this new covenant.

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speeches – “Behold, days are coming” – attests to the inner affinity between these literary units.17 The envisaged future includes the total internalization of faith in God and His worship by one and all: And they shall not teach again, each man his neighbor and each man his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord’, for they shall all know Me, from the least of them to the greatest of them . . . (31:33).

Clearly, this idealized picture involves the establishment of an ideal regime (23:5–6), and this in turn ties in with the doctrine of choosing the House of David, in pointed opposition to the Exodus tradition. Therefore the new covenant, which is deemed true and better than its predecessor, is also the essential infrastructure for building the ideal future, and must replace the covenant of the Exodus. Thus, even if the text as we now know it includes some editorial additions, these are no more than an interpretative elaboration of the prophet’s original pronouncements. The prophet does not deny the value of the former covenant, but he does see its inherent flaws and in terms of the failure of the people to abide by its tenets. Jeremiah’s positive attitude to the Exodus may also be understood on this basis: I remember the devotion of your youth, your love as a bride, how you followed me in the wilderness, in a land not sown (2:2).

In this idealistic picture Jeremiah is undoubtedly influenced by his mentor, Hosea: . . . And there she shall answer as in the days of her youth, as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt (Hosea 2:17).

But, like Hosea, Jeremiah too makes reference to this ideal situation only in order to indict Israel: while God remembers Israel’s devotion in her youth, the nation clearly does not, since later on in the same speech, Jeremiah repeats the accusation:

17 Visions of the End Days are generally discrete entities, each presenting a vision of one specific area and subject. But together they also form a larger picture of an ideal future, from different angles, which might even be thought of as a “program.” This consists of: a) a severe punishment, even to the point of total annihilation of the evildoers, or enemies of God; b) the establishment of a better future by a chosen few of survivors, lead by an ideal ruler from the House of David; c) an internalization of faith; d) the cooperation of nature in creating a perfect harmony, in a form of renewed Creation.

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chapter three “What injustice did your fathers find in Me, that they went far from Me . . . and they did not say, ‘Where is the Lord who brought us out of the land of Egypt, who led us through the wilderness . . . And I brought you into the fruitful land, to eat its fruit and its bounty. But you came and defiled my land . . . .” In this, too, he follows Hosea, who claims: “And she does not know that it was I who gave her the grain, the new wine and the oil . . .” (Hosea 2:8).

Like Hosea, who sees the culmination of the imagined future in a renewed marriage covenant to be consummated by Israel’s “knowing” God (v. 22), Jeremiah imagines this “knowing” to be shared by one and all: . . . for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest of them . . . (Jeremiah 31:33).

In other instances in the Book of Jeremiah, the Exodus is mentioned only in routine formulaic fashion: From the day that your fathers came out of the land of Egypt (7:25; likewise: 22; 11:4; 34:13).

The question as to whether this formula is authentic or the work of a Deuteronomistic redactor makes little difference to our study. The important point is that the prophet does not cast doubt on the primacy of the Exodus, but only on its status as something uniquely significant, and particularly on the special credit that the people of Israel claim for themselves because of it. The fact that the Exodus became associated with the nation’s birth is also evident in biblical passages of the David/Zion doctrine that clearly had no vested interest in promoting this tradition at all. One such example is Nathan’s prophecy (II Samuel 7), where David’s request to build a house for God is rejected, but he is promised instead that he and his house will be granted a kingdom that will last forever. Notably, the reason for the rejection is phrased as follows: I have not dwelt in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day (v. 6).

The words “from the day that I brought up the people of Israel” are used here in the meaning of “from the beginning of time,” or “since time immemorial.” The Exodus, in other words, is synonymous with the very beginning of history; indeed, as far as the author is concerned, the nation had no history prior to the Exodus, and hence the expression.

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Of course, this phrase on its own does not constitute proof of the importance of this tradition as a formative event. It does, however, add to a considerable body of evidence. As a rule, with a few minor exceptions due to theme and context, the same attitude toward the Exodus may be discerned in the books of the other prophets. This is particularly true of Ezekiel – who refers to the Exodus in one chapter only (20:5–20) – and of the Second Isaiah (40–55). In Isaiah 56–66 (“the Third Isaiah”) it also gets only a single mention (63:11–15), as part of a lament. Hoffman notes that the Second Isaiah conspicuously avoids using the usual terminology associated with the Exodus (“bring up,” “bring out,” “come out” & “Egypt”). Nor does he refer to the wider tradition, but only to specific details within it, such as the actual departure from the land of Egypt; the splitting of the Reed (Red) Sea; the drowning of the Egyptians in that sea; the wanderings in the wilderness, or even the going down to Egypt. Not so the “Third Isaiah,” who even makes explicit reference to Moses and uses the expression “up” or “ ” in his references to the Exodus.18 As for the Second Isaiah, his references to the Exodus are notable for the fact that they are all linked to the notion of God’s absolute control over the universe, to do as he so pleases, and to submit the forces of nature to the needs of His redeemed people. In other words, God manipulates nature to accomplish his aims for the course of history. The Relationship Between Myth and Historiography This theme deals both with the relationship between the perception of God as Creator and God as Redeemer – that is, between God as sovereign of the universe and God as the ruler of history – and with the relationship between justice and the laws of creation. Many scholars believe that in the early stages of evolution of its religious awareness, Israel was not yet familiar with the notion of a Creator deity.19

18

Hoffman, ibid. pp. 60–62. For a review of attitudes, see: C. Westermann, Genesis 1–11, Erträge der Forschung, Vol. 7, Darmstadt 1972. Idem: “Biblical Reflection on Creator-Creation,” Creation, London 1974 pp. 1–15. For a comprehensive review of the subject, see: S. Gelander, The Good Creator, Literature and Theology in Genesis 1–11, Atlanta 1997 pp. 3–4. An outstanding presentation of the concept of the fusion of the notions of “Creator” and “Redeemer” into a single entity at a late stage of development, is D.J. McCarthy, “Creation Motifs in Ancient Hebrew Poetry,” CBQ 29 (1967) pp. 87–100. See also idem in a revised version, below, note 20. For an opposing view, see mainly von Rad, who tends to ascribing this fusion to an earlier period: G. von 19

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This view is based on a number of biblical passages and the relationship between them, but is mainly on the notion that for a nation whose birth was linked to liberation from Egypt, it was only natural to think in terms of a redeeming deity, one who controls the course of history. For them, the question of a Creator God was merely hypothetical. Only in much later periods did this become an existential question – particularly during exile and beyond, in the face of the traumatic encounter with the myths of theomachy that dominated the religions of the formidable Mesopotamian empires. But contrary to this view, a growing number of researchers believe that one need not go as far as the Second Isaiah in find a synthesis between the notions of creation and redemption: it is detectable in earlier biblical texts, as well.20 The affinity between the laws of nature and the laws of justice has many ramifications and occurs in many guises across the biblical literature.21 However, the merging of these two themes undoubtedly finds its broadest and most complete expression in the prophecies of Second Isaiah (40–55), along with other themes and traditions such as the tradition of the Patriarchs, the doctrine of the choosing of Zion and of the House of David, etc. This lends credence to the notion that the fusion of the northern and southern traditions – namely the Exodus and the choosing of Zion-David – into a single historiography of a unified nation – was only completed at the time of the Second Isaiah. This is the doctrine that presents the history of Israel as if it had always been a single, unified nation from the outset, as descendants of a single patriarch, which evolved as a single religious and political entity until the tragic split of the kingdom into north and south. A most significant indication of the various stages of this ideology may be found in the changing of attitudes toward the myth of theomachy, which attributes the story of Creation with a violent struggle Rad, “Das theologische Problem des alttestamentlichen Schöpfungsglaubens,” Bzaw 66 (1936) passim. 20 See mainly: W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament, Vol. 2, London 1967 p. 97. See Isaiah 2:12–14; 5:5–6; 11:6–9; Amos 4:13; 5:6 ff; and the biblical descriptions where the powers of nature are depicted as means of divine retribution, along with mortal enemies: Hosea 8:7; 9:6; Jeremiah 15:3–4. For descriptions of nature as working in the service of the redeemed, cf.: Exodus 14:16–31; and especially Psalms 114; Joshua 10:11–13; I Kings 17:1; Amos 4:6–9; Jeremiah 3:3; 14:1–9 etc. 21 On the concept of the universe as a “stage” where the display of God’s justice is enacted, see: S. Gelander, “Justice and the Order of Creation,” Beit Mikra 97 (1984) pp. 158–179 [Hebrew].

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between various deities. In the Babylonian version, known as Enuma elish, the act of creation centers around a vicious, physical battle between the Creator, Marduch, and the goddess Tiamat, who is aided by an assortment of marine monsters, such as dragons, and serpents. In the Canaanite version of this story, it is Yam who acts as the adversary of the creator, Baal.22 Since the creation story of Genesis makes no reference to any struggle, nor indeed is there any mention of an adversary,23 many scholars believed that it represented a tacit polemic against the Mesopotamian myths. However, elsewhere in the Bible we do find explicit descriptions of God’s victories over monstrous ancient entities. This is particular apparent in Isaiah 51:9–10: Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord. Awake as in the days of old, the generations of long ago. Was it not Thou that hacked Rahab in pieces, that pierced the dragon? Was it not Thou who dried up the sea, the waters of the great abysses? Who made the depths of the sea a road for the redeemed to cross over?

These words are included within a prophecy of encouragement and consolation, addressed at the returning exiles. Unlike the consolatory prophecies of the Second Isaiah, this speech repeatedly refers to the hardships and humiliations of those who are about to be liberated. The entire prophecy is replete with expressions such “the insults of men,” “the cup of his wrath,” “the bowl (or chalice) of reeling,” “the fury of the oppressor,” “devastation and destruction, famine and sword,” and the like. Accordingly, liberation is also cast in terms of punishing retribution for one’s enemies and revenge. The “arm of the Lord” that is called to perform this, is thus none other than the one that

22 There is dispute over the direct inspiration of the biblical creation stories. Fisher contends that the Canaanite story bears a greater affinity to the Israelite tradition, but McCarthy and Thompson reject this interpretation. It is worth noting that myths vary greatly with geographic and climatic conditions. Thus, the Canaanite story refers to the Mediterranean, while the Mesopotamian myth speaks of rivers and the waters of the flood. Hence, too, the difference in the names of the deities. See: L.R. Fisher, “Creation at Ugarit and in the Old Testament,” VT 15 (1965) pp. 313–324; D.J. McCarthy, “Creation Motifs in Ancient Hebrew Poetry,” B.W. Anderson (editor), Creation in the Old Testament, Philadelphia 1984 pp. 74–89; P.E.S. Thompson, “The Yahwist Creation Story,” VT 21 (1974) pp. 197–208. On the Canaanite influence see: D.T. Tsumura, The Earth and the Waters in Genesis 1–2, Sheffield 1989. 23 On the etiological connection of the Hebrew word tehom and the goddess Tiamat, and on the specific mention of crocodiles among all creatures, opinions are divided. On the question if the creation story of Genesis 1 was indeed intended to discourage anthropomorphic attributions – see the discussion below.

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vanquished His primeval adversaries. Indeed, the description itself also reflects a purpose of de-mythologization, by stressing that victory over the “waters of the great abysses” and the “depths of the sea” was not necessarily a victory over a divine entity, but merely an act of drying out the sea to enable the liberated people to cross. Thus, the act of Creation is transformed into an analogy for the parting of the Reed Sea – in other words, a kind of “historization of the myth.”24 The same expressions used to portray the Creator-God, who rules over the universe, are used here to portray God the Redeemer, the master of history. But the prophet’s choice of vocabulary and metaphors also attests to his familiarity with the echoes of the ancient myths, which he clearly considers are most apt to illustrate God’s omnipotence. This and other instances like it lead to the conclusion that, “when the going gets tough,” as it were – that is, in situations of acute national distress and hardship – the text resorts to overt and explicit use of mythological expressions depicting violent struggle between the deities. See: Psalms 74:13–17; 89:10–14. Cf.: Psalms 77:17–20, where references to the mythological struggle are more oblique. See also Psalms 18:7–16.25 To underline this issue further, it is worth noting the attitude of Second Isaiah to the creation story of Genesis. As we said, most modern researchers agree that the main thrust of the Priestly Creation Narrative (P: Genesis 1:1–2:3) is the rejection of anthropomorphism – in

24 This observation is based mainly on those of T. Fenton, “The Attitudes of the Biblical Authors to the Myth of Theomachy,” I. Avishur – I. Blau (editors), Studies in the Bible and the Ancient Middle East, tribute to S.E. Löwenstamm, Jerusalem 1978 pp. 337–381. My contribution here is merely in observing that implicit references to the theomachy in the Bible occur, as a rule, within contexts of national distress. This is apparent both in the books of the prophets as well as the Psalms. Thus, the biblical attitude to the theomachy is dependent on its context, rather than driven by a consistent ideology. 25 This is in stark contrast to Uffenheimer’s view of the role of myth in biblical literature. Uffenheimer maintains that the biblical attitude is mostly ironic (unlike Kaufmann, who initially argued that the Bible makes no references whatsoever to the myths, but later softened his position, admitting that in some instances there is a weak and sublimated echo of them). See: E. Kaufmann, “The Bible and the Foreign Gods,” The History of the Faith of Israel, Vol. 1 Book 2, Tel-Aviv, many editions following 1936, pp. 255–267 [Hebrew]. Idem: “The Bible and the Mythological Deities,” Mikivshonah shel Hajezirah Hamikrait, Tel-Aviv 1966 pp. 131–160 [Hebrew]. (This article was first printed in 1951). For an opposing view, see: B. Uffenheimer, “The Biblical Competence with the remainders of the Idolatrous Myths,” Y. Hoffman – F.H. Polak (editors), A Light for Jacob: In memory of J.S. Licht, Jerusalem – Tel-Aviv 1997 pp. 17–30 [Hebrew]. Uffenheimer relies mainly on the description of the Leviathan in the book of Job.

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contrast to other biblical descriptions which bear a clear and overt affinity with the ancient myths. In addition to making no explicit mention of any divine power opposed to the Creator, this message is reinforced by the repeated emphasis that the entire universe was created purely by the word of God. This has been the generally accepted view of scholars from Wellhausen onwards.26 But Weinfeld disputes this, on the strength of an examination of the prophecies of the Second Isaiah. In his consolatory prophecies, this Isaiah describes the liberation from exile as a series of images, in which nature itself changes course to alleviate the hardships of the returning exiles on their journey home to Zion (e.g. Isaiah 40:4; 41:18–19). By changing the laws of nature for the sake of historic redemption, God’s control over the universe is an illustration of His control of history. But these images also contain several polemical passages, with which the prophet confronts first his people, then the pagan nations. This confrontation set out to contrast the omnipotence of the Creator-Redeemer with the impotence and failings of other nations and their gods. To this end, Isaiah poses a series of rhetorical questions regarding the identity and attributes of the Creator and His ways. Weinfeld believes these questions are aimed squarely at the descriptions of the Creation in Genesis 1, or at any rate at what might be inferred from them. For a closer inspection, it appears these descriptions do contain traces of mythological notions. In Isaiah 40:12–14, 21–22, 28, the words: The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, does not become weary or tired. His understanding is inscrutable [or: His wisdom cannot be fathomed].

may be understood as a challenge to the description of the seventh day in the Priestly document – which is repeated in Exodus 20:11 and Exodus 31:17 – where the seventh day is justified by the words: “. . . and He rested on the seventh day,” or “. . . he ceased to work and was refreshed.”

In other words – if indeed there is a polemic point behind Isaiah’s question – it is that Genesis 1 does imply the distinctly anthropomorphic notion that God was tired by his work and had to rest on the 26 See: M. Weinfeld, “The Creator God in 1 Genesis and in the Prophecies of Second Isaiah,” Tarbiz 37 (1968) pp. 105–132 [Hebrew].

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seventh day. The same applies to other questions of Isaiah’s: 40:28–31; 44:24; 45:7, 8; 48:18; 50:2; 51:15; 54:9. Moreover, Weinfeld argues that Wellhausen and his followers were not entirely accurate in their textual scrutiny: not everything was created merely by the word of God. Some aspects of the creation – e.g. the firmament (v. 7), the great lights (v. 16), the beasts of the earth and the cattle according to their kinds (v. 25), and humankind itself (v. 28) – we read “And God made,” rather than “And God said . . . and it was so.” In the case of the marine creatures, too, we read “So God created.” Thus, in four of the acts of creation – and possibly the most important ones, at that – creation was not “abstract,” by word alone, but involved actual deeds. Weinfeld’s conclusion, therefore, is that the real intention behind the creation narrative of Genesis 1 was not so much to reject anthropomorphism, nor to disparage mythological concepts, as to enhance and to glorify the holiness of the seventh day. As such, far from denouncing mythology, it promotes it – albeit a monotheistic one. The Second Isaiah is therefore the prophet in whose prophecies the creation myth is harnessed, with the utmost subtlety, to serve the needs of prophetic historiography. All the above lends support to the contention, that it was only at the time of the Second Isaiah onwards do we see a merging of the Exodus and the David-Zion traditions into a single, coherent interpretation of a historical evolution of a unified nation – one where, in effect, the David-Zion tradition is presented as an improved and refined extension of that of the Exodus.27 This may also contribute to an understanding of a certain aspect of the northern traditions, which often depict nature changing its course for the benefit of the chosen people – the Exodus tradition being just one such example.28 In the David-Zion traditions, however, descriptions of God’s interventions are rare. In the stories of David there are only two instances where God intervened directly in the course of events. One is in the story of the battle against the Philistines in Valley of Rephaim – Baal-perazim (II Samuel 5:17–25). The second is when he thwarted Ahitophel’s counsel, in response to David’s prayer

27 Accordingly, and for the sake of simplicity, I will henceforth present the tradition of the House of David and the Zion tradition as a single entity. 28 See note 20 above; the Song of Deborah, Judges 5:4–5; and in the Gideon narratives, e.g. the description of the dream of the Midianites (Judges 7:9–14), and all the details of God’s instructions there, etc.

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(II Samuel 15:31; 17:14). Notably, in neither instance does God’s intervention involve any change in the course of nature. Isaiah’s view of the story of creation therefore marks a crucial aspect of the fusion of the rivaling traditions. * From this part of our study it is apparent that of all the prophets, only Hosea, the northern prophet, regards the Exodus as exceptional: not only a formative event, but also as a historical model of unparalleled importance – namely, as a framework and symbol of the ideal relationship between God and His people. Since we have no evidence of any other contemporary northern prophet, we cannot attribute the differences between prophets to the different outlook of South vs. North – only to the individuality of each prophet. Nevertheless, it is abundantly clear that the prophets of Judah of the First Temple period did not attach the same importance to the Exodus as did Hosea. Admittedly, the post-exilic prophets – Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi – make no reference to the Exodus, but this in itself is not enough to infer anything about their attitude to the event.29 Rather, its omission may be due to the nature of the themes and subjects of their prophecies, on which the Exodus had no bearing. In the book of Psalms we see a similar discrepancy. In psalms that are identifiably northern, and which mention the Exodus – such as Psalms 80, 81 and 11430 – it is seen as the most decisive and significant event in the nation’s history.31 In others, especially those of “poetic history” (105; 106; 135; 136), it is not regarded as a religious event of primary importance (cf. Psalm 107). In Psalm 78, for example, although

29 In fact, Haggai 2:4–5 does contain a reference to the Exodus, but in words that seem out of kilter with their context, and the style (use of the word “promise” rather than “covenant”) is strange. It appears, therefore, to be a glossary verse. The words are missing in the Septuagint, and on this occasion it seems the latter is the authentic version. 30 Some interpreters attribute Psalm 80 to specific northern tribes. Verse 2 – “Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, thou who leadest Joseph like a flock!” – clearly features synonymous parallelism, in which God, “the shepherd of Israel” is equated in the second clause with God, leader of Joseph. Joseph is therefore synonymous with Israel. But according to Midrashic interpretations, in this instance Joseph is perceived as the subject, and it is he who leads the flock, thereby alluding to the story of Joseph where he “led the world and nourished it during the years of famine.” (Breshit Rabah, 91, 5). See also: U. Simon, Seek Peace and Pursue It, Tel-Aviv 2002 pp. 86–87 [Hebrew]. 31 Not, however, in Psalm 29, which does not refer to historical events, but to God’s control over the universe, even if the intimation of verse 8 is clear.

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the Exodus is its central theme, it is presented in a somewhat ambivalent, not to say provocative manner. The same is true in other psalms that refer to the Exodus in general or to specific events within it. Such references are associated with an admonition or warning, such as: Harden not your hearts, as at Meribah, as at the day at Massah in the wilderness (95:8)

or For forty years I loathed that generation and said, ‘They are a people who err in heart . . .’ (v. 10).

Other psalms reflect a desire to merge the two traditions, and thus adopt a conciliatory tone, as we shall see later in the final chapter of this study. Broadly speaking, the attitude in the book of Psalms toward the Exodus mirrors that of the prophetic books: in the northern psalms it is seen as an event of unrivaled importance, while in the southern poems it is mentioned in decidedly lukewarm terms, as only one of a series of historical events, and occasionally useful for chastising Israel for its ingratitude. Exodus in the Pentateuch This topic has been widely and extensively debated in innumerable studies and essays. I shall therefore confine this study to a few comments relevant to my hypothesis. I shall not touch upon the question of whether or not the Exodus traditions are historically accurate, but one comment is in order: as stated earlier, in this study we use the term “tradition” as a sort of shorthand, but we should remember the Hebrew Bible in general and the Pentateuch in particular contains traces of diverse traditions, some of which are mutually exclusive. This in itself suggests that the Exodus was deeply rooted in the consciousness of wider biblical authors, and that before the various traditions were distilled into a single editorial framework, there was no “coordinating of stories.” In any event, there is no reason to believe that the entire Exodus episode was nothing but a literary invention of a later period. Even the earliest sources bear traces of even earlier fusions of different traditions from periods before they were recorded in writing – such as the traditions of Sinai and of the Exodus. Since it is highly unlikely that the same basic tradition would be invented independently in different locales and at different times, differing only in minor details, the probability is that the

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event was real, and the discrepancies are the result of natural lapses in communal memory. Nevertheless, the Exodus is notably presented in the Pentateuch not only as the dawn of national liberation, but also as the framework for the social, political, and legal organization of the Israelite nation.32 Thus, the Exodus doctrine is a synthesis not only of literary traditions, but of world views, as well, and in particular of the concepts of God as Creator and as Redeemer. Given the complexity of this undertaking, it is understandable that it should have been completed only at the time of the Second Isaiah. A deeper understanding of this issue requires an appreciation of the unique position of the Book of Deuteronomy and its views on several central religious issues. But before dealing with that aspect, it is worthwhile briefly reviewing several issues relating to themes and motifs within the Exodus tradition: 1. The narrative serving both as backdrop and presentation of slavery and the birth of Moses is itself an amalgam of different traditions. Were Pharaoh truly in need of manpower to build the garrison cities (or “store cities”) he would not have sought to kill all the Israelites’ newborn sons. On the other hand, if he feared the Israelites multiplying, he should have killed off their women. Besides, the story of the midwives contradicts the steps that he takes to deal with a national problem, since it addresses only one individual case. It appears therefore that two different traditions were joined together: Exodus 1:15–21, and 1:23 onwards, with v. 22 serving as an editorial bridge. 2. The same applies to the various episodes concerning Moses’ origins and early years. Many scholars have observed that here too, two contradictory traditions are clearly discernible.33 The part of the story which ends with Moses being adopted as a son of Pharaoh’s daughter (2:10), is at odds with subsequent episodes of him growing up and going out to his kinsfolk. So much so, that in an attempt to reconcile this discordance, some have suggested the words “to his kinsfolk” (or brethren) are intended for the readers only, namely

32 For recent research see mainly: J. Cohen, The Origins and Evolution of the Moses Nativity Story, Leiden 1993; J. van Seters, The Life of Moses: The Yahwist as Historian in Exodus-Numbers, Kampen 1994. 33 In recent years see in particular: J. Cohen, The Origins and Evolution of the Moses Nativity Story, Leiden 1993; J. van Seters, The Life of Moses: The Yahwist as Historian in Exodus-Numbers, Kampen 1994.

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Moses himself was unaware of his real identity.34 But the repeated use of the words “of his brethren,” and the description of the event as a whole, belie such an interpretation. Moses’ precautions in making his way in secret and concealing his actions seem odd for one brought up as a prince in the house of Pharaoh. Even more curious is the notion that the Hebrew “offender” (or: the man that did the wrong = ‫ )לרשע‬would speak so harshly to an Egyptian prince: “Who made you a prince or a judge over us [or: chief and ruler]? Are you intending to kill me, as you killed the Egyptian?” (2:14). Moses’ fear and Pharaoh’s bid to kill him also do not square with the notion of Moses as an Egyptian prince. Accordingly, it seems likely that the passage beginning: “Now it came about in those days, when Moses had grown up, and went out to his brethren” (2:11), belongs to another story, from a different tradition, in which Moses grew up among his own kinsmen and went out to his brothers as a Hebrew youth.35 3. The story of Moses in the wicker basket and his rescue by Pharaoh’s daughter recalls a well-known universal motif, and is strikingly similar to the story of Sargon I, the founder of the Akkadian Empire (2371–2316 bc). In that story the narrator [Sargon] himself tells, in first person, how his mother conceived him and gave birth to him in secret, whereupon she placed him in a basket of rushes, sealed the lid with bitumen, and cast it into the river, which carried him to Akki, the water carrier.36 Some contend that the biblical story is an echo of a tradition whereby Pharaoh received an oracleprophecy in which, as in the story of Odysseus, he is warned that the expected son would jeopardize his rule, which is why he seeks to have him killed.

34

Contrast with Ibn Ezra’s contention of the precise opposite: [The kinsfolk in question are] “The Egyptians. For he sojourned in the king’s palace.” 35 The words “. . . In those days” or similar expressions, are generally identified in biblical research as a conjunctive formula, or a device designed to join together texts that originally were independent. 36 The similarities between this story and that of Moses are clear. There even share some identical expressions. On aspects pertaining to the historical background of Egypt of the period in question, see: H.M. Orlinski, “Moses,” Essays in Biblical Culture and Bible Translation, New-York 1974 pp. 5–38. Conversely, some scholars stress the differences between these stories, e.g.: Sargon’s mother was a great priestess, of a noble family, whose pregnancy was illegal. See: N.M. Sarna, The Biblical World: Exodus, Tel Aviv 1998 p. 27.

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4. The story of the divine revelation to Moses also contains two parallel narratives (3:1–4, 17; 6 and 6:2–12, 29–7:5)37 – the first of these narratives is itself a patchwork of various traditions. By rights, the point where God reveals His name (or its homiletic interpretation) to Moses (3:15) should mark the end of the scene, since the divulging of the sovereign’s name indicates that a treaty has been signed and sealed.38 Moses’ continued negotiation at this point, including yet another reason why he must refuse, is therefore clearly out of place, and thus the words “Go and assemble the elders of Israel” (v. 16) should be understood as the start of an alternative tradition about Moses’ mission, with verse 15 serving as a narrational bridge between the two. Another telltale sign of “tradition splicing is the scene regarding the miraculous signs: for after instructing Moses to borrow articles of silver and of gold, the renewed mention of miraculous signs appears to rewind the story to an earlier point. Moses’ argument about his being “slow of speech and slow of tongue” may also be a later insertion, to allow the Aaron-tradition to be incorporated into the Moses narrative.39 Finally, it is also worth noting that the description of Moses’ coming “to Horeb, the mountain of God” (3:1) must be understood as the narrator’s comment, rather than a suggestion that Moses already knew of its divine association. For were it not so, we would have to conclude that Moses was actively seeking out God and preparing himself for the revelation, which

37 See: B. Uffenheimer, ibid. p. 116, who rejects the widely-accepted view that these texts should be attributed to different sources. He also rejects the contention that the story of the revelation to Moses is influenced by prophetic literature. He points out that the motif of the appointed person initially refusing his mission is a recurring theme of early prophetic tradition, whereby the mission is never portrayed as something desirable. However, also see my observations regarding the differences between early and literary prophecy, above, in Chapter 1. 38 Without delving into the complicated issue of the meaning of Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh, it seems worth noting that Hosea, the northern prophet, alludes to this tradition when quoting God as saying “I will not be your [God] = “ehyeh” (Hosea 1:9). 39 The words “slow of speech and slow of tongue” must not be interpreted literally, nor – as legend has it – that Moses stammered. Rather it is a metaphorical figure of speech, meaning that Moses was not accustomed to public speaking or to negotiations with rulers or notables. This undermines the tradition of Moses as a prince in the house of Pharaoh, since elocution was an essential part of the education of young nobles. See: I. Shirun Gromach, “Slow of Speech and Slow of Tongue: Expressive gesture,” Lola Slepzaff (ed.), Norms and Variations in Art, Jerusalem 1983 pp. 209–221.

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would contradict his surprise and his strong reluctance to accept his mission.40 5. Moses’ life before his encounter with Pharaoh bears the hallmark patterns of Jacob’s biography 41 i. ii.

Both were born in unusual circumstances, involving danger. In their youth, both committed a serious transgression or subversive act. iii. As result of this act, both heroes were obliged to flee to another country. iv. Both heroes received a divine promise or were charged with a divine mission at a sacred site. (In both instances it is unclear whether the site was already considered sacred, or became so following said revelation). v. Each met his future wife at a well. vi. Both were married in their place of asylum and had their children there. vii. Both were told by God to return to their native country. viii. On their return, both experienced a potentially dangerous encounter with God or with a divine entity. ix. On their return, each meets his brother, who comes out to meet him. There is no telling which of these stories is the earlier one. It is even possible that both were influenced by a third narrative pattern, the origin of which has been lost. But the similarity between Jacob and Moses strengthens the link between the Exodus tradition and tradition of the northern narratives. It is also clear that the authors wanted to highlight the similarities between the liberating leader and the ancient patriarch, or vice versa: perhaps they wished to show the patriarch’s life resembling that of the liberating leader. Either way, it seems the collection of vignettes of the hero’s life was preceded by a variety of very old traditions. 40 As M.D. Cassuto points out in A Commentary on the Book of Exodus, Jerusalem 1969 p. 38 [Hebrew], like Rashi before him, it was “the mountain that was about to become the mountain of God.” 41 See: R.S. Hendel, The Epic of the Patriarch, Atlanta 1987 pp. 99–166, and the table of comparisons there. Hendel refrains from conclusions about the alleged origin of this pattern, nor does he take any position as to which of the two narratives is more ancient.

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6. The various biblical references to the plagues of Egypt also point to the existence of different traditions. In Psalm 105, for example, the order of plagues is different from that in the original story – although this in itself need not indicate a different tradition, for poetry often features variations and breach of conventional forms and patterns to fulfill the demands of the poetic structure. So, too, in the case of Psalm 78. But the number of plagues is different too, implying that in the original, ancient traditions there were seven plagues, not ten. The repeating patterns in the narrative of the plagues in the Book of Exodus, as well as its structural analysis, are further evidence that additional traditions were introduced.42 From the style and formation of the text as we know it now it seems plausible that the seventh plague was originally intended to be the last (see 10:29). The parting of the sea and the drowning of the Egyptians might also be seen as a plague, and here, too, God demonstrates his control over the forces of nature. This is underpinned by the formulation: “And as for you, lift up your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea and split it . . . And as for Me, behold, I will harden the hearts of the Egyptians . . . and I will gain glory through Pharaoh . . . Then the Egyptians will know that I am Lord.” (14:16–18)43 7. Presenting the story of the parting of the sea separately from the other plagues is meant to emphasize its mythological aspect – namely, as a polemical echo of His control of the waters in the

42

See mainly S.E. Loewenstamm, The Tradition of the Exodus and its Development, Jerusalem 1965 pp. 25–79 [Hebrew]. But the problematic nature of the literary structure was pointed out already by the medieval commentators. Rashbam, in his commentary to Exodus 7:26, noted three cycles of three plagues, wherein a warning precedes the first and second ones, but not the third. Abarbanel noted that before the first plague of each cycle, Moses is ordered to appear before Pharaoh in public, while in the second plague he is told to go into the palace. Among the modern commentators, Cassuto divides the plagues into pairs, based on an inner affinity between them (ibid. pp. 61–61), while Coats identifies the structure as a pallistrophe, in which the first scene is parallel to to the tenth, the second to the ninth etc. See: G.W. Coats, Exodus 1–18, Grand Rapids 1999. But none of the commentators attributes any ideological significance to the structure. The irregularity of the repetitions does not add up to a consistent escalation. Nor is there any substantive pattern in the repetition, i.e. there is no substantive common denominator to plagues which are preceded by a warning vs. those that are not. 43 Even the narrative of the parting of the sea contains hints of diverse traditions, some of which make no mention of the Egyptians drowning. Cf. Joshua 4:22–24; Psalms 66:1–6; 114:1–3 – vs. Psalms 78:53; 106:9–11; 136:3,15. See Loewenstamm (ibid. pp. 101–120) who rejects the views of commentators who regard the drowning of the Egyptians as the very core of the sea-splitting tradition.

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story of the Creation.44 This is underscored by the opening story, where Pharaoh is portrayed as a kind of “anti-Creator” – since, prior deciding to take action against the Children of Israel, we read that “. . . The sons of Israel were fruitful and increased greatly, and multiplied, and became exceedingly mighty, so that the land was filled with them” (Exodus 1:7). This use of words such as “fruitful” and “multiply” is strongly evocative of God’s first blessing and decree in the story of the Creation, first to the creatures (1:22) and then to humankind (28): “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth” – and again, after the flood: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth” (9:1). The same language, using the words “multitude” and “fruitful,” also features in the scene of the covenant with Abraham, in Genesis 17:2–6.45 The repetition of this theme after the flood underlines the significance of these words in biblical monotheism. For the biblical Flood narrative is widely understood as a counter to other ancient Near Eastern flood narratives, in which humankind’s excessive proliferation is presented as the main reason for the gods’ resolution to exterminate the universe. The biblical narrative also presents God’s attempt at starting a new creation, based on an altogether different concept: from here on, there was to be no more unbridled multiplication, but rather survival of the fittest. The rebirth of humankind is limited to the descendants of the best man of his generation, and in all likelihood the beasts and creatures selected for the Ark, was also chosen on that basis. In other words, the biblical story of the Flood is an attempt to address the concept of selection. When, in its aftermath, God repeats his blessing of “Be fruitful and multiply” and vows that he will never again curse the ground, the implication is He has learned from experience that selection doesn’t work. It also implies that unhindered multiplication and freedom of movement is an expression of God’s rule of the universe, and that the entire Earth is open

44 For a review of the theme of the struggle of the Creator-God with his enemies see: J. Day, God’s Conflict with the Dragon and the Sea, Cambridge 1985; Also: E.L. Greenstein, “The Snaring of Sea in the Baal Epic,” Maarav 3,2 (1982) pp. 190–216. 45 See: Cassuto (ibid.) p. 2.

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before all living things, and nowhere is barred from them. Thus, when Pharaoh responds to the sight of the Israelites’ multiplying by ordering sanctions against them, he is symbolically cast in the role of opponent to God and to His creative intentions. It follows, therefore, that the Exodus narrative, in its present form, represents a distinct, if subtle, dispute with mythology. 8. The stories of the Israelites’ wanderings in the desert may be grouped together under the title of “plaintive-stories.” For the most part, they consist of conflicts, where the Children of Israel complain to Moses against God.46 In their present form, these stories follow a set pattern47 a. The setting or location of the protest. This is presented as one of the stations in the people’s journey through the desert, accompanied by an etiological explanation. Biblical scholars generally agree that the arrangement of the stories within a chronological account, and the etiological explanations are the work of later, Priestly redactors: Exodus 14: Pi-hahirot; Exodus 15: Marah; Exodus 16: the wilderness of Sin; Exodus 17: Rephidim; Numbers 11: Kibroth-hattaavah; Numbers 13–14: the wilderness of Paran; Numbers 20: Kadesh. b. A description of the problem or grievance. In Exodus 14 – it is because the Egyptians are in hot pursuit. In Exodus 15, the reason is the water is bitter. In Exodus 16: hunger. In Exodus 17: thirst. In Numbers 11: the lack of meat and blandness of the food. In Numbers 14: fear of the inhabitants of the land. In Numbers 16–17: the aloofness of the leadership and the privileges of priesthood.48 Numbers 20: thirst again.

46 See: G.W. Coats, Rebellion in the Wilderness: The Murmuring Motif in the Wilderness Tradition of the Old Testament, Nashville – New-York 1968. As Noth before him, Coats (see note 48 below), sharpens the distinction of the various sorts of complaints – according to their language. He thus distinguishes between the Hebrew roots lun and rib, the latter indicating a serious escalation of the complaint. 47 For a comprehensive study of this literary phenomenon, see: R. Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, New-York 1981 Chapter 3. 48 The consensus in the critical literature is that this story is a fusion of two separate stories, each of which tell of a different complaint. See: J. Liver, “Korah, Dathan and Abiram, Scripta 8 (1961) pp. 189–217.

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c. The nature of the people’s plea to God. This component may hint at a fundamental change that took place in the meaning of these stories during their formulation. Initially, they were supposed to be heartwarming tales of a faith strengthened as a result of wondrous miracles that God wrought for His people.49 But over time they took on a negative hue as the focus shifted to the misconduct of the Children of Israel in the wilderness. This is presumably when the root ‫=( צעק‬cry out) – which implies a claim for justice and righteousness, with no negative overtones on the narrator’s part – was replaced by the root ‫=( לו"ן‬complain). In Exodus 14:15 the “crying out” is inferred from God’s reply to Moses: “Why are you crying out to me?.” But in Exodus 15: 25, the words “he cried out to the Lord,” are in response to “So the people grumbled at Moses” (‫)וירב העם עם משה‬, which by introducing the Hebrew root rib (quarrel) implies an element of rebelliousness. In the story of Kibroth-hattaavah (Numbers 11) the operative verbs are of the root ‫=( אנן‬complain) and ‫בכה‬ (=weep – vss 10,13,18,20). But then, in Numbers 14:2 (and vss 26,27,37) we read ‫=( וילינו‬they protested), but in v.1: ‫=( ויבכו‬they wept). At the next stage (Numbers 20:2) the operative verb is ‫=( ויקהלו‬and they rallied against), and in v. 3: “The people quarreled with Moses” ‫ וירב העם עם משה‬. This terminology reflects a process of gradual escalation, from justifiable grievance to rebelliousness that eventually borders on violence. This does not necessarily prove that the order of narratives follows the chronological order of their formulation, but quite possibly the editors were aware of it and intended it to be that way. i. Moses appeases the people. In his words, Moses expresses his trust in God. He also promises God will accede to their requests: Exodus 14:13–14; 16:6–9. In the story of the spies sent to scout the land, this element appears not in the words 49 M. Noth, Exodus (ATD), Göttingen 1959 p. 129, doubts whether the etiological legend was an independent creation to begin with. Coats (ibid. See note 45 above) maintains that the miracle motif contained the core of the legend – in other words, without the motif of the story of God’s response to the complaints, there is no justification for the etiology. In this instance I agree with Seeligmann, who maintains that in most instances the etiology is secondary to an existing legend. See I.A. Seeligmann, “Ätiologische Elemente in der biblischen Geschichtsschreibung,” Gesammelte Studien zur Hebräischen Bibel, Tübingen 2004 pp. 77–118.

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of Moses but of Joshua (Numbers 14:9). In the story of Korah and his congregation it is embodied in the words “Tomorrow morning the Lord will show who is His and who is holy, and will bring him near to Himself [or: and grant him access]” (Numbers 16:5). As the exception to the rule, it is likely that in the story of Meribah, Moses’ address with the words “Listen now, you rebels” (Numbers 20:10) only made things worse, and for this reason he was punished. ii. God accedes to the request of the people. This in turn is made up of three stages: 1. Preparation. This has a ceremonial aspect. It occurs in Exodus 14:16 (“And as for you, lift up your staff and stretch out your arm . . .”), and more notably in 16:9–10: “Come near before the Lord . . . and behold, the glory of the Lord appeared in the cloud.” In 17:5–6: “Pass before the people and take with you some of the elders of Israel; and take in your hand your staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. Behold, I will stand before you on the rock at Horeb.” In the story of Kibroth-hattaavah (Numbers 11): “Consecrate [or: purify] yourselves for tomorrow,” and in the story of the complaint of Miriam and Aaron: “You three come out to the tent of meeting” . . . Then the Lord came down in a pillar of cloud and stood at the doorway of the tent.” In the story of Korah and his congregation it is the ceremony of the incense test that is at the center of story of God’s consent (Numbers 16:6–7). In the story of Meribah (Numbers 20:8) it is the decree to gather the whole congregation – but here the taking of the staff is also ceremonial. 2. Stage two of God’s consent is the warning. In Exodus 15:26 it is of a general nature: “If you will give earnest heed to the voice of the Lord your God, and do what is right in His sight, and give ear to His commandments, and keep all His statutes, I will put none of the diseases on you which I have put on the Egyptians . . . .” Cf. Exodus 16:28–29, concerning the gathering of manna on the seventh day, and Numbers 11:18–20; 14:11–12 (although here God’s words may be seen more as a threat than a warning).

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chapter three 3. The final stage is God’s actual response in the form of a miraculous act. This occurs in all the stories. iii. God’s wrath and its consequences. In Exodus 16:20 it is Moses who is angry: “And Moses was angry with them” (‫)ויקצף‬, but on later occasions it is God Himself: . . . How long do you refuse to keep my commandments and my teachings? or: instructions) (v. 28). Numbers 11:33–34: The anger of the Lord blazed forth against the people and the Lord struck the people with a very severe plague. Numbers 14:11–12: How long will this people spurn me? . . . I will smite them with pestilence and dispossess them. 21–23: . . . all the men who have seen My glory and My signs . . . shall by no means see the land which I have sworn to their fathers. Numbers 16:21: Separate yourselves from among this congregation, that I may consume them instantly.

And there (vss. 31–33) the earth opens up and swallows Korah and his congregation, and the fire consumes the two hundred and fifty men who were offering incense. Numbers 17:10 (=16:45): Remove yourselves from this community, that I may consume them instantly.

Numbers 20:12: “. . . therefore you shall not bring this assembly into the land which I have given them.” d. The moral of the story and the etiology. These two components are intertwined, for in many of the stories the lesson is inherent in the etiology of the place name. In some of the stories the message is positive, and represents the essence of the story, as in Exodus 14:31: And when Israel saw the great power which the Lord had used against the Egyptians, the people feared the Lord, and they believed in the Lord and in His servant Moses.

But in other stories the etiology emphasizes the negative aspect of the lesson learned, by reiterating the misconduct of the children of

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Israel. As we noted earlier, this element was most likely added at a later stage of the stories’ development. See Exodus 15:23 (Marah);50 16:16 (Manna, and so are vss. 33–34); 17:7 (Massah and Meribah); Numbers 11:3 (Taberah); ibid. 34 (Kibroth-hattaavah; 17:4–5 (the plating of the altar); ibid. 16–28 (the rod of Aaron); 20:13 (Meribah); 21:9 (the copper serpent). As can be seen, not all the elements feature in all these stories. Occasionally, one or another is missing or only hinted at, and in some stories we find two elements interwoven. Nevertheless, the repeating pattern is obvious, and clearly the “plaintive stories,” that together form the backbone of events in the narratives of the wanderings in the wilderness, are constructed as set pieces. From a purely historical point of view, it is highly improbable that so many events of such a variety would truly follow an identical script. The more the plotline of a story adheres to a fixed, strict pattern, the more one may doubt its authenticity. Similarly, the more the significance and moral of a story depends on other stories of a similar nature, the less convincing it is as a piece of historical evidence.51 Therefore, even if these stories had some basis in historical fact, in their present form they are designed more as illustrations of certain moral principles rather than as depictions of actual events. The effect of the repeating patterns is to transform the events described from unique experiences into symbolic paradigms. It is reasonable to believe that the authors used a variety of events of their own time or their recent past, which they considered to represent significant crossroads or as instructive crises, the handling of which represents an important precedent, and transposed them upon the Israelites’ wanderings in the wilderness, in order to detach them from their contemporary context and turn their messages into historical teachings for the benefit of future generations.

50 It seems that the words, “There He made for them a fixed rule [or: a statute and regulation] and there He put them to the test” are meant for one specific commandment, namely the one stated in the following verse. So say Rashbam, Ibn Ezra, Abarbanel, and – of the contemporary commentators – Cassuto, Noth, and Coats. But others believe this verse reflects a “weak” tradition of giving of the Torah (Zakovitch). 51 J. Licht maintains that mimesis is diminished wherever one finds one of the following: a convoluted, capricious plot; a rigid style and structure; gratuitous descriptions of deeds of valor; flowery speeches instead of dialogue; individuals as pure as driven snow or irredeemingly evil; or a story made subservient to a didactic or ideological purpose. See: J. Licht, “Mimesis as Trait of the biblical Narrative,” J. Licht, G. Brin (editors), Hatzvi Israel, Tel-Aviv 1976 pp. 133–142 [Hebrew].

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In this respect, the perception of tradition of wandering in the desert is similar to that of the prophet Hosea. As in his prophecies, the perception of Exodus as a formative event is due not only to its uniqueness, but because of its wider, symbolic sense of liberation, with all the hardships that it entails. By the same token, the story of the Golden Calf (Exodus 32) may be seen as a condemnation of Jeroboam’s religious secession (I Kings 12:25–33), or even as the protest of the priestly circle related to Moses against those of Aaron’s circle.52 Similarly, the story of the gathering of the manna (Exodus 16) may be identified as symbolic of the struggles surrounding the observance of the Sabbath, a conflict still very much on the agenda in Jeremiah (see Jeremiah 17:19–27). The story of Dathan and Abiram, which is interwoven with that of the rebellion by Korah and his congregation, is interpreted as reflecting the real reason for the demotion of Reuben from his position as first-born and even for the dire straits of his tribe, as evident in Moses’ blessing (Deuteronomy 33:6).53 Y. Hoffman notes correctly that attributing historical dates to these stories is quite impossible, for their literary purpose overwhelms their historical background.54

52 See: Z. Weisman, “Some Thoughts on the Sinai Scene and the Methods of its Research,” Shnaton 5–6 (1981–2) pp. 55–68 [Hebrew], and his survey of approaches there. See also: R.E. Clements, Exodus (The Cambridge Bible), Cambridge 1972 pp. 205–206; M. Aberbach – L. Smolar, “Aaron, Jeroboam and the Golden Calves,” JBL 68 (1967) pp. 129–140; J.M. Sasson, “Bovine Symbolism in the Exodus Narrative,” VT 18 (1968) pp. 384–387; Idem: “The Worship of the Golden Calf,” Gordon (1973) pp. 151–159; H. Louis Ginsberg, “The Heritage of Judaism,” Texts and Studies of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, Vol. XXIV, New-York 1982 pp. 84–91; J.W. Davenport, A Study of the Golden Calf Tradition in Exodus 32, (Dissertation), Princeton Theological Seminary 1973; H.C. Brichto, “The Worship of the Golden Calf, a Literary Analysis of a Fable on Idolatry,” HUCA 54 (1983) pp. 1–45. A. Wolfensohn, “Political Oppositions in Biblical History,” Beit Mikra 157 (1999) pp. 63–73 [Hebrew]. On the subject of Jeroboam’s transgressions, which were not substantially different from Judean customs and were aimed at political rather than religious secession, see: M. Haran, “The Worship of God in Northern Israel,” B.Z. Luria (editor) Studies in the Book of Kings, Vol. 2, Jerusalem 1985 pp. 155–192 [Hebrew]. For a literary comparison of both stories, concluding that both shared a common origin and an identical religious purpose, see: Hava Shalom-Guy, “Jeroboam’s Reform and the Episode of the Golden Calf,” Shnaton XVI (2006) pp. 15–28 [Hebrew]. 53 The issue of the traditions surrounding Reuben is complex and problematic. It is possible that all references to him, including Reuben’s own role in the Joseph narrative and the ironic criticism of him in the Song of Deborah, are reflections of the low esteem in which that tribe was held in the eyes of the other tribes – the reasons for which are still unclear. 54 Y. Hoffman, ibid. p. 115.

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As for the Exodus tradition as a whole, as we know them today the wilderness narratives are better suited to sermonizing the children of Israel for their ingratitude, than to presenting the Exodus from Egypt as the most significant event in the nation’s history. In this respect they reflect the attitude of the literary prophets of Judah. On the one hand, by the time these stories achieved their final form the Exodus tradition was so firmly rooted in the national psyche that it was, for all Israelites, synonymous with the dawn of their national history. As such, issues of principle and of precedent, as well as laws and commandments, were transposed and grafted upon the story of the wanderings in the wilderness in a bid to make them timeless and detached from the vagaries of the present. But on the other hand, the authors found it necessary to emphasize that God’s acts of benevolence toward the people at that time did not entitle them to any special privileges. On the contrary, on each and every such occasion, the nation’s failings and shortcomings of the people became all too evident. 9. The traditions over the question of who lead the way through the desert are also varied.55 According to Deuteronomy 1:19, and especially Amos 2:10, it was God Himself who lead the children of Israel. But according to Numbers 10:29–31, it was Hovav son of Reuel (Jethro) who did so, and since in the same context we also read about the pillar of smoke, and later about the Ark of the Covenant, it is most likely that the Hovav-Jethro tradition preceded the other two. Yet, according to Exodus 13:21–22; 14:24; Numbers 14:14; Psalms 78:14 (and Deuteronomy 1:33, which is considered as an interpolation), the children of Israel were led by a pillar of cloud and a pillar of fire. This is also the description in Nehemiah 9:22. (In Numbers 9:15–23 we read about a cloud with “an appearance of fire.” Yet in the same context we also find that “At the command of the Lord the sons of Israel would set out, and at the command of the Lord they would camp,” and the phrasing of the paragraph as a whole may indicate a merging of different traditions). According to Numbers 10:33 it was the Ark of the Covenant that led the way. 55

See: M. Anbar, “Behold, I am going to send an angel before you to guard you along the way, and to bring you into the place which I have prepared,” Beit Mikra 132 (1992) pp. 83–90 [Hebrew]; N. Abraham, “Behold, I am going to send an angel before you,” Beit Mikra 134 (1992) pp. 78–81 [Hebrew].

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Further on, however, in the same context, we witness an attempt to bridge between the role of the ark and that of the cloud, suggesting the ark was used for this purpose only in times of war (vs. 34–36). According to Exodus 23:20, 33:2 it was an angel who led them, and in Exodus 32:1, I Samuel 12:8, Micah 6:4 it is said to be Moses himself. In Exodus 23:28–33 it is a hornet, on a mission to drive out the Canaanites, but this may well have been intended only as a metaphor rather than a bona fide tradition, to illustrate the way in which nature and God’s creatures were recruited to serve the needs the liberated people, as too were the boulders that fell upon the enemies from heaven (Joshua 10:11).56 In their respective contexts as we know them today, these discrepancies cause no significant difficulties, and can be readily reconciled. But the theme of the Ark of the Covenant requires further study, for it is related to David’s enterprises, as we shall see below. 10. The distinction between the Sinai and Exodus traditions. This hinges mainly on von Rad’s conclusions about the prayer of Deuteronomy 26:5–9.57 This prayer, part of The First Fruits rites, von Rad entitles The Little Credo, and sees it as the liturgical kernel from which the Yahwist conjured up the historical traditions and narratives of the beginnings of Israel.58 But von Rad also infers from it that, by failing to refer to the scene at Mount Sinai, this prayer also demonstrates that the Sinai tradition was originally altogether separate from the Exodus tradition. In his view, the two traditions emerged in parallel in two separate centers of worship. The Sinai tradition was formed in Shechem, in the course of festivities of the Covenant, celebrated during the feast of Tabernacles; while the Exodus tradition took shape in Gilgal, as part of the festivities of Pentecost. These two traditions were merged together by the Yahwist, at a comparatively early stage of being committed to writing. Although this interpretation is widely accepted, it is also disputed by many.59 56 Anbar (ibid.) cites a document from Mari, where some sort of intermediary figure assists in the success of a mission. 57 G. von Rad, “The Sinai Tradition,” The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, (translated by E.W. Trueman Dicken), London 19842 pp. 13–78. 58 On the ways in which the Exodus story evolves into a theological doctrine and foundation of faith, see: S. Japhet, “Some views about the definition of identity at the time of the Second Temple – the Exodus and the Election doctrines,” Migvan deot vehashkafot betarbut Yisrael [A Selection of opinions and views in Israel Culture], 2 (1992 pp. 37–61 [Hebrew]. 59 See mainly Hoffman’s arguments, both against the perception of the prayer as a “credo,” and against the belief that it is archaic and the fountainhead of all the stories

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For the purposes of the present study, however, only one comment is needed. The distinction between the Sinai and the Exodus traditions is based largely on the fact, that in some of the psalms that feature a poetical historical survey, the scene of Mount Sinai is absent (Psalms 78; 105; 106; 135; 136). The same is true of Joshua’s ceremonial speech in Joshua 24. Only in a much later document, in the speech by Nehemiah, is the scene of Mount Sinai included in a historical review of God’s feats for His people (Nehemiah 9:13). But here I am inclined to side with Nicholson, who maintains that the absence of any reference to the scene of Mount Sinai in these contexts need not necessarily indicate that they are separate traditions, but rather merely an outcome of the context and its needs.60 None of these works are “historical surveys in the true sense, but rather commemorations of the great favors and acts of kindness by God for His people, for which the people of Israel must maintain its commitment to remain faithful to Him. The handing down of the laws and commandments is therefore not included, for it is neither a favor, nor an act of kindness. On the contrary – the laws and commandments represent the list of duties and obligations that the nation must abide by the way for Israel in return for God’s favors. Thus, the list of favors in the Book of Psalms is designed mainly to highlight Israel’s unfaithfulness and ingratitude, and in Nehemiah’s speech it forms part of the renewal of the covenant. But while Nehemiah calls for renewing commitments based on all the sacred traditions, Joshua’s speech has a more partisan agenda, namely to position the temple of Shechem at the center of the religion and to challenge the tradition of the giving of the laws by Moses at Mount Sinai in favor of a new, alternative tradition.61 A similar design is evident in the story of the origins of the holiness of Bethel (Genesis 28:10–22). This distinction leads us to distinguish between early northern traditions, like many of the Jacob stories and the main parts of the Exodus traditions on the hand – and the relatively later traditions on the other, whose main purpose was to oppose the Zion traditions that gained the upper hand under the Judean monarchs.

of the nation’s beginnings. Ibid. pp. 138–139. On the attitudes to von Rad’s contentions in biblical research, see there, notes 78–82. 60 See: E.W. Nicholson, Exodus and Sinai in History and Tradition, Oxford 1973. 61 The first parts of verses 5–6 suggest that this text was later re-arranged by editors, to create the impression of unity of the traditions.

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11. Exodus and laws and commandments. The tradition surrounding the giving of the laws at Mt. Sinai contains an important subtext – namely, that with the exception of customs and a handful of regulations added later, such as David’s precedent about sharing of loot (I Samuel 30:21–28) or the instructions by Ezra and Nehemiah, Israel’s entire constitutional framework was forged and delivered in isolation, in an environment free of influences from surrounding nations. The Exodus, therefore, is the source not merely of the nation’s legal code, but of its religious and moral uniqueness. Joshua’s speech, on the other hand, sets out an entirely different approach, in which there is a tacit acknowledgment of contact with neighboring nations (the people of Israel used to be pagan, but with their commitment at Shechem they agree to abandon these ways and accept the laws and commandments – Joshua 24).62 Generally speaking, the reasoning behind the laws – be they apodictic and casuistic – is not given.63 There are only two instances where some explanation is provided. One deals with the attributes of God. Foreign worship is banned on the grounds that God is . . . a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, on the third and the fourth generations of those who hate me. But showing grace to thousands, to those who love me and keep My commandments (Exodus 20:4–5).

Insofar as this is not much more than a description of the reward and the punishment, it is not an explanation of reasoning so much as a warning. The same is true regarding the prohibition of taking God’s name in vain (gratuitous swearing by His name):

62

G. Galil, Y. Zakowitz, The World of the Bible: the Book of Joshua. Tel-Aviv, 1996 p. 213 [Hebrew]. 63 Some commentators consider the reasoning provided in the Ten Commandments as later additions. But B. Uffenheimer argues that everything relating to the uniqueness of God and the banning of foreign worship, as well as the commandment of the Sabbath, should be seen as part of the revolutionary conceptual innovation of Israelite law, and as such, they require detailed reasoning within the Ten Commandments themselves, and indeed further reinforcement in the form of dire warnings if they are violated. See: Early Prophecy in Israel (ibid. p. 78). On apodictic laws among the Hittites see: M. Weinfeld, “The Origin of the Apodictic Law, an Overlooked Source,” VT 23 (1973) pp. 63–75; D.J. McCarthy, Treaty and Covenant, Rome 1978 pp. 60–62, 82–83.

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for the Lord will not leave him unpunished who takes His name in vain (v. 7),

or the explanation for the commandment of honoring one’s father and mother: . . . that your days may be prolonged in the land which the Lord your God gives you (v. 12).

The second type of reasoning is more persuasive, but relates back to the Exodus. In addition to the commandments surrounding the three feasts of pilgrimage, it is used to justify all social laws concerning strangers and slaves, as well as laws about rites of worship, the clean and unclean, and holiness: Exodus 22:20: And you shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.

Leviticus 11:43–45: Do not render yourselves detestable [or: You shall not draw abomination upon yourselves] through any of the swarming things that swarm; and you shall not make yourselves unclean with them so that unclean. For I am the Lord your God. Consecrate yourselves therefore, and be holy; for I am holy. And you shall not make yourselves unclean with any of the swarming things that swarm on the earth. For I am the Lord, who brought you out from the land of Egypt, to be your God; thus you shall be holy for I am holy.

Leviticus 19:31–33, as part of a concluding summary about the commitment of observing all the laws and commandments: So you shall keep my commandments and do them: I am the Lord. And you shall not profane My holy name, but I will be sanctified among the sons of Israel: I am the Lord who sanctifies you, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, to be your God: I am the Lord.

See also Leviticus 25:38, 42, 55; 26:13, 45; Numbers 15:41. As for the book of Deuteronomy, as Hoffman has noted, the special regard with which this book holds the Exodus tradition is most obvious in the many references it makes to the event (about 25 times), in a variety of forms and contexts: some incidental, others with a clearly ideological purpose, in short formulaic fashion or as the reasoning behind the laws. But the most distinctive way in which the Book of Deuteronomy manifests its attitude toward the Exodus is in texts featuring an explicit theological teaching. These emphasize not only the

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unique nature of the Exodus within the history of the world and as a formative event in the history of Israel, but also the obligations arising from the treaties between God and His people.64 The particular view of the Exodus in Deuteronomy is also evident in its description of events, which differ in many ways from their counterparts in other books of the Pentateuch. Thus, for example, in Moses’ speech, Deuteronomy ignores the role of Jethro in the organizing and the appointing of leaders of thousands, and of hundreds, and of fifties and of tens, and officers . . . (1:9–15, cf. Exodus 18:14–23).

In addition, in Deuteronomy Moses attributes the initiative to sending scouts to spy the land to the people (1:22–30), unlike the description in Numbers 13:1–3. Popular demand is also cast as the reason for his solitary ascent up Mt. Sinai (5:20–25) and for his ban on entering the promised land (1:37; 3:26) – in contrast to what is told in the story of Meribah (Numbers 20:12. Note, too, the differences between Deuteronomy 7 and Exodus 23:20–33 concerning the angel, who is omitted entirely in Deuteronomy, which echoes the difference between Deuteronomy 26:6–8 and Numbers 20:15–16. This attitude is similar to that of the Book of Kings, particularly in the speech of II Kings 17:7–41, which, in a sort of historiographical review, attributes the destruction of Samaria to the sins of the people, rather than the sins of the kings, as suggested elsewhere in the book. (However, see also the words of Elijah in I Kings 19:10, 14; and also 22:44; II Kings 12:4; 14:4; 15:4,35). Hoffman adds additional evidence to back up the belief of many scholars that the book of Deuteronomy was largely based on northern traditions. To begin with, there is the book’s own testimony: we are told that these are the words spoken by Moses, in a region that was later part of the northern kingdom (“Across the Jordan in the land of Moab” . . .). In addition, there are many references to the northern Transjordan and its conquest; the depiction of many northern landscapes in the various descriptions of the Promised Land; and the provision of a law specifically about the cities of refuge in the eastern

64

Hoffman, ibid. pp. 135–139.

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Transjordan. In support of this evidence, Hoffman adds certain clarifications and critical considerations.65 In his conclusion Hoffman identifies three stages of evolution in the references to the Exodus in the Pentateuch. The first stratum comprises texts written prior to the Book of Deuteronomy. The second consists of typical Deuteronomistic writings, and the third stratum is of late Priestly writings. The examples I cited earlier of references to the Exodus within the contexts of the laws may help sharpen the distinction between these three stages. It seems that in the earlier laws the authors tended not to base the demand to observe the laws on the divine act of liberation from Egypt: on the few occasions where laws are justified, it is on the grounds of humanitarian treatment of strangers. Therefore, it seems that here it is not merely the Exodus which is the basis of commitment but rather the general moral concept. Thus, the guiding principle is general morality, rather than the Exodus, which is mentioned only as a historical reference. In the examples cited from the books of Leviticus and Numbers, the typical formulaic style of the Priestly writer indicates that the idea behind the reasoning of the laws was mainly to associate the holiness of the people of Israel with that of God, meaning that the reference to the Exodus was secondary and possibly a later addition.66 In other words, it appears that the authors of the first stratum did not find it necessary to link the laws with the Exodus tradition. The Deuteronomistic stratum, on the other hand, not only carries the implicit premise that the Exodus was the single most significant event in the nation’s history, but also echoes the position of the prophetic and poetic remonstrations. This is most apparent in the passages where the people are warned that the land was given to them on a conditional basis: Deuteronomy 6:12–15; 7:7–11; 8:20–21; 9:5–6; 30:17–20, (but see also Leviticus 18:24–28 and the rebuke in Deuteronomy 4:25–27).67 The repeated stress on the land as contingent

65 Ibid. 133–135. On the unique national and religious concepts of the book of Deuteronomy see: M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School, Oxford 1972. See also A. Rofé, Introduction to Deuteronomy, Jerusalem 1988, [Hebrew] and criticism there, pp. 315–323. 66 On the style of the Priestly syntax see: M. Pa’aran, The Priestly Style in the Pentateuch, Jerusalem 1989 pp. 49–97 [Hebrew]. 67 See: W. Johnston, “The Portrayal of Moses as Deuteronomic Archetypal Prophet in Exodus and its Reversal,” J.C. De Moor (editor), The Elusive Prophet, Leiden – Boston – Köln 2001 (pp. 159–174).

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upon good behavior ties in with the Deuteronomistic historiography, whereby exile is presented as a consequence of the sins of the people. This justification also makes it necessary to stress, repeatedly, that the people had been warned about this. The third, late Priestly, stratum reflects a desire to collect and unify the various traditions, as part of a policy of appeasement and retrospective reconciliation between Judah and Israel. This issue will be discussed further in the final chapter. * In the books of the early prophets, most references to the Exodus relate, in terms of style and religious outlook, to the Deuteronomistic school. They occur mainly within the contexts of speeches, whether of civic leaders or of God Himself or His messengers, and occasionally even of strangers (Joshua 2:10; 9:9; Judges 11:13; I Samuel 7:8; I Kings 9:9), or in prayers (I Kings 8:16; II Samuel 7:23). In all these instances the Exodus is presented as a unique historical event of a national and religious import of the highest order. The impact of this event is all the more potent in view of the testimony of foreigners, who also know all about the miraculous liberation. But as Hoffman points out, since all these references share the same style and attributes, they must be ascribed to the same author or school, specifically the Deuteronomistic one. This would also explain their similar stance toward the event. But Hoffman also notes that with the exception of Jeroboam’s speech (I Kings 12:28), there is not a single reference to the Exodus in these books that can be traced back to the authentically early sources that provided the basis for these compositions. It was only the Deuteronomist who went to the effort to explain and justify the course of historical events with as many references as possible to the story of Exodus. Hoffman therefore concludes that the early compositions dealing with the history of Israel in its land failed to mention it because they did not consider the Exodus tradition to be of such crucial theological importance. It was only at the time of the destruction of the First Temple that the Exodus emerged as the primary historical-philosophical-religious motif in the genre of historiographic literature and attain its central status in Judean theology.68

68

Hoffman, ibid. pp. 153–154.

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This needs some further clarification, since there is no consensus on all the details: a. There is no certainty which are the authentic early sources used as basic materials for the composition of these books. Haran agrees with Noth: besides the two sources that were used by the Deuteronomist, namely E and J, plus a handful of a few Priestly passages, there was no Pre-Deuteronomistic “composition” or redaction – neither in the first books of the Pentateuch, nor in the Deuteronomistic work itself.69 b. In Chapter 4 we will see that in fact the Exodus emerged as a central motif in biblical historiography well before the destruction of the First Temple, during the reign of King Hezekiah. After the fall of the northern kingdom a new trend is detectable in the historiographical compositions – one of appeasement and reconciliation toward the North. As for the composition of the books of the Early Prophets, most commentators agree that the entire body of work from the Book of Joshua through the Books of Kings is a single uniform Deuteronomistic composition, that was either mapped out in advance in accordance with the authors’ agenda (Soggin, von Rad), or submitted to thorough Deuteronomistic post-editing (Wellhausen-Weiser, Eissfeldt, and recently Haran).70 To which Kaufmann adds but one reservation, namely that there appear to be only a few instances of Deuteronomistic intervention in the Books of Samuel (Kaufmann). However, within this broad framework we must distinguish between the Deuteronomistic creation and the earlier, Ephratite text, sometimes referred to as “the original Book of Judges: Joshua 24 – I Samuel 12, with the exception of Judges 17–21 and 1:1–3,11 (Rofé, based on Burney’s response to Noth).71 The principal clues of the Ephratite composition are in its attitude towards sites of worship, and its indifference to the question of a central place of worship. Other indications are in its attitude toward the Canaanites and their fate, its references to the link between prophecies and their realization, and in its attribution of all victories to God, rather than to the people of Israel. It preaches loyalty to God, but

69

The Biblical Collection, Vol. II pp. 206–210. Haran (ibid.) p. 188 does not think that the entire Deuteronomistic composition was written “in one sitting,” but was rather the work of three different composers: the author himself, plus two who assisted by presenting the J and E documentary sources to him. 71 A. Rofé, “The Historiography of the Late Kingdom Period: The Ephratite Composition vs. the Deuteronomist,” Beit Mikra 132 (1993) pp. 14–28 = Introduction to the Historical Literature of the Hebrew Bible, Jerusalem 2001 pp. 44–51 [Hebrew]. 70

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without the repeated exhortations to abide by the commandments and laws of the Torah. The Exodus is mentioned only once, in Joshua’s speech (Joshua 24) – not necessarily because he had little regard for the event, but because there was little call for it in the context of the acts of the savior-Judges. Another substantive difference, as we have already mentioned, is the emphasis in Joshua’s speech that the privilege of receiving the Torah is conditional upon the relinquishing of foreign worship. This tacit acknowledgment of the impact of the encounter with neighboring peoples contrasts with the tendentious message of the Book of Deuteronomy, whereby the Torah was given in the wilderness, before the entry into the promised land, free of influence by any of the surrounding peoples. However, we should distinguish between references to the Exodus within speeches or prayers, and those within formulaic expressions or idioms. References of the former kind serve the rhetorical aims of the Deuteronomistic authors, leaving them free to attach to the Exodus tradition various aspects that are not necessarily authentic.72 However this is not the case with formulaic expressions or idioms. These must be based on deep-seated customs, since by definition such expressions express the essence of an idea, in order to evoke identical associations and ideas in a broad and wide-ranging audience. Among the formulaic Exodus-related expressions that Hoffman singles out in particular is I Samuel 8:8: Like all the deeds which they have done since the day that I have brought them up from Egypt even to this day – in that they have forsaken me and served other gods . . . .

Hoffman sees these words as evidence that the Exodus was seen as marking the birth and establishment of Israel as a people. But in my opinion a similar chronological allusion in the Book of Samuel is even more significant: in Nathan’s speech, (II Samuel 7:6), we read:

72 Linville maintains that the references to the Exodus in the Book of Kings are mainly used by the authors to serve that book’s main purpose, namely to present the land of Egypt as sort of “illusory exile” – unlike the Babylonian exile – for it is not presented as a divine punishment. Nor is the latter depicted as punishment of Judah, (unlike Assyria, which is described as a punishment of Israel). However in discussing the role of Egypt in the history of Israel, Linville relies to a large extent on isolated incidents rather than a comprehensive classification of the references to the Exodus. See: J.R. Linville, “Egypt, Exodus, and Exile,” Israel in the Book of Kings, Sheffield 1998 pp. 254–271.

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For I have not dwelt in a house since the day I brought up the sons of Israel from Egypt, even to this day; but I have been moving about in a tent, even in a tabernacle.

This speech (ibid. 5–17) should be seen as the founding of the combined House-of-David-and-Zion doctrine – that is, the rival doctrines to the Exodus tradition. As we shall see, it contains numerous hints and insinuations about the significance of the radical step inherent in David’s initiative to build a house for God. The fact that a leading spokesman of a rival tradition refers to the Exodus in the sense of “since time immemorial” is perhaps the most persuasive evidence of all that the concept of the Exodus as a formative event was deeply embedded in the nation’s psyche.73 As we said, in the biblical writings of the Second Temple period there is no consistent attitude toward the Exodus. On the one hand the historic return from Babylonian exile is portrayed as an event comparable to that of the Exodus: passages such as Isaiah 41:18 and 51:9–11 describe how the course of nature is changed for the sake of the liberated people. Descriptions of this sort represent a fusion of the concepts of God as Redeemer, the ruler of history, and of the Creator, ruler of the universe. By implication, they also present the Exodus as a paradigm of liberation. On the other hand, the late historiography of the Book of Chronicles tends to deny the Exodus or to disregard it completely. This is particularly apparent in the way the Chronicler uses Psalms. I Chronicles 16:8–36, for example, is a song created by assembling together various passages from the Book of Psalms. Verses 8–22 are taken from Psalms 105:1–15, while verses 23–36 are from Psalm 96. Notably, however, the Chronicler cuts out the entire passage of Psalm 105:16 onwards, which starts with the story of Joseph and continues with the enslavement in Egypt and the Exodus. The passage originally from Psalm 96 skips directly at this point to the period of David. The same attitude is displayed in the way the Chronicler recites Solomon’s prayer of I Kings 8: he conspicuously fails to make any reference at all to the Exodus, which is mentioned in the Book of Kings (verses 51,53). Such deliberate omissions must attest to a competing ideology, one where the choosing of the people of Israel is linked not with the Exodus but

73 Similar chronological references to the Exodus can be found in Judges 19:30; I Kings 8:16; II Kings 21:15.

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with the choosing of David.74 However, in other places the Chronicler appears to be more tolerant, seemingly seeking to reach a reconciliation with the Exodus tradition, especially in the contexts of Hezekiah’s enterprise. Despite this shifting attitude toward the Exodus tradition across the various strata of biblical literature and historiography, what they all appear to have in common is reflecting the rhetorical needs of the context at hand. We might even go as far as to say that in the Hebrew Bible the Exodus is perceived as a national episode of almost symbolic nature, rather than merely an individual historical event. It addition, it seems that the various traditions, attitudes and perceptions surrounding it could not have emerged from a single school of thought operating in a relatively short space of time with a narrow, clear-cut agenda in mind – irrespective of whether such an agenda was motivated by pragmatic considerations such as countering the David-Zion doctrines, or by ideology, such as justifying the notion of divine judgment in God’s directing of the course of history. The spectrum of attitudes toward the Exodus doctrine indicates that it is made up of a broad and very diverse set of traditions, which in turn reflects a long, diversified past. The absence of reference to the Exodus does not always necessarily mean that it was seen in a negative light. The Ephratite composition omitted to mention it simply because the context did not warrant it. Its concern was with other, independent stories of liberation. Linking or comparing these to that of the Exodus would have served only to detract from their messages and teachings. II. The Zion-David Traditions The Exodus traditions may be seen as the foundation of a religious doctrine, whereby the relationship between God and the people of Israel is based on a mutual commitment forged in the historic event of the Exodus. Following their liberation from Egypt the Children of Israel became God’s people, and in return for committing to certain undertakings, God made certain promises to His people. The David-Zion traditions, however, are largely based on an alternative ideology, in which God’s commitment to His people is linked

74

See: Sarah Japhet, note 57 above.

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to, and conditional upon, His promises to David and his descendants, and in His choosing of Zion as the dwelling place of His name.75 In this section I shall try to present the basic tenets of this doctrine. This will not necessarily be in chronological order – although the echoes and consequences of fundamental concepts may often be discernible in later writings, and help to shed light on their evolution. To gain a full understanding of the religious ideology behind the House of David, we must explore the full extent of whatever the biblical historiographer wished to ascribe to David himself. The reason for this is that, in various passages, God’s commitment to his people or to its rulers is repeatedly accompanied by the phrase: “for the sake of My servant David” or, especially, “for My own sake and for My servant David’s sake,” or, when addressed to God: “for the sake of David Thy servant.”76 The range of expressions of God’s commitment to David is wide and varied. Some pledge eternity to David’s kingdom – as in the words of Ahijah of Shiloh, who in mitigation of his prophecy concerning the splitting of the kingdom, softens the blow with the promise that “My servant David may have a lamp always before me” (I Kings 11:36). In other instances the promise concerns the protection of David’s people, to defend and reinstate it in its land (Isaiah 9:6; 37:35; 55:3; Jeremiah 30:9; 33:20–22 etc.). To these we should add the prophecies of “the End Days,” where visions of the ideal future include descriptions of an ideal regime, led by David’s descendants. In seeking the justification and reasoning behind this special regard, we must return to the question of what it was that made David such a

75 Some commentators believe David and Zion representing two distinct traditions which cannot readily be identified as one and the same. The Zion tradition is originally linked with the Ark of the Covenant – particularly with Solomon’s temple – while the David tradition is concerned mainly with the issues of succession to the throne and the legitimacy of the courts of David and Solomon. This distinction is evident in several psalms – such as Psalms 46, 48, 76 – where the hegemony of Zion is stated unequivocally with no mention or relevance to David whatsoever. See: B.C. Ollenburger, Zion, the City of the Great Kings, Sheffield 1987. Ollenburger mainly bases his arguments on E. Rohland, Die Bedeutung der Erwählungstraditionen Israels für die Eschatologie der alttestamentlichen Propheten, Heidelberg 1956 pp. 120–128. Yet as we shall see, with regard to the special status of the House of David and of Zion there is, as I see it, no substantive basis for distinguishing between legitimacy and religious ideology. 76 II Samuel 7:26; I Kings 2:45; 3:14; 9:4; 11:4; 11:12, 13, 34; 15:4; II Kings 8:19; 19:34; 20:20; Isaiah 16:5; 37:35; 55:3; Jeremiah 33:21; Psalms 132:10 etc.

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paradigm of righteousness and the benchmark of just rule and leadership.77 Clearly, establishing a unified Israelite kingdom, and a dynasty that endured continuously for over four hundred years, had something to do with it – but the religious views at the heart of this doctrine go well beyond what is warranted by the political and organizational framework of David’s enterprises, and must be based on something more extraordinary. I should note, at this point, that among the biblical evidence of David’s enterprises that we will presently discuss, I prefer the Book of Samuel version over that of Chronicles. There is some debate over the comparative antiquity of the sources preceding the respective texts, and no clear consensus as to which should be preferred. Knoppers argues that In those instances in which the Chronicler quotes Samuel, his text is often a better witness to an early form of the text of Samuel than the Mt of Samuel is.78

While I would broadly agree with this claim, a different picture emerges in the chapters dealing with David’s religious and political enterprises (especially II Samuel 6, 7, & 24). The description in Chap. 7, for example, has a more authentic ring to it than that in Chronicles (I Chron. 17), since it reflects the state of affairs prior to its construction: God objects to the erection of a Temple on ideological grounds – because He does not want to be perceived as “a house-dwelling god.” By contrast, the descriptions in the Book of Chronicles and in Kings (I Kings 5:17; I Chron. 22:7–8; II Chron. 6:8–9) appear to reflect a situation where the Temple is a fait accompli, so there is little point in God objecting to it in principle. The same is true of the story of the bringing of the ark up to Jerusalem in II Samuel 6. The considerable detail provided in the Chronicles version (I Chron. 13:1–14; 15:11–17:43) reflects Second Temple preoccupations, especially with regard to the functions of the various Levite families)79 (– if the II Samuel account were indeed a later version, it would be difficult to understand why these extensive descriptions were omitted from it. So, too, with the story of the census

77 For an in-depth exploration of these issues, see: S. Gelander, David and His God, Jerusalem 1991. 78 See G.N. Knoppers, I Chronicles 1–9, (The Anchor Bible), New-York 2004 p. 70. See also the review of the dispute on this subject, pp. 69–71. 79 See J. Licht, “Levy, Levites,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, Vol. 4, Jerusalem 1962 pp. 450–478 [Hebrew].

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and the halting of the pestilence (II Samuel 24): the Chronicler not only appears to have difficulties with the II Samuel text, but also omits the names of the places Yoav went through, probably because he was already unfamiliar with them. Significant glimpses into the Davidic ideology may be seen already in the stories of David’s rise to the throne. Indeed, in the stories introducing Saul (I Samuel 9–10) and David (I Samuel 16–17) the narrators employ a variety of folk-motifs in ways that reflect their purpose. On the one hand: the motif of the son sent on a mission by his elderly father, who in the course of his travels meets a man of mystery who guides him and gives him certain signs to ensure his success. On the other hand: the motif of the youngest son, rejected and abused by his older brothers who try to impede his progress, but who nonetheless succeeds in achieving his goals and gaining glory through faith and consistency. On comparing the two, we see that Saul was found worthy of his role only after becoming “another man” (I Samuel 10:6) – namely, only after witnessing the signs given to him by the man of mystery, Samuel. In other words, Saul became eligible only thanks to the magical effects of Samuel’s signs, while David achieved his fame and position by virtue of his own attributes and abilities (I Samuel 16:18, and Chapter 17). But the core of the Davidic ideology should be sought in the biblical passages dealing explicitly with the relationship between God and David, and particularly in the stories of David’s religious enterprises. In them we see that God has a close relationship with David, but that He is also prone to occasional violent outbursts of destructive fury for reasons which are not entirely clear. There are also instances of divine intervention on David’s behalf for reasons which are equally obscure. Fundamentally, therefore, we see two distinct religious patterns in the Book of Samuel. The former is exemplified in Nathan’s speech (II Samuel 7), proclaiming that God will punish the David descendant “when he commits iniquity” – but that the severity of punishment will be muted: “I will chasten him with the rod of men, with the stripes of the sons of men” (vs. 14). In other words, not only will the House of David enjoy everlasting favor in the eyes of the Lord and grace (‫)חסדי‬, but God’s sanctions will be of a human scale and even signaled in advance.80

80 See Segal on the meaning of the words: “. . . rod of men and stripes of the sons of men” (similarly: Ehrlich). See also: R. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, (translated by J.W. Harvey), Oxford 1969 pp. 1–19; 50–59.

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The second pattern shows God acting with no warning and no explanation whatsoever. His mysterious ways are dramatically demonstrated in sudden outbursts of wrath, such as smiting Uzzah for placing his hand upon the ark (II Samuel 6:6–7), or the pestilence upon the people following David’s census (II Samuel 24). The extreme harshness and mystery of the latter is emphasized in the opening words of this story: “Again the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel” (vs. 1).81 The two narratives – the story of Uzzah and the story of the pestilence – are far from identical. The messages they convey are different, as are the inherent backgrounds which appear to refer to different conflicts. Nevertheless, as I will demonstrate, they fulfil a similar purpose in terms of their literary style and their position in the broader Davidic narrative as we know it today. The striking feature common to both stories is that in both of them David manages to placate or even defuse God’s anger, and to commute the dreaded and enigmatic divine reprisal into a blessing. The political changes brought about by bringing the ark up to Jerusalem and in conducting the census of all Judah and Israel are accompanied by significant religious reform, as well. In both stories, the unspoken subtext is that David brings a “different” God to Jerusalem – in other words, he lays the foundations for a new religious perspective. The new God that David brings to his city is no longer the one given to smiting His people or its rulers in unpredictable outbursts of rage, but rather one who pledges eternity to the House of David. It is a God with whom relationships are based on an intimate reciprocity: I will be a father to him and he will be a son to Me (7:14).82

It should be noted that it is generally accepted among commentators that the present location of Chapters 6, 7, and 24 does not follow the historical order of events. Transporting the ark to Jerusalem, as told in Chapter 6, was in reality made possible only when the king was already “settled in his house,” as we are told at the start of Chapter 7 – that is, after the victories that enabled his monarchy to be established. Furthermore, David’s initiative in building a house for the Lord certainly required that he first secure the purchase of the intended site, The word “Again” (‫ )ויסף‬has stumped all commentators. Rashi’s candid admission on this point sums it up best: “And I have no idea why.” 82 See the discussion below about how this formula is a variation on an ancient Egyptian formula of adoption. 81

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as related only in Chapter 24.83 But even if we reject the view that the order of events was purposefully re-arranged by the redactors, the general picture that emerges still displays a common ideological theme between two events – namely, that they serve as a literary framework for David’s enterprises. Bringing the ark up to Jerusalem was David’s first significant political and religious act immediately after his decisive victory over the Philistines; putting a stop to the pestilence at the very site where, according to tradition, the Temple was later erected was the very last political and religious act attributed to him. Indeed, the story of the pestilence indicates that David’s attempts to defuse God’s wrath – that is, by initiating a new perception of God among His followers – did not end with the bringing of the ark up to Jerusalem. As we shall see, the descriptions of God’s outbursts are reflections of the people’s opposition to revolutionary changes of this sort, and indeed to any grand project that involved deviating from sacred traditions. As closer inspection of the stories reveals, David’s plans met with serious opposition. Nevertheless, the stories of the census and of the pestilence (II Samuel 24) reflect a certain evolution in the nature of God’s reaction. The message taken from this story leads us to appreciate the scale of a king’s responsibility – for it is the people who pay for the king’s transgressions. This is further highlighted by the tragic choice put before him, where he is forced to choose between three equally unpalatable punishments (24:12–13). But this same choice also opens the way for David to protest against the injustice of God’s reaction – a protest that eventually leads to the stopping of the pestilence (vs. 17). While the Book of Kings champions the Exodus as the most decisive episode in the people’s history, the Book of Samuel focuses on David’s enterprises, and shows a marked bias in favor of the Davidic-Zion 83 These observations are based on various findings, such as the large number of “all the chosen men” that opens the story of the bringing of the ark to Jerusalem. Some point out that this expression appears to be taken from a military operation, or even from the story of the conquest of Jerusalem. See: K. Budde, Die Bücher Samuel, Tübingen-Leipzig 1902 pp. 70, 218, 224. Idem: The Books of Samuel (Translated by B.W. Bacon), Leipzig-Baltimore-London 1984 pp. 81, 83, R.L. Ward, The Story of David’s Rise, Nashville 1967. See also: H. Reviv, From Clan to Monarchy, Jerusalem 1979 pp. 123–124 [Hebrew]. McCarter agrees with Hertzberg’s attribution of the events described in II Samuel 5:11 – 8 to the Deuteronomistic redactor, who sought to emphasize the choosing of David and of Jerusalem by God. See: P.K. McCarter, II Samuel (The Anchor Bible), New York 1984 pp. 174 ff.

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traditions. Since these two competing doctrines also reflect different religious worldviews – mainly with regard to God’s attributes – it is remarkable, but probably wise, that the Deuteronomist refrains almost entirely from intervening in the stories of the Book of Samuel. At the same time, there is no ignoring the fact that following the story of the pestilence and its ending on the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite, there are no further instances in the Book of Kings of baffling and inexplicable outbursts of wrath by God. From here on, God does punish His people for their sins, but only after giving them advance notice in one form or another, so that they might be better prepared. In the following sections I shall review three chapters where, to my mind, we may find the main ideological references to the religious significance of David’s enterprises. In them, I believe, lies the ideological foundation of the Davidic traditions, as well as the core of the messianic expectations that would later be pinned upon the House of David in late biblical historiography, in the prophetic literature and in the Psalms. As I will try to demonstrate, the three chapters in question – II Samuel 6, 7, and 24 – represent three distinct stages of the religious and political agenda behind David’s initiatives. Chapter 6 recounts how the ark is transported to Jerusalem and about the death of Uzzah. Chapter 7 talks about David’s wish to build a house for God, and God’s response to this notion, through the prophet Nathan. Chapter 24 gives an account of David’s census of the people, about the pestilence that God inflicts upon them in retaliation, and how this is stopped on the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite. The Bringing of the Ark up to Jerusalem (II Samuel 6) The story of how the ark is brought up to Jerusalem is concerned, in part, with the episode with Michal, daughter of Saul, but in the main it deals with the aftermath of the capture of the ark by the Philistines, and its subsequent lengthy stay – twenty years – at Kiriath-jearim, in the house of Abinadab on the hill (I Samuel 4:1–7:2). In this study I am not focussing upon the relationship between our story and that of I Samuel.84 However, the episode with Michal

84 There is no consensus regarding the relationship between these two narratives. The prevailing view is that they belong to two different sources. The story of I Samuel originated in Mizpah, while the other belongs to a Davidic tradition. See: F. Bleek,

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may well be significant. In a story that is otherwise all about praising David’s initiative, it seems the authors felt it necessary to add a sardonic swipe at the House of Saul. The most telling sign may be in David’s response to Michal: It was before the Lord, who chose me above your father and above all his house . . . (6:21).

This theme is repeated elsewhere in the three chapters in question. In the story about David’s desire to build a house for God, for example, Nathan’s response also alludes to the difference between the House of Saul and David’s descendants: . . . But my grace (‫ )חסדי‬shall not depart from him as I took it away from Saul, whom I removed from before you (7:15).85

In the story of the census and the plague, David protests to God, saying: Behold, it is I who have done wrong; but these sheep what have they done? Please let Thy hand be against me and against my father’s house (24:17).

– yet he offers not so much as a murmur when the entire nation is punished for Saul’s sins toward the Gibeonites. The consistency with which these three stories are presented attests to the intensity of the struggle between the House of David and the House of Saul – or at

Einleitung in das Alte Testament, Berlin 1878 pp. 222–223; W. Lotz, “Die Bundeslade,” Festschrift Prinzregenten Luitpold von Bayern, Leipzig 1901. However, Kittel argues that the two stories bear a number of similarities, while Steuernagel – like Gressmann before him – even maintains that they share a common origin. See: R. Kittel, Geschichte des Volkes Israel, Stuttgart 1923 5–6 pp. 187 ff. C. Steuernagel, Lehrbuch der Einleitung in das Alte Testament, Tübingen 1912 pp. 332–335; H. Gressmann, Die älteste Geschichtsschreibung und Prophetie Israels, Göttingen 1910 pp. 11–13; 233–234. Conversely, McCarter, in assessing the discrepancies and differences between the two stories, supports the view of many commentators that they do not form part of a single complete narrative – indeed, he even goes as far as to say that they originate from different literary genres of Ancient Middle Eastern literature. See: P.K. McCarter, ibid. pp. 182–184. Others suggest that the figure of thirty thousand in the opening verse of Chapter 6 was taken from the census narrative of Chapter 24. See: R.A. Carlson, David, the Chosen King, Stockholm – Göteborg-Uppsala 1964 pp. 62–76. 85 The full meaning of these words may be appreciated by comparing them with the Chronicler’s version: There, even Saul’s name is omitted: “But I will never withdraw my kindness from him as I withdrew it from your predecessor” (I Chronicles 17:13). It is clear, therefore, that in the Book of Samuel the struggle between the House of David and the House of Saul was still very relevant.

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least between the ideas represented by these two houses. What also seems clear is that even at the time of these stories’ redaction, this ideological rivalry was still intact. But the central conflict in the story about the ark lies in the story of Uzzah. The description itself is somewhat obscure. What is clear is only that Uzzah did something to invoke God’s wrath, and for that he is killed. But what this transgression is precisely is unclear. The simplest explanation is that Uzzah reached out to steady the ark of God lest it fall, “for the oxen shook it” – i.e. those leading them temporarily lost control (see MT of vs. 6). Neither is there a consensus over the meaning of the words ‫ על השל‬in vss. 6–7: ‫ ויכהו שם אלהים על השל וימת שם עם ארון האלהים‬86 In English the passage has been translated “and God struck him down there for his irreverence.” This is an important point, because to fully understand the story of the bringing up of the ark to Jerusalem, one must understand what Uzzah did that was so wrong. Unfortunately, on this point we cannot do much more than speculate, in the hope of finding some support in the evidence as we delve more deeply. Abarbanel lists no fewer than four sins, while Josef Kara (and later, Kimhi) points out that the ark should have been carried on the shoulders of Levites’ rather than on a cart.87 Others have even suggested that the ark may have been carried by foreigners. But the reference to Levites in this context is anachronistic. Campbell suggests that the story was meant to signal that in transporting the ark from Kiriath-jearim David was exceeding his authority, for he should have waited for God’s consent first.88 But Kaufmann argues that there was nothing sinful in the actual act of transporting the ark. In his view, David wanted to change what had become a symbol of God’s wrath into one of eternal grace. In other words, David sought to imbue sacred symbols with new meaning, and although this initially met with acute apprehension, ultimately

86

The prevailing Hebrew interpretation of ‫ על השל‬is “for his error,” from the root

‫של״ה‬. See also the Aramaic translation. 87

For an overview of interpretations see: A. Malkiel, “The Bringing Up of the Ark By David,” Festschrift M. Seidel, Jerusalem 1962 pp. 119–141 [Hebrew]. 88 See: A.F. Campbell, “Yahweh and the Ark: A Case Study in Narrative,” JBL 98 (1979) pp. 31–43.

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his will prevailed over his own fears and those of others, and he did in fact succeed in turning the curse into a blessing.89 My own interpretation is somewhat similar. Bringing the ark up to Jerusalem was an overtly political act, as well as a religious one. By doing so, David was, on the one hand, declaring that the ark’s symbolic values and its related sacred traditions were sacred to him, too90 – thereby putting to rest any fears of radical change, once his monarchy is established, toward the values and traditions of tribal structure of the pre-monarchical period. But on the other hand it was also a de facto declaration that he was claiming patronage over the ark itself and therefore, by extension, over all the traditions and symbols that it represented. In other words, he, David, would be the supreme authority in these matters from now on. God’s wrath on this occasion should also be understood against this background. As in other instances of divine outbursts, it is symbolic of the people’s apprehensions and opposition.91 Although we have no comprehensive, substantiated information about precisely what the ark represented or about the various roles attributed to it, what we do have is enough to give a general picture. As we noted earlier, according to Numbers 10:33, one of the traditions surrounding the leading of the people in the desert attributes this role to the ark – particularly in the context of leading into battle (cf. I Samuel 4:3). Its various titles – “Ark of the Covenant,” “Ark of the Testimony” (Exodus 25:22; 26:33–34; 30:8, 26; Deuteronomy 10:8; 31:8 etc.) – suggest that it contained the tablets of the covenant. The title “Ark of the covenant of the Lord of all the earth” (Joshua 3:11) represents a combination thereof that probably included the abbreviated title “Ark of Jehovah” (vs. 13), but it also reflects the notion of the Ark as representing God’s presence. This can be seen in II Samuel, when David’s expresses his wish to build a house for the Lord with the words: See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, But the Ark of God dwells within tent curtains.

89 Y. Kaufmann, The Religion of Israel: From its Beginning to the Babylonian Exile, (Translated and abridged by M. Greenberg), Chicago 1960 Vol. II Part I. 90 See mainly: M. Noth, Das System der Zwölf Stamme Israels, Göttingen 1930 pp. 66, 95; Also: O. Clements, Abraham and David, London 1967 p. 53. 91 See my overview and bibliography in my book, David and His God, ibid. pp. 36–41, and especially Note 17 there.

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God declines, explaining: Would you build me a house to dwell in? For I have not dwelt in a house . . . but I have been moving about in a tent and tabernacle. (vss. 5–6).

Passages such as these indicate that God Himself was identified with the ark. But the full, expanded title at the beginning of Chapter 6 may be designed to illustrate the long list of roles and traditions associated with the Ark – including an ancient one whereby the ark is seen as God’s means of transport, carried about by the cherubim: . . . the ark of God which is called by the Name, the very name of the Lord of Hosts who is enthroned above the cherubim (6:2).

This would be in line with the general thrust of the narrative, which aimed to demonstrate the evolution of the ark as a sacred symbol during the various historical stages of the nation’s development.92

92 Noth stresses the role of the ark during the crisis that emerged during the conquest of the land. This God of nomads was not easily accepted or recognized in a land of local deities worshipped by the indigenous inhabitants. By providing tangible evidence of God’s continual presence, the ark fulfilled a crucial role during this transitional stage. However, Jeremias argues that there is no sound evidence of the ark’s nomadic past, nor even of the precise point in history when it became sacred. On the other hand, von Rad lists various stages in the evolution of the ark’s function, including a few that are mutually contradictory – such as its perception as a sort of “oracle,” which is at odds with the notion that it is God’s throne, or His footstool – which he explains is the result of a merger of different traditions. The same applies to the notion of cherubim acting as guardians of the ark, which is a late, priestly interpretation, designed to bridge between the multiplicity of traditions. Noth further claims that Israel’s view of Jerusalem as a holy city derived entirely from the holiness of the given its ancient traditions, although in time the bonds between the Temple and the ark became severed. (See: Noth, ibid., 1930 pp. 66, 95). Conversely, Milgrom argues that in biblical traditions there is no distinction between the shrine itself and the ark. For an overview of the ark-related traditions as they appear in Deuteronomistic literature, see: T.E. Fretheim, “The Ark in Deuteronomy” CBQ 30 (1968) pp. 1–14. Fretheim supports the conclusion that the ark maintained its cultic role until Josiah’s reform. See: M. Noth, “Jerusalem und die israelitische Tradition,” Oudtestamentische Studien, 8 (1950) pp. 28–46. J. Jeremias, “Lade und Zion”: zur Entstehung der Ziontradition,” Festschrift G. von Dad: Probleme biblischer Theologie, München 1971 pp. 183–198. G. von Rad, The Tent and the Ark,” (translated from the 1931 “Zelt und Lade” by E.W. Trueman Dicken), The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, London 1966 pp. 103–124. Jeremias contends that the Davidic tradition could not have formed at all were it not for the tradition of the ark. He finds explicit evidence for the Davidic tradition supplanting that of the ark in the words of Jeremiah: “And it shall be in those days when you are multiplied and increased in the land . . . they shall say no more, ‘The ark of the covenant of the Lord. And it shall not come to mind, nor shall they remember it, nor shall they miss it, nor shall it be made again” (3:16). But unlike

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It seems reasonable, therefore, to conclude that God’s outburst was a manifestation of the people’s apprehensions at the changes brought about by David’s actions. In this highly-charged scenario, Uzzah’s “reaching out” (or “putting out” his hand – ‫ )שלח ידו‬may have been seen as something that was not harmless, but symbolic of taking control (“stretch out your hand”: Exodus 4:4; 7:5; 9:15; I Kings 13:4 etc.). The words “for the oxen nearly upset it” = ‫( כי שמטו הבקר‬vs. 7) may also be figurative, as if the ark were trying to elude David and his men. Such an interpretation would not be far from the general idea of the description, for later on in the story we read how – in marked contrast to God’s rage – the ark shows signs of benevolence and conciliation. In summary, it appears that everything about the ark in this story has a symbolic component. But even if we avoid attributing any symbolic meaning to the ark’s “conduct,” it is important to note that the text itself does not suggest David was guilty of anything wrong, nor is that the reason for God’s anger. Elsewhere, perhaps, God’s anger may be in response to violations of His covenant – but not in this case.93 Were this the case, we would have expected David to show signs of remorse or to beg for forgiveness, and a detailed description of how he made amends before resuming the operation. But David shows no remorse whatsoever – on the contrary, after Uzzah’s death it is he who refuses to continue on the journey, and chooses instead to store the ark nearby: And David was unwilling to move the ark of the Lord into the city of David with him. But David took it aside to the house of Obed-edom the Gittite.94

Smend, Jeremias does not think this was the case with the Jerusalem traditions. See: R. Smend, Jahweh War and Tribal Confederation: Reflection upon Israel’s Earliest History, (Translated from the 1968 Jahwekrieg by M.G. Rogers), Nashville 1970. Others find in the present narrative some hints of a sacred festival – a sort of “Royal Festival of Zion.” Carlson (ibid. pp. 60 ff. 90 ff.), argues that it contains echoes of the early epic of Kirta (especially in vss. 11–13, where he finds parallels to the six-day march of to “the great Udum,” which evokes “the house of Obed-edom the Gittite”). 93 McCarthy points out ten instances where the wrath of God was triggered by a serious transgression, but this story is not one of them. See: D.J. McCarthy, “The Wrath of Jahweh and the Structural Unity of the Deuteronomistic History,” J.L. Crenshaw & J.T. Willis (editors), Essays in Old Testament Ethics, New York 1974 pp. 99–110. 94 On the identification of Obed-edom as one of David’s earliest followers, see: McCarter, II Samuel (ibid.) p. 170.

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From this point onwards, it is the ark that issues signs of reconciliation and appeasement, in the form of bounty and good fortune bestowed upon the house of Obed-edom. The structure of the text provides further evidence that it includes elements of a cultic blessing ceremony: ‫שלשה חדשים‬ ‫ואת כל ביתו‬ ‫ואת כל אשר לו‬ ‫בעבור ארון האלהים‬ ‫את ארון האלהים‬ ‫עיר דוד בשמחה‬

‫בית עבד אדם הדתי‬ ‫בית עבד אדם הגתי‬ ‫עבד אדם‬ ‫בית עבד אדם‬

‫ויטהו דוד‬ '‫וישב ארון ה‬ ‫ויברך ה' את‬ ‫ויגד למלך לאמר‬ ‫ברך ה' את‬ ‫וילך דוד ויעל‬

‫מבית עבד אדם‬

But David took it aside

to the house of Obededom the Gittite

And the ark of the Lord remained

in the house of Obededom the Gittite

three months

And the Lord blessed

Obed-edom

and all his household

of Obed-edom

and all that belongs to him

And was told King David The Lord has blessed the household Because of the ark of God So David went and brought up

the ark of God From the house of Obed-edom

to the city of David with rejoicing

(vss. 10–12).

Similar structures appear in other parts of this narrative, as well, underscoring the perception that moving the ark from one site to another was seen as a sacred cultic ceremony: ‫( וירכבו‬alliteration) ‫וישאוהו‬ ‫נהגים‬ ‫וישאהו‬

‫אל עגלה חדשה‬

And they placed

the ark on a new cart

That they might bring it

Were leading

the new cart

‫ הכרבים עליו‬. . . ‫להעלות‬ ‫אשר בגבעה‬ ‫אשר בגבעה‬

‫העגלה חדשה‬

Which was on the hill They brought it

Which was on the hill

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This structure is taken up again when the procession itself is resumed: ‫  ודוד מכרכר בכל עז לפני ה׳‬ ‫  ודוד חגור אפוד בד‬ ‫ודוד וכל בית ישראל מעלים את ארון‬ And David was dancing [whirling] before the Lord with all his might And David was wearing a linen ephod And David and all the house of Israel were bringing up the ark.95

A similar structure, based on meter and repeating expressions symmetrically distributed within the text, occurs in the scene with Michal (vss. 21–22). Particularly notable here is the balance between Michal’s words and David’s response (one that is unfortunately lost in all translations): ‫מה נכבד היום‬ ‫מלך ישראל‬ ‫אשר נגלה היום‬ ‫לעיני אמהות עבדיו‬ ‫כהגלות נגלות אחד הרקים‬ ‫ונקלתי עוד מזאת‬ ‫בעיני‬ ‫ועם האמהות אשר אמרת‬

‫הייתי שפל‬ ‫עמם אכבדה‬

How the King of Israel distinguished himself today. He uncovered himself today in the eyes of his servants’ maids. As one as the foolish ones shamelessly uncovers himself. I will make myself yet more contemptible. But by the maids. I shall be held in honour.

Examination of this structure indicates that, from the point of view of the editors, at least – who were responsible for the story’s final form – there is a significant underlying link between the Uzzah affair and the scene with Michal. So much so, that the ideological message of the story of bringing the ark to Jerusalem may be fully appreciated only when viewing these two episodes side by side. Bringing the ark to Jerusalem represents a victory for David, for ultimately he did succeed in turning the curse into a blessing. The ark, as a tangible symbol of God’s presence, took on a different character, for instead of representing a deity given to unpredictable outbursts of lethal rage, it showered blessings upon its abode. In fact, the word 95 Buber surmises that these verses were taken from a poem – but the structure we see here demonstrates that the story’s main components are based a quasi-poetical structure. See: M. Buber, Königtum Gottes, Berlin 1932 p. 132 note 35.

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“blessed” and the combination “blessed . . . the house of ” become key words of the entire narrative (vss. 11,12,18,19). However, this very conversion of curse into blessing is again turned on its head by Michal, who in this story symbolically represents the House of Saul. In his retort, David makes pointedly uses the words: . . . above your father and above all his house.

The use of the words “his house” was undoubtedly deliberate. In mocking mimicry of Michal’s scornful alliteration ‫כהגלות נגלות‬, David declines the root ‫ קל״ה‬in the same pompous manner (‫)ונקלותי‬,96 implying in his ironic self-deprecation that, for all the pretensions of the House of Saul to respectability, it was content to let the ark languish in obscurity for twenty years and failed to recognize its significance or the consequences of transferring it to the capital97 – while he has brought blessings upon the house of Israel (vss. 5, 15).98 It appears, therefore, that this story was designed not only to praise David, but also to highlight the different mindset of the northern king (as represented by his daughter), and then pour scorn upon it.99 As such, it contains clear echoes of the clash between South and North and, of course, of the ideological dispute between them over the concept of God. 96 The Hebrew root ‫ קל״ה‬occurs in similar meaning in Genesis 16:4: “‫ותקל גברתה‬ ‫ =( ”בעיניה‬her mistress was despised in her eyes). See: H.C. Brichto, The Problem of

‘Curse’ in the Hebrew Bible, Philadelphia 1968; Also: S. Eitrem, “Curses,” The Oxford Classical Dictionary, Oxford 1970 pp. 302–303; M. Weinfeld “Curse” Encyclopaedia Biblica volume 7, Jerusalem 1976 pp. 185–192 [Hebrew]; N. Levine, “The Curse and the Blessing, Narrative Discourse Syntax and Literary Form,” JSOT 27,2 (2002) pp. 189–199. 97 Some see in this gibe at the House of Saul further evidence of David’s determination to eliminate all vestiges of the House of Saul. See especially: M. Malul, “Was David Involved in the Death of Saul on the Gilboa Mountain?,” Revue Biblique 4 (1996) pp. 517–545. 98 The expression “House of Israel” is rare in biblical historiography. Although it occurs many times in Ezekiel (about 60 times, in fact), in the books of Samuel it appears on only three other occasions (I Samuel 7:3; II Samuel 1:12; 16:3), and in the Masoretic Text (MT) of Joshua 21:43, and in I Kings 12:2. In all these instances it is a byword for national unity. Its two appearances in our narrative (vss. 5, 16) – especially when compared with the alternative expression, “the multitude of Israel” in v. 19 – supports the notion that David’s initiative was looked upon favorably from a national point of view. 99 Abramski argues that the main purpose of this story was to emphasize the credit due to David over Saul, who, throughout his reign, had neglected the ark. See: S. Abramski, The Kingdom of Saul and the Kingdom of David, Jerusalem 1977 pp. 114–115 [Hebrew].

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This needs some further clarification. Passages such as: And David was unwilling to move the ark of the Lord into the city of David with him,

and others give us an insight into David’s reaction to Uzzah’s death. Far from panicking or showing remorse, in response to God’s anger (“And the anger of the Lord burned against Uzzah”) David himself becomes angry: And David became angry because of the Lord’s outburst against Uzzah (Vss. 7–8).100

David, therefore, pits his own anger against God’s, and remarkably it is he who ultimately has the upper hand. Even David’s refusal to continue with the procession is couched in terms of proactive resolution rather than paralyzing fear or perplexity. His question – how can I let the ark of the Lord come to me (vs. 9)

should be understood as rhetorical rather than a genuine question – that is, in the sense of “How could I possibly let the ark come to me?” In other words, he refuses, under the circumstances, to bring the ark to his city.101 Accordingly, the words “David was afraid (= ‫ )וירא‬of the Lord” (vs. 9) should be interpreted as a fear born not of guilt but of aversion.102 Indeed, the structure of the entire story appears to suggest that, henceforth, and through the ark, God concedes to David and seeks to placate him. The general description of events suggests a crescendo of festivities, building up to a climax in vss. 13–15. This impression is reinforced by the proliferation of verbs suggesting movement, as well as various plays on the verb ‫( על״ה‬bring up): vss. 2,12,15,17,18, reinforced by the preposition ‫( על‬vss. 2,7,8,10,21). All of the above enables us to interpret the full meaning of this story, which clearly conveys an ideological message far beyond the political domain. The political message is mainly one of reassurance and

100 For other instances of the phrase “burst out” to denotes God’s wrath, see: Exodus 19:22, 24; Job 16:14. 101 The use of the word “how” (‫ )איך‬in a rhetorical question meaning “how . . . possibly” or even “why” occurs elsewhere as well. See: Genesis 26:9; 39:9; Exodus 6:12;30; II Samuel 2:22; 12:18 etc. 102 Cf. the Chronicler’s phrasing of David’s words in this context – “‫”היך אביא‬ (I Chronicles 13:12) – which underlines that the initiative was entirely at David’s discretion.

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assuaging doubts, of reducing apprehensions: the proposal to transfer the ark to Jerusalem raised concerns about profound political changes once David’s reign was fully entrenched. However, given all that the ark represented and the many sacred traditions surrounding it, the fear invoked by its handling and transportation reflected concerns about the fate of old customs, sacred traditions, and religious hierarchies, all of which were deeply rooted in the pre-monarchical past. God’s wrath may therefore be understood as a manifestation of strong popular opposition.103 The story effectively admits that these apprehensions were not baseless, but also points out that David turned the curse into a blessing, which means that in the end his proposal received God’s approbation.104 But the implicit message of the story is far more radical: by refusing to proceed in the transportation of the ark of a wrathful deity, and by demonstrating the blessings bought upon the house of Obed-edom the Gittite, David transforms the popular perception

103 A. Neher explains that when David brought the Ark of the Covenant to his new capital, Jerusalem assumed the central role that had previously belonged to Shiloh. But he goes further and interprets this act as a change in the nature of prophecy. From this moment on there is a fundamental change in the role of the “bands of prophets” that Samuel had established with a view to promote the nomadic ideal. These bands now take up residence in Jerusalem, where they operate, invoking an atmosphere of external prophecy reminiscent of Samuel’s times – and hence, too, in Neher’s view, the opposition to the bringing up of the Ark. But this reasoning is questionable. Neher bases his interpretation on the late evidence of the Chronicler (I Chronicles 25:1) regarding the role of the Levite-prophets at the Temple. But in the stories about Nathan and Gad, who operated at the time of David, there is no evidence whatsoever of bands of prophets. See: A. Neher, Prophecy and Prophets, Jerusalem 19832 pp. 143–144 [Hebrew]. Auld compares a number of expressions in the description of the fall of the House of Eli (mainly I Samuel 3) to the prophecies of Samuel and Nathan to David, pointing out a number of affinities between these narratives, especially in light of Samuel’s role at both the House of Eli and the House of David. Auld suggests that Nathan’s prophecy also contained warnings to the House of David about its eventual destruction. G. Auld, “From King to Prophet in Samuel and Kings,” J.C. Moor (editor) The Elusive Prophet, Leiden – Boston – Köln 2001 pp. 31–44. This hypothesis is based on an earlier work of his, where he concludes that the story of Shiloh was conceived to counter the Jerusalem tradition, in support of the latter. See Idem, Kings Without Privilege, Edinburgh 1994, passim. But in my view there are no ominous portents in Nathan’s prophecy. See my analysis below. If we add to this that Samuel makes no mention at all of divine promises to the House of David in his own prophecies, and the notion that Samuel was an “ideological intermediary” between the two houses appears to be unsubstantiated. 104 Eichrodt points out that when people are accustomed to see God’s actions in the form of unpredictable interventions and terrifying displays of power, they also tend to reject a leader who claims to act in God’s name but enjoys no outward sign of divine approval. See: W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament (translated from the 1959 edition of Theologie by J. Baker), London 1961 p. 224.

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of what the ark represents – from a symbol of unpredictable, mortal danger, to one that showers blessings upon its surroundings. In so doing, by extension, David effectively changes the perception of God Himself, whom the ark represents. The deity that David now brings to the capital is no longer one prone to mystifying outbursts of violent rage. In the wider sense, He changes from the willful, volatile God of the wilderness to the God of a settled people, who bestows blessings upon His followers. Further evidence of this transformation is provided in other narratives – particularly in the story of Nathan’s prophecy (II Samuel 7) and the story of the stopping of the pestilence on the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite, where the Temple is later built (Chapter 24, and see II Chronicles 3:1). This is where we find further hints of the religious reforms enacted by David in his city, which lay the basic foundations of the treaty between God and David. From the standpoint of the biblical editors, David’s religious strategy did not end with bringing the ark to Jerusalem. From other stories, particularly the one about the census and the pestilence, we learn that David had not yet completely defused God’s anger. Indeed, the census narrative opens with the words: “And again the anger of God was kindled against Israel” (24:1). In other words, David’s reforms still had a way to go, and had come up against further resistance. This will be further explored presently. In the meantime, it is worth noting that the next time David succeeds in placating God is presented as the last of his historic enterprises (leaving aside his intervention in appointing his successor). In terms of literary structure, therefore, these two symbolic acts – the bringing up of the ark, and the stopping of the pestilence – bracket his achievements as a king. Equally notable is the fact that David’s first act following the conquest of Jerusalem and establishing his reign was to purchase the threshing floor of Araunah the Jebusite. Since the central theme of both stories is the appeasement of God, it seems reasonable to conclude that this was the main message that the authors wished to convey with regard to David as reformer: that he brought about a fundamental shift in the perception of God, His attributes, and His relationship with His chosen king. The Controversy over the Building of a House for God The story in II Samuel 7 recounts how David’s request to build a house for God is turned down. But mitigating this rejection is a divine promise that David’s successor will have this privilege. The relationship

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between God and this successor will be founded on a stable and eternal basis, and thus be fundamentally different in nature from His relationships with His anointed ones hitherto. God also promises David that his house shall rule forever. The rejection and the promise are intimately intertwined, and it is impossible to understand one without the other. To begin with, the text gives the impression that God’s refusal to accede to David’s wish is far from categorical, since Nathan’s initial response is totally positive. Indeed, Nathan’s reply to David suggests that David did not even need to complete his sentence – his intention was clear as soon as he said: See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent.

Nathan, for his part, has no doubt that they will be welcomed by God: Go, do all that is in your mind, for the Lord is with you. (vss. 2–3)

In all likelihood, these words were not designed to show Nathan erred in his initial assessment, but rather to demonstrate his fundamentally positive view of David. Clearly the words “for the Lord is with you” are sincere, denoting the general “credit” that David enjoyed with God in advance of any particular request. This statement, delivered at the outset of the story, is highly significant, as it makes clear that whatever happens after this is not due to any wrongdoing on David’s part, but – as apparent in God’s words to Nathan afterwards – to the inherent difficulty in his request. This difficulty is such, that God is compelled to order his prophet to retract his consent. The basic conflict of this story is therefore not between God and David, but a much more profound one of the perception of God and His identity, his methods of operation, and His relationship with His anointed and thereby with His people. The rhetorical question – Would you [‫ ]האתה‬build me a house to dwell in? (v. 5)

should be read accordingly, and the prophecy that follows interpreted as its direct continuation. The context indicates that in this question the stress is not on the word “you,” but rather on the phrase “a house to dwell in.” The suggestion, therefore, is not that David is unqualified or unworthy to build a Temple, but rather that God refuses to “dwell in a house.” However, David’s desire to build a house for God is mentioned on other four other occasions in the Hebrew Bible, and in all of them the reason for its rejection does lie in David himself. In I Kings

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5:16, for example, when Solomon asks King Hiram of Tyre for cedar wood for the Temple’s construction, he starts by explaining: You know that my father David could not build a house for the name of the Lord his God because of the wars which were about him . . . .

This, then, was the real factor: the rejection did have to do with David, but due not to a flaw in David himself, but because he was too busy waging wars to do justice to the enterprise. This seems at odds with the story at hand, which opens with the words – When the king was settled in his palace and the Lord had granted him safety from all the enemies around him.

Since we learn later that there were in fact more wars during his reign, it is possible that the words “granted him safety” (‫ )הניח לו‬was a Deuteronomistic expression meaning “gained the upper hand” rather than true peace.105 An alternative explanation may be that this opening was transposed from its original context of a later period, or at least after the purchase of the site intended for the Temple (namely, the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite). I Kings 8:15–19 provides yet another perspective. Here, having completed the construction of the Temple, Solomon says: Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who spoke with His mouth to my father David and has fulfilled it with His hand, saying: ‘Since the day that I brought My people Israel from Egypt, I did not chose a city out of all the tribes of Israel in which to build a house that My name might be there, but I chose David to be over my people Israel’. Now it was in the heart of my father David to build a house for the name of the Lord, the God of Israel. But the Lord said to my father David: ‘Because it was in your heart to build a house for My name, you did well that it was in your heart. Nevertheless you shall not build the house, but your son that shall be born to you, he shall build the house for My name’.

These words are most significant for our discussion. The phrasing indicates that the words the author attributes to Solomon are based on Nathan’s address in our narrative. But there are some deliberate variations. Here the reason for rejection clearly is related to David himself, for Solomon quotes God as saying: “You shall not [‫]לא אתה‬

105 Cf. Deuteronomy 3:20; 12:10; Joshua 1:13,15; 21:43; I Kings 5:18. See also: D.J. McCarthy, “Samuel and the Structure of Deuteronomistic History,” JBL 84 (1965) pp. 131–138.

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build the house” rather than the rhetorical “Would you . . . ?” (‫)האתה‬ as in II Samuel 7. Another important difference is in the reference to the Exodus in Solomon’s speech compared to Nathan’s prophecy. Nathan said: . . . For I have not dwelt in a house since the day I brought up the sons of Israel from Egypt.

– while in Solomon’s speech God is quoted as saying: Since the day that I brought My people Israel from the Egypt, I did not chose a city out of all the tribes of Israel in which to build a house for My name. (v. 16)

In other words, while in Nathan’s prophecy the Exodus is mentioned as the reason for God’s refusal to sit in a house of any sort, in Solomon’s version it is cited almost parenthetically to His choosing of Jerusalem over all other cities of the nation. This theme is repeated when he talks about the tribes. While in Nathan’s prophecy we read: . . . did I speak a word with one of the tribes of Israel, which I commanded to shepherd My people Israel, saying, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?” (II Samuel 7:7).

– in Solomon’s version the tribes are mentioned only to reiterate yet again as a pretext to mention God’s choosing of Jerusalem: Since the day that I brought My people Israel from Egypt I did not choose a city out of all the tribes of Israel in which to build a house for My name. (ibid.)

The difference is telling: while in Nathan’s words the traditional tribal structure is given the respect it is due as the nation’s primary organizational and social structure, for Solomon it is merely more grist for the mill concerning the primacy of Jerusalem. In this manner, the various references to Nathan’s prophecy are recruited to promote the Zion doctrine. The Chronicler’s version of events is unequivocal as to the emphasis in God’s refusal: Go and say to My servant David: Thus said the Lord: You are not the one to build a house for me to dwell in (I Chronicles 17:4)

Here, God’s rhetorical question in our story has turned into a categorical statement. This is to be expected, since the late historiographers of the Book of Chronicles, writing after many years of the

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Temple’s existence, cannot accept that God objected in principle to “dwell in a house.” Therefore, in the eyes of the Chronicler, it was not God’s refusal to dwell in a house that caused Him to decline David’s request, but rather the recognition that an enterprise of this sort was more suited to David’s successor rather than to David himself. In this respect, the Chronicler’s position is in line with Nathan’s: for him, as for the author of our present chapter, clearly the most important point of the story is not who will build the house for God, but His pledge of eternity for the House of David. Nevertheless, the Chronicler’s phrasing is somewhat obscure. For while in our chapter the reason of God’s rejection is explained by the words: For I have not dwelt in a house since the day I brought up the sons of Israel from Egypt, even to this day; but I have been moving about in a tent and in a tabernacle,

in the Chronicler’s version He says: For I have not dwelt in a house since the day that I brought up Israel to this day, but I have (gone) from tent to tent and from (one) tabernacle (to another). (v. 5)

The intention behind the difference between the two versions is obvious: the Chronicler wished to omit all references to the Exodus, in order to downplay its importance in favor of the Davidic and Zion traditions. For that reason he also omits the verb “gone” (or “move about” = ‫– )מתהלך‬ regardless of the syntactical difficulties that this entails – for the notion that God “walks about” is, for him, an anathema. But the main reason of the rejection, according to the Chronicler, appears to lie in David’s own words. As David is quoted in I Chronicles 22:7–8, when retelling the story to Solomon: . . . I had intended to build a house to the name of the Lord my God. But the word of the Lord came to me, saying, ‘you have shed much blood, and have waged great wars; you shall not build a house to My name, because thou have shed so much blood on the earth before me.

It is these words of David that have led many commentators to believe that the emphasis in Nathan’s rhetorical question on God’s behalf was on the word “you” after all (namely, ‫“ = האתה‬Are you the one . . . ?”). II Chronicles 6:8–9 underlines this point yet again. In Solomon’s preface to his prayer on completion of the Temple’s construction, God is quoted as praising David for his intention, but rejecting his request, without saying why:

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chapter three . . . Because it was in your heart to build a house for My name, you did well that it was in your heart. Nevertheless you shall not build the house but your son who shall be born to you, he shall build the house for My name.

In referring to the episode from the standpoint of the finished result, this version also removes any suggestion that David was denied through any fault of his own. From a detailed comparison it is clear that the text of II Samuel 7 is fundamentally different from the other five biblical occurrences. It portrays David’s request to build the Temple in terms of the present: the dilemma he faces reflects the conflict between the significance of his proposed initiatives and the traditions of the past. As with the mission to bring the ark to Jerusalem, here too, he faces stiff opposition brought about by fear of change and its consequences. In addition, Nathan makes it clear that God’s objection to this initiative is one of principle, and has nothing to do with the character of the person proposing it: He simply refuses to be thought of as one who sits in a house, as He has always been a God who moves about. All other references to the story tell it from the viewpoint of much later period, when the Temple is an established fact. Clearly, anything written at the time of Solomon’s reign would gloss over any notion that the very construction of the Temple was objected to by God on principle, and instead use the occasion as an opportunity to praise the House of David and its enterprise, and to promote Zion as God’s chosen abode upon earth.106 For this reason, in II Samuel 7 the emphasis in Nathan’s rhetorical question must be on the words “to dwell in” This, in turn, is crucial to understanding the true significance of his reasoning: For I have not dwelt in a house since the day I brought up the sons of Israel from Egypt, even to this day; but I have been moving about in a tent and tabernacle.

106 The wording “He shall build a house for my name” seems to be the work of a Deuteronomistic redactor, judging by the repeated emphasis that the Temple is meant to house only God’s name rather than God himself. Cf. the wording of the Chronicler (I Chronicles 17:12: “He shall build for Me a house.” On the differences between the texts of the books of Samuel and Chronicles see: S. Talmon, “The Textual Study of the Bible – a New Outlook,” F.M. Cross – S. Talmon (editors), Qumran and the History of the Biblical Text, Cambridge Mass. 1975 pp. 321–400. Also: E.A. Seeligmann, “Studies in the History of Biblical Text,” M. Weinfeld (editor), Likutei Tarbiz, Jerusalem 1979 pp. 255–278 [Hebrew].

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The contrast between a God who “dwells” in a house and one who “moves about” extends well beyond the literal meanings of these words. They represent fundamental differences in how God is perceived, quite separately from their metaphorical meaning. In other words, the tent and tabernacle should be seen not as a deficiency – suggesting a nation or deity lacking the capability, resources or will to construct more permanent – but as a symbolic reminder of the nation’s nomadic past. The deity who “walks about” (as the MT puts it) in a tent and tabernacle, is the one who led the children of Israel throughout the decades of their wandering through the wilderness.107 In refusing to “dwell in a house” God is implying that, notwithstanding Israel’s move from nomadic life to settlement, He still prefers to be identified as a wandering deity.108 Aside from its significance as a distinctly Deuteronomistic term, we should consider the wider significance of “walking [about]” in a number of priestly texts as an expression of a certain lifestyle with specific moral-religious connotations (see Genesis 5:22; 9:9; 17:1, but cf. also Genesis 24:40; I Samuel 12:2 etc.).109 That is to say, beyond the literal sense of mobility, the term has strong metaphorical associations in numerous biblical instances with notions of unpredictability, the absence of static attributes, and even a degree of mystery.110 A God who wanders about from place to place is also one whose conduct and revelations cannot be foreseen, and anyone entreating the Lord

107 Von Rad maintains that in this singular scenario, with its emphasis on “tent” and “tabernacle,” Nathan represents the nomadic ideal – although he also notes that there is no certainty as to the exact identity of these objects. Milgrom surmises that the expression “tent and tabernacle” is a historical allusion based on the words “servant” and “my servant” (vss. 5,8,19,20) – since “servant” is especially linked with the worship of the traditional Tabernacle. Conversely, McCarter argues that this expression was designed mainly to emphasize God’s freedom of movement, to counter the notions of restricting Him to a definite location. See: G. von Rad, Old Testament Theology (translated from the 1958 German Theologie by D.M.G. Stalker), EdinburghLondon 1962–1965 vol. 1 p. 60; J. Milgrom (ibid.) p. 68 and especially note 249 there; P.K. McCarter (ibid.) p. 200. 108 On the word house as a central word in this narrative, see Ed. Greenstein, “The Affinity of the Biblical Narrative to the Ancient Canaanite Stories,” Zvijah Ben Joseph (editor), Studies in the Literature of Israel, The American Rabbinic School 2003 pp. 9–29 [Hebrew]. 109 See S.A. Loewenstamm, “God’s Tabernacle,” Encyclopaedia Biblica vol. 5, Jerusalem 1968 pp. 532–548 [Hebrew]. 110 See: M. Malul, Knowledge, Control, and Sex, Studies in Biblical Thought, Culture, and Worldview, Tel Aviv 2002 pp. 168–175. Also: S. Gelander, “The ways in which the Literary Prophets Express their Ideas,” S. Gelander (editor), Methods in Teaching Prophetic Literature, Tel Aviv. Mofet Institute 2004 pp. 21–37 [Hebrew].

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may not always be answered. This is very apparent when comparing I Samuel 28:6 with the repeated expressions in Solomon’s prayer: “And listen,” “hear Thou in heaven Thy dwelling place,” “Hear Thou in Heaven” (I Kings 8:30, 32, 34, 36, 38–39, 43, 45, 49).111 Thus, the proposal to change the “wandering” God into one who “dwells in a house,” is an expression of a desire to change Him into a deity whose ways and norms are known, and his reactions predictable – a God, in other words, whose relationship with his worshippers is based on a solid, permanent foundation. In this respect, God’s promise to David about establishing a permanent special relationship with him and his descendants is one of the most significant tokens of this change.112 The uniformity of this text, as well as questions about its various strata, has been explored in greater depth in a previous work of mine.113 What is notable, however, is a form of tension in the literary struc-

111 Haran rightly points out that the Deuteronomistic expansion upon Solomon’s prayer (I Kings 8:22–61) proves to what extent the establishment and dedication of the House of God was considered a defining moment in the history of Israel. See: M. Haran, The Biblical Collection, (ibid.) Volume 2, p. 191 [Hebrew]. 112 McCarter maintains that God’s proclamation “For I have not dwelt . . . ” contradicts I Samuel 1:7, where Shiloh is described as “the house of the Lord.” He therefore concludes that our chapter sets out also to negate the historical significance of Shiloh – alternatively, that the various labels given to the Temple in I Samuel 1–3 are merely anachronistic. However, he does not think that there is a substantive difference between sit (‫ )ישב‬and dwell (‫)שכן‬. See also his overview of interpretations: ibid. (1984) p. 199. 113 David and His God, pp. 80–89. See especially Sievers and his followers, who attempt to attribute the text to different sources: E. Sievers, Metrische studien III: Samuel, Leipzig 1907; R. Kittel, Geschichte des Volkes Israel, Stuttgart 1923 5–6 p. 123; H. Tiktin, Untersuchungen zu den Büchern Samuelis, Göttingen 1922 p. 48. Others point out a number of difficulties in the text, mainly due to discrepancies, without identifying definite sources: A. Weiser, “Die Tempelbaukriese unter David,” ZAW 77 (1965) pp. 153–168; similarly: K. Ruprecht, Der Tempel von Jerusalem, gründung Solomons oder jebusisches erbe? Berlin – New York 1977; H. Gressmann, Die älteste Geschichtsschreibung und Prophetie Israels, Göttingen 1910 p. 138. Following his lead, Rost identified three layers: L. Rost, Die überlieferung von der Thronnachfolge Davids, Stuttgart 1926 pp. 159–183. His approach has been adopted by Noth and von Rad: M. Noth, The Deuteronomistic History, ibid. pp. 54–62; G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testament, München 1958 vol. 1 p. 48. It appears that the main dispute is over the passage from vs. 8 ff. While Rost maintains that this is the work of the same author who composed the so-called “story of the succession of David’s throne” (II Samuel 9 – I Kings 2), Eissfeldt argues that it was composed by the author of the entire chapter (with the exception of a few verses): O. Eissfeldt, Die Komposition der Samuelbücher, Leipzig 1931 pp. 138–139. McCarter (ibid. pp. 138–139) maintains that in its present condition the text is mainly uniform, but this is the result of editing by the Deuteronomistic redactor. As we shall see below, the prevailing view among commentators today is that the text is mainly uniform. See: McCarthy (ibid. 1965).

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ture throughout the text as we know it today between two contrasting vocabularies: one representing impermanence, transitoriness and variability; and the other – stability, constancy, and even perpetuity or eternity. The counterpoint between these two sets of words contribute to characterize of the portrait as a whole, where the promised future is pitted against the past. The contrasts between the notions of impermanence, which are associated with the past, and those of perpetuity, belonging to the future, reflects the underlying conflict in this story – namely, the confrontation between two opposing world views.114 These expressions are also more or less symmetrically distributed. This structure helps to clarify the author’s aims – but if it is mainly due to the editor, we may see it as an intra-biblical interpretation, indicating about how the editor understood the narrative and its basic conflict.115 The main expressions associated with impermanence are those involving various forms of the verb “‫ =( ”הלך‬walk, walk about, move about) (vss. 6,7,9,23), and the words “tent” and “tabernacle”(6), “to shepherd” (7) “from the pasture,” “from following the sheep,” “ruler” (8) “depart” or “withdraw” (‫ הסירתי‬,‫ יסור‬15), and perhaps, “the wicked” (or “evil men” = ‫ בני עוולה‬10). The words linked to permanence and perpetuity are: “give rest” (1,11) ‫והניחתי‬, ‫“ הניח‬dwell” (1,2,5,6,), “house” (1,2,5,6,7,11,13,16,18, 19,35,26,27,29), “appoint a place” and “plant” (10), “dwell secure” (10) “not be disturbed,” or “shall tremble no more” (‫ ולא ירגז עוד‬10), “raise up” and “establish” (12), and the variety of usage of the root (‫= כו״ן‬ establish: 12,13,24,26). Also: the expressions “throne of kingdom” (13), “forever” (16,24,25,26,29) and “endure” (16 ‫)נכון‬. Within their context, all these expressions are loaded with attendant meanings, such as those discussed earlier in connection with the words “dwell” and “walk about.” Such is the case in the words:

114 Mettinger maintains that Nathan’s prophecy reflects the evolution of the concept of “kingdom” in Israel: from ideas associated with charismatic authority and the notion of the king as God’s “son,” to divine promises about the eternity of the royal dynasty. Mettinger bases this mainly on his interpretation of the term nagid (=ruler) in its various contexts, and also of the expression “‫( ”עשה שם‬make . . . a great name). In his opinion, only the second part of vs. 1, along with vss. 10–11 that can be identified as late additions. See: T.N.D. Mettinger, King and Messiah: The Civil and Sacral Legitimation of the Israelite Kings, Luanda 1976 pp. 158, 167, 174, 267. As for the structure – see pp. 51–52 there. 115 On the Deuteronomist’s tendency to incorporate speeches into the narratives, see: M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School, Oxford 1972 pp. 10–58.

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chapter three I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep, that you should be ruler over My people Israel (8).

The reference to David as a shepherd is of course not intended to “put him in his place” by reminding him of his humble past – in contrast, say, with God’s rebuke of Jeroboam: Because I raised you up from among the people and made you ruler over My people Israel . . . (I Kings 14:7)

or with God’s words to Baasha: Because I lifted you [or: raised you) up from the dust and made you a ruler over My people Israel . . . (ibid. 16:2).

The similarity between the latter halves of these verses accentuates the contrast between their respective beginnings. In the case of both Jeroboam and Baasha, God opens with the words “Because,” indicating that they will be punished because they failed to fulfil God’s expectations. The admonitory tone is reiterated by the expression “raised you” – doubly so by the words “from the dust” in the case of Baasha – compared to which the words “took you” used in David’s case sound positively approving. These formulaic differences are themselves indicative of a difference between God’s attitude toward the northern kings vs. His attitude toward David. Here, since David had been taken “from the pasture,” one may conclude that this expression implies a wish that everything associated with a pasture – e.g. the relationship between shepherd and flock – will be incorporated by the future “ruler” (‫)נגיד‬ into his reign.116 The immediate context – “from the pasture, from fol-

116 There is no consensus among commentators over the precise meaning of nagid in this context, nor about the reason for its occurrence in Nathan’s speech, since by this time David had already been recognized as king. The prevailing assumption is that this is an ancient term dating back to the times of the Judges. Jeremias suggests that it is a title bestowed upon David by virtue of assuming responsibility for the ark (ibid. 1970). For more on this interpretation see: J.A. Soggin, Das Königtum in Israel, Berlin – New-York 1967; J. Liever, “Nagid,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, Volume V, Jerusalem 1968 pp. 753–755 [Hebrew]; Z. Weisman, Saviors and Prophets, Tel-Aviv 2003 [Hebrew]. However, Albright argues that the term is drawn from the transitional stage between the Judges and the monarchy: W.F. Albright, Samuel and the Beginnings of the Prophetic Movement, Cincinnati 1961 passim. Others think it is a Deuteronomistic term: R.A. Carlson, David, the Chosen King, Uppsala 1964 pp. 97–128. For more on the meaning of the term see: H. Gese, “Der Davidsbund und die Zionserwählung,” ZThK 61 (1964) pp. 12–21; W. Richter, “Die Nagid Formel,” BZ 9 (1965) pp. 71–84. Linville maintains that in the books of Samuel and Kings the title nagid denotes a future king, or kingdesignate – in contrast to its meaning in the books of Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, and

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lowing the sheep – further reinforces the association of David’s leadership with notions of shepherding. This is a traditional idea, as attested by God Himself: Did I speak a word with one of the tribes of Israel, which I commanded to shepherd my people Israel . . . (vs. 7).

Underlying this is the unspoken desire that, notwithstanding the impending reforms, the fundamental character of traditional governance will be preserved by the new rulers. The words “one of the tribes of Israel which I commanded to shepherd my people Israel” are extremely significant. So much so, many commentators prefer to read ‫ =( שופטי‬judges of ) instead of ‫שבטי‬ (= tribes of ), as in I Chronicles 17:6.117 Either way – the same meaning emerges: leadership of the nation had traditionally been handed from one tribe to another in accordance with a divine plan. This ties in with the words “Wherever I have moved about with all the Israelites – giving the expression “moving about” still a further significance, as one of God’s guiding principles when leading His people. In other words, the nation’s leadership was never ascribed to any single tribe; moreover, throughout the entire history of His moving among His people, He never once demanded that they build a house for Him. Thus, the desire to build a house for God is contrary to the traditional perception of Him. This style and wording of the text embody the ideological essence of the opposition to David’s initiative. They show that it derives mainly from ancient traditions and from conventions of tribal leadership and tribal institutions, but is also due to apprehensions and fears of changes in the basic perceptions of God – that is, in the faith itself, with all that that entails. The fact that David does refrain from building the Temple after all is an indication of just how strenuous this opposition was to it.

Nehemiah, where it is attributed to eschatological figures or various positions. He also suggests that it has religious connotations, whereby the nagid represents a divine solution in a time of crisis of leadership – in a sense, God’s representative on earth – and his appointment bears hope for the future of Israel. J.R. Linville, Israel in the Book of Kings, Sheffield 1998 pp. 139–149. 117 Yet in this respect the LXX version is identical to the Masoretic. For a discussion of this question see: D. Barthelemy, Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament, Fribourg – Göttingen 1982 pp. 245–246. The reading “tribes” is based on Deuteronomy 29:9, compared to Joshua 23:2 and 24:1. See also Genesis 49:16.

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On the other hand, one must also take into account the Chronicler’s approach. He puts great emphasis on David’s part in the plans and practical preparations for the Temple’s construction, and attributes to David all the steps necessary in order to lay the groundwork to ensure successful completion of the project. This fact illustrates the extent to which the construction of the Temple was seen as a guarantee of the eternity of the House of David. (I Chronicles 22:1, 5–6, 11–17. See also: the description of the appointment of the Levites: 23:24 – 26, 32, and the handing over of the plans to Solomon, 28:11–19, and David’s prayer on completing the preparations, 29). The full significance of the anticipated changes is evident in God’s pledge for the future. One of the story’s central themes is that it is not David who will build a house for God, but God who will build a house for David. This idea is explicitly stated in vss. 11b, 13, and in David’s prayer (vss. 25–29), and supports the premise that the author’s main purpose in this story is the House of David and its promised future. In this context, the Temple is not an end in itself, but rather the guarantee of the eternity of David’s house.118 Indeed, the construction of a house for David is the culmination of God’s grand plan for history, in a sequence beginning with the Exodus: even from the day that I commanded judges to be over My people Israel; and I will give you rest from all your enemies, the Lord also declares to you that the Lord will make a house for you. (vs. 11).

Notably, although the Exodus marks the beginning of this sequence, it is presented as only the first station along a route whose ultimate destination is the important one, namely the fulfilment of the historic destiny of the House of David. This is where the Davidic tradition takes over, toppling the Exodus tradition from its primary position. To underline this point, a number of important stages precede the establishment of David’s house. These are: cutting off of all David’s enemies, making a great name for him “like the names of the great men who are on earth,” and appointing a place for the children of Israel – a place where they may be planted and no longer disturbed, nor afflicted by the wicked “as formerly” (vs. 10). In this part of the divine promise, as in others, there are a number of expressions, each 118 This interpretation of mine is at odds with Rost (ibid. pp. 179–180), who argues that the Temple trumps all other issues – so much so that the request for permission to build it justified a special prophecy of its own.

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replete with associative meanings. But even without revealing those, the underlying message is clear – namely that the peaceful “planting” of Israel is conditional upon the establishment of David’s monarchy. To put it another way, David’s reign represents nothing less than the fulfilment of the promised land.119 In this context it is apparent that the meaning of the verb ‫=( רגז‬ tremble, be disturbed) is meant to convey the opposite of the condition depicted in the preceding phrases. This being the case, we can accept Carlson’s interpretation that ‫ רגז‬denotes the fear of being uprooted from one’s land.120 The context also suggests that “the wicked” refers to the difficulties experienced during the period of the Judges.121 Accordingly, the latter half of verse 9 may be seen as a balancing sentence, bridging between past and future: and I will make you a great name, like the names of the great men who are on the earth.

We may assume that “great” is also used here as a term from the premonarchical period, relating to people of high rank122 – and therefore that David, in his new position, will inherit the place of his predecessors. This notion is supported by the usage of “great” in David’s prayer. But the main part of Nathan’s prophecy is the detailed promise concerning the future of the House of David (vss. 12–16, especially 12–14). As we said earlier, in verse 13 we find a major theme of the entire chapter. Here we learn that as a reward for David’s wish to build a house for God, God will build a house for David. This will be notable for its stability (‫ נכון‬,‫ )נאמן‬and its eternity (‫ – )עד עולם‬attributes which, even in terms of the text’s structure, run counter to previous periods. However, the fulfillment of these expectations is contingent upon the conditions detailed in verses 14–15. Here we learn about the reciprocal relationship between God and David from God’s point of 119 D.C. Raney, History as Narrative in Deuteronomistic History and Chronicles, Ceredington – New-York – Queenston 2003 p. 46. It is also notable that Carlson assumes that the author used an ideal figure, one that had seized the popular imagination, in order to present an authoritative model of belief in a future that is made possible by the people’s penitence and return faithfulness to God. (ibid. p. 26) 120 Carlson is referring mainly to Deuteronomy 2:25; 28:65, where the expression is not necessarily associated with exile, and may apply to certain earlier historical conditions, or even with the reproachful warnings in the Book of Deuteronomy, wherein the Promised Land is conditional upon faithfulness to God (ibid. pp. 52–58). 121 According to Kaufmann (ibid. p. 162). 122 According to McCarter, (ibid. p. 201).

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view, whereby God presents His own commitments. Therefore, it is here that one finds the essence of the religious message of the entire chapter. The divine vow opens with the formula, “I will be a father to him and he will be a son to me.” These words are undoubtedly an echo of an ancient Egyptian adoption form of words, most likely drawn from Egyptian royal texts.123 Various meanings have been read into these words over history, including the budding of messianic ideas, which is perhaps why they are regarded as the origin of the Christian notion of “Son of God.” But within our present context, they should be understood above all as an expression of human relationships, with all that that entails. This means not only a mutual commitment, but also emotional aspects of a father-son relationship. This interpretation is supported by the second part of the verse, which states that this relationship will endure even when the son commits iniquity (‫)בהעותו‬. Moreover, when the son does so, God will correct him (or: chastise him – ‫“ )והכחתיו‬with the rod of men and the strokes of the sons of men [or: with the afflictions of mortals].” The double emphasis on the “humane” nature of future punishments is highly significant, as it contrasts with punishments of the past.124 In this respect, the ideological message of the promise is very similar to that of the story of transporting the ark: henceforth, the relationship between God and His people – through God’s chosen ruler – will no longer be punctuated by mystifying outbursts of destructive wrath. It is also no accident that there is no mention, or even a hint, that the people may be punished for the sins of the king – a common theme in the Deuteronomistic outlook.125 God, for His part, undertakes hence-

123 See: G. Brin, “On the History of the Formula ‘He will be a son to Me and I will be a father to him’, Studies in the Bible and the Scrolls, Tel-Aviv 1994 pp. 97–104 [Hebrew]. Also: H. Frankfort, Kingship and the Gods, Chicago 1948, esp. pp. 24–35; 101–142. It is also worth noting that Weinfeld finds this same expression continued in Psalms 2:8, in the words “Ask of Me . . .”. M. Weinfeld, “The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East,” JAOS 90 (1970) pp. 184–203. 124 See Ehrlich (Mikra Kipshuto), or M.Z. Segal, The Books of Samuel, Jerusalem 1955 [Hebrew]: “I will not punish him by wrathful anger and by the destroying rod of iron, but by the rod that is used by men to chastise them . . .” 125 The conspicuous absence of the notion that the people may suffer because of the king’s sins supports the assumption that the Deuteronomist intervened very little in the books of Samuel, and particularly in this narrative. See also: N. Lohnfink, “Wie stellt sich das problem Individum-Gemeinschaft im Deuteronomium,” Scholastic 35 (1960) pp. 403–407.

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forth to punish transgressors humanely, and in a manner that will ensure that His kindness will never be withdrawn. The echo of an ancient adoption formula extends, therefore, to the symbolic-metaphorical level. This is underscored by a stylized language reminiscent of great, glorious kingdoms of the past.126 In another parallel with the story of the bringing up of the ark, here too, the author cannot help but make another passing gibe at the house of Saul. While promising David that His kindness will never be withdrawn from him, God remarks: “as I withdrew it from Saul, whom I removed from before you” (vs. 15). If these swipes are the work of the editor,127 they, too, represent an internal, intra-biblical commentary, one that purposefully sets the story of the ark and this story of Nathan’s prophecy side by side, with the aim of demonstrating the principal differences between the House of Saul and the House of David. But if they originate from an early stratum of the text, then these passages depict a historical condition where the struggle between the two royal houses was still very much in evidence.128 Later biblical sources attest to the extent to which the divine promise in Nathan’s prophecy served as fertile ground for the germination of messianic ideas, incorporated into the Davidic traditions. In Psalm 89, which is a national lament, the entreaty for rescue from acute distress and hardship is based on the divine pledge to David through Nathan. In this prayer, many expressions are merely paraphrases of the prophecy in II Samuel 7. In some cases, the variations are no more than slight nuances – but this has the effect of making the differences all the more apparent. Here, the wording “I will be a father to him and he will be a son to Me,” has changed and now talks about David specifically rather than his son:

126 Von Rad argues that in Israel the concept of royal adoption did not assume the mythological meanings that it did in Egypt, but was rather perceived and presented in a symbolic, not physical, sense. But he also notes that as early as David’s reign, the groundwork was laid for assimilating many terms and notions borrowed from Egyptian royalty. He also points out similarities between certain royal literary works and biblical narratives. See: G. von Rad, “The Royal Ritual in Judah,” The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, London (reprinted 1984) pp. 222–231; S. Morenz, “Ägyptische und Davidische Königsliteratur,” Zeitschrift für ägyptische Sprache und Altertumskunde 79 (1954) pp. 73–85. 127 The Chronicler refrains from referring to Saul in this context: I Chronicles 17:23. 128 See: W. Brueggemann, David’s Truth in Israel’s Imagination and Memory, Philadelphia 1985 p. 20.

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chapter three He will cry to me: ‘Thou art my Father, My God, and the rock of my salvation (v. 27).

and instead of “when he commits iniquity,” the reference here is in the plural, namely the iniquity of his descendants – which in this context means the whole people: If his sons forsake my law, And do not walk in My judgments, If they violate My laws and do not observe My commands, I will punish their transgression with the rod, their iniquity with plagues [or: with stripes] (vss. 31–33).

But the main difference is in God’s assurances not to withdraw his grace. Here, in Psalm 89, God’s words are: I will not betray My faithfulness, I will not violate my covenant, Nor will I alter the utterance of My lips. Once I have sworn by My holiness; I will not lie to David (vss. 35–36).

Thus, what had originally been merely been a promise is now a solemn vow and covenant. The psalmist even goes on to complain further on, almost accusingly: You have repudiated [or: spurned] the covenant with your servant, You have profaned his crown in the dust (40)

and also: Where are Your former graces, which You swore to David in Your faithfulness? (v. 50).

The promise given in the past to David and to his successor, as individuals, is interpreted here as a covenant and vow to the entire nation, and God’s commitment to the House of David is cited by way of support in both the complaint and in the quest for salvation. David’s personal privilege and rights have morphed here into guarantees and protection at the national level. Which is probably why the Chronicler also decides to omit the second part of the verse, which begins with the words ”when he commits iniquity” (I Chronicles 17:13): not because he rules out the possibility that a descendant of David will commit iniquity,129 nor because he wishes to present God’s commitment as

129 See: H.P. Smith, The Books of Samuel (I.C.C.), Edinburgh 1899 p. 302. Similarly: J. Kalimi, The Book of Chronicles: Historical Writing and Literary Devices, Jerusalem 2000 p. 96 [Hebrew].

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unconditional,130 but because, like the psalmist, he too believes that David’s merits were sufficient, in themselves and in advance, to atone for all the iniquities of his descendants. And indeed, in accordance with this concept, this psalm opens by presenting God’s favors and kindness, including God’s own words: I have made a covenant with My chosen one; I have sworn to My servant David (v. 4)

This reading is borne out by subsequent verses in the first part of the Psalm, which extol God’s might at the time of the Creation in His battle against the deity of the depths and its monstrous servants – an unmistakable allusion to the ancient Near Eastern myths of theomachy.131 Thou Thyself didst crush Rahab like one who is slain; Thou didst scatter thine enemies with Thy mighty arm (v. 11).

As previously discussed, closer examination reveals that explicit references of this kind to titanic struggles during Creation occur in the Hebrew Bible at times of national distress.132 In the context of this Psalm, God’s victory at the time of Creation is cited in support of an appeal for salvation in the present. But, since the promise for salvation is associated with God’s covenant of kindness with David, that covenant is presented as equivalent to the act of Creation itself, both in terms of its importance and of the extent of God’s commitment. Notably, despite its opening words – “I will sing the grace of the Lord forever, to all generations” – this Psalm contains no reference whatsoever to the Exodus or to other historic acts of divine kindness, preferring instead, both in structure and in content, to present the list of God’s wondrous acts as an unbroken sequence of events that reach their climax and achieve their sublime purpose in His covenant with

130 Sara Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and its Place in Biblical Thought, Jerusalem 1977 p. 96 [Hebrew]. 131 In this study I prefer not to deal with the question of whether the Psalm refers to the Mesopotamian myths – namely to Tiamat and her aides, who were defeated by Marduch – or to the Canaanite versions, where the defeated deity is Yam, and the victor was Baal. See: T. Fenton, “A variety of attitudes to the myth of theomachy,” J. Avishur – J. Blau (editors), Studies in the Bible and in Ancient Near East, (Festschr. Loewenstamm), Jerusalem 1978 pp. 337–381 [Hebrew]. 132 See especially Isaiah 27:1; 51:9–10; Psalms 74:13–17.

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David, and in the implementation of His assurances of kindness to David’s descendants (namely, the entire nation). A similar view is found in Psalm 132 – a prayer for the king’s welfare. Here there is no reference to any distress, and the situation depicted is that of a festive ceremony (mainly in vss. 7, 9). Some argue that the Lord’s anointed mentioned here is Solomon, judging by several ancient linguistic elements scattered throughout the piece. But others attribute it to the Second Temple period, and if so the person spoken of is Zerubbabel. Neither is there consensus over the identification of “Ephratha” in verse 6. The words: Behold, we heard of it in Ephratha, We found it in the field of Jaar

are a reference to the bringing of the ark from Kiriath-jearim to Jerusalem by David. Many maintain that Ephratha refers to Bethlehem of Ephrath, David’s home (Micah 5:1; Ruth 4:11). But since the ark was never stationed in Bethlehem, some commentators believe that the reference is to Ephrata in the lands of Benjamin.133 For our purposes, what is important is that in this Psalm, as in Psalm 89, the divine promise to David is put in terms of a covenant and vow, and here, too, David’s merits are perceived as making amends for his descendants. (vss. 10, 17). But, in addition, there is a strong link between the Davidic and the Zion tradition: The Lord has sworn to David, A truth from which He will not turn back; ‘Of the fruit of your body I will set upon your throne. If your sons will keep My covenant, And My testimony which I will teach them, Their sons also shall sit upon your throne forever. For the Lord has chosen Zion’; He has desired it for His habitation. ‘This is my resting place forever; Here I will dwell, for I have desired it’. (Vss. 11–14).

This tight association, coupled with the absence of any mention of a divine grace that is everlasting or unconditional, suggests that this song originates at the time of the Second Temple. The style of verse 12, in particular, is a likely indication that the authors learned the lesson of the destruction of the First Temple and subsequent exile.

133 As in I Chronicles 2:52, where Shobal was the father of Kiriath-jearim, the son of Hur, the firstborn of Ephratah.

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The Story of the Census and the Pestilence (II Samuel 24) This chapter tells the story of the census carried out by David throughout Israel and Judah, and about the halting of the pestilence on the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite, as a sign of God’s acceptance of David’s remorse, his prayer and his protest. In my opinion, there are several parallels between this story and that of the bringing of the ark to Jerusalem. Here, as in the other story, the main conflict centers upon God’s inexplicable – and lethal – fit of rage, and here, too, it is David who placates Him. In addition, there is an affinity in terms of the religious significance of the two initiatives, inasmuch as the purchase of Araunah’s threshing-floor is identified as Mt. Moriah, the site of the future Temple (II Chronicles 3:1). As we noted earlier, these parallels were perhaps the reason why the two stories of II Samuel 6 and II Samuel 24 were chosen to serve as the literary markers – beginning and end – of David’s most significant enterprises. It almost certainly belies the chronological order of events, for in all probability the census and the purchase of Araunah’s threshing floor were carried out prior to the bringing up of the ark, and David’s practical intention to build a house for God was expressed only after securing the designated site. To highlight the ideological messages of the story at hand, one must consider the differences between the two stories. Bringing the ark up to Jerusalem may have had a political component, but in the main it was a manifestly religious act, where the inherent conflict was between a traditional perception of an object symbolizing God’s presence, and the new perspective which David sought to introduce. The census, on the other hand, was an entirely political act. While transporting the ark served as a mark of respect toward sacred values and ancient traditions, the census was a declaration of David’s sovereignty over the territories of the tribes of Israel. The people’s opposition to transporting the ark, as manifest in God’s wrath and killing of Uzzah, was fundamentally a religious one. And, while in the story of the ark there is no doubting David’s success in changing a curse into a blessing, the purchase of Araunah’s threshing floor in our story succeeding merely in halting the pestilence and did not conclude with any blessings. Nor does it guarantee that God will not inflict His wrath upon the people again in future. A further point to consider is that, while in the story of the ark there is at least some indication of a religious-cultic transgression, there is

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no such explanation for God’s wrath in the story of the census. In fact, difficulties arise already at the start of this story: Now again the anger of the Lord burned against Israel, and He incited David against them, saying, ‘Go and number Israel and Judah’.

Only from the context does one understand that the census itself is considered a transgression. Other biblical passages appear to suggest that censuses are inherently dangerous, and therefore some precautions are in order (See Exodus 30:12; cf. 38:25–26).134 So, too, in the case in the story about Saul, who summoned the people and numbered them “‫ =( ”בטלאים‬by suckling lambs) – although this description is obscure.135 That said, on other occasions, God actually instructs leaders to count the people (Numbers 1:2), and in other instances censuses are conducted with no precautions whatsoever, as a matter of routine (see Joshua 8:10; Judges 7:3; I Samuel 13:15; II Kings 3:6). It appears, therefore, that the census was not necessarily a sinful act per se, but rather the outcome of misguided political considerations, in which David is deliberately misled by God. The main difficulty therefore, is in understanding why God should do so. The text yields no explanation as to why God was angry “again” at Israel. Many commentators have sought a reason in previous events, such as Saul’s sin against the Gibeonites, suggesting that God was not satisfied with the pestilence that He had already inflicted on the people in retaliation.136 Others link this story with the rebellion of Sheba, son of Bichri.137

134 See: A. Rofé, The Faith in Angels in Israel in the Times of the First Temple, Dissertation, Jerusalem 1969 [Hebrew]; idem: :”Angiological Adaptations of Pestilence Stories (II Samuel 24; II Kings 18–19), Studies in the Composition of the Pentateuch and the Books of Prophets, Jerusalem 1985 pp. 70–107 [Hebrew]. 135 Many sought to resolve this by suggesting “Telaim” is a placename. But it is also possible that it hints that Saul did take a precaution, after all, by employing an alternative method to a real census – similar to the ransom mentioned in the book of Exodus. See: J. Licht, A Commentary on the Book of Numbers, Vol. 1, Jerusalem 1985 p. 8 [Hebrew]. McCarter (ibid. p. 512) rejects the idea that this episode shows signs of influence of texts from Mari, where conducting a census called for a cleansing ritual first. For reviews of this theme, see: J. Bright, A History of Israel, London – Philadelphia 19722 pp. 201–203, 246; F.M. Cross, Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic, Cambridge Mass. 1974 pp. 227–228, 240. 136 See: Levi ben Gershom (‫)רלב״ג‬. See also O. Thenius, Die Bücher Samuels, Leipzig 1842 P. 255; f. Bleek, Einleitung in das Alte Testament, Berlin 1878 p. 232; K. Budde, The Books of Samuel (translated by B.W. Bacon), Leipzig – Baltimore – London 1894 pp. 305–306; H.W. Hertzberg, I & II Samuel (translated by J.S. Bowden), London 1964 pp. 408–415. 137 According to Abarbanel (Jerusalem edition of 1955 p. 415) [Hebrew].

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But as we noted earlier, Rashi, and Kimhi, too, admit that the reason for God’s anger in this case is mystifying. And indeed, the key to the riddle may lie within the difficulty itself. Divine rage has no reason. Ultimately, however, the pestilence is stopped at the site of the future Temple138 – suggesting, perhaps, that until such time as the construction of the house for the Lord is completed, Israel will continue to feel the occasional lash of God’s fury, for no apparent reason. In this way, the author seeks to conjure up a link between the Davidic and Zion traditions, fusing them into a single, unified doctrine. Which is also why the author of Chronicles has no difficulties in attributing such an outburst to God, while the incitement of David he ascribes to Satan (I Chronicles 21:1).139 (Similarly, some commentators link God’s anger with Solomon and his sins with His wrath during previous historical events, such as in the story of Uzzah. McCarthy sees the expression “‫“ – ”ויתאנף‬The Lord was angry with Solomon” (I Kings 11:9) – as a reworking of the expression “‫ = ”ויחר אף ה׳‬The anger of the Lord burned . . .” – reflecting a consistent Deuteronomistic view that the course of history is always explained in terms of cycles of sin and punishment.140 But this cannot be right – for not only are the expressions qualitatively different from one another, but God’s anger at Solomon’s transgressions is accompanied by a detailed indictment, which is repeated yet again in

138 Some explain the purchase of Araunah’s threshing-floor on the grounds of an ancient custom, whereby temples were built on land belonging to the king. See: K. Galling, “Königliche und nichtkönigliche Stifter beim Tempel von Jerusalem,” Beiträge zur biblischen Landes und Altertumsbunde, Stuttgart 1950 pp. 53–134; A.R. Johnson, Sacral Kingship in Ancient Israel, Cardiff 1955 p. 47; von Rad (ibid. 1962 pp. 42–43). 139 This notion is in keeping with the Chronicler’s general care to match every disaster to a specific transgression, inasmuch as every any sinful act must be punished. For more on the religious transformation apparent in the Book of Chronicles with the appearance of Satan, and on the dualistic concept in general born of Persian influence, see: Sara Japhet, ibid., pp. 129–132. 140 D.J. McCarthy, “The Wrath of Yahweh and the Structural Unity of the Deuteronomistic History,” J.L. Crenshaw – J.T. Willis (editors), Essays in Old Testament Ethics, New-York 1978 pp. 97–110 (esp. pp. 89–100). Knoppers too is mistaken in asserting that God’s outbursts of rage are always signaled in advance. Knoppers also notes that God’s rages tend to come in clusters – such as Deuteronomy 31:16–17; Joshua 23:16; Judges 2:14,20; II Kings 17:18; II Kings 22:17; 23:26 – and more often than not in the context of changes of leadership or monarchs. Conversely, there is a notable pattern with regard to Judah specifically (II Kings 22:17; 23:26; 24:3,20). Knoppers therefore concludes that this is the work of a late Deuteronomist editor, whom he identifies as Dtr2. See: G.N. Knoppers, Two Nations Under God: The Deuteronomistic History of Solomon and the Dual Monarchies, Volume 1, Atlanta 1993 pp. 139–144.

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the description of the punishment – while this is not the case in the stories about David.) Various signs indicate that the census was conducted like a military operation – not least because the commander of the army, Joab, was put in charge, and because of the way in which the final tally was expressed – namely, the number of “valiant men who drew the sword,” in Israel and in Judah, respectively. The large and suspiciously round numbers, as well as the disproportion between Israel and Judah (verse 9), suggest a deliberate overstatement was at play, designed to glorify Judah and to stress its supremacy over other tribes.141 The military purpose of the census may have been for the purpose of future call-up of warriors or to facilitate in the collection of taxes.142 The list of placenames marking the route of the census takers, helps shed light on the nature of the operation: And they crossed the Jordan and camped in Aroer, on the right side of the city that is in the middle of the valley of Gad, and toward Jazer. Then they came to Gilead and to the land of Tahtim-hodshi, and they came to Dan-jaan and around to Sidon, and came to the fortress of Tyre and to all the cities of the Hivites and of the Canaanites, and they went out to the south of Judah, to Beersheba (vss. 5–7).

The naming of specific remote places is clearly designed to demarcate the kingdom’s outer limits – including some which hitherto, no doubt, were not considered part of David’s “natural” domain. It seems likely, therefore, that at least one reason for the census was to define the precise extent of David’s rule, and to stamp his authority over territories which until then did not regard themselves as his subjects.143 This may 141 See: M. Broshi, “The Expansion of Jerusalem in the Reigns of Hezekiah and Manasseh,” IEJ 24 (1974) pp. 21–26; Y. Shiloh, “The Population of Iron Age Palestine in the Light of Urban Plans, Areas and Population Density,” EI 15 (1981) pp. 274–282. 142 See: S.A. Löwenstamm, “Census,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, volume 5, Jerusalem 1978 pp. 218–221 [Hebrew]. Like von Rad (ibid., 1962, p. 52) and idem, “The Origin of the Concept of the Day of Yahweh, JSS 4 (1959) pp. 103–125, he argues that the census is of a military nature, and that the story of the census and the pestilence reflects the opposition to this enterprise. But he also suggests that this opposition was due mainly to the perception that David’s initiative went against certain traditional notions of holy wars. On the concept of the census as a military operation see also: Z. Kallai, Historical Geography of the Bible: The Tribal Territories of Israel, Jerusalem – Leiden 1986 pp. 37–40; N. Na’aman, Borders and Districts in Biblical Historiography, Jerusalem 1986 pp. 86–102. 143 Similarly: McCarter (ibid. p. 509), citing Hermann and Alt in support, who argues that the purpose of this operation was to legitimize the annexation of territories. But Mendenhall and Bendor contend that the main purpose was taxation.

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also explain the strong opposition to David’s initiative. The tribes, still unaccustomed to living under a centralized regime with all that that entailed, saw David’s initiatives as a serious infringement of their liberties, and a blatant disregard for their customs and traditions.144 A comparison with the Chronicles version of this story helps to underline this point. The Chronicler is apparently unfamiliar with the precise frontiers of David’s domain before they were extended. He therefore sees no particular need to list the names of the far-flung corners cited in II Samuel, and indeed makes no mention of them at all, by omitting the entire passage describing the route taken by the census-takers. In its place, he adds a few words of qualification: “but he did not include Levi and Benjamin in the numbering, for the king’s command was abhorrent to Joab.” The reason for this may be that in the Book of Samuel the name “Israel” referred only to the northern tribes – and generally the kingdom is described in terms of two distinct populations, since even the numbers of warriors are mentioned separately. The Chronicler, on the other hand, disregards this difference, and uses the name “Israel” inclusively to denote the nation as a whole.145 In addition, since the Chronicler does not appreciate the military nature of the census, he speaks of “‫ =( ”שרי העם‬the commanders of the people – I Chronicles 21:2), rather than “‫ =( ”שרי החיל‬the commanders of the army – II Samuel 24:2). He also bolsters Joab’s attempt to dissuade David from the entire operation, on the grounds that the very holding of a census is a sin: “Why should it be a cause of guilt for Israel?”

See: S. Hermann, A History of Israel in Old Testament, (translated by J. Bowden), Philadelphia 1975 p. 157; A. Alt, “The Monarchy in the Kingdom of Israel and Judah,” Essays on the Old Testament History and Religion, (translated by R.A. Wilson), NewYork 1968 pp. 311–335; G.E. Mendenhall, “The Relation of the Individual to Political Society in Ancient Israel,” J.M. Myers et al. (editors), Biblical Studies in Memory of H.C. Alleman, New-York 1960 pp. 89–108. Sh. Bendor, “The Bet-Ab in Israel from the Settlement to the End of the Monarchy,” Social Structure of Ancient Israel, Haifa 1986 [Hebrew]. 144 See esp. H. Reviv, From Clan to Monarchy, Jerusalem 1979 pp. 134–119 [Hebrew]. 145 Thus Sara Japhet, citing von Rad, Curtis and Rudolph (ibid. p. 235 and note 32 there). On the differences of attitudes between early and late historiography regarding the status and roles of the Levites, see: M. Noth, Das System der Zwölf Stämme Israels, Göttingen 1956 p. 98; idem: The Chronicler’s History, Sheffield 1987 pp. 25 ff. For more on the roles of the Levites, see: J. Milgrom, Studies in Levitical Terminology, Berkley – Los Angeles – London 1970 pp. 16–28.

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The description of the pestilence has some textual difficulties, which I have dealt with in another study.146 For the purposes of our discussion, the conspicuous difficulty is in the order and location of David’s response. In verse 10, we read that – But David’s heart smote him after he had (MT: ‫ )אחרי כן‬numbered the people

– suggesting that David regretted the census as soon as it was completed. And, indeed, David immediately appeals to God at this point: I have sinned greatly in what I have done. But now, O Lord, please take away the iniquity (‫ )עון‬of thy servant, for I have acted very foolishly.

But verse 11 is truncated, and in the MT it says only “And David arose in the morning” – indicating that the word ‫ עון‬should be interpreted as “punishment” or “retribution,” rather than “iniquity,” and that David here is appealing for this punishment to be set aside. However, God refuses, and agrees only to giving David a tragic choice between three unpalatable options. In all likelihood, the re-ordered presentation of events, as well the cutting off of verse 11, are the work of an editor, in a bid to make David’s penitence appear to be spontaneous, and not in response to divine retribution. The implication, therefore, is that the punishment was unwarranted. The second difficulty is similar. In verse 17, David, on seeing the angel striking down the people, protests, saying: Behold, it is I who have sinned, and it is I who have done wrong, but these sheep, what have they done? Please let Your hand be against me and against my father’s house.

Yet this comes after the angel is ordered by God – It is enough! Now relax your hand!

Here, the re-ordering of the verses is designed to present David’s protest as a kind of final note, highlighting his views on divine punishments, as evident in the story of the ark. In this way, David’s protest comes across as the decisive reason the pestilence is halted. Once again, a comparison with the Chronicles version confirms the same message. Instead of the awkward verse –

146

See: David and His God (ibid. pp. 59–67); and Rofé (ibid. 1969).

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David’s heart smote him afterwards he had numbered the people [MT: ‫]ויך לב דוד אתו אחרי כן ספר את העם‬

the Chronicler sidesteps the difficulty by rearranging it completely, thus: And God was displeased with this thing, and he struck (‫ )ויך‬Israel. (I Chron. 21:7)

In addition, instead of showing David’s remorse going apparently unheeded by God (as in II Samuel) he suggests it triggers the entire sequence of events to follow, with the Lord’s angel symbolizing God acceding to David’s protest. In this way, David is presented as equal in stature to the nation’s greats – Abraham and Moses – who similarly protested against God’s methods of punishment. Indeed, his objection is similar in content, if not in actual wording, to those of Moses (and Aaron): when one man sins, will You be wrathful with the whole community? (Numbers 16:22).

However, it is also possible that David’s words are deliberately shown to be different, to distinguish the Davidic tradition from the Exodus tradition which Moses represents – for while Moses speaks in general terms, saying “when one man sins,” David assumes responsibility personally. In addition, the author seizes the opportunity to tie in this story with previous ones, by showing how David’s protest leads to a change in God’s modes of punishment. David’s expression, “‫ =( ”העויתי‬and I have done wrong) is echoed in God’s promise in response, through Nathan’s prophecy: “‫ =( ”אשר בהעותו‬when he does wrong) . . . I will chastise him with the rod of men and the affliction of mortals. (II Samuel 7:14).

The tragic choice facing David presents other difficulties. The main purpose of this scene is probably to demonstrate David’s trust in God and His judgment: I am in great distress. Let us now fall into the hand of the Lord for His mercies are great, but do not let me fall into the hands of men (v. 14).

In his choice between famine, flight from his enemies and pestilence, David chooses the third possibility – for in war and in famine, the strong one will prevail, while with pestilence one is entirely in the hands of God alone.

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However, there is perhaps something unduly harsh about the dilemma put before David – an unkindness that is avoided later in the story of God’s revelation to Solomon during his dream at Gibeon (I Kings 3). There, too, God offers him a choice in which – as we learn from God’s reply to Solomon’s choice – Solomon also faces three options, but he chooses none of them, opting instead for a fourth, unproffered possibility. Rejecting the options of long life, wealth, or victories over his foes, he asks instead for ”an understanding heart.”147 The literary structure of “three . . . and four” is often used by biblical authors to present either an eventual solution to an intractable problem, or to indicate a mistake that is ultimately rectified. If so, it is just possible that here too, the narrative is implying that David’s enterprise would only see its completion in Solomon’s time – that is, with the designation of Jerusalem as God’s abode on earth. But perhaps this notion is too far fetched. In the three stories discussed above we see the primary contribution made to the portrayal of David as a reformer who laid the foundations for a new, perhaps revolutionary, relationship with God. Further contributions, complementing the depiction of David’s ventures from a religious angle, may be found in chapters that consist of chronological synopses, such as II Samuel 5 and 8. Chapter 5, for example, contains all of the following: a. Information about David’s enthronement over Israel (vss. 1–3) b. The total number of years of David’s reign over Judah and Israel (4–5) c. A short report about the conquest of Jerusalem and the conversion of the fort into the City of David (6–9)148 d. The construction of a house for David (11) e. The expansion of David’s family, and a list of the sons born to him in Jerusalem (13–16) f. David’s victories over the Philistines in Baal-perazim and the valley of Rephaim (17–25). This section includes a hidden significant mes147 On the story of the revelation at Gibeon as part of the propaganda efforts of Solomon’s court, see: Ruth Fiedler, “A mystery and its mysteries: A study of the story of Solomon at Gibeon,” Eleventh World Congress of Jewish Studies, Part I (1994) pp. 31–38 [Hebrew]. 148 On the textual difficulties of the story of the conquest of Jerusalem, including a review of interpretations and proposed solutions, see S. Gelander, David and His God (ibid.) pp. 11–136.

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sage, hinted at in their common denominator, in the form of two key verses that repeat throughout the chapter as a kind of refrain, joining together the different parts. The first is verse 10, which sums up the first items with the words: And David became greater and greater, for the Lord God of hosts was with him.

The second is verse 12. Here, David responds, by acknowledging that all his achievements and successes were handed to him by God: And David realized that the Lord had established him as king over Israel, and that He had exalted his kingdom for the sake of His people Israel.

Between them, these two verses illustrate the ideological essence of how David’s enterprises are seen. Both stress the reciprocal nature of the relationship between God and His anointed. It is God who raises David and exalts him, but David’s acknowledgment of God’s support is also a vital component of his success. And, in fact, the most notable recurrent theme throughout this compilation is God’s constant presence, at every stage: And The Lord said to you: you will shepherd My people Israel (2). And David became greater and greater, for the Lord of hosts was with him (10). And David realized that the Lord had established him as king over Israel, and that He had exalted his kingdom for the sake of His people Israel (12). Then David inquired of the Lord “saying: shall I go up against the Philistines . . . And the Lord said to David: go up . . .” (19). The Lord has broken through my enemies before me like the breakthrough of waters (20).149 And when David inquired of the Lord, He said: you shall not go directly up; circle around behind them and come at them in front of the baca trees. And it shall be, when you hear the sound of marching in the tops of the baca trees, then you shall act promptly, for then the Lord will have gone out before you . . . (23–24). The David did so, just as the Lord had commanded him (25). It is possible that the repeated use of the expression ‫ פרץ‬is a deliberate allusion to the story of “Perez-uzzah” of Chapter 6. If this is so, it also means that God’s support is meant also as a form of compensation for the unfortunate instance with Uzzah. See also Isaiah 28:21. 149

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In effect, this list serves as the primary headings binding together the various parts of the chapter. As we shall see, these also represent its evolution and form the ideological axis of the entire document. The stages of this evolution are as follows: a. The people’s recognition that David is on a mission for God, and that God’s word does indeed come true b. The author’s emphasis, to ensure the reader is fully aware of the link between David’s success and his close relationship with God c. David’s own acknowledgment that it was God who established his kingdom, and his recognition of God’s purpose in doing so d. David’s actions in the light of this recognition. From this point onwards, the various narrative and informative stages attest to the bond between God and David, that has its ups and downs but ultimately grows ever stronger over time. The chronological digest in II Samuel 8 appears to fulfill a similar role. Here too, the literary structure serves to underscore the ideological message, which the fatual details merely illustrate. The chapter is replete with verbs denoting violence, force or assertiveness. In particular, there are no fewer than seven different iterations of the root ‫הכה‬ (hit, subdue, defeat), as well as two permutations of ‫( לקח‬take), along with “measured” (in the sense of put to death), “to restore his rule,” “defeated,” “captured,” “hamstrung,” “subdued” and “conquered.” Here, too, a certain expression is repeated like a refrain, dividing the chapter into two nearly equal parts: And the Lord helped David wherever he went (vs. 6, 14).

In verse 14, this is followed by another refrain, which, with its triple repetition of “David,” resembles a poetical structure (cf. II Samuel 6:14–15): And the Lord helped David wherever he went And David reigned over all Israel And David executed true justice and righteousness for all his people.

The opening lines of each section are also similarly structured: Verse 1: . . . And David defeated And David took . . . Verse 3: And David defeated Verse 4: And David captured

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Verse 5: And David killed . . . ‫ויך‬ Verse 6: And David put And the Lord helped David wherever he went Verse 7: And David took Verse 8: King David took Verse 9: That David had defeated Verse 10: To King David

Here, as in Chapter 5, the passages in between these opening lines reveal a gradual buildup: from victory over enemies; to triumphs over the enemies’ allies; securing victory by establishing garrisons; the fruits of victory: recruiting allies as rumors spread of the victories; David’s growing fame; and the perpetuation of his name. Alongside the military events, the chapter cites other significant acts, such as the hamstringing of the captured chariot horses,150 bringing enemy’s golden shields to Jerusalem, and dedicating all the silver, gold, and brass to God. To this we should add the concluding verse, depicting David as a king who administers justice and righteousness to all his people (v. 15). The “refrain,” in this case, appears to divide the chapter into three: 1. The victories (1–6) 2. The relationship with neighboring nations, with an emphasis on dedicating the gold, silver and brass to the Lord (7–14) 3. A reign of justice, order, and good governance (15–18) Together, these details present a picture reminiscent of royal inscriptions of royal annals or victory stelae of the ancient Near East. I use the word “reminiscent” advisedly, for I have not found a structure there that is identical to our chapter in terms of both its details and its structure, but since these inscriptions inevitably varied according to the events they describe, it is worth noting their general features of style and wording, as well as the content:

150 The precise meaning of this is unclear. Some associate it with the generally negative attitude in the Bible toward horses and chariots, as symbols of a reliance on brute strength alone. See: M. Bloch, “The Ancient Poetry in the Bible,” Biblical Thought, Vol. 1. Tel-Aviv 1973 pp. 61–75 [Hebrew]. Conversely, others argue that this in fact refers to the first use of horses and chariots in Israel. See: H. Reviv (ibid. p. 128); S. Talmon, “The Procedure of the King,” Festschrift Biram, Jerusalem 1956 pp. 45–56 [Hebrew]; S. Abramski (ibid. p. 126).

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1. Acknowledgment of the role of the Gods in victory.151 2. A dedication of certain inscriptions or the temple as a whole to the god, or a statement to the effect that reports on these campaigns are preserved within the temple for safekeeping, as well as a detailed description how, when the campaign was over, offerings were made to the gods as tokens of gratitude.152 3. A description, or reference to the erecting of the stela.153 4. A description of how the enemy was treated in graphic or lurid language, to emphasize their humiliation. Occasionally the detail is gruesome (“I slew their warriors with the sword, descending upon them like Adad when he makes a rainstorm pour down. In the moat [of the town] I piled them up, I covered the wide plain with their blood like red wool bodies.” Or “I have erected columns of skulls in front of his city”). In one description, a canal was dug around the captives, filled with burning fire, and the king himself stood watching it until dawn, his battle axe in hand, with no one beside him and his army long since departed. Other descriptions tell how the defeated became slaves carrying tribute.154 5. A detailed description of the spoils from the defeated enemies, including the numbers of horses, chariots, warriors, armor bearers

151 For more on Adadnirrari III and his campaign against Ben-Haddad III, 796 bc (translated by A.L. Oppenheim); on the campaign of Sargon II to Egypt, 716 bc, and the stela of Amen-hotep III: A.M. Badawi, “Die neue historische Stele Amenophis II,” ASAE XLII (1943) 1–23 PL I, in: J.B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, Princeton 1950 pp. 245 ff; 260; 282; 284; 301 ff. On the war of Tiglath Pileser I against the Arameans, see A. Malamat (editor), Sources for the History of Israel and its Land in Biblical Times: The Second Millennium B.C., Jerusalem 1965 pp. 383–386 [Hebrew]; A Damski, A Guide to External Sources for the History of Israel in the Pre- and PostExilic Periods, Bar-Ilan University, 1960 [Hebrew]; cf. The Annals of Karnak about the Asian campaigns of Thut-mose III, (Pritchard, ibid. p. 240 lines 45–50). Others: idem 240 lines 15–20; p. 234 l. 90–95; p. 245 l. 20–25; p. 277; p. 362 l. 51 ff. 152 See the Stele of Mesha and its dedication to Chemosh, lines 4,7. Also: Tut-mose III, Pritchard p. 234 (lines 90–95), ibid. l. 227; Amen-hotep II: ibid. p. 245. 153 On Shalmaneser III, see ibid. Column 3 line 45; p. 277; column 4 line 15; Karnak: ibid. p.239; Also the Barkal Stele, ibid. p. 240. 154 See: H. Rabin “The Stele of Mesha,” Encyclopaedia Biblica Vol. IV Jerusalem 1962 pp. 925–929, about Tiglat-Pileser III; N. Na’aman, “Campaigns of the Assyrian kings in Light of a New Assyrian Document,” Shnaton 2 (1978 pp. 164–180 [Hebrew]; B. Mazar, “Mesha,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, (ibid.) pp. 921–925; Pritchard (ibid. 277); (ibid: 247). On the campaign of Tut-moses III, a description of the defeated princes taken as hostages to Egypt, as well as a list of tributes (ibid. p. 239), and similarly about Amen-hotep II (p. 246), Asurnasirpal II (275).

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or slaves, and total amounts of the gold, silver, copper/brass, and iron, respectively.155 6. A tendency to repeat certain expressions in formulaic fashion, especially at the beginnings or ends of passages – e.g., ”this army returned unharmed” or “His Majesty,” or when citing the attributes and blessings of the gods.156 7. A description of the king as administering justice and righteousness.157 A comparison between these features and the chapter at hand clarifies the latter’s significance and unique purpose. While traditional NearEastern victory inscriptions merely dedicated a stela to a particular god or gave thanks for his help, in our chapter the stress is on reciprocity: God helped David in all his endeavors, and David dedicated the fruits of his victories to God. This dedication is repeated twice (v. 11), followed by a list of the conquered nations (v. 12) – suggesting that the main purpose of the list is not the details of victories and conquests, but the fact that they are dedicated to God. The description of the restoration of his monument clarifies the meaning of ‫ =( להשיב ידו‬to restore his rule).158 In other respects, however, the features of traditional victory inscriptions are all here: the defeated become slaves and carriers of tribute (6, 14); the numbers of captured horsemen, foot soldiers, and chariots; and reports of what is done with the articles of gold, silver, and copper. The intention is clearly to portray David’s kingdom and his enterprises in a manner similar to that of the great ancient Near Eastern monarchies. At the same time, there is a special emphasis on David’s unique 155 Tutmoses III: Pritchard (ibid. p. 239); Amenophis II (ibid. p. 246); Assurnasirpal II (ibid. p. 275). 156 Peppi I: the Asian campaigns (Pritchard, ibid. pp. 227–228); Tut-moses III: The battle of Megiddo (Pritchard, ibid. p. 234); the annals of Karnak (ibid. pp. 239, 245); the Barkal stela (ibid. p. 240). 157 See: M. Weinfeld, Justice and Righteousness in Israel and the Nations, (ibid. esp. pp. 12–25; 26–33; 34–44) [Hebrew]. See also on the epic of Kirta and Daniel, B. Mazar, “The Monarchy in Israel,” A. Malamat (editor), The Rise of the Israelite Monarchy, Jerusalem 1978 pp. 7–15 [Hebrew]. 158 Some have suggested reading ‫ להציב‬instead of the MT ‫להשיב‬, but this may not be necessary. See: Abrabanel, who understands it to mean extending the borders of Israel. Ehrlich agrees, in view of I Chronicles 18:4, and the LXX. The expression ‫ השב יד‬is quite common in the Bible with regard to defeating enemies, particularly in connection with decisive acts of punishment or revenge. See Amos 1:8; Zechariah 13:7; Job 2:3,8. Cf. Jeremiah 6:9; Isaiah 14:27.

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commitment to God, and on the special protection that God extends over David.159 This presentation of David’s enterprises also demonstrates the attitude of the editors of the books of the early prophets, who sought to present David as a paragon of virtue in the eyes of the Lord. It is also the reason why the written prophets would later present David and his descendants as playing a central or even essential role in their visions of the ideal future in the End Days. Even though in the prophecies of many prophets we may find traces of reservations toward the monarchy as an institution – even open criticism against certain Judean kings – nevertheless, for most of them the vision of the ideal future is a utopian image centered around a ruler from the House of David. I am referring in this context to prophets whose visions of the End Days may not be in the form of a single contiguous literary composition, but distributed in glimpses throughout their writings which together form a coherent mosaic. The elements of such visions vary, of course, from one prophet to another, and not all of them occur in their entirety or even intelligible. The most commonly recurring elements are: 1. The removal of the obstacles and wrongdoings of the present, by punishing and eliminating evildoers or enemies. 2. Securing Jerusalem’s pre-eminent position and its prestige, as a blessed and exemplary city. 3. Appointing an ideal ruler from among the descendants of David (or from the House of Jesse, or Perez). 4. A full and thorough internalizing of faith and observation of God’s laws. 5. Establishing peace and ideal harmony in the land. This stage also involves the welcome response of nature, bountiful in its provision, and possibly a “new, improved” creation emerging to replace the existing one.160 With the exception of the consolatory prophecies that limit their visions of redemption to Jerusalem and its future (Zephania 3:14–20; Haggai 2:6–9), the House of David always appears as a key compo159

See the patterns in the descriptions of the reigns and works of the kings of Judah, each with one-line appraisals: I Kings 15:1–5, 11; II Kings 8:19; 18:3; 22:2. 160 See esp. Y. Zakovitch, Who Proclaims Peace, Who Brings Good Tidings: Seven Visions of Jerusalem’s Peace, Haifa 2004 pp. 25–43 [Hebrew].

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nent in these visions and a prerequisite of their fulfillment. See: Isaiah 9:5–6; 11:1–10; Jeremiah 23:5–6; 30:8–9; 33:14–16; Ezekiel 34:23–24; 37:24–25; Hosea 3:4–5; Amos 9:11–12; Micah 2:12–13; 5:1–4a; Zechariah 9:9–10. See also: Jeremiah 17:24–25; 22:1–4.161 An important indication of just how pervasive and deeply embedded the Davidic reign became in the national consciousness can be seen in the Book of Psalms. In several psalms the motifs of personal, individual distress, are joined together with themes relating to monarchic situations. Psalms 61 and 63 provide explicit examples of this. In Psalm 61 this appears to be the work of an editor. The opening verses consist of an individual’s entreaty for God’s help and protection, but in the ensuing verses this changes into a request for the king’s welfare and the stability of his reign. To explain this, some interpreters identify the entire song as that of a king, whose wars have taken him far away from home and is now in dire straits. But the tone of the king’s appeal is altogether different from that of the individual. While verses 3–4 reflect tangible hardship, verses 7–8 convey an atmosphere of ceremonial, perhaps even festive, calm. It appears, therefore, that this psalm is the product of a late stage in the compilation of the book as a whole, a period when the individual regarded national salvation as a response and solution to his own personal tribulations. His appeal for salvation is expressed in a traditional prayer for the king’s welfare, as a yearning for everything that an independent, stable kingdom – which is clearly that of the House of David – stands for. This idea is even more evident in Psalm 63. This deals primarily with the intensity of the experience of devotion to God, which is perceived as almost physical, filling the speaker’s entire being and existence. But in verses 10–12 we find a curse upon the speaker’s mortal enemies, side by side with a blessing of the king. The curse, like the opening verses, is in the first person, while the blessing of the king is in the third. Here too, if one may add to the many explanations that have been put forward to resolve this variance, we might surmise that the two themes were brought together at a time when this psalm was incorporated into a ceremonial prayer, with an eye to the underlying message of the two parts: the happiness of he who follows God’s ways 161

On the characteristics of the future king, including a table comparing the list of descriptive elements in various prophecies, see: Y. Zakovitch, “The Image of the Future King in the Prophetical descriptions,” D. Kerem (editor), Migvan: A Selection of Views and Attitudes in Israel’s Culture 4 (1994) pp. 35–48 [Hebrew].

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also gives him complete confidence in his victory over his opponents – a victory manifest in the joy of the king, who represents a stable regime and national unity. Thus, the Davidic tradition emerges – at a stage when the individual equates his personal hopes and aspirations with those of the nation, which culminate in the kingdom of the House of David. This pattern of combining the personal with the royal/national may also explain the meanings of the openings of psalms, referring to personal events in David’s life – such as When he fled from Absalom his son (Ps.3)

or: when Doeg the Edomite came and told Saul, and said to him: ‘David has come to the house of Abimelech’ (Ps.52).

Often it is very difficult to find any connection at all between the personal condition referred to in the opening, and the content of the song itself. In other instances the connection or association is broad and vague, such as a condition of distress, or gratitude for being rescued from some misfortune – see Psalms 3; 7; 9; 18; 34; 51; 52; 54; 56; 57; 60; 63; 142. Here, too, among the countless interpretations already put forward, it is possible that we are witnessing a historical stage where David had become a symbol, and therefore everything associated with his life as an ordinary mortal could only be grasped on a purely metaphorical level, making it easier to identify with. Thus, David’s personal tribulations become an expression of the personal distress of anyone who prays for salvation – and so, too, all the acts of salvation and redemption. This is likely to have been a late editorial stage, possibly in parallel with the writing of the book of Chronicles, since there too, David is perceived as symbol, rather than as a living, breathing king. * From the many differences between the Exodus and the Davidic traditions a picture emerges of two qualitatively different modes of faith and worship, particularly with regard to the perception of God, and even more so His relationship with His people. The Exodus tradition is based on the belief that redemption is a gift from God, granted to Israel by virtue of divine grace rather than by right. Not for their faith and loyalty were the children of Israel delivered from Egypt – nor was their freedom taken from them when they

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repeatedly failed the tests of faith put to them by God, and in spite of their repeated attempts to test Him. In other words, the freedom of the people of Israel was not earned, but a sign of God’s kindness. The Davidic traditions take an entirely different tack. Here God makes a solemn vow to a chosen king that His favor will never depart from him, as a reward for his loyalty. This loyalty is expressed mainly in the king’s acknowledgment that all his achievements were thanks to God. The relationship between God and David therefore is one of mutual dependence. David and his house are granted an everlasting kingdom and God’s favor in perpetuity, and their achievements depend on God’s guidance, while the achievements of David and his descendants ensure an everlasting faith in God and observation of His laws. The contrast between the two traditions is also evident in the differences between the narratives of the Abraham cycle and the Jacob cycle. The choosing of Jacob over Esau, and God’s promise to Jacob are not conditional, nor do they depend upon Jacob’s performance in trials of any sort. Not so Abraham: God’s covenant with him is granted in reward for successfully passing in repeated tests. To reconcile the two approaches, the Book of Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic compositions of the Early Prophets, as well as the late priestly stratum of the Pentateuch, put forward a kind of double compromise, namely: 1. The Exodus, and the designation of the children of Israel as God’s people, are God-given gifts; however the Promised Land, on which the ultimate fulfillment of redemption depends – is given to them on a conditional basis.162 Furthermore, it is stressed that if the people forsake their commitments, they will perish: If you do forget the Lord your God and follow other gods to serve them or bow down to them, I warn you this day that you shall certainly perish; Like the nations that the Lord will cause to perish before you, so shall you perish – because you did not heed the Lord your God (Deuteronomy 8:19–20).

2. An attempt is made to place Exodus on a par with other historical covenants and divine acts of salvation – as can be seen particularly

162

28.

See: Deuteronomy 6:12–15; 7:7–11; 8:11–18, 19–20; 9:5–6; and Leviticus 18:24–

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in the prophecies of Amos (9:7), Jeremiah (23:7–8; 31:30–33), and, possibly, Isaiah (4:5). The prophets, especially those of the post-exilic period, shift the emphasis from historical salvation to reconcile God as Redeemer, operating on the historical plane, with God the Creator, who implements his plans for the universe. In this way they create a picture, wherein the universe is seen as the setting for the realization of divine justice. Accordingly, in the post-exilic scriptures we find descriptions of salvation – including from future enemies – that are patterned upon the descriptions of the Exodus. This occurs despite the attempts of the Davidic traditions to supersede and belittle the Exodus traditions. In Isaiah 41:18, 51:9–11 etc., as well as the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, we find many descriptions likening the return from the exile to the Exodus, thereby adding to the coverage the Exodus already enjoys in Deuteronomic speeches and in the Psalms. Conversely, the Book of Chronicles tends to ignore or even to deny it.163 This will be explored in the next chapter.

163

S. Japhet (ibid. 1992).

CHAPTER FOUR

ONE NATION This chapter deals with the literary evidence in the Hebrew Bible of reconciliation and appeasement between the two parts of the nation, Judah and Israel – particularly from the point of view of the Judean kingdom vis-à-vis the northern faction. In particular, we shall examine a range of literary documents featuring an idealistic perception of the biblical historiography, according to which the people of Israel were a single nation continuously from the time of the Exodus, the descendants of a common ancestor, which tragically split into two kingdoms after Solomon’s death. This picture appears consistently throughout most of the Deuteronomistic descriptions in the books of the Early Prophets, as well as in the late historiography of the books of Chronicles, Ezra and Nehemiah. In the books of the Pentateuch, the early Exodus traditions do not refer to groups of tribes as separate entities. Even in the census reports in Numbers 1 (cf. the arrangement of the camps, ibid. 2) or Numbers 26 – the total number of warriors from Judah is not markedly greater than of other tribes. (74,600 from Judah, 62,700 from Dan, and 59,300 from Reuben – or, in the second list, 76,500 from Judah and similar figures from the other tribes). These censuses – whose form and structure as we know them today bear the stamp of late editors1 – also show far smaller disparities compared to the David census. In the latter – II Samuel 24:10 – we are told of no fewer than 500,000 swordsmen from Judah, vs. 800,000 from “Israel” – that is, all the northern tribes put together, while the Chronicles version (I Chronicles 21:5) cites 400,000 from Judah and 1,100,000 from Israel. But it appears that prior to the composition of the tendentious picture of the Deuteronomistic historiography there is an earlier stage, reflected in various literary works, where Judah and Israel are presented as two distinct entities. However, they too lean toward reconciliation and a balanced view of the two sides. These literary works 1 See: J. Licht, A Commentary on the Book of Numbers, volume I (I–X), Jerusalem 1985 pp. 8–11.

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probably originated in the period just before the emergence of the Deuteronomistic school – a time that might be seen as a period of transition and preparation for the presentation of Israel as a single, united nation, sharing a common history from its very beginning. I am inclined to identify this period as that of the reign of Hezekiah (approximately 727–698 bc),2 and to regard this outlook as being part of his reforming initiative. For this reason I also consider Hezekiah’s reforms to be more significant and influential than those of Josiah. The prevailing view in contemporary biblical research is that prior to the Deuteronomistic historiography in its final form, it was preceded by a series of preliminary stages that may be traced through the various strata of the Book of Kings and other biblical documents.3 Presumably quite a long time was needed to assimilate the idea that Israel, from its very beginning, had always been a people that shared a common history, as well as a common faith and worship. The period between Josiah’s reform of 622 bc and the destruction of the first Temple is in my opinion too brief for such a ground shift of perception fully to take root, with all its ramifications. Moreover, one must bear in mind that in the post-exilic days of Ezra and Nehemiah the negative attitude toward the northern kingdom and what it stands for – including its values, notions and traditions – reasserted itself and prevailed.4

2 There are difficulties in determining the precise dates of Hezekiah’s reign. One possibility is that it coincided with the reign of Hosea son of Elah in Israel – i.e., Hezekiah took the throne in 732/1 bc. But according to II Kings 18:10, Samaria fell in the sixth year of Hezekiah’s reign, which means he came to power in 726/5 bc. However, verse 13 talks about Sennacherib’s campaign, which took place in 701, suggesting Hezekiah became king in 715. There is no way to reconcile these testimonies. See: B. Oded, The Biblical World, II Kings, Tel-Aviv 1999 p. 149 [Hebrew]. For an in-depth discussion of problems relating to chronology, see H. Tadmor, “The Chronology of the Age of the Monarchies,” H. Tadmor (editor), A History of Israel, The Age of the Monarchies, Political History, Tel-Aviv 1982 pp. 40–52 [Hebrew]. 3 See especially M. Weinfeld, From Joshua to Josiah, pp. 147–150 [Hebrew], who believes that the earliest editing of the Deuteronomistic historiography dates before King Josiah. See also F.M. Cross, “The Themes of the Book of Kings and the Structure of the Deuteronomistic History,” Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic, Cambridge 1973 pp. 274–287; and I.W. Provan, Hezekiah and the Books of Kings, Berlin – New York 1988 pp. 1–33. 4 Hoffman notes that in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah appear consistently to avoid references to the Exodus – even to the extent of omitting it in citations from the Pentateuch. Even in Nehemiah’s prayer (Nehemiah 9), the importance of the Exodus is downplayed – even though the acts and initiatives of those returning from exile resemble and perhaps are even modeled upon some of the Exodus narratives, nevertheless the authors of Ezra-Nehemiah seem intent on obscuring this. See: W. Rudolph, Chronikbücher, Tübingen 1955 p. 6. The attitude of the Book of

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The negative view of the values of northern kingdom is evident in the attitude toward the Exodus – primarily because the perception that the Exodus was the single most important event in the nation’s history was always seen as an essentially northern one, designed to legitimize the northern ideology. In the literature of the late historiography we find that the notion of divine designation and the covenant between God and his chosen subjects refers only to Abraham,5 while the Exodus – though undoubtedly a defining episode in the nation’s history – is seen as not of markedly greater symbolic significance than other traditions. Indeed, everything associated with the Exodus is mentioned only fleetingly, nor is it thought to have any bearing upon the nation’s uniqueness or its special relationship with God. Even in the description of the Passover festivities of the returning exiles, the feast is associated with the Temple, not with the Exodus itself (Ezra 6:19–22). The same is also true of the Feast of Tabernacles (Nehemiah 8:13–18). Remarkably, in Nehemiah 1:8–11, where there is an obvious opportunity to mention the Exodus (for verse 9 corresponds to Deuteronomy 30:4, and verse 10 to Deuteronomy 9:26), it is conspicuously absent. This recurs in Nehemiah 13:1–2, which is a rendition of Deuteronomy 23:4–6. However, the period beginning with the reign of Hezekiah, especially after the fall of Samaria, was possibly long enough to allow a spiritual and ideological process to take place toward reunification – perhaps even a merger – of South and North. From historiographical sources, and from the prophecies of Isaiah, we may surmise that the particular historical circumstances of that time created an atmosphere in which the impact of Hezekiah’s reforms went far beyond the issuing of some regulations and organizational changes in religious rituals. Indeed, it is hard to say which came first. From the highly partisan descriptions of the Book of Chronicles, Hezekiah owed his success in his revolt against the Assyrians to his religious loyalty to God. Accordingly, the Chronicler goes into great detail in describing Hezekiah’s religious reforms, which were supposedly launched in the first month of his reign (II Chronicles 29:3). But in fact, it is quite possible the order of events was reversed, and that it was Hezekiah’s success in confronting

Chronicles is similar: it rarely mentions the Exodus, however on occasion it does refer to its significance as a nation-building episode, which we shall discuss further below. See: Y. Hoffman, The Doctrine of the Exodus in the Bible, Tel-Aviv 1983 pp. 155–160 [Hebrew]. 5 See: Hoffman, ibid. p. 155.

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Assyria that gave him the impetus and – perhaps more importantly – the authority necessary to instigate such far-reaching changes.6 In my view, we should distinguish between two separate manifestations of Hezekiah’s piety: his defiance of the Assyrians, and the religious reforms he implements, with all their ramifications. By standing up to the Assyrians he expresses confidence in the Lord, and judging by Isaiah’s confrontation with Hezekiah’s father, King Ahaz (Isaiah 7), his conduct is consistent with Isaiah’s theopolitical outlook. It also baffles and possibly amuses Rabshakeh, the Assyrian commander, who seeks to unnerve him by asking him: What makes you so confident? . . . And if you tell me that you are relying on your God . . . do you think I have marched against this land to destroy it without the Lord? The Lord Himself told me: Go up against that land and destroy it. (Isa. 36:4–10).

Among biblical research scholars, of the two accounts of Sennacherib’s siege (II Kings 18–19 and Isaiah 36–37), the trend in recent years has been to regard Isaiah’s version as the more ancient one, and the Kings account a derivative. In support of this claim, Smelik points to the order of events in Isaiah, which is more consistent and logical than in the Kings version, and features not two separate reports, but a single contiguous narrative, with a repetition structure.7 However, Rabshakeh’s speech also includes the following jibe at Hezekiah’s reforms: . . . He is the very one whose shrines and altars Hezekiah did away, telling Judah and Jerusalem, ‘You must worship only at this altar! (v. 7).

Rabshakeh’s suggestion that Hezekiah will not enjoy God’s protection because his reforms actually displeased Him leads Smelik to the

6

There is good reason to believe that, as in many other cases, here too, it was the leader’s political/military success that preceded the religious and organizing reform. Some say that this was also the case with Gideon: although his triumph was a local one – perhaps the vendetta against Zebah and Zalmunna – it established his name, which in turn made the subsequent chain of events possible. See: A. Lods, Israel, London 19482 pp. 341–343. The same may be true about Saul, following his defeat of the Ammonites. 7 See K.A.D. Smelik, Converting the Past: Studies in Ancient Israelite and Moabite Historiography, Leiden 1992 p. 93 (esp. pp. 117, 128 and bibliography there). Smelik maintains that these stories were written in response to the destruction of the First Temple, and their principal significance lies in the theological disputes between the survivors of 586 bce.

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conclusion that Hezekiah’s religious reforms preceded his defiance of Assyria: since the reader knows that Rabshakeh’s siege ultimately failed, his taunts appear all the more absurd. However, closer scrutiny reveals that Rabshakeh’s expressions – particularly the phrase ‫הלוא הוא‬ (“Is he not . . .” – verse 7) – have the hallmarks of a later insertion, put in to have us believe that Hezekiah’s successful defiance of Assyria was a reward for his loyalty to God as demonstrated in his religious reforms. I, however, am inclined to believe that in reality, it was Assyrians’ failed siege of Jerusalem that made the religious reforms possible, rather than the other way around. This was particularly necessary if Hezekiah was to succeed in absorbing the priests from the northern temples, with all their traditions and customs, into a religious merger with their southern counterparts. Indeed, the sheer scope and depth of the description in the Book of Chronicles8 – greater than that given to the reign of any other Judean king – suggests that the author held Hezekiah in higher esteem than even Josiah, and saw him perhaps as the greatest and most important king of Judah after David and Solomon.9 For the purposes of the present study I shall not discuss the appraisals and theories surrounding Sennacherib’s campaign.10 Instead, our focus shall be on the echoes in biblical literature and the impact of events such as the continued success in resisting the Assyrians, and the expansion of borders toward the Philistines in the west, the Ammonites and the Moabites in the east (Isaiah 11:13; cf. II Kings 18:8; Joshua

8 Hezekiah’s reform is described in II Chronicles 29–32, while II Kings 18:1–8 is a synopsis of his entire reign, and the story of the rebellion against Assyria is told in 18:13–19:37. 9 See: B. Oded, The Biblical World: II Kings, Tel-Aviv 1995, p. 222 [Hebrew]; M. Haran, The Biblical Collection, volume II pp. 269–270 [Hebrew]. 10 G. Galil argues that it is still very difficult to trace the various stages of the Assyrian campaign and its outcome – due, he thinks, to insufficient understanding of the intent and methods of both the Assyrian and Israelite scribes. He also suggests that the biblical author, like his Assyrian counterpart, chose to describe the campaign without due regard for the actual chronological order of events. See: G. Galil, “The Campaign of Sennacherib in 701 bc,” Israel and Assyria, Haifa 2001 pp. 100–111 [Hebrew]. This ties in with the difficulties in determining the precise dates of Hezekiah’s reign. For earlier attempts at reconstructing events, including an overview of theories on whether Sennacherib embarked on one campaign or two, see: W.H. Rowley, “Hezekiah’s Reform and Rebellion,” Men of God, London 1963 pp. 108– 109; B. Oded, War, Peace, and Empire: Justifications for War in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions, Wiesbaden 1992.

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15:43–47), and southwards, to Mount Seir (I Chronicles 4:41–43).11 The impact of the religious and organizational initiatives will also be discussed – including the attempts at mediation, reconciliation and absorption of the northern tribes and the refugees of the northern kingdom. All these events and initiatives find their literary expression amidst an atmosphere of great hope and optimism, reflecting the authors’ belief that this period was one of historic significance and spiritual jubilation. This is particularly evident in the prophecies of Isaiah son of Amoz. Their poetic nature makes it more difficult to identify the chronological order of events, but the prophet clearly attributes the positive turn of events to the king’s loyalty and devotion to God.12 In his view, it was faith, and faith alone, that brought about the radical change from life under the constant shadow of fear during the times of King Ahaz, to the sense of euphoria under Hezekiah. (cf. Isaiah 7:1–25 to Isaiah 9:1–6; 10:5–15, 24–28; 11:11–16). The use that Isaiah makes of the names of his sons, as well as those of the king’s sons, indicates the extent to which the prophet sees the lives of the children – namely of the next generation – as guaranteeing the fulfillment of his optimistic predictions. So, too, in the titles in the prophecy dedicated to Hezekiah, which was probably delivered at his coronation.13 The title “Mighty God” is an interpretative variation of the name “Hezekiah,” most probably in reference to his bravery in rising up against the Assyrians. But the name of the prophet’s son, “She’ar-jashub,” is cited 11 Z. Kalai, in The Territories of the Tribes of Israel, Jerusalem 1968 pp. 315–318 [Hebrew], draws a direct connection between these expansions and Hezekiah’s military campaigns. See also: M. Weinfeld, ibid. p. 147. 12 M. Buber refers to the whole of Isaiah’s prophecies as “The Theopolitical Hour,” in reference to a period in the prophetic movement when the prophet focuses his doctrine on the notion that political decisions must be subordinated to religious faith, and therefore, during this time one must refrain from taking practical action, and instead leave events in the hands of God, for it is God who directs the course of history according to His will. Expressions such as “Take care, and be calm” (7:4) or “In stillness and quiet you shall be saved / In calm and confidence is your strength” (30:15), are used as slogans denoting the crux of the idea. So, too, are proclamations such as : “Devise a plan – it shall be foiled / State a proposal – but it will not stand / For with us is God”. (‫)כי עמנו אל‬. See: M. Buber, The Prophetic Code, Jerusalem – Tel-Aviv 1975 3 pp. 117–142 [Hebrew]. 13 The various translations parse the attribute-pairs of the future monarch in Isaiah 9:5 differently than the in MT. Instead of “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace (‫ שר שלום‬,‫ אבי עד‬,‫ אל גבור‬,‫ )פלא יועץ‬most of them prefer to read: “Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace”– thus obtaining five titles, as customary with Egyptian kings.

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repeatedly in various alliterations, underlining the dual hope of rescue from Assyria and for return from the exile – to become once again a united people, of one faith and worship: And in the day, The remnant (she’ar) of Israel And the escaped of the House of Jacob Shall lean no more upon him that struck them But shall lean sincerely on the Lord, the Holy One of Israel. A remnant will return, the remnant of Jacob (‫ )שאר ישוב שאר יעקב‬to the to the mighty God. For though your people, O Israel, may be like the sand of the sea, Only a remnant within them will; A destruction is determined, overflowing with righteousness (10:20–21).14

The same is true of the prophetic pledge – Then it will happen on that day that the Lord will again recover the second time with His hand, The remnant of His people, who will remain from Assyria . . . (11:11).

(Here, the alliteration is totally lost in translation: / ‫לקנות את שאר עמו‬ ‫)אשר ישאר מאשור‬. It is particularly important to note that these hopes also entail a total and comprehensive change of attitude toward the northern kingdom. The animosity between Judah and Ephraim disappears, to be replaced by statements promoting internal and external unification: He will hold up a signal to the nations, And assemble the banished of Israel, And gather the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth. Then Ephraim’s envy shall cease, And those who harass Judah will be cut off. Ephraim shall not envy Judah, And Judah shall not harass Ephraim (11:12–13).15

All this may help clarify a number of points in the Book of Isaiah as well as in the historiography of the Book of Kings and the Book of Chronicles. As we can see in the latter verses, the name “Israel,” which 14

See especially: H. Cazelles, “Le nom Shear Jashub etc.,” Proceedings of the Eight World Congress of Jewish Studies, Division A, Jerusalem 1988 pp. 47–50. Weinfeld (ibid. p. 148) believes that Micah’s words in 5:1–5 are also directed at Hezekiah, at the time of his revolt, circa 705 bc. 15 Other expressions of hope for reunification of Judah and Ephraim appear in Isaiah 27:13, and in later prophecies, such as Jeremiah 16:14–15; 31:1–22, Hosea 2:3–25. See also: Ezekiel 37:15–28; Zechariah 9:13. It is even possible that these such hopes feature in Zechariah’s concluding words: “In that day there shall be one Lord with one name” (14:9), which may be understood as completing the words “They will invoke Me by My name, And I will respond to them. I will declare: ‘You are My people,’ And they will declare: ‘The Lord is our God’ ” (13:9–10), where Zechariah cites Hosea (2:23–25).

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hitherto was reserved for the northern kingdom only, now refers to Judah. Hezekiah’s efforts to attract the northern population and to turn Jerusalem into the heart of the nation appear in various guises. In II Chronicles 30:1–6 we read about written missives dispatched by Hezekiah to “all Israel and Judah,” “from Beer-sheba to Dan,” calling them to come and celebrate the Passover “for the Lord God of Israel,” in Jerusalem. Indeed, those whom he appeals to are addressed as “the remnant of you who escaped from the hand of the kings of Assyria,” indicating that this takes place after the destruction of Samaria (verse 6). In the same context we also see the negative response: As the couriers passed from town to town in the land of Ephraim and Manasseh till they reached Zebulun, they were laughed at and mocked (v. 10).

However, some of the tribes agreed: Some of the people of Asher and Manasseh and Zebulun, however, were contrite, and came to Jerusalem (v. 11).

The conspicuous absence of a positive response from Ephraim is possibly a reflection of the author’s own attitude toward Hezekiah’s appeal, which is still ambivalent. Presenting Hezekiah as attempting to persuade Ephraim to return to the fold may also be a pretext to respond to the earlier religious secession by Jeroboam: Now do not stiffen your neck like your fathers. Submit yourselves to the Lord and come to His sanctuary, which He consecrated forever, and serve the Lord your God so that His anger may turn back from you (v. 8).

It is even possible that the Hezekiah’s Passover was conceived in order to legitimize or perhaps even adopt the feast established by Jeroboam in the eighth month (I Kings 12:32). According to the Chronicler, the holding of Hezekiah’s feast in the second month was justified on the grounds that they could not complete the purification and consecration of the sanctuary of all the unclean “that king Ahaz had befouled during his reign” (II Chronicles 29) – which is to say that Hezekiah’s feast was in fact a second Passover. However, this reasoning is different from that of the Pentateuch, and the very detailed description of the purification (II Chronicles 29:12–36) is not consistent with the reasons cited in 30:18 – suggesting that it is merely an excuse thought up by the editor. Perhaps the eighth month of Jeroboam, in the calendar

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of the Israelite monarchs, corresponded to the second month of the Judean calendar. Indeed, the prevailing view is that the feast that Jeroboam invented on a whim (‫ )בדא מלבו‬was the Feast of Tabernacles – but there is little substantial evidence to support this. There are a number of hints in the Bible – such as the inauguration of Solomon’s Temple (II Kings 8; II Chronicles 5) – that the first month of the year, or New Year, was celebrated in the autumn. Possibly this dual nature of the Hebrew calendar was an ancient and traditional one – with one feast thought of as the main New Year celebration, and the other – a secondary one. There are also indications that the date marking the new year of monarchical reign differed between Judah and Israel: in Judah it was apparently celebrated in the spring, while in Israel it was in the autumn – although on this, too, there is no consensus. If Hezekiah’s words in II Chronicles 30:8 are indeed a reference to Jeroboam’s religious secession, this would lend support to my speculation.16 In any event, the Chronicler expands the remit of Hezekiah’s reforms to include the North (see esp. II Chronicles 31:1). Even if we were to doubt the historical authenticity of this report,17 it nevertheless reflects the author’s conciliatory disposition. The consequences of Hezekiah’s initiative may also be reflected in the archaeological record, which shows that Jerusalem grew considerably in area toward the end of the eighth century bc.18 Indeed, the population of Judah as a whole doubled during the 8th and 7th centuries bc, which some researchers explain was the result of immigration of Israelites in the decades following the fall of Samaria.19 Some even suggest that the fact that

16 See: H. Tadmor “Chronology,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, volume 4, Jerusalem 1963 pp. 264–269 [Hebrew]; J.S. Licht, “New Year,” ibid., vol. 7, Jerusalem 1966 p. 303 [Hebrew]; B.Z. Segal, “Year,” ibid., vol. 5, Jerusalem 1982 pp. 207–209 [Hebrew]. 17 See: N. Na’aman, “The Debated Historicity of Hezekiah’s Reform in the Light of Historical and Archaeological Research,” ZAW 107 (1995) pp. 183, 193. Conversely see: M. Haran, The Biblical Collection (ibid. p. 270), who believes that the report in II Kings 18:22/Isaiah 36:7 is authentic, since it is delivered simply with no axe to grind, and it is only due to the absence of any distinction between the original and the edited work, that one may attribute this verse to the Deuteronomist, and thereby discount its validity. 18 As verified from the excavations by N. Avigad in the Jewish Quarter, in particular of the broad Israelite wall. See: N. Avihad, The Upper City of Jerusalem, Jerusalem 1980 pp. 23 ff. 19 As established from an archaeological survey, edited by M. Kochavi (performed in 1968): Judah, Samaria, and the Golan, Jerusalem 1972 pp. 20–21 [Hebrew]. See also: M. Broshi, “Expansion of Jerusalem under Hezekiah and Manasseh,” IEJ 24 (1974) pp. 21–26.

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around two thirds of the Book of Kings deals with the northern kingdom means that the Judean authors were drawing upon information provided by refugees from the North, who brought their literary legacy with them.20 Additional corroboration for Hezekiah’s reforms may be found in various other details. It is perhaps no accident that the habit of comparing Judean kings to David disappears after Hezekiah, and reappears only with Josiah (II Kings 22:2). Provan even goes as far as to speculate that whenever God’s promise is conditional, the literary context must be from an ancient source, while passages describing the Davidic dynasty as everlasting are drawn from literary sources with messianic tendencies from the post-Hezekiah period. Indeed, in the stories about Hezekiah, we see the unconditional divine promises reaching a climax,21 with their portrayal of Hezekiah as a kind of “second David”22 The comparative refrain – “And he did right in the sight of the Lord, according to all that his father David had done” (II Chronicles 29:2) – appears in the Book of Chronicles only at the start of the description of Hezekiah’s reign. Even the Isaiah consolatory prophecy about the revolt against Assyria, which includes the promise “For I will defend this city to save it for My own sake and for My servant David” (Isaiah 37:35 = II Kings 19:34) is omitted in the Chronicler’s version (cf. II Chronicles 32:20).23 Today, the prevailing view is that the national awakening following Hezekiah’s reforms, as well as the influence of the many immigrants from the North, is at the root of the political-military ideology behind the Book of Deuteronomy and

20 M. Cogan, “The History of the Kingdoms of Judah and Israel: History or Reconstruction after the Fact?” J.L. Levine – A. Mazar (editors), The Controversy over the Historicity of the Bible, Jerusalem 2001 pp. 90–96 [Hebrew]. 21 I.W. Provan, ibid. pp. 91–131. 22 Both Provan and Linville maintain that this assessment of Hezekiah is also reflected in the designation ‫[ נגיד עמי‬The leader (or: ruler) of My people] in II Kings 20:5 – particularly if it indeed bears the secondary sense of “God’s representative.” See above the discussion in the third chapter. 23 M. Haran argues against those who think the comparison to David refers to Josiah only, underplaying or even ignoring Hezekiah’s role (cf. II Kings 22:2, 23:25 and 18:3, 5–6). He points out that Hezekiah’s reforms were of no lesser importance than those of Josiah, even if the latter carried them out more aggressively, and in addition also cleansed the Temple (II Kings 23:4–7), and brought out the Ashera, burning it in the Kidron stream. Josiah’s actions was a reaction to Manasseh’s crimes, which were regarded as the most serious transgressions of all the kings of Judah, since he brought the Ashera into the Temple (21:7) – a crime that even Ahab stopped short of (cf. I Kings 16:33 – II Kings 13:6; 17:16). Ibid. p. 270.

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other texts of its kind, and indeed for the Deuteronomic and Deuteronomistic movements as a whole.24 This literature abounds with military speeches whose purpose is to rally morale and strengthen resolve (Deuteronomy 2:25; 7:24; 9:5; 11:25). The same is true of the religious ideology, with all its national facets. But it is worth noting that there are two discernible strata here. The early stratum – typical of Hezekiah’s period – reflects a mood of national pride and of spiritual uplifting, but without the extremism evident in the Laws of Proscription. This patriotism is evident also in the perception of the extent of the Promised Land – as in Deuteronomy 1–3, where the conquered Transjordan territories are seen as an integral part of the territories claimed by the tribes of Israel, irrespective of their loyalty to God or observation of His laws.25 In effect, these texts are saying that the ideal boundaries of the Promised Land’s correspond to those at the height of David’s reign (cf. Genesis 15:8; Deuteronomy 1:7; 11:24; 34:1–5). In these sources the importance of the Transjordan exceeds even that of the Covenant of the Steppes of Moab in Deuteronomy, since laying claim to both banks of the River Jordan suits the ideology of Hezekiah’s times.26 Conversely, the passages linking the nation’s sense of superiority over other nations conditional upon it observing God’s ways and all His commandments appear to originate from a different source – one that suggests that the land itself was contingent upon good behavior. Here, the feeling of superiority gives way to a heightened awareness that Israel as a nation was chosen by God not as a birthright, but only by virtue of God’s kindness and love:

24 According to Alt. See: A. Alt, “Die Heimat des Deuteronomiums,” Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel, München 1953 pp. 250–275. Also: S. Hermann, A History of Israel in Old Testament Times, Philadelphia 19812 p. 193; H.L. Ginsberg, The Israelian Heritage of Judaism, New-York 1982 pp. 19–38; M. Weinfeld, ibid. pp. 147– 150. 25 Not so in earlier sources. In Numbers 34:1–15 the Transjordan is not included at all, and in Numbers 32 it is contingent upon good behavior. The same is also true of the different attitude in the Book of Numbers toward the Edomites: in Numbers 20:14–21 we are told that the Israelites requested the Edomites’ permission to cross their land, but were refused – while in Deuteronomy 2:2–8, 29, we read that the Israelites passed through the land of Edom, buying food and water from them as they did so, and the Edomites fear them but the Israelites are ordered not to exploit this fear or provoke them. 26 Weinfeld, ibid. p. 150.

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chapter four The Lord did not set His love on you nor choose you because you were more in number than any other people, for you were the fewer of all peoples. But because the Lord loved you and kept the oath which He swore to your forefathers . . . (Deuteronomy 7:7–8).

It appears that statements about how the land was given to Israel on a conditional basis belong to a later stratum (Deuteronomy 4:25–27; 6:12–15; 7:7–11; 8:11–20; 9:5–6; 30:17–20). Here, the feelings of national superiority have given way to humility and unequivocal commitment to God’s kindness. These sentiments appear to be linked to a recognition of divine judgment, an awareness that gradually grows in the years of decline following Josiah, in the face of a looming prospect of impending doom. Toward the end of this stratum, expressions of national fanaticism and intolerance toward foreigners begin to appear, as well – inspired by the need to save the remnants of the nation from physical and spiritual assimilation. This is also where we find the most extreme expressions in the laws of proscription, and it may also account for the assertion that it was Moses who instigated the selection of leaders of thousands, of hundreds, of fifties and of tens (Deuteronomy 1:9–15) rather than Jethro, as stated in the Exodus version (18:13–27).27 It would also explain why, while Exodus version shows a tolerant attitude toward neighboring peoples, the Deuteronomic version reflects a militant tendency.28 For these reasons, I tend to make a clear distinction between expressions of national pride and elation inspired by historical events that raised hopes for an idealized future, which may date to the time of Hezekiah – and those of national fanaticism, arising from the fear of loss of identity.29 The latter, as stated above, include the edict concerning the proscription and annihilation of the Canaanite peoples:

27 Ehrlich (ibid.) on this verse: “For in his days it seemed inappropriate for the people that a foreigner should teach them such an important lesson.” Weinfeld, (ibid.) agrees, maintaining that this would be in keeping with the spirit of patriotism typical of the Hezekiah reign. 28 On the other hand, it is important to note the general theme of Moses’ speech, namely that the people is charged with responsibility in a number of key areas and issues. It is also emphasized that it is the people who asked Moses to go up the mountain by himself (Numbers 5:20–25) – whereas in the Exodus version God Himself warned them not to approach the mountain. Moses even blames the people for effectively causing him to lose the privilege to enter the Promised Land (1:37; 3:26) – as well as for instigating the mission of dispatching spies to scout out the land (1:22–30). 29 It appears that the dominant emphases in the Book of Deuteronomy are indicative of an intermediate condition, i.e. between directions and proclamations

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When the Lord your God shall bring you into the land where you are entering to possess it, and shall clear away many nations before you, the Hittites and the Girgashites and the Amorites and the Canaanites and the Perizites and the Hivites and the Jebusites, seven nations greater and stronger than you, and when the Lord your God shall deliver them before you, and you shall defeat them, than you shall utterly destroy them. You shall make no covenant with them and show no favor to them. Furthermore, you shall not intermarry with them; you shall not give your daughters to their sons, nor shall you take their daughters for your sons. For they will turn your sons away from following Me to serve other gods; then the anger of the Lord will be kindled against you, and He will quickly destroy you. But thus you shall do to them: you shall tear down their altars, and smash their sacred pillars, and hew down their Asherim, and burn their graven images with fire (Deuteronomy 7:1–5).

This reasoning cited for this decree is: “For they will turn your sons away from following Me to serve other gods” – implying that it is fear of foreign influence that fuels this extreme expression of seclusive ideology (cf. Deuteronomy 20:16–18; Joshua 6:17–18) – and in several instances in the Book of Joshua we are told that this command is carried out to the letter. So it was in the case of Jericho (6:17–21), and of the Ai (8:21–29), as well as Makkeda, Libnah, Lachish, Gezer, Eglon, Hebron, Debir, (10:28–39), as well as the cities of Jabin king of Hazor and his coalition (11:8–9). However, other biblical sources draw an altogether different picture. According to the Book of Judges, Judah failed to drive out the inhabitants of the valley. Similarly, Benjamin did not dispossess the inhabitants of Jerusalem (1:19, 21), nor did Ephraim displace the Canaanites of Gezer (v. 29), or Zebulun drive out the inhabitants of Kitron or of Nahalol. Instead, the Canaanites lived among them and were subjected to forced labor (v. 30). The same is true of Asher and Napthali (vss. 31–33). The impression from the Book of Kings is similar: indigenous Canaanites were not utterly destroyed, and served as a slave force for Solomon (I Kings 9:20–21). Even in the Book of Joshua it is clear

born of national pride, and those designed to preserve and even cultivate the sense of national uniqueness and separatism, which are characteristic of Josiah’s reform, but even more so of the times of Ezra and Nehemiah. The latter include the condemnation of the worship of the heavenly host (Deuteronomy 17:3), on the grounds that God had distributed these for the use of other nations, but not for Israel (29:25). It also includes the polemic regarding the worshipping of wood and stone, and of men’s work (4:28; 27:15; 28:36, 64; 29:16; etc.), and the ban of making graven images (4:16 ff., 23, 25). See: A. Rofé, Introduction to Deuteronomy, Jerusalem 1988 [Hebrew].

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that the Jebusites (15:63), the Canaanites of Gezer (16:10) and of the territory of Manasseh (17:12–13), and the inhabitants of the Josephite territories as a whole, were neither utterly destroyed, nor even dispossessed (17:14–18). It would appear, therefore, that the directive of total destruction and reports of its fulfillment reflect a utopian, ideological vision rather than actual historical reality. Perhaps the notion of total annihilation of Canaanite nations figured in an ancient tradition among the northern tribes (see Judges 21:11–12), and the authors of the later Deuteronomistic stratum decided to adopt it and apply it in principle to the seven Canaanite peoples30 – including the Amalekites, who, despite the bidding in Deuteronomy 25:17–19, were still around in the days of Hezekiah (I Chronicles 4:41–43).31 In my opinion, the extreme seclusionist ideology and the negative attitude toward the values and traditions of the northern kingdom date back to the late stratum of the Deuteronomistic literature – that of the period of Ezra and Nehemiah. Conversely, expressions of tolerance and appeasement toward the North and its values I ascribe to an earlier stratum, from the time of Hezekiah’s reforms. In certain biblical texts there is an attempt to interweave the Exodus traditions with those of the Temple, and the choosing of Zion with that of the House of David. Examples include I Chronicles 17:21, where David’s prayer acknowledges the Exodus as a defining episode in the nation’s history; II Chronicles 6:5–6, where Solomon’s prayer does the same (cf. I Kings 8:16–17); and other Deuteronomistic writings cited in the Books of Chronicles (cf. II Chronicles 5:10 = I Kings 5:9; II Chronicles 7:22 = I Kings 9:9). In all these instances, there is a clear aim to recognize the theological status of the Exodus tradition.32

30

M. Weinfeld, “Banishment, Dispossession, and Destruction of the Pre-Israelite Population,” Zion 53 (1948) pp. 143–145 [Hebrew]. 31 The various biblical descriptions of the Amalekites suggest that perhaps they were seen not so much as an ethnic group, as a symbol of all that is negative and representative of a reprehensible lifestyle, mainly due to their wholly immoral and unscrupulous conduct in warfare. 32 See: Y. Hoffman, ibid. p. 158. But Hoffman emphasizes that throughout the entire late historiography, including Chronicles, the status of the Exodus is downplayed in relation to other formative traditions. A conciliatory attitude is also apparent in the description in II Chronicles 28, especially in verses 12–15. Doubts about the authenticity of this description only strengthen the suspicion of bias. See also: B. Oded, The Biblical World: II Chronicles, Ramat-Gan 1999 pp. 223–224 [Hebrew].

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However, the schism between Israel and Judah did not entirely disappear after the destruction of Samaria. Some even doubt the authenticity of reports concerning the outcome of reforms by both Hezekiah and Josiah.33 But the attempt to project unity and an integrated ideology is also clear in certain historiographical descriptions, as well as in several strata of the biblical narrative. The events following the fall of Samaria lay the groundwork for such an integration, on both the practical and ideological level.34 Echoes of this may be found in descriptions such as the Passover festivities in II Chronicles 30. The rejection by Ephraim, Manasseh and Zebulun to Hezekiah’s overtures (v. 10); and the description of the offering – wherein “many of the congregation” from the North had not sanctified themselves – are also signs of a concerted effort to establish a national holiday that was sacred to both Judah and Israel. The concluding paragraph therefore seems to reflect an authentic feeling: So there was great joy in Jerusalem, because there was nothing like this in Jerusalem since the days of Solomon the son of David, king of Israel (v. 26).

The same may be learned from the description of smashing of the pillars and the toppling of the Asherim, an act ascribed to “all Israel who were present” (31:1), or from the bringing of the tithe by “the sons of Israel and Judah who lived in the cities of Judah” (v. 6 – my emphasis – S.G.). So, too, from the description of the cleansing of the House of God, where it is emphasized that the sin offering is made “to atone for all Israel, for the king ordered the burnt offering and the sin offering for all Israel” (29:24). Similarly, the detailed description of how the Levites were positioned (my emphasis – S.G.) – with cymbals, with harps, and with lyres, according to the command of David and of Gad the king’s seer, and of Nathan the prophet; for the command was from the lord through His prophets

33 Linville even speculates that some of the reports are merely myths, in support of religious plans for the future. See: J.R. Linville, Israel in the Book of Kings: The Past as a Project of Social Identity, Sheffield 1998 pp. 46–58. 34 See: N. Lohnfink, Great Themes from the Old Testament, Edinburgh 1982 pp. 8–14; J. Van Seters, In Search of History, New Haven 1983 p. 275; G.N. Knoppers, Two Nations Under God: The Deuteronomistic History of Solomon and the Dual Monarchies, Volume 1, Atlanta 1993.

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or Hezekiah’s order “to sing praises to the Lord with the words of David and Asaph the seer” (vs. 25, 30) – appear to be descriptions of new ceremonies, created as part of reforms or revived rituals, as a type of worship acceptable to all parts of the nation, as apparent also in the editing of many of Psalms. It is also possible that the strong association between political deliverance and religious reform in the tributes to Hezekiah’s reign, is linked to the strong bond between Hezekiah and Isaiah son of Amoz – for in Isaiah’s prophecies we also find a significant link between these two themes. The pinnacle of all hopes for an ideal future, as voiced in both parts of the “End Days” prophecy (Isaiah 2:1–4 and 11:1–10), has to do with “the mountain of the house of the Lord” and with “My holy mountain.” Thus, the House of God is seen as the foundation and the framework for the perfect fulfillment of the vision. (In this respect, the notion of the “Moral Imperative” – that the prophets had an absolute and unequivocal preference for morality over ritual – is misconceived. A thorough review of the prophet’s pronouncements reveals that, just as ritual is deemed worthless in the absence of moral conduct, there can be no moral conduct without ritualistic frameworks. This is apparent not only in the description of the future prestige of the mountain of the House of God, but also in the concluding words of the vision: They will not hurt or destroy in all My holy mountain. For the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord . . .

In other words, “My holy mountain” is, in this context, representative of “all the earth.” The inseparable link between ritual and morality is also apparent in that the appointment of Isaiah as prophet takes place within the Temple [Isaiah 6]).35 The one-to-one correspondence between the two aspects of Hezekiah’s initiative and the prophet’s doctrine also contributes to the sense that the high esteem with which Hezekiah held in the Hebrew Bible is authentic. Apart from the direct and indirect biblical evidence of a movement toward appeasement and even unification of southern

35 The current attitude in research is that much of the prophetic literature – and the “rib” prophecies in particular – are rooted in religious ceremonies and rituals. See: Z. Weisman. “The ‘rib’ Prophecies and their legislatory and ritual background,” The Prophetic Biblical literature, The Open University, Unit 4, Chapter III, 2006, and bibliography there [Hebrew].

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and northern traditions, there is fu’rther evidence of this in the Book of Psalms and in the biblical narrative. The nature of the poetic evidence in the Book of Psalms varies. Some is ambiguous, and requires in-depth analysis, which is beyond the scope of the present discussion. Possibly, the title “‫ =( ”לדוד‬to/for David), which occurs even in ostensibly northern psalms (e.g., 29)36 reflects the same ideological intent as the Book of Chronicles, namely, to bring together the various religious customs and traditions under a single ritualistic roof. The same is true of other psalms featuring distinctive northern hallmarks such as the descriptions of northern landscapes (42:7; 69:13; 133:3) or “Elohistic” components.37 Although the name “Elohim” is not necessarily an infallible indicator of a psalm’s northern origin – in some instances, the psalmist is citing an earlier source that originally used the name “‫( ”יהוה‬Jehovah) and changed it to “‫( ”אלהים‬Elohim) out of respect or for some other reason38 – but there are psalms whose style and contents suggest a northern origin. The inclusion of such northern psalms in the religious ceremonies, or blending together of northern and southern elements, are the result of an intention to forge a liturgy acceptable to both North and South alike.39 Precisely when this literary formulation took place is impossible to say – but it is reasonable to assume that that its cornerstone was laid during Hezekiah’s reforms. Psalm 68 may be regarded as a

36 The prevailing view among researchers until recently was that Psalm 29 was originally a Canaanite song, and translated from Ugaritic poetry. But nowadays there are growing reservations about such a conclusion. Avishur believes that while there is a certain affinity between this song – and other psalms – and Ugaritic poetry, in essence, it is Israelite. See: Y. Avishur, Studies in Hebrew and Ugaritic Psalms, Jerusalem 1989 [Hebrew] and mainly: Idem, in the introduction to Psalm 29, The Biblical World: Psalms, Part I, Tel-Aviv 1995 pp. 127–132 [Hebrew]. 37 This is mainly apparent in the second book, (Psalms 42–72), and in the third book in Psalms (73–83). But the name “Elohim” also occurs in the first book (Psalms 1–41). 38 See: A. Rofé, “The five Books of Psalms, the Elohistic Psalmody,” Introduction to Psalmody and to Wisdom Literature, Jerusalem 2004 pp. 14–17 [Hebrew]. 39 Cf. Psalm 78, which refers to Ephraim and is mainly an admonitory speech, to the northern Psalms 80 and 81. See also the psalms that purport to be “historical overviews”: 105, 106 (which also includes an admonition), 135, and 136 – and Psalms 95 and 114. Psalm 107 is a song of thanksgiving for salvation from some tribulations, but verse 2 possibly refers to the redeemed from the captivity of Sargon II of Assyria. If this is so, then it also suits our discussed historical period.

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quintessential example of this trend,40 and a detailed analysis helps to shed light as to its time and purpose. Not surprisingly, Psalm 68 is considered by most commentators to be the most difficult of all psalms. It features a range of themes that are difficult to link together, and many phrases are impossible to decipher definitively. However, many of the difficulties lie in the complexity of the song itself, which, in turn, is related to its purpose. In spite of all the difficulties, at least three points are clear: • The situation reflected in the song involves a large-scale and very festive pilgrimage. • The festive procession is related to a military victory of some sort. • The song comprises various language patterns, and in particular, two distinctive literary styles. The evidence of a pilgrimage-procession is apparent in a number of elements: the psalmist addresses the festive crowd and refers to many participants (vss. 5, 12, 27, 33, 35). There are descriptions of singers and musicians (v. 26); a token reference to the tribes of Israel (v. 28); and a call to other nations to recognize the greatness and glory of God (vss. 30, 31). The military victory is implied in various ways: in the reference to the military role of the ark of the covenant (v. 2); in the citing of past victories (vss. 8–9, 19); in the reference to God’s power, as illustrated in His control over nature and cosmic entities (vss. 16–18, 23); and in glorious victories in which great nations were defeated (vss. 22, 24, 30–32). The psalm is also mixed stylistically, with an assortment of passages very reminiscent of certain other biblical songs, as well as expressions and phrases clearly drawn from ancient biblical poems – such as one very much like the song of the journey of the ark from the camp (Numbers 10:35–36), and the Song of Deborah (Judges 5). But there are also verses that resemble Moses’ prayer (Deuteronomy 33), and several descriptions in the style of Isaiah 40–55. As a result, some commentators have understood this song to be a collection, or even an

40 See my commentary of this psalm in: The Biblical World: Psalms, Part I, Tel-Aviv 1995 pp. 276–284 [Hebrew].

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anthology of ancient songs.41 Others have suggested that it is a composite of two separate songs, or that the order of verses should be changed, to obtain a more coherent succession of themes.42 The latter appraisal is based mainly on the changes of style and tone in this song: some passages feature a quick rhythm and distinctive language – a tone of festive exuberance wherein certain figures of speech, idioms and phrases typical of many other psalms are conspicuously absent. Conversely, in other paragraphs the rhythm is slow, the language is formulaic, with conventional biblical idioms and expressions. Passages of the former type have been identified by commentators as belonging to ancient victory songs, while the latter type are an appeal denoting a condition of oppression, during a period of exile or post-exile. The first type of passage suggests the pilgrimage – which is particularly exuberant even by the standards of other songs of this type – is related to some celebration of victory and deliverance. Closer inspection, however, leads us to a more accurate appraisal. Many of the victories mentioned are from the distant past, and of these the song speaks of no first-hand experience. In comparison with other victory-songs, especially the Song of Deborah, it is clear that it lacks any indication of the sudden, unexpected reversal of fortunes brought on by victory, from oppression and suffering to liberation and relief. A comparison with Psalm 66, which is a national paean, or with Psalms 30, 73, is also instructive in this regard.43 It seems, therefore, that this song was composed for a festive event of some kind that included a mass pilgrimage,44 but since the references are to past instances of

41 W.F. Albright, “A Catalogue of Early Hebrew Lyric Poems (Psalm 68), HUCA 23 Part I (1950–51) pp. 1–40. 42 M. Buttenwieser, The Psalms (with prolegomenon by N.M. Sarna, reprinted from the version of 1938) New-York 1969. 43 A formal classification of psalms by their content must be done with great care, and with many qualifications. Often in songs of thanksgiving or entreaty there are “didactic” paragraphs, in which the speaker preaches on subjects of morality and faith, and therefore they may be identified as belonging to a separate sort. On the face of it, the moral lesson might be extrapolated from the private experience described, but on closer inspection the authentic personal experience has been pushed aside by dictums of a general, formulaic, nature. It seems therefore that either the poet or the redactor incorporated such components into the songs in accordance with certain conventional rules, to be performed before a large public perhaps within a recurring festivity, rather than drawing from personal, private experiences. 44 See especially verse 12. The words – “The Lord gives a command; the women who proclaim the good tidings are a great host” – are addressed to the public, by way of encouragement, including a promise that God’s power will be revealed. The words

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salvation which, along with their attendant traditions, were well known to the public, the author needed few words to refer to them. As in most paeans, this song also includes an appeal to prevail against future enemies, but there are no signs of immediate danger or threat of that sort. The expressions for the destruction of evildoers are of a general nature, framed within conventional phrases or figures of speech (vss. 22, 25). In addition, there are no curses such as can be found in other songs signalling a state of danger and distress. However, while verses 8–19 refer to wars past, the wars cited in verses 20–24 may date to the psalmist’s own lifetime. The tributes paid to God in this psalm are tied in with a call to all nations to recognize Him and to praise Him (vss. 32–33). The praises of the Lord for the “blessings of the earth” that appear in Psalms 65 and 67, are echoed here in the thanks given for the “bountiful rain” (‫ – גשם נדבות‬v. 10) – thereby linking God’s acts of deliverance with his manipulation of nature for the benefit of the liberated people, as is often the case in many biblical paeans of this kind. The first part of the psalm (vss. 1–7) is in fact a hymn, hinting at the journey of the ark of covenant, and includes a call to praise the Lord for His ways and His deliverances. Verses 8–19 combine references to past victories with His choice of Zion as His dwelling place on earth – denoting a celebratory procession to the Temple. But these, too, may be a testimony to the fusion of northern and southern traditions. Verses 20–24 are mainly a request to ensure future victories. From verse 25 onwards the procession itself is described, including proclamations to the crowd in a sort of exchange between different groups of people, or between a civic leader and the public. These verses are somewhat analogous to verses 16–19, depicting God’s arrival to dwell in His abode. The presence of the ark is hinted at not only in the opening words, but also in other expressions, particularly in words such as “‫ =( ”לרכב‬He who rides), and “‫ =( ”תנו עז‬ascribe strength – verses 34–35). The word “‫ ”רכב‬is associated with the Cherubim, and the ark is a symbol of God’s power. See Psalm 132:8: Arise, O Lord, to your resting place, You and the ark of Your strength. (‫)קומה ה׳ למנוחתך אתה וארון עזך‬.

“. . . are a great host” attest to a large number of female heralds, who in turn address the warriors of Israel in verse 13. See also verses 27–28.

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The variety of the names for God is another sign of a synthesis of various traditions. The most prevalent one is “Elohim” – but other names appear, including “Yah,” “Adonai,” “Shadai,” and “Yehovah the God.” These are coupled with a range of attributes, such as “He who rides the clouds,” “The father of orphans, the judge of widows,” “My God, my king, in the sanctuary,” “He who rides the ancient highest heavens,” “God of Israel.” The description of the procession includes a reference to four tribes: Benjamin, Judah, Zebulun, and Naphtali. These tribes represent three of the four matriarchs: Rachel (Benjamin), Leah (Judah and Zebulun), and Bilhah (Naphtali). Why the sons of Zilpah are missing is unclear. Possibly, this is because at the time that this song was written, the tribes in question – Gad and Asher – had already lost their territories in the Assyrian invasions.45 Nevertheless, the reference to these four tribes is indicative of a clear intention to give due representation to all the major groups of tribes in this festive ceremony. In summary, it appears that this song was composed for a celebration involving a mass pilgrimage, in the aftermath of an important military victory. But it also implicitly reflects the intent to unify and merge together the separate parts of the nation, with all their sacred symbols and sanctified traditions. The picture that emerges, therefore, regarding the song’s historical background is of a celebratory pilgrimage to the Temple, following its purification by Hezekiah after his successful revolt against Assyria. The historical events cited include both some that are manifestly northern as well as Judean ones. The reference both to the ark and to its Temple in Jerusalem (v. 30), and the variety of names for God, are all indicative of an intention to merge ancient northern traditions with those of Zion.46 * The political and ideological rivalries between Israel and Judah appear throughout the biblical narratives in the form of inflammatory statements, condemnations, and even incriminations. Perhaps the best 45 See: S. Yieivin “Asher,” Encyclopaedia Biblica volume I, Jerusalem 1972 pp. 777– 786 [Hebrew]. Idem: “Gad,” ibid. volume II Jerusalem 1954 pp. 423–429 [Hebrew]. See also: N. Na’aman, Borders & Districts in Biblical Historiography, Jerusalem 1986 pp. 40–42. 46 See the discussion earlier, in Chapter 3, about the bringing up of the ark to Jerusalem, and its symbolic significance.

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example of this is the story of the concubine at Gibeah (Judges 19–21), which is a castigation of the kingdom of Saul and the tribe of Benjamin in general. Another is the story of the journey of the sons of Dan to the North, and the conquest of Laish (later, Dan).47 These two stories are identified as part of the late, Deuteronomistic, stratum of the Book of Judges. The earlier stratum, known as the Ephratite composition, lacks any expression of such antagonism between South and North.48 The biblical literature also includes stories that are overtly or covertly critical of Judah. One such story may be the rape of Dinah (Genesis 34), in the light of the atrocities carried out by Simeon and Levi (two southern tribes – Simeon was absorbed into Judah, and the Levites, to all intents and purposes, served as Judah’s henchmen, implementing the policies of the House of David).49 Another is the story of the birth of Perez and Zerah (Genesis 38 – especially verses 27–30), which may be thought of as a northern response to the story of Jacob’s birth, with a view to denigrating the name of Judah.50 The Joseph story is different in that it represents a clear attempt to reconcile Judah and Israel. Although this artistic masterpiece encompasses a wide range of ideas and messages, some of which are ambiguous, the underlying conciliatory intent is clear. Issues arising from the story include: (i)

It is difficult to ascertain whether the dreams – particularly Joseph’s dreams – should be understood as expressing secret wishes and aspirations, or as a prophetic divine predestination. (ii) Accordingly, should the brothers’ attempt to rid themselves of Joseph be understood as merely personal vindictiveness, or as an attempt to change their destiny by derailing the divine predestination?

47

See: Yairah Amit, “The story of the Concubine in Gibeah as Secret Controversy Against Saul’s Kingdom and its Supporters (Judges 19–21),” Beit Mikra 129 (1992 pp. 109–118 [Hebrew]. Idem: “A Secret Controversy in the Story of the Conquest of Dan (Judges 17–18), Beit Mikra 126 (1991) pp. 267–278 [Hebrew]. 48 See: A. Rofé, “The Historiography of the End of the Days of the Monarchy: the Ephratite Composition Versus the Deuteronomist,” Beit Mikra 132 (1993) pp. 14–28 [Hebrew]. 49 On the relationship between David’s monarchy and the Levites, and particularly about the Levites as executors of the law, see: B.C. Ollenburger, Zion and the City of the Great King, Sheffield 1987. 50 See: Y. Zakovitch, An Introduction to Inner-Biblical Interpretation, Even-Yehudah 1992 p. 14 [Hebrew].

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(iii) What weight does divine providence have in this story – that is to say, what is the relationship between divine predestination and the hero’s ability to act of his own free will? To put this in its wider context: how significant is the religious message in this narrative? Although in this discussion this question is only of secondary importance, it holds the key to the general Weltanschauung at the root of the entire story. (iv) Should the portrayal of the brothers be understood as symbolic of their respective tribes, and what, if anything, does their relationship tell us about the inter-tribal relationships? (v) How should we understand the various ambiguities in the story – in particular, that of the scenes presenting Judah opposite Reuben? Are these the result of the story’s merging of two disparate sources, or should they be seen as integral to the dual structure of the entire story-line (cf. the two dreams dreamt by Joseph, by Pharaoh’s officials and by Pharaoh himself; Joseph’s double misfortune; the brothers’ journey twice to Egypt; the hiding of two items – the money and the cup – in the brothers’ sacks)? (vi) Finally, how should we understand Joseph’s harsh treatment of his brothers? Does he merely wish to retaliate, quid pro quo, or is he motivated by moral considerations? Is his behavior indicative of confusion on his part, or is it merely the result of the author wishing to prolong the suspense? (A related question is that of historical veracity: did these events actually take place as described? The question is important in determining whether or not the story should be interpreted as an allegory. But this warrants a discussion far beyond the scope of the present discussion).51 The key to these questions may be found in the portrayal of Joseph himself. In essence, this is a coming-of-age story, a kind of Bildungsroman. The hero repeatedly makes mistakes, or falls victim to his own naivety, and by learning from his mistakes, directly or indirectly, eventually turns into a man who succeeds thanks to his personal values.

51 See: D.B. Redford, A Study of the Biblical Story of Joseph (Genesis 37–50), Leiden 1970; W.L. Humphreys, Joseph and his Family, South Carolina 1988; Nili Shupak, “Joseph’s Story – Between Legend and History,” M.V. Fox – V.A. Hurovitz et al. (editors), Texts, Temples, and Traditions: A Tribute to Menahem Haran, U.S.A.: Eisenbrauns 1996 pp. 125–133.

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When he ultimately achieves the pinnacle of success, his values and abilities come together to make his dreams come true in a cathartic process. The condescending, ambitious youth turns into a more rounded person in personality and faith – a transformation evident in that he uses his success for the benefit of all, rather than merely for self-aggrandizement. He saves the land of Egypt, no less, and, bringing the narrative cycle full circle, rescues his family as well – the very same family that had sought to bring disaster upon him. The religious and moral messages of the story are clearly transmitted through the story-line built around Joseph’s personality. But the Joseph story also serves as a link between the stories of the Patriarchs and the Exodus.52 This is not merely an artificial literary device, but a profound connection in terms of the underlying religious perspective, whereby the history of Israel and that of the patriarchs were both planned and directed from above. God’s guiding hand is also apparent in Joseph’s personal destiny and in the development of the relationship between him and his brothers. On both levels – the national and the personal – we witness an ideological tension between two opposing world views: the deterministic view on the one hand – which believes that the entire course of history is governed by God’s controlling hand and even in divine predestination – and the notion of free will on the other, by which a person’s destiny is determined by their deeds and conduct. The evolution and changes in the characters of Joseph and of his brothers make it clear that the way in which God’s plans play out depends on the person’s behavior. The portrayal of Joseph as a hero who changes from an egocentric, ambitious youth into a man dedicated to serving others, endows his rags-to-riches story with a symbolic meaning of redemption in the highest sense, in which morality and values are internalized. In this respect, the Joseph narrative echoes the history of Israel, which is laced with repeated transitions from oppression to freedom. For our purposes, however, the role of the brothers in this story is of particular interest. As the story unfolds, one discovers that not only Joseph, but his brothers, too, undergo changes of character. The story-line is founded upon the subtleties of their internal relationship, 52

Cassuto even sees this link as the main thrust of the entire story, for it is the key to understanding the chain of events that turned the family of the patriarchs into a nation. See: M.D. Cassuto, “Joseph,” Encyclopaedia Biblica, Vol. 3, Jerusalem 1958 pp. 613–161 [Hebrew].

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which is multi-faceted. Some commentators even maintain that at its heart this story deals with the question, among others, of “Am I my brother’s keeper?,” since the issue of mutual responsibility emerges repeatedly.53 Although the story operates on the personal level, and the characters are portrayed as fully-fledged people rather than abstract symbols of their respective tribes, the conflict also has a historical dimension, and is possibly even allegorical. Joseph’s dreams are a clear allusion to the strife and struggle for power and control between the tribes, and what is told about Judah and Reuben substantially fits other biblical descriptions concerning the relative status of these two tribes and the relationship between them. According to one version of the story, it is Reuben who saves Joseph’s life by proposing to throw him into the pit instead of killing him. Scholars who subscribe to multiple-source theory attribute this version to the northern source (E). This would also settle the ambiguity surrounding whether Joseph is sold to the Ishmaelites or to the Midianites (in one version Joseph is sold to the Ishmaelites, who then take him to Egypt, but in the other it is Midianites who pull him out of the pit). It also appears that the Midianites pulled him out in secret (cf. Genesis 37:22–24, 28a and 29–30) – as evident in Joseph’s own words to the Pharaoh’s cupbearer: “For I was indeed stolen out of the land of the Hebrews . . .” (40:15). But according to the second version, which is attributed to the southern source (J), it is Judah who saves him, by suggesting that they sell him to the Ishmaelites who, in turn, bring him to the house of Potiphar. This is corroborated in another scene, where Joseph reveals himself to his brothers (45:4–5).54 Indeed, Löwenstamm suggests a solution based on a certain distinction between the two sources,55 but

53

E.I. Löwenthal, The Joseph Narrative in Genesis, New-York 1973. Medieval commentators attempted to settle this difficulty by denying there is an ambiguity. According to Rashi, the Midianites were indeed a separate convoy: Joseph was sold many times over. His brothers pulled him out of the pit and sold him to the Ishmaelites; they sold him to the Midianites who, in turn, sold him to the Egyptians (so according to Midrash Tanhumma 13). Rashbam and Hezkoni’s interpretation is similar. But Ibn-Ezra – and later, Kimhi – identified the Ishmaelites with the Midianites “for the Midianites are also called Ishmaelites,” following Judges 8:24). 55 Löwenstamm recognizes that there are two separate sources, but believes that the difficulty lies not in the ambiguity between them, but in the issue of continuity. He believes that the northern version was originally the complete version of the narrative, and is still restorable – but the Judean version is incomplete and no more than an adjustment made by the Judean source. But it is an adjustment that in itself needs 54

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I prefer to see the ambiguity as part of a deliberate literary design, aimed at highlighting the differences between Reuben, the first-born, and Judah. The subtext is subtle but clear: while Reuben’s initiative to save Joseph ultimately fails, Judah’s initiative paves the way for the rest of the story. When trying to persuade Jacob to allow Benjamin to accompany his brothers to Egypt. Reuben offers Jacob You may put my two sons to death if I do not bring him back to you (42:37).

But Judah’s guarantee is more personal: I myself shall be surety for him; you may hold me responsible for him. If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, then let me bear the blame before you forever (43:9).

Eventually, it is Judah who, by his words, forces Joseph to identify himself, and to reveal himself to his brothers. Had the story been merely a product of two separate stories woven together, we might expect to find a duplicate description of this scene, in which an appeal by Reuben precedes that of Judah. In its absence, we must conclude that the preceding dualisms are designed to give the impression of a gradual evolution toward the solution, where the failure of one attempt is corrected by a second, improved, one. In the main, however, the comparison between the two brothers is meant to highlight the differences between the two tribes. Reuben’s traits in the Joseph story tally with other biblical descriptions, where both man and tribe struggle to retain their status and even survival. On occasion he is even described as one who has disappointed and has not met the expectations of him. The story of the mandrakes (Genesis 30:14–16) ostensibly a story about Jacob’s wives jostling for position, is really a reflection of the struggle between their descendants, the tribes. The same is true of the story of Reuben and Bilhah, Jacob’s concubine (35:22) – widely interpreted as expressing Reuben’s wish to indirectly avenge his mother’s inferior status. After the death of Rachel, his mother’s rival, Reuben set out to eradicate any remaining bond between Jacob and his beloved wife by correcting: instead of “Reuben” in verse 21, one should read “Judah.” But the editor responsible for the present version of the MT restored what the Judean source had removed – and in so doing, compromised the unity of the narrative, but also made it possible to reconstruct the original. S.E. Löwenstamm, “Reuben and Judah in the Joseph Cycle,” The Fourth World Congress of Jewish Studies, Part I (1967) pp. 69–70 [Hebrew].

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defiling Bilhah, Rachel’s maidservant and Jacob’s concubine.56 Jacob’s subsequent removal of Reuben’s birthright as the eldest, as reflected in his blessing (49:3–4), and the rebellion of Reuben’s descendants, in the story of Korah and his congregation – which commentators view as the real reason for the removal of Reuben’s birthright (Numbers 16:1–3, 12–14, 25–27, 26:7–10) – are further examples of this. Further evidence of the fall of the tribe of Reuben from favor appears in the blessing of Moses (Deuteronomy 33:6); in Joshua’s view of Reuben during the conquest of Canaan (Joshua 4:12–13 – compare with Deuteronomy 3:18, and especially Numbers 30:29–32); in the conflict of the Reuben tribe with the eastern, transjordanian tribes (Joshua 22); and in the disappointment from its conduct during the war against the Canaanites (Judges 5:16). Together, these details enable us to have a more thorough understanding of the historical context. Joseph, the hero of the story, represents the House of Joseph, and the entire narrative is delivered from the viewpoint of someone of that clan. The story of Joseph’s rise to an eminent position is therefore one in which the Joseph-tribes’ supremacy over the others is justified. This opens the way for two possible interpretations. According to one, the purpose of legitimizing the House of Joseph – namely the northern monarchy – is to provide a counterweight to the Judean monarchy.57 If this interpretation is correct, then we should also conclude that everything written about Judah in the scene of the sale of Joseph into slavery is a late addition of a Judean editor. By putting Judah front and center and showing him to be successful whenever Reuben fails, that same editor sought to tone down the pro-northern bias. Löwenstamm’s analysis, based on the detection of two disparate sources, supports this interpretation – but it is based mainly on the sale scene. In other scenes Judah’s portrayal actually points toward reconciliation between the brothers, and his efforts are presented in a more positive light compared to those of Reuben. But if Reuben’s portrayal is exclusively the result of a late Judean addition, we might expect him to figure in the scene where Joseph makes himself known to his brothers – yet he does not. I therefore 56

See: Y. Zakovitch – A. Shinan, The Story of Reuben and Bilhah, Jerusalem 1984 [Hebrew]; idem: That’s Not What the Good Book Says, Tel-Aviv 2005 pp. 219–220 [Hebrew]. 57 According to Nili Shupak – see note 51 above.

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tend to favour a second interpretation, namely that Reuben, as firstborn, is representative of all the remaining brothers, or tribes, and therefore Joseph’s ascendancy also means the weakening or deposing of the firstborn. The central conflict and theme of the narrative is therefore between Joseph and Reuben, not Judah and Reuben, and the decisive confrontation is between Joseph and his brothers, with Reuben at their head. From what we are told about Joseph, who “brought back a bad report” about his brothers to their father, and from his brothers’ response to his dreams – “Do you mean to reign over us? Do you mean to rule over us?” (37:8) – it is clear that the predominant issue on the family’s agenda was over who controls it. The fact that Judah is presented in a favorable light thanks to his practical assertiveness indicates that the story is trying to strike a balance between the House of Joseph and the House of Judah, since it is thanks to Judah’s character that the story is able to come full-circle and reach a positive conclusion. To put it another way, Joseph’s success is owed ultimately to Judah’s. This narrative intention cannot be ascribed to a later addendum and must be integral to the entire story. The relationship between these three – Joseph, Reuben, and Judah – is also described in I Chronicles 5:1: The sons of Reuben the first-born of Israel. (He was the first-born, but when he defiled his father’s bed, his birthright was given to the sons of Joseph son of Israel, so he is not reckoned as first-born in the genealogy; though Judah became more powerful than his brothers and a leader came from him, yet the birthright belonged to Joseph).

The encounter between Joseph and Judah is therefore not indicative of the author’s desire to stoke the flames of tribal rivalry, but rather to defuse hostility and bring about reconciliation. His view is initially a balanced one. He recognizes that Joseph’s rise, though meteoric, was also very nearly disastrous in its ambition.58 Reuben, in his weakness, failed to exercise proper leadership, so it was left to Judah to step into the breach and save Joseph, thereby enabling the family to reunite in the end.

58

In this context one should note, too, the reports of tension and conflict between Ephraim and other northern tribes, over the former feeling slighted for not being called to take part in the wars against enemies, as described in the story of Gideon (Judges 8:1–3) and of Jephthah (12:1–6).

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Such a theme of reconciliation might reflect any period when Judah and Israel cooperated peacefully with each other – as in the days of Jehoram and Jehoshaphat (II Kings 3) – but more likely it is indicative of a more deliberate, prolonged and wide-ranging process. Accordingly, this theme is in keeping not only with the narrative story-line, but also with its underlying concept and message – namely, the dualism of viewing dreams as expressive of hidden desires and seeing them as a prophecy of divine predestination. This is the same tension as the one between the deterministic perception and the notion of free will, whereby one’s fate depends on one’s own deeds and decisions. An ideological debate of this kind most likely emerged during a period of crisis and socio-political crossroads. The pronouncements of the prophets – particularly of Isaiah son of Amoz – reflect a similar tension between the notion of a predestined future on the one hand, and hope of deliverance and success through faith on the other, and a parallel tension between national schism vs. unification and reconciliation. Hezekiah’s reforms appear to provide the most suitable backdrop for a historical juxtaposition of this sort, and his reign is the best candidate for the period marking the foundation of a consciousness of a unified national identity, as expressed in both early and late biblical historiography.59 This consciousness also features in several literary elements interwoven throughout the historiography – such as the words of the prophet Shemaiah (I Kings 12:22–27), or those of Azariah son of Oded (II Chronicles 15:1–7). We see it also in Elijah’s letter to King Jehoram (II Chronicles 21:12–15), and even in the story of the Trial of Solomon and the Two Harlots (I Kings 3:16–28), which some see as an allegory about the history of Israel. In it, Solomon’s wisdom is apparent in his judgment that the real mother is the one willing to concede and foregoing her claim for the sake of keeping the child whole and alive, and by extension – according to some commentators – the author is suggesting that for the sake of the integrity and life of the people of Israel, no price is too high, and compromises must be made, including 59 Linville (ibid., pp. 122–124) sees the Book of Kings as reflecting hopes for the future, in which the exile is perceived as a process of the formation of “a new order,” is which the whole nation is united under a single faith. By this view, the Book of Kings is a type of mythology of origin, nurtured upon the soil of exile. This approach is inspired by the observation that the Book of Kings, by and large, was composed during the Babylonian exile. However, in my view we are dealing with a process that began with the fall of Samaria and the Assyrian exile.

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regarding ancestral and legal claims.60 The ruler who is renowned for his wisdom is therefore the one who sees national unity and integrity as supreme values.61 Accordingly, the joining together of the northern source (E) with its southern counterpart (J) in the Pentateuch should also be perceived as part of Hezekiah’s enterprise – in particular, the texts that feature decidedly southern addenda to northern stories, as we noted earlier, in Chapter 2.62 (The Deuteronomistic author relies primarily on northern sources – especially the overview given in Deuteronomy 1:9–3:29).63 The northern source dates back to the period between the establishment of the northern kingdom and its destruction, while the southern

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For allegorical interpretations of this story, see: K.A. Deurloo, “The King’s Wisdom in Judgment: Nation as Example (I Kings III),” A.S. van der Woude (editor), New Avenues in the Study of the Old Testament, Leiden 1989 pp. 11–21; Carole Fontaine, “The King’s Wisdom in the Shape of 2 Samuel 11–12 and 1 Kings 3,” A. Brenner (editor), A Feminist Companion to Samuel and Kings, Sheffield 1994 pp. 143–159 (= JSOT 34 (1986) pp. 68–77). 61 I prefer not to go into the details of the allegory in this context – nor into the vexed question over the identity of the real mother, i.e. was it the speaker who presented her arguments, or rather the silent woman. See: M. Garsiel, who supports the former possibility, basing on a literary analysis that distinguishes between the voices of the storyteller, the speaker and the author. See there for a study of interpretations: “Two Harlot = Mothers and One Living Infant – Three riddles in the Story of Solomon’s Judgment,” Beit Mikra 178 (2004) pp. 32–53 [Hebrew with English abstract]. For an overview of interpretations in Midrashic literature, see G. Sasson, “ ‘Woe to you, O land, whose king is a child’, The Criticism of the Sages Regarding Solomon’s Trial,” Beit Mikra 179 (2004) pp. 191–210 [Hebrew with English abstract]. Others identify the silent woman as the real mother: see E. and G. Leibovitz, “Solomon’s Trial,” Beit Mikra 122 (1990) pp. 242–244 [Hebrew], and the response of G. Rahman and J. Rahman, “Solomon’s Trial: a Response to E. and G. Leibovitz’ Article,” Beit Mikra 132 (1993) pp. 91–94 [Hebrew]. 62 M. Weinfeld maintains that the establishing of the worship of Jehovah throughout the tribes of Israel was the work of the priestly family at Shiloh. Shiloh was considered the religious center of all the settlers of the central Mount of Ephraim. These consisted of a group of tribes of Egyptian origin who were related to the Kenites and the Midianites, and to the traditions of the Mountain of God in Sinai. These Shilohite priests, who also bore Egyptian names, were the same group that linked Joshua with Moses. See: M. Weinfeld, From Joshua to Josiah, Jerusalem 1992 pp. 64–65 [Hebrew]. But the northern narratives demonstrate that one must distinguish between the process by which monotheism came about, and the differences between monotheism as practiced in the two monarchies – including the names given to God. M. Haran attributes the formulation of the Priestly Code to the periods of Ahaz and Hezekiah – based mainly on the observation that it was the priestly school’s push to centralize worship at the Temple in Jerusalem that provided the ideological basis for Hezekiah’s reforms. See idem, “Between Historical Study and Problems of Composition,” Periods and Institutions in the Bible, Tel-Aviv 1973 pp. 7–14 [Hebrew]. 63 Idem, The Biblical Collection p. 199.

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source is dated between the founding of the united monarchy and the destruction of Jerusalem. The merging of these two sources is attributed mainly to the priestly editors, as part of the priestly compilation that starts with the Creation narrative and ends with the death of Moses. These same sources carry on into the Deuteronomistic composition, that is, into the books of the Early Prophets, which aimed at covering the entire history of Israel from the time of its entry into the land until the destruction of the First Temple.64 Since the accepted view is that the Deuteronomistic composition was drawn up in Babylon, it is reasonable to surmise that the editorial work of the books of the Pentateuch, including the Deuteronomy composition, took place during the period between the fall of Samaria and the destruction of Jerusalem.65 There is no consensus as to the timing of merging and composition of the two sources. Some scholars attribute the initial synthesis to an early, pre-Deuteronomic edition (RJE), which is thought to be essentially non-ideological in character, while the Deuteronomistic edition (JE) was a later, ideological one.66 Our study suggests that whenever there is an apparent combination of disparate sources, there is a clear ideological message. Whoever joined together the divine promise to the patriarchs with the story of the divine revelation to Jacob at Bethel, for example, also gave the latter story a new perceptual dimension that was missing in its earlier incarnation. The story, which presents Jacob’s God as a “personal” deity, who accompanies him and guards him wherever he goes, becomes one of “national consciousness,” given God’s repeated pledge to Jacob. Jacob becomes a link in a chain, whose task is to ensure the fulfilment of that pledge to the fathers of the nation. The same is true about the compilation of the northern, Jacob stories into a single compendium along with those of the South or Judea. Although initially they appear to have little to do with one another, the anonymous editor combines them in such a way 64 Ibid. pp. 290–299. He contends that the Deuteronomistic composition does not go beyond the destruction of Jerusalem. 65 Haran, ibid. p. 193, like Noth before him, maintains that the Deuteronomistic composition starts with the opening of the Book of Deuteronomy, and includes the four tractates of Deuteronomy, and continues from the start of the Book of Joshua (Chapters 13–19 of which are ascribed to the priestly writers. (See p. 194 and note 11 there) through the end of the Book of Kings. He also distinguishes between two different Deuteronomistic compositions in the Book of Deuteronomy: Ibid. pp. 192– 193. 66 Idem (pp. 108–110) Agrees with Noth, who denies the existence of a preDeuteronomistic edition.

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as to create the impression of national continuity, whereby the patriarchs are presented as three successive generations. For in fact, were it not for God presenting himself to Jacob as “the God of your father Abraham” (Genesis 28:13), one might easily infer from the stories that Jacob was utterly unfamiliar with Abraham, and indeed perhaps did not even know of his existence. This is underlined by the absence of any indication of Abraham’s feelings toward his grandson, who was approximately fourteen at the time of Abraham’s death. Similar omissions are evident in other Pentateuchal narratives. The joining together of disparate sources and strata was done primarily to forge an ideological bridge between different world outlooks, as noted earlier. The late Deuteronomistic edition of the time of Ezra and Nehemiah, along with the late historiographies, are indicative of a change of attitude toward the North, in line with the views held by several schools of thought that were active the time. However, the initial unification of the sources certainly fits the trend toward reconciliation and appeasement characteristic of Hezekiah’s enterprise. * The substantive part of our examination ends here. Yet one question remains: what ultimately became of the unification process – that is, how were Hezekiah’s reforms received, and how did they fare, both in the short term and at the start of the Second Temple period. While the many facets of historical reconstruction in the late biblical period are a topic of research in their own right, it is nevertheless worth discussing some basic points, if only to gauge an answer to these questions. Firstly, it is worth noting that the final years of the northern kingdom were marked by a quick succession of kings. Pekah (734–732 bce) assassinated Pekahiah, son of Menahem, who in turn was murdered by Hosea. Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Israel was steadily whittled down by Tiglath Pileser (745–727 bce) to not much more than a rump state of the town of Samaria, ruled by the Assyrian-backed Hosea. In this respect, the “nation” that was exiled following the destruction of Samaria in 722 bce was one that had long ceased to possess any real leadership or capacity for meaningful political and worship initiatives. Thus, the Israel that King Hezekiah found on his accession was no longer a true national entity, and the unification element of his reforms was carried out in a political vacuum. However, two aspects of Assyrian policy played an equally significant role: its policy of deporting conquered populations, and its stance toward rituals and religion in the conquered territories.

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Of the former – although available information from Assyria itself is somewhat ambiguous – the general picture is reasonably clear. Tiglath Pileser’s deportation policies differed from those of Sargon II in that, under his rule (e.g., in the case of the residents of the Galilee and the northern coast), deportation was uni-directional – while Sargon pursued a two-way strategy, exiling the inhabitants of Samaria and replacing them with exiles from other countries.67 It is generally accepted that the Assyrians did not entirely eradicate the Israelite population in the north, and the rural population of Samaria and the Galilee remained where it was.68 However, the numbers of exiles reported in the Assyrian annals indicate that the policy’s true significance lay in the fact that it was a continuous process that began even before the destruction of Samaria, and steadily eroded the northern Israelite population until well after.69 Some researchers maintain that the foreign settlers brought to Samaria by the Assyrians made efforts to preserve their foreign identity as a source of strength,70 but the general picture is quite the opposite. Sargon II’s own records indicate that loyalty to the regime, compliance with Assyrian laws and recognizing the advantages of a lingua franca were widely regarded as essential survival strategies, and that, in general, subject nations underwent a process of Assyrianization. The deportation policies, in particular, had a profound impact on the character of the Middle East, particularly by accelerating the process of ethnic and cultural intermixing throughout the region. The largest transfers of population appears to have been from the conquered lands into Assyria itself, suggesting that the major Assyrian cities became

67

See K.L. Younger Jr, “The Deportation of the Israelites,” JBL 17/2 (1998) pp. 201–

227. 68

Z. Gal, Lower Galilee During the Iron Age, Winona Lake 1992 p. 109. See B. Oded, Mass Deportation and Deportees in the Neo-Assyrian Empire, Wiesbaden 1979; idem: “Mass Deportations in the Assyrian Empire: Facts and Numbers,” Erez-Israel 14 (1979) pp. 62–68 [Hebrew]. After detailed analysis of the Assyrian records, Oded points out that in 74 instances it is not stated where the exiles were being taken to, and that the principal flow of exiles, throughout the reigns of all the Assyrian kings, was to Assyria itself. Based on a similar analysis, Younger tries to establish the number of exiles and about the state of the Jewish community by calculating the number of inhabitants according to the dimensions of the territory. His conclusion is that of a total Galilee population of some 17,600, 13,500 were deported, and that in any event, the size of the remaining population was very small. 70 A. Alt, “Die Rolle Samarias bei der Enstehung des Judentums,” Kleine Schriften Vol. II München 1953 p. 332 = A. Alt et al. (editors), Festschrift Otto Procksch zum sechtzigsten Geburtstag, Leipzig 1934 pp. 5–28. 69

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highly international in character. Sargon, however, proclaims that the new settlers in his capital were united under a single language, and that he taught them discipline and worship of the Assyrian gods and king (see in this regard also II Kings 17:24–41).71 Although there is no evidence of uniform imposition of the Assyrian religion, it no doubt had a great impact, and Assyrian dominions became a pot-pourri of traditions and styles in all walks of life. II Kings 17:24–32 describes a process of fusion, with foreigners in the Samarian prefectures freely adopting Israelite religious rituals while continuing to worship foreign and even Canaanite gods that had no connection whatsoever to official Assyrian religion.72 In this respect, there appears to have been no difference between Assyrian prefectures and vassal states: throughout the Assyrian sphere of influence, people worshipped the Assyrian god – either because they were obliged to, or because they thought it to their advantage to do so.73 Judah, too, as a vassal kingdom of Assyria, was not immune to the influence of foreign cults – as evident from an altar copied from an Assyrian model in Damascus; horses dedicated to the sun god (as in Assyria); the sacrifice of children, in the manner of the Phoenicians, etc.74 – all the result of the waves of assimilation that took place under Assyrian hegemony (see also II Kings 16:3 about Ahaz, who “made his son to pass through the fire” for the god Molekh; and II Kings 21:3–7, about Manasseh, who restored “the high places which Hezekiah his father had destroyed,” and introduced many foreign rituals into the Temple). Nevertheless, within Judah there remained, it seems, a sizeable population anxious to preserve the kingdom’s distinctiveness and religious independence as a unifying element. In all likelihood, the remnants of the northern population who had been absorbed into Judah during Hezekiah’s reign were among those urging to have the faith unified by recasting the historiography of the Jewish people as the history of a single nation. Accordingly, this process continued after Hezekiah’s reign, too: under Josiah the conquered Israelite population appears to have recovered somewhat, and close ties were forged with the king-

71

B. Oded, ibid. M. Cogan, “ ‘For we, like you, worship your God,’ Three Biblical Portrayals of Samaritan Origins,” VT 38 (1988) pp. 286–292. Idem: “Religion and Cult in Judah under the Assyrian Hegemony,” Katedra 69 (1995) pp. 3–17 [Hebrew]. 73 H. Spickermann, Judah unter Assur in der Sargonidenzeit, Göttingen 1882. 74 M. Cogan ibid. See note 72 above. 72

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dom of Judah – as reported in II Chronicles 34:9, 21 (and in verse 33, where the phrase “children of Israel” is used to mean the entire Jewish people), and in chapter 35:3, 18. A similar message is implicit in Jeremiah 41:4–5, in connection with a large group of northerners – inhabitants of the three main cities of Ephraim (Shechem, Shiloh and Samaria) – who banded together to make pilgrimage to Jerusalem.75 By all accounts, the general picture changes little after this, including during the period of Babylonian exile, that is, before the return to Zion. The biblical evidence from the time of destruction is important to understanding the mindset during the return to Zion: the prophecies of Ezekiel and Jeremiah hint at a theological conflict over the question of the identity of the Jewish people that arose between those who had remained in Judea and the returning exiles from Babylon. Ezekiel’s position on this is unequivocal: he speaks derisively of “those who live in these ruins in the land of Israel,” dismissing their plaintive claim over the land: Abraham was but one man, yet he was granted possession of the land. We are many – surely the land has been given as a possession to us (Ezekiel 33:23).76

His hostility stems not only from the thorny issue of inheritance rights, but is rooted in religious grounds, too: (11:15) “They have gone far from the Lord.”77 In other words, those who remained in Judea had no rights to the land, since they had committed the most egregious acts (33:25–26), and were destined, he predicted, to utter annihilation (vss. 27–29). Jeremiah took a similar stance, predicting a bright future for the returning exiles – I will set my eyes upon them for good, and will bring them back to this land . . . I will give them a heart to know that I am the Lord; and they shall be my people (24:6–7).

– and a bleak one for those who stayed behind:

75 S. Japhfet stresses that this detail is historically highly significant, since it is delivered parenthetically during the story of the murder of Gedaliah ben Ahikam, and thus free of any ideological agenda. 76 Ezekiel 11:15 “. . . all of that very House of Israel to whom the inhabitants of Israel say ‘they have gone far from the Lord, the land has been given as a heritage to us’.” 77 According to Japhet, ibid.

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chapter four . . . until they shall be utterly exterminated from the land which I gave to them and their fathers (v. 10).

For both prophets, the heart of the conflict between the two communities was not over the question of ownership and rights to the land, but the more fundamental question of national identity – namely, which of the two communities represented the true people of the Lord. Remarkably, Jeremiah and Ezekiel’s position on this point is even more extreme than that of the actual spiritual leadership during the Return to Zion period. The position taken in the books of Haggai and Zechariah (1–8), is not so clear-cut. Haggai makes no mention of the exile at all, or for that matter of the northerners in Samaria, or the exiles. His appeal to “‫( ”שארית העם‬she’erit ha’am = “the rest of the people,” or “remnant”) is a reference to the few who survived the destruction and were now witnessing the reconstruction of the Temple – suggesting that the expression was synonymous with “‫( ”עם הארץ‬am ha’aretz = “the people of the land”).78 Clearly, he is referring to the inhabitants of Judah – both those who had never left and the returning exiles – but whether he is including the northern inhabitants, too, is unclear. Zachariah, on the other hand, does talk explicitly about the ingathering of exiles and of leaving Babylon (2:10; 8:8) – or, as he puts it: And those who are far off (or: men from far away) shall come and help to build the temple of the Lord. (6:15)

He also promises complete salvation for both the House of Judah and the House of Israel (8:13). In this, his terminology is similar to that of the Second Isaiah, who in his consolatory prophecies uses the labels “Jacob” and “Israel,” as well as “the seed of Abraham” (41:8–9) in an apparent reference to the various parts of the nation, including the remnants of the north and those who had stayed behind in Judah, as well. All in all, however, the dominant tone in the Return to Zion period is the one evident in the Book of Chronicles, and particular in Ezra and Nehemiah. An in-depth comparison of these books, in terms of the likely time of composition and stylistic consistency, is beyond the

78

Japhet, ibid. and notes 31, 32 there.

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scope of the present study,79 but for our purposes a few observations at the ideological level are in order. As Knoppers rightly points out – like Williamson before him – the book of Ezra-Nehemiah attributes greater importance to the Exodus than does the Chronicler.80 Although in the Book of Chronicles there is a note of conciliation and appeasement toward the northern kingdom – particularly with regard to the story of the Exodus81 – it is mostly in connection with the Temple (with the exception of one – II Chronicles 20:10, where it is linked to an incident during the wanderings in the desert).82 By contrast, in Ezra-Nehemiah mentions of the Exodus are invariably coupled with the demand to observe the teachings of Moses and his commandments.83 They present it as the framework and foundation for the holy traditions of the Jewish people as a whole, and for the very core of its beliefs. This is highly significant, since the regard for the Exodus as the defining moment in the nation’s history and as holy doctrine had been the preserve of the northern kingdom (unlike the southern kingdom, which reserved such esteem for the traditions of the House of David and Zion). The EzraNehemiah stance on this point therefore reflects a basically favorable attitude toward the sacred values of the northern kingdom – more so than in the Book of Chronicles. Moreover, while the Chronicler is at pains to acclaim everything related to the reign of David and the man himself, and to depict the divine covenant with him in visionary terms, 79 For a more extensive discussion of when the Book of Chronicles may have been written, see G.N. Knoppers, I Chronicles 1–9 (The Anchor Bible) New York 2004 pp. 101–117. 80 Knoppers, ibid. pp. 81–82; H.G.M. Williamson, I and II Chronicles, New York 1982 p. 10. 81 Exodus is mentioned in the Book of Chronicles in various contexts: I Chronicles 17:21; II Chronicles 5:10; 5–6:6; 7:22; 20:10. However, in other instances, it is conspicuously absent in passages where, in the equivalent contexts in the earlier historiography, it was mentioned – e.g.: I Chronicles 16:6 onwards; II Chronicles 3:1–2; 6:11; 6:39–40. However, elsewhere a positive attitude on the part of the Chronicler and in Ezra-Nehemiah is discernible, such as in the mention of the contribution of the clans of all the Israelite tribes to the Temple (I Chronicles 26:29; 29:6; Ezra 2:68) – unlike II Kings 12:18, for example, which mentions only the royal contribution. 82 On this point the Chronicler and Ezra-Nehemiah are in agreement: both look favorably only upon Temple rites in Jerusalem, and only Judah is perceived as protecting the tradition. Although the other tribes are acknowledged as being part of Israel as a whole, leading functions in pursuit of the goals and purposes of the Jewish people members of the Judah, Benjamin and Levi tribes are reserved. 83 In Ezra 9:10–12 the mention is oblique, in the midst of reciting the separatist commandments stated in Deuteronomy 7:1–5. However, in Nehemiah the association is with the teachings of Moses in general: 1:7–9; 8:13 onwards; 9:9–23; 10:30–31; 13:1 onwards.

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Ezra-Nehemiah places greater emphasis on the teachings of Moses and the Sinai Covenant.84 It is here that we see the most significant alignment with the true purpose of Hezekiah’s reforms: elevating the Exodus traditions that center on the Mosaic teachings to serve as the ultimate theological foundation of a fusion of the religions of north and south, and to present the historiography of the entire Jewish people as that of a single national entity from the outset. However, there is also an inherent contradiction within the Ezra-Nehemiah strategy between the visionary ideology proclaiming national revival based on a joint past, with the practical ideology aimed at ensuring the nation’s survival by grappling with the existential problems of the present. The latter was conceived in reaction to the conditions encountered in Judea during the Return to Zion period and amounted to an extreme brand of separatism, designed to preserve the “holy seed” in its pure state and to protect it from assimilation. This policy was also an expression of numerical and material disadvantage. Despite imperial Persian permission to return to Judea, many of the Babylonian exiles chose not to.85 This was particularly true of the wealthier families, as well as some of the Levites, whom Ezra also had difficulty trying to persuade to return with him (Ezra 8:15 ff.). Accordingly, most of those returning from exile are the less well-off members of the Babylonian Jewish community, and not well organized. However, what they lack in material wealth they make up for in religious zeal – as evident, in part, from their construction of a sacrificial altar (Ezra 3:2–3) and mobilization to rebuild the Temple. The leadership’s separatist policy is justified on grounds of the risks inherent in “the holy seed” intermingling with the “people of those countries” (Ezra 4:2–3). The Samaritans – apparently Jewish converts of foreign origin, who had taken over the territory around Jerusalem86 – react to the returning exiles with hostile actions and obstructions, causing considerable delays in the reconstruction efforts. The expulsion of the foreign women (Ezra 9; 10; Nehemiah 1:13) is commonly 84 Particularly in: Knoppers, ibid. p. 81, in line with H.G.M. Williamson, “Eschatology in Chronicles,” Tyndale Bulletin 28 (1977) pp. 115–154. In the Book of Chronicles, more so than in Ezra-Nehemiah, David is presented as a fighter (I Chronicles 14:18–10), a penitent (I Chron. 21) and an administrator (I Chron. 22–29). 85 See: Nehemiah 7:4–5; 11:1–2 on the pressing need to increase the population of Jerusalem. See also Knoppers, ibid. and note 148 there. 86 In this territory, the Assyrians avoided settling foreigners, as they had in Samaria.

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regarded as the most extreme illustration of the zealous protection of “the holy seed” from foreign “contamination,”87 but perhaps its most pervasive manifestation is the fact that, from the time of King Cyrus’s announcement until the end of the Ezra-Nehemiah period the narrative speaks only about the returning exiles. The community who had remained in Judea and Samaria throughout the exile are utterly ignored.88 Indeed, according to Ezra-Nehemiah, “the holy seed” refers only to returning exiles.89 This highly separatist attitude suggests that Hezekiah’s efforts at reunification were completely rejected in the Return to Zion period as a solution to the existential nationalist needs of the returning exiles. However, in other respects – specifically, the visionary view of the nation’s purpose in future – the return to Zion might be seen as an extension of Hezekiah’s reforms. This is illustrated in the prophecies of the Second Isaiah, the consoling prophet, who paints a future in which Israel fulfills a mission of spreading the monotheistic message (Isaiah 43:10; 45:5–7, 14, 18, 22, and elsewhere), and exemplifying “a covenant of the people . . . a light to the Gentiles” (42:6; 49:6). His appeal to the foreigners marks the beginning of a universal vision90 that is even expressed at the religious ritual level (Isaiah 56:6),91 with none of the separatism isolationism of the Ezra-Nehemiah platform. It also serves as the ideological basis for depicting the return from Babylon as a kind of “new, improved” Exodus.92 Perhaps even more remarkably, aside from the revised appreciation of the Exodus story, the prophecies of the Second Isaiah for the future say nothing about the revival of the House of David – a clear sign of a wish to promote the more ancient, northern tradition at the 87 Yonina Dor, in a detailed analysis of the texts, argues that the foreign women were not actually expelled, but only symbolically so. However, to my mind, a symbolic ceremony is an even more forceful and principled expression of ideology than a one-off action carried out in the heat of the moment. See Y. Dor, Were the “Foreign Women” Really Expelled? Jerusalem 2006 [Hebrew]. 88 With the possible exception of one verse from Nehemiah’s memoirs, about “the Jews living among them . . .” (Nehemiah 4:6) – although, in truth, this verse is somewhat obscure. 89 Japhet, ibid. p. 163. 90 M. Weinfeld, “Universalism and Segregation in the Times of the Return to Zion,” Tarbiz 33 (1965) pp. 228–242 [Hebrew]. 91 The “Third” Isaiah promises ritualistic roles for the foreigners who “join themselves to the Lord” (Isaiah 56:5–6; cf. 61:5–6), and the Temple is presented as a house of prayer for all nations (Isaiah 56:7). 92 See: Isaiah 51:9–16; cf. 41:17–19; 43:1–3, 16; 48:21; 50:2; 51:10.

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expense of the southern traditions of Zion and the House of David. Similar universalist messages about the spread of monotheism can be seen also in the words of the late prophets such as Malachi (1:11, 14), Zechariah (8:23), as well as the later Psalms (Ps. 113:3).93 Together, they attest to the true triumph of Hezekiah’s reforms. Although initially rejected out of hand in the early stages of Israel’s rebirth during the return to Zion period, through the visionary prophecies of the Second Isaiah and his ilk, Hezekiah’s vision of unification of the various traditions persisted by serving as the foundation of the monotheistic spiritual message and tradition, shared by the descendants of the returning exiles and of the remnants of the north alike.

93 The term ‫“( עבדי ה׳‬servants of the Lord”) apparently refers to the growth of a new group of believers – presumably the “joiners” and the new converts. See Weinfeld, ibid.

CONCLUSION The portrayal of the history of the Jewish people as history of a single nation is explained in the fourth chapter of this study as being part of King Hezekiah’s great national enterprise. But this tendentious historiography failed to erase all vestiges of the differences between the two parts of the nation, namely the northern tribes of the northern kingdom of Israel, and the southern tribes of the kingdom of Judah. These clues show clearly that the two kingdoms were more than distinct political entities. Although both practiced monotheism, the nature of that monotheism was markedly different in each case. This is evident in many respects, nowhere more so than in the depiction of God’s emissaries – the men of God – who not only operated very differently north and south of the border, but represented contrasting notions of the divinity. The northern man of God – and by implication, the northern God – is depicted, in part, as operating at a very personal level, mysterious, unpredictable, occasionally terrifying, and with a grimly deterministic view of fate. By contrast, the southern man of God is shown to be merely God’s messenger, and is neither unpredictable, nor terrifying, and occasionally changes His mind in response to people’s conduct. The divergent belief systems are apparent also in the ancient legends of the forefathers. The God of Jacob, the northern ancestor, is markedly different from that of Abraham, the southern ancestor, both in personal attributes and in the articles of faith and in the purpose of the forefather’s mission. This, in turn, impacts upon the literary nature and style of the stories surrounding the two men. The contrasting literary styles, in other words, are a reflection of different religious contexts and lifestyles. The primary unifying element in the Jacob stores is ancient, and centers on the man’s personal experiences; accordingly, the God in these stories is personal and protective. The Abraham stories, by contrast, are a set of episodes illustrating certain tenets of morality and faith – an expression of a national outlook rather than a coherent narrative – and the God in them is portrayed accordingly. Another key difference between Israel and Judah is in their sacred traditions, each representing a distinct doctrine. In the case of Israel it is the Exodus; in the case of Judah, it is the House of David and

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Zion. The former is a complex assortment from a wide range of traditions and sources that occasionally contradict each other – a testimony both to their antiquity and the fact that they were considered sacred well before they were compiled into a comprehensive doctrine. The latter, by contrast, is generally consistent, founded primarily on the bonds between God and David his Anointed and – notwithstanding the attempt in the historiography of the Book of Chronicles to portray it in terms of an eternal covenant and the beginnings of a messianic vision – its theological outlook is presented as the product of David’s revolutionary enterprises. Examination of these two traditions highlights the extent of the religious division between north and south: the first chapter of this study citing the evidence of the divergent religious lifestyles and worlds depicted in the respective stories; the second chapter describing the sagas of the two forefathers; and the third chapter piecing together the evidence for a separate theological ensemble behind each of the two kingdoms. Each of the first three chapters is focused, therefore, on a single aspect of the differences between Judah and Israel: religious lifestyle; attitudes toward the forefather and toward the mode of communication with God; and key points of their respective doctrines. Together, the three chapters paint a general picture of two related yet distinct ideological frameworks, and provides a comprehensive testimony of the distinct brand of monotheism and religious lifestyle practiced in each kingdom. The fourth chapter examines the biblical texts showing how the drive toward recasting the biblical historiography as the history of a single nation was a product of King Hezekiah’s national reunification endeavor, and directly related to his religious reforms. In the final part of this chapter we review the historical background information, and look briefly at the periods following Hezekiah’s reign, to establish how well his reforms fared in the long term, and to postulate the conditions that ultimately enabled them to be adopted as the foundation of not just a common history, but of a coherent monotheistic theology.

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Uffenheimer, B., “Genesis 18–19, A New Approach”, Mélanges Andre Neher, Librairie d’Amérique et d’Orient, Paris 1975 pp. 145–153. ——, “The Bible’s Coping with the Remnants of Pagan Mythology”, in Y. Hoffman & F. Polak (editors), A Light for Jacob, Studies in the Bible and the Dead Sea Scrolls, In Memory of J.S. Licht, Jerusalem 1997 pp. 17–30 [Hebrew]. ——, Early Prophecy in Israel, Jerusalem 1999. Waldman, N.M., “Sound and Silence”, Jewish Bible Quarterly 22,4 (1994) pp. 228– 236. Ward, R.L., The Story of David’s Rule, Nashville 1967. Weinfeld, M., “Banishment, Dispossession, and Destruction of the Pre-Israelite Population”, Zion 53 (1948) pp. 143–145 [Hebrew]. ——, “Universalism and Segregation in the Times of the Return to Zion”, Tarbiz 33 (1965) pp. 228–242 [Hebrew]. ——, “The God Creator in Genesis 1 and the Prophecies of Isaiah the Second”, Tarbiz 36 (1968) pp. 105–132 [Hebrew]. ——, “The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and the Ancient Near East”, JAOS 90 (1970) p. 184. ——, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School, Oxford 1972. ——, “The Origin of the Apodictic Law, an Overlooked Source”, VT 23 (1973) pp. 63–75. ——, “The Covenant and the Grace: The Terminology and their course of development in Israel and the Ancient World”, Leshonenu 36 (1973) pp. 85–100 [Hebrew]. ——, “The Loyalty Oath in the Ancient Near East”, Shnaton I (1975) pp. 51–88 [Hebrew]. ——, “The Vassal Treaties of Essaraddon – An Annotated Translation”, Shnaton I (1975) pp. 89–122 [Hebrew]. ——, “Curse”, Encyclopaedia Biblica Vol. 7, Jerusalem 1976 pp. 185–192 [Hebrew]. ——, From Joshua to Josiah, Jerusalem 1992 [Hebrew]. ——, Social Justice in Ancient Israel and in the Ancient Near East, Jerusalem 1995. Weiser, A., “Die Tempelbaukriese unter David”, ZAW 77 (1965) pp. 159–183. Weisman, Z., “Some Thoughts on the Sinai Scene and the Methods of its Research”, Shnaton 5–6 (1981–2) pp. 56–68 [Hebrew]. ——, “The Prophetic Pattern of Anointing Kings in the Ancient Near East”, BMECCJ Vol. 1: Monarchies and Socio-Religious Traditions in the Ancient Near East, Wiesbaden 1985 pp. 21–26. ——, “The Interrelationship Between J. and E in the Jacob Narratives – Reexamined”, Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies, Division 1, Jerusalem 1986 pp. 35–42 [Hebrew]. ——, From Jacob to Israel, Jerusalem 1986 [Hebrew]. ——, “An Introduction to the Book of Hosea”, The World of the Bible: The Minor Prophets, Ramat Gan 1994 pp. 14–25 [Hebrew]. ——, “Social Divergences in the Patriarchal Narratives”, Henoch 17,1–2 (1995) pp. 117–127. ——, Saviours and Prophets, Tel-Aviv 2003 [Hebrew]. ——, “The House of Ahab”, The Prophetic Literature, Unit 2: The Open University 2006. Weiss, M., Scriptures in their Own Light, Jerusalem 1987 [Hebrew]. Wellhausen, J., Die Composition des Hexateuch, Berlin 1885. Westermann, C., Genesis 1–11, Erträge der Forschung, Vol. 7, Darmstadt 1972. ——, “Biblical Reflection on Creator-Creation”, Creation in Old Testament, London 1974. Wette, W.M.L. de, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Alte Testaments, Halle 1806 (reprinted 1971). Whitelam, K.W., The Invention of Ancient Israel, London 1997.

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Whybray, R.N., The Making of the Pentateuch: A Methodological Study, Sheffield 1994. ——, Introduction to the Pentateuch, Grand Rapids, Michigan 1995. Wildberger, H., Isaiah 1–12, Neukirchen 1972. Williams, H.G.M., I and II Chronicles. Winkle, D.W. van, “I Kings XIII 34: Jeroboam’s Cultic Innovations and the Man of God from Jehuda”, VT 46,1 (1996) pp. 101–114. Wolfensohn, A., “Political Opposition in Biblical History”, Beit Mikra 157 (1999) pp. 163–173 [Hebrew]. Yaron, B., “The Middle Assyrian Laws and the Bible”, Biblica 51 (1970) pp. 549–557. Younger, K.L. Jr. “The Deportation of the Israelites”, JBL 117/2 (1998) pp. 201–227. Zakovitch, Y., The Life of Samson, Jerusalem 1982 [Hebrew]. ——, “Every High Official Has a Higher One Set Over Him”, Tel-Aviv 1985 [Hebrew]. ——, An Introduction to Inner-Biblical Interpretation, Even-Yehudah 1992 [Hebrew]. ——, “ ‘A still small voice’, Form and Idea in I Kings 19”, Tarbiz 51 (1993) pp. 329–346 [Hebrew]. ——, Through the Looking Glass. Reflection Stories in the Bible, Tel-Aviv 1995 [Hebrew]. ——, Who Proclaims Peace, Who Brings Good Tidings, Haifa 2004 [Hebrew]. Zakovitch, Y. & A. Shinan, The Story of Reuban and Bilhah, Jerusalem 1984 [Hebrew]. ——, That’s Not What the Good Book Says, Tel-Aviv 2005 [Hebrew].

INDEX OF BIBLICAL SOURCES Genesis 1:1–2:3 1:7 1:16 1:22 1:25 1:28 2:9 2:9 2:11–12 2:13 2:14 5:22 9:11 9:9 12 12:1–25:11 12:1–9 12:1–3 12:1 12:3 12:6–7 12:6 12:7 12:11–13 12:17 12:18–19 13 13:7 13:8–9 13:10–20 13:10 13:14–17 13:17 14:14 14:19–20 14:20 14:22–23 15 15:1 15:2–3 15:8 15:13–14 15:16 16 16:5–6 16:9 16:12 16:13

3; 66 112 114 114 122 114 122 63 60 7; 64 7 6; 7 163 122 163 69 59 69 69 93 81 94 94 69 70 64 70 60 91 71 70 63 71 82 91 81 61 82 8; 62; 83 61; 93 83 203 67 8 64; 75 76; 84 83 81 30

16:14 17 17:2–6 17:19 18 18:2 18:3 18:16 18:17–19 18:22 18:23–32 18:22–23 18:23 18:27 18:29 18:31 18:32 19 19:5 19:9 19:10 19:11 19:12 19:16 20 20:3–7 20:3 20:6–7 20:7 20:9 20:11 20:12 20:16 20:17 21 21:1–3 21:6–7 21:10 21:17 21:22–32 21:22–23 21:23 22:11 22:15 23 23:4–15 24 24:2–4 24:2

154 83 122 82 93 64 84 64 67 64 68 83 83 76 76 76 70 60; 93 64 84 64 64 64 64 41 64 93 83 41 84 83 83 83 41 26; 30 80 80 84 93 78 83 83 93 90; 93 86 68 52 84 91

246 24:5–8 24:10–11 24:34–61 24:35–50 24:35 24:40 24:50 24:54–60 25:1–6 25:7 25:8–9 25:9–10 25:19–26:34 25:26 26 26:9 26:10 26:11 26:12 26:16 26:20 26:27 26:28–29 27:3–4 27:12–13 27:44 28:1–22 28:10–22 28:11–22 28:13–17 28:13 28:16–17 28:18–19 28:20–22 28:22 28:30–31 29–36 29:7 29:8 29:12 29:14 29:18–19 29:20 29:21 29:25 30:14–16 30:14–15 30:16 30:25 30:27 30:28–43 30:28–34 31:1 31:2

index of biblical sources 84 52 59; 68 84 88 163 85 84 89 90 90 85 59 90 65 155 84 84 65 91 65 84 84 84 85 88 95 59; 131 72 72 224 72 95 72 77; 97 77 59 85 85 68 72; 85 85 73; 88 85 84 218 87 87 87 87 61 87 86 74

31:5–13 31:6–7 31:11 31:13 31:14–16 31:22 31:24 31:25–54 31:26–30 31:32 31:36 31:37 31:38–40 31:39 31:42 31:44–54 31:49–54 31:53 32:3 32:6 32:8 32:17 32:22–23 32:24–30 32:27 32:31 33:3 32:6 32:8 32:17 32:22–23 32:24–30 32:27 32:31 33:10 33:20 34 34:8 34:13 35:1 35:2 35:3 35:5 35:14 35:18 35:20 35:22 35:27 35:29 37:2 37:12 37:21 37:22–24 37:28

74–5 97 61 95; 97 75 68; 95 64 86 77 81 87 87 88 87 87; 94 61 62 94 92 88 99 90 92 64 83 92 92 88 99 90 92 64 83 92 84; 92 94 61; 214 84 66 94; 97 98 94 92 95 91 95 218 90 34; 59 80 91 218 217 217

index of biblical sources 37:29–30 38:27–30 39:9 41:46 42:37 43:9 45:4–5 46:26 47:29 48 48:1–4 49:3–4 49:16 49:24 49:29–32 50:2 50:12–13 50:13

217 214 155 33 218 218 217 91 84 90 97 219 167 94 85 68 90 85

Exodus 1:7 1:15–21 1:22 1:23 2:10–11 2:14 3:1–4:17 3:1–3 3:1 3:6–17 3:8 3:15 3:17 4:4 6:7 6:12 6:30 7:5 7:26 9:15 10:29 20:11 23:5 13:21–22 14 14:13–14 14:15 14:16 14:16–18 14:16–31 14:24 14:31 15 15:23

122 117 117 117 117–118 117 119 43 115 104; 119 63 119 63 151 99 155 155 119; 151 121 151 121 113 63 129 25; 123 124 124 125 121 110 129 126 123 127

247

15:25 15:26 16 16:6–9 16:9–10 16:16 16:20 16:33–34 17 17:5–6 17:7 18:13–27 18:14–23 19:22 19:24 19:32 20:4–5 20:7 20:12 20:13 22:20 23:20–33 23:20 23:24 23:28–33 25:8–9 25:22 26:30 26:33–34 30:8 30:12 30:26 31:17 32:1 33:3 38:25–26

124 125 123; 128 124 125 127 126 127 25; 123 125 127 204 134 155 155 85 132 133 133 127 133 134 130 95 130 98 149 98 149 149 176 95 113 130 63 176

Leviticus 8:10 11:43–45 18:24–28 22:31–33 25:38 25:42 25:55 26:1

95 133 135 133 133 133 133 95

Numbers 1 1:2 2 5:20–25 9:15–23 10:29–31

193 176 193 204 129 129

248

index of biblical sources

10:33 10:35–36 10:34–36 11 11:3 11:10 11:13 11:18–20 11:18 11:20 11:33 13–14 14:2 14:9 14:11–12 14:12 14:21–23 14:27 14:37 15:41 16–17 16:1–3 16:6–7 16:5 16:12–14 16:15–16 16:21 16:22 16:25–27 16:31–35 17:4–5 17:10 20 20:2 20:3 20:8 20:10 20:12 20:13 20:14–21 20:15–16 21:2 21:9 24:4 26 26:7–10 30:29–32 32 34:1–15

129; 149 210 129 123; 125 127 124 124 125 124 124 126 123 124 125 125–126 87 126 124 124 133 123 219 125 125 219 88 126 181 219 135 127 126 123 124 124 125 125 126; 134 127 203 134 77; 84 127 24 193 219 219 203 203

Deuteronomy 1–3 1:7 1:9–3:29

4 203 203 222

1:9–15 1:19 1:22–30 1:33 1:37 2:2–8 2:25 2:29 3:20 3:26 4:16 4:25–27 4:28 5:19–22 5:20–25 6; 12–15 7 7:1–5 7:5 7:7–8 7:7–11 7:24 8:11–20 8:19–20 8:20–21 9:5–6 9:5 9:26 10:8 11:24 11:25 12:10–11 12:10 12:13 16:22 17:3 18:7 20:16–18 21:16 22:6 22:19 22:29 23:4–6 24:1–4 25:17–19 26:5–9 26:6–8 27:9 27:15 28:36 28:65 29:9 29:16 29:25

134; 204 129 134; 204 129 134; 204 203 169; 203 203 159 134; 204 205 135; 204 205 16 134 135; 204 134 205; 229 95 204 135; 204 203 204 191 135 135; 204 203 195 149 203 203 2 159 95 95 205 33 205 85 23 85 85 195 103 206 130 134 99 205 205 169 167 205 205

index of biblical sources 30:4 30:17–20 31:8 31:16–17 33 33:6 34:1–5

195 135; 204 149 177 210 128; 219 203

Joshua–II Kings Joshua 1:13 1:15 2:10 2:17–21 3:11 3:13 4:12–13 4:22–24 6:17–21 6:17–18 8:10 8:21–29 9:9 10:11–13 10:11 10:28–39 11:8–9 15:43–47 15:63 16:10 17:12–13 17:14–18 21:43 23:2 23:16 24 24:1 24:5–6 24–I Sam 12

4 3 159 159 136 86 149 149 219 121 205 205 176 205 136 110 130 205 205 197–8 206 206 206 206 154; 159 167 177 131; 132; 138 167 131 137

Judges 1:1–3 1:19 1:21 1:22–23 1:29 1:30 1:31–33 2:14 2:20 3:11 5 5:4–5 5:16

17; 37 137 205 205 97 205 205 205 177 177 31 210 114 219

249

7:3 7:9–14 8:24 8:28 11:5–11 11:7 11:13 11:30–31 11:33 13:11 17–21 19:30 19–21 21:2 21:11–12

176 114 217 31 86 84 136 77; 84 52 35 137 139 214 97 206

Samuel–Kings Samuel I–II I Samuel 1–3 1:1–11 1:7 1:13 4:3 4:1–7:2 7:3 7:8 7:16 7:19–20 8:5 8:8 9–10 9 9:16 9:20 9:21 10:2–10 10 10:5–9 10:6 11:3 11:8 12:1 12:2 12:8 13 13:4 13:8–14 13:15 13:19 13:20 14:4–5 15 15:4

38; 97 5 164 77; 84 164 26 149 146 154 136; 163 97 163 57 138 143 9 8 43 9 43 97 44 143 88 8 9 163 130 9; 44 9 48 176 9 9 7 26; 48 9

250

index of biblical sources

15:17 15:26 15:29 15:30 16–17 16 16:1 16:18 17 17:52 18:26–27 19:5 28 28:19 30:21–28

9 9 9; 48; 26 9 143 44 9 143 143 9 86 9 42 44 132

II Samuel 1:12 2:8 2:9 2:22 2:29 5 5:1–3 5:4–5 5:6–9 5:10 5:11 5:13–16 5:17–25 5:19 5:20 5:23–24 5:25 6

65 154 93 9 155 93 182 182 182 182 183 145 182 114; 182 183 183 183 183 18; 142–146; 175; 183 150; 154; 155 154 148 155 151; 155 155 155 152 155 151 155 154 154; 155 184 154 155 154; 155 154

6:2 6:5 6:6–7 6:7–8 6:7 6:8 6:9 6:10–12 6:10 6:11–13 6:13–15 6:11 6:12 6:14–15 6:15 6:17 6:18 6:19

6:21 6:22 7 7:1 7:2 7:3 7:5–17 7:5–6 7:5 7:6 7:7 7:8 7:9 7:10–11 7:10 7:11 7:12–16 7:12 7:13 7:14 7:15 7:16 7:19 7:23 7:29 8 8:1 8:3 8:4 8:5 8:6 8:7 8:8 8:9 8:10 8:11 8:12 8:15 8:51 8:53 9–I Kings 2 11:11 12:14–23 12:15 12:18 15:5 15:8 5:13 15:31 16:3 17:14 17:24

147; 153; 155 153 10; 18; 108; 142–146; 157; 160; 162; 171 165 158; 165 158 139 150 158; 165 108; 138; 165 160; 165; 167 165; 166 165; 169 165 165; 168 165; 168 169 165 165; 168–9 143; 144; 181 147; 165; 171 160; 165 165 136; 141; 165 165 139; 182; 184 185 185 185 184; 186; 187 184; 186; 187 185 185 185 185 187 187 185 139 139 164 13 42 42 155 77 84 15 115 154 115 93

index of biblical sources 17:27 19:41–44 19:42 19:44 20:1 20:2 24 24:1 24:2 24:5–7 24:10 24:11 24:12–19 24:12–13 24:17 I–II Kings I Kings 1:20 2:5 2:32 2:45 3 3:6 3:14 4:14 4:20 5:5 5:16 5:17 8:15–19 8:15 8:16–17 8:16 8:17 8:20 8:22–61 8:23 8:25 8:28 8:30 8:32 8:34 8:36 8:38–39 8:43 8:45 8:49 9:4–5 9:4 9:9 10:8 10:9

93 15 16 15; 16 1; 13 14 142–146; 157; 175–182 144; 157; 176 179 178 180; 199 180 42 145 145; 147; 180 5; 12; 20 9 9 10 141 182 176 141 93 13 13 159 142 159 10 206 139; 160 10 10 164 10 10 10 164 164 164 164 164 164 164 164 10 141 136; 206 33 10

11:4 11:9 11:12–13 11:28–29 11:29–39 11:34 11:36 12 12:1 12:2 12:7–8 12:16 12:22–27 12:25–33 12:25 12:28–29 12:28 12:32 13 13:2–3 13:3 13:5 13:6 13:8–9 13:13–14 13:13 13:16–17 13:17 13:21–22 13:21 14:1–2 14:6 14:7 14:8–9 14:12 14:13 15:1 15:4 16:2 16:33 17–18 17 17:1–6 17:1 17:13 17:16 17:17–24 17:17–19 17:18 17:20 18:8–14 18:12 18:46 18:47

251 141 177 141 98 14; 45 141 141 26 93 154 33 1; 13 221 128 93 136 136 200 18; 21; 50; 96 96 29 23 41 21 26 26 21 49 21; 22 26 41 45 166 45 50 45 93 141 166 202 28; 29 28 47 33; 40; 110 45 202 42 28 18; 24 49 47 33; 47 28 30

252

index of biblical sources

19 19:1–10 19:1–3 19:3–6 19:4 19:7 19:10 19:11 19:14 20:13 20:15 20:28 20:35–36 20:35 21 21:16 21:17–18 21:20–24 22 22:15 22:17 22:44

17; 27–32 28 47 28 29 30 29; 32; 134 31 29; 32; 134 18 9 18; 24 24 47 29 82 39 54 46; 47 46 46 134

II Kings 1 1:3 1:1–18 1:16 2:3 2:5 2:15 2:16 2:18 2:19–22 3 3:9–17 3:14–20 4 4:1–7 4:8–9 4:12 4:14 4:15 4:16 4:26 4:27 4:29 4:30 4:32 4:38–41 5 5:3 5:8 5:9

42; 47; 50 18 40 18 40 40 56 33 40 49 221 42 50 32 50 33 33; 36 34 33 36 35 35 41 34 49 42; 49 36; 41 36 33; 41 36

5:11 5:15 5:20–26 5:25–27 5:26 6 6:1–7 6:9–10 6:17–18 6:20 6:22 6:23 6:31 8 8:7–15 8:10 8:19 9:1–10 9:1–3 9:4–10 12:4 12:18 13:14–19 13:18–19 14:4 15:4 15:35 16:3 17:7–41 17:24–41 17:24–32 17:28 18–19 18:1–8 18:3–6 18:8 18:10 18:13 18:22 19:15–16 19:19–21 19:34 20:1–11 20:4 20:20 21:3–7 21:7 22:2 22:15 22:17 23:4–7 23:15 23:25 23:26

36 36 56 50 50 47 50 50 50 50 46 46 29; 57 201 42 46 141 52 46 46 134 229 24 46; 48 134 134 134 226 134 226 226 98 196 197 202 197 194 194 201 40 40 141; 202 43 43 141 226 202 202 139 177 202 98 202 177

index of biblical sources 24–32 24:3 24:20

226 177 177

Isaiah 1–33 1:18 2:1–4 2:2 2:12 2:14 4:2 4:5 5:506 6 7:1–25 7:4 7:17 9:1–6 9:5–6 9:5 9:6 10:5–15 10:20–21 10:24–28 11:1–10 11:11–16 11:11 11:12–13 11:13 11:15–16 16:5 19:16–25 20:1–6 27:1 27:13 28:21 36–37 36:4–10 36:7 37:35 40–55 40:12–14 40:21–22 40:28–31 40:28 41:8–9 41:17–19 41:18–19 41:18 43:1–3 43:16 44:24 45:7–8

100 87 208 101 110 110 101 101; 192 110 208 198 198 15 198 189 198 141 198 199 198 189; 208 198 199 199 197 100 141 100 45 173 199 183 196 196 196; 197; 201 141; 202 110; 210 113 113 113 113 228 231 113 139; 192 231 231 114 114

48:18 48:21 50:2 51:9–16 51:9–10

253

51:10 54:9 55:3 56–66 56:5 56:7 61:5–6 63:11–15

114 232 114; 231 231 111; 139; 173; 192 231 114 141 109 231 231 231 109

Jeremiah 1:11–14 2:2 3:1 3:3 7:25 11:4 12:5 13:12–17 14:1–9 15:3–4 15:10 16:14–15 17:19–27 17:24–25 22:1–4 22:16 23:5–6 23:7–8 24:6–7 24:10 30:8–9 30:9 31:1–22 31:30–32 31:33 33:2 33:14–16 33:20–22 34:13 41:4–5 48:13

45 107 104 110 108 108 17 45 110 110 29 199 128 189 189 31 107; 189 106 227 228 189 141 199 106 107 141 189 141 108 227 97

Ezekiel 4:1–12 4:13–17 5:1–9 5:10–12 11:15

45 45 45 45 227

254

index of biblical sources

12:9 12:17–28 33:23 33:25–26 33:27–29 34:23–24 37:15–28 37:24–25

45 45 227 226 226 189 199 189

6:4 7:15

130 105

Zephaniah 3:14–20

188

Haggai 2:4–5 2:6–9

115 188

Hosea 1:4 2:3–25 2:8 2:16–17 2:17 2:18 2:22 2:23–25 3:4–5 4:15 5:8 8:7 8:13 9:3 9:6 10:5–6 10:15 12:10

55 199 108 104 104; 107 104 108 199 189 97 97 110 104 104 110 97 97 104

Zechariah 1–8 1:8 2:10 6:15 8:8 8:13 8:23 9:9–10 9:13 13:9–10 14:9

228 187 228 228 228 228 232 189 199 199 199

Malachi 1:11 1:14

232 232

Psalms 1–41 3 7 18 18:7–16 29 29:8 30 34 42–72 42:7 46 48 51 52 54 56 57 60 61 61:7–8 63 63:10–12 65 66 66:1–6

209 190 190 190 112 115; 209 115 211 190 209 209 141 141 190 190 190 190 190 190 189 189 189; 190 189 212 211 121

Amos 1:8 2:10–11 2:10 3:1 3:3–8 3:3–4 3:14 4; 6–9 4:10 4:13 5:6 7:1–9 7:12–13 8:1–3 9:1–4 9:7 9:10 9:11–12

187 102 102; 129 102 96 96 96 110 102 110 110 45 96 45 45 102; 103; 192 103 189

Micah 2:12–13 5:1–4 5:1 6:4–5

189 199 174; 189 105

index of biblical sources 67 68 68:1–7 68:5 68:8–19 68:8–9 68:10 68:12 68:16–18 68:19 68:20–24 68:22 68:23 68:24 68:25 68:27–28 68:30–32 68:30 68:33 68:34–35 69:13 73 74–83 74:13–17 76 77:17–20 78 78:14 78:53 80 80:2 81 89 89:4 89:10–14 89:11 89:17 89:31–33 89:35–36 89:40 89:50 95 95:8 95:10 96 105 105:1–15 105:16 105:23–36 106 106:9–11 107 107:2 113:3

212 209–213 212 210 212 210 212 210; 212 210 210 212 210; 212 210 210 212 210 210 210; 213 210 212 209 211 209 112; 173 141 112 115; 121; 131 129 121 115; 209 115 115; 209 171; 174 173 112 173 172 172 172 172 172 209 116 116 139 115; 131 139 139 139 115; 131 121 115 209 232

255

114 114:1–3 132 132:6 132:7 132:8 132:9 132:10 132:11–14 132:17 133:3 135 136 142

110; 115; 209 121 174 174 174 212 174 141; 174 174 134 209 115; 131; 209 115; 131; 174; 209 190

Job 2:3 2:8 16:14

187 187 155

Ruth 2:10–13 4:3–6 4:11

86 86 174

Ecclesiastes

5

Ezra 2:68 3:2–3 4:2–3 6:19–22 8:15 9:10–12

229 230 230 195 230 229

Nehemiah 1:8–11 1:7–9 1:13 4:6 7:4–5 8:13–18 8:13 9 9:13 10:30 11:1–2 13:1–2

195 229 230 231 230 195 229 194 131 229 230 195; 229

I–II Chronicles I Chronicles 2:52 4:41–43 5:1–2

5 174 198; 206 220

256

index of biblical sources

7:23 13:1–14 13:12 14:18–20 15:11–17:43 16:8–36 16:8–20 17 17:4 17:5 17:6 17:12 17:13 17:21 21 21:1 21:2 22:1 22:5 22:5–6 22:7–8 22:11–17 23:24–26 24:32 25:1 26:29 28:11–19 28:29 29:6

171 142 155 230 142 139 139 142 160 161 167 162 147; 172 206; 229 230 177 179 168 193 168 142; 161 168 168 168 156 229 168 168 229

II Chronicles 3:1–2 3:1 5 5:5–10 5:10

2293:1 157; 175 201 206 206

6:5–6 6:8–9 6:11 6:39–40 7:22 9:7 15:1–7 20:10 21:12–15 28:12–15 29–32 29 29:2 29:3 29:11 29:12–36 29:24 29:25 29:30 30:1–6 30:6 30:8 30:10 30:11 30:18 30:25 30:26 31:1 32:20 32:24 34:9 34:21 34:33 35:3 35:18

206 142; 161 229 229 206; 229 33 221 229 221 206 197 200 202 195 33 200 207 208 208 200 200 200; 201 200; 207 200 200 208 207 201; 207 202 43 227 227 227 227 227

INDEX OF AUTHORS Aberbach 128 Ahituv 6 Abarbanel 23, 27, 31, 49, 103, 121, 127, 148 Abraham 129 Abramski 154, 185 Ahuviah 35 Albright 91, 166, 211 Alt 203, 225 Alter 66, 69, 85, 123 Amit 14, 33, 54, 74, 85, 214 Anbar 7, 129, 130 Auerbach 52 Auld 5, 156 Avigad 201 Avishur 112, 209 Bartor 76 Barthelemy 167 Baumgartner 91 Ben Barak 83 Ben-Dor 89, 178–9 Bleek 146–7 Bloch 185 Bloom 60 Brichto 29, 128, 154 Bright 106 Brin 127, 170 Bronner 38, 42 Broshi 178, 201 Brueggemann 171 Buber 153, 198 Budde 143, 176 Buttenwieser 211 Campbell 178 Carlson 147, 151, 166, 169 Carrol 40 Cassuto 120, 122, 127, 216 Cazzelles 199 Cllements O. 149 Clements R.E. 128 Coats 59, 121, 123, 124, 127 Cohen 77, 83, 117 Cogan 6, 202, 226 Cross 194 Davenport Day 122

128

Deurloo 222 Dor 231 Douglas 39 Eichrodt 110, 156 Eissfeldt 137, 164 Fass 47 Fenton 6, 39, 112, 173 Fiedler 93, 182 Firth 46 Fisher 111 Fokkelman 85, 86 Frankfort 170 Fretheim 150 Gal 225 Galil 132, 197 Galling 100, 177 Garsiel 80, 222 Gelander 25, 42, 44, 51, 60, 65, 82, 109, 110, 163, 180, 182 Gese 166 Ginsberg 128, 203 Gray 46, 53 Greenberg 50 Greenstein 80, 121 Gressmann 147, 164 Hallo 52 Haran 4, 5, 19, 51, 128, 137, 164, 201, 202, 223 Hendel 120 Hermann 179, 203 Hoffmann 99, 100, 101, 105, 106, 109, 112, 128, 130, 133, 134, 135, 136, 138, 194, 195, 206 Holstein 21 Humphreys 215 Japhet 11, 100, 130, 140, 173, 177, 179, 192, 227, 228, 231 Jeremias 150, 151 Johnson A.R. 177 Johnson W. 135 Kalimi 43, 172 Kallai 178, 198 Kaumann 105, 112, 137, 148, 149, 169

258

index of authors

Keinänen 28 Kittel 147, 164 Knight 92 Knoppers 2, 14, 142, 177, 207, 229, 230 Kuenen 5 Kuhl 29 Levine 3, 5, 6, 154 Levy 7 Licht 61, 64, 127, 142, 176, 193 Linville 8, 10, 13, 14, 54, 138, 167, 202, 207, 221 Liverani 7 Lods 196 Lohfink 170, 207 Long 34, 35 Löwenstamm 100, 121, 163 178, 217, 218 Löwenthal 217 Lotz 147 Lust 32 Luzatto 101 Mabee 76 Malamat 3, 50 Malkiel 148 Malul 29, 79, 154, 163 Mazar A. 5, 6 Mazar B. 186, 187 McCarter 145, 147, 163, 164, 169, 178 McCarthy 109, 111, 132, 151, 159, 164, 177 Mendenhall 178–9 Mettinger 165 Meyerhof 66 Milgrom 150, 163, 179 Morenz 171 Müller 66 Myers 179 Na’aman 3, 5, 11, 14, 178, 186, 201, 213 Neher 156 Nicholson 131 Noegel 86 Noth 4, 100, 124, 127, 149, 150, 164, 179 Oded 6, 10, 194, 197, 206, 225, 226 Ollenburger 141, 214 Orlinski 118 Otto 144

Pa’ran 135 Parrot 86 Paul 86, 96 Pritchard 186, 187 Prowan 51, 194, 208 Rabin 186 Rad von 14, 95, 100, 110, 130, 131, 137, 150, 163, 164, 171, 177, 178 Raney 169 Redford 215 Reiss 44 Reviv 14, 145, 179, 185 Richter 166 Robinson 27 Rofé 3, 19, 21, 23, 24, 26, 35, 36, 42, 44, 47, 48, 49, 104, 135, 137, 176, 180, 204, 209, 214 Rogerson 92 Roland 141 Rösel 6, 11, 12, 19, 40, 51, 96, 102 Rost 164, 168 Rudman 49 Rudolph 194 Ruprecht 164 Sagi 23 Sasson G. 222 Sasson J.M. 128 Schatz 82 Seeligmann 5, 79, 84, 87, 124, 162 Seters van 5, 6, 117, 207 Shirun-Gronach 119 Shupak 6, 215, 219 Sievers 164 Simon 19, 21, 23, 26, 28, 30, 31, 33, 34, 35, 47, 115 Smelik 196 Smend 151 Smith 172 Soggin 137, 166 Speiser 82, 83 Spero 61 Spieckermann 226 Steuernagel 147 Talmon 162, 185 Thenius 176 Thompson P.E.S. 111 Thompson T.L. 5 Tiktin 164 Tsumura 111

index of authors Uffenheimer 119, 132

32, 42, 49, 60, 94, 112,

Waldman 32 Ward 145 Weinfeld 25, 29, 51, 56, 77, 79, 81, 82, 84, 87, 113, 132, 135, 154, 162, 165, 170, 187, 194, 199, 203, 204, 205, 222, 231, 232 Weiser 101, 106, 134, 164 Weisman 28, 54, 55, 57, 59, 72, 89, 90, 94, 128, 166, 208 Weiss 73 Wellhausen 5, 11, 14, 137 Westermann 109

259

Wette de 19 Whitelam 5 Wildberger 101 Whybray 60 Williamson 229, 230 Winkle van 25 Wolfensohn 14, 128 Yaron 86 Younger 225 Zakovitch 27, 30, 32, 35, 36, 56, 127, 132, 188, 189, 214 Zakovitch & Shinan 219