Josiah's Reform and the Dynamics of Defilement: Israelite Rites of Violence and the Making of a Biblical Text

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Josiah’s Reform and the Dynamics of Defilement

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Josiah’s Reform and the Dynamics of Defilement Israelite Rites of Violence and the Making of a Biblical Text

lauren a.s. monroe

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Oxford University Press, Inc., publishes works that further Oxford University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education. Oxford New York Auckland Cape Town Dar es Salaam Hong Kong Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Nairobi New Delhi Shanghai Taipei Toronto With offices in Argentina Austria Brazil Chile Czech Republic France Greece Guatemala Hungary Italy Japan Poland Portugal Singapore South Korea Switzerland Thailand Turkey Ukraine Vietnam

Copyright © 2011 by Oxford University Press, Inc. Published by Oxford University Press, Inc. 198 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 www.oup.com Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Monroe, Lauren A. S. Josiah’s reform and the dynamics of defilement : Israelite rites of violence and the making of a biblical text / Lauren A. S. Monroe. p. cm. ISBN 978-0-19-977416-6 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Josiah, King of Judah. 2. Bible. O.T. Kings, 2nd, XXII-XXIII—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 3. Bible. O.T. Leviticus XVII-XXVI. 4. Jews—History—To 586 B.C.—Historiography. 5. Deuteronomistic history (Biblical criticism) 6. Violence in the Bible. I. Title. BS580.J75M66 2011 222'.54066—dc22 2010029059

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

In memory of my father, Stuart Shedletsky, who taught me to see


Contents

Acknowledgments, ix Abbreviations, xi 1. Destructive Rituals and the Creative Process: The Dynamics of Defilement in 2 Kings 22–23, 3 2. Priestly Rites of Elimination and the Holiness Core of 2 Kings 23:4–20, 23 3. Ḥērem Ideology and the Politics of Destruction: Josiah’s Reform in Deuteronomistic Perspective, 45 4. The Mechanics of Transformation: The Holiness Substratum and Deuteronomistic Revision of 2 Kings 23:4–20, 77 5. Literary, Historiographic, and Historical Implications, 121 Notes, 139 Bibliography, 169 Index, 199


Acknowledgments

This book began as a paper on the ritual language of Josiah’s reform for a graduate seminar on the book of Deuteronomy with Baruch Levine in the fall of 1998. That paper became the basis for my 2004 New York University doctoral dissertation, entitled “Josiah’s Reform and the Dynamics of Defilement: A Phenomenological Approach to 2 Kings 23.” Over the past six years the project has continued to evolve in significant and unexpected ways. It has greatly benefited from sustained conversations with close colleagues, as well as from feedback on conference papers from an array of scholars. It is impossible to acknowledge here all of those whose input and observations over the years have lent shape to this work and influenced my thinking on the various issues this book engages. I was supremely fortunate that my dissertation-writing years at NYU coincided with Baruch Levine’s last years before retirement, Mark Smith’s first years in the Skirball department, and the constancy of Daniel Fleming’s supervision. Working with these three scholars as my committee was a rare gift, as intellectually rewarding as it was humbling. In shepherding the project from dissertation to book I have continued to benefit from Mark Smith’s expertise in Israelite religion, his rigorous questions and critique, and his kind and genuine concern for the success of his students. To Dan Fleming I owe a debt of gratitude too great to express.

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acknowledgments

Whatever quality inheres in my work is due largely to the rigors of his training and his selfless devotion of time and energy. I have learned from him many of the technical aspects of biblical criticism, but more significantly, our countless conversations have expanded and deepened my sense of the dynamic nexus between textual production and ancient Israelite social history that lends essential shape to this project. Beyond his roles as adviser and colleague, he has become an uncommon friend. Special thanks are also due to Bernard Levinson, who saw enough promise in my work to support making me his colleague at the University of Minnesota upon my completion of the PhD. This book has benefited greatly from the collegial spirit of his skeptical critique. His meticulous and accessible scholarship provides a model toward which this book can only strive. Thanks also go to Peter Machinist for reading and responding to an earlier draft of the manuscript and to Marc Brettler for his detailed and considered response to a more recent version. In addition I am grateful to my colleagues in the Near Eastern Studies department at Cornell University for providing a rich and stimulating intellectual environment, and in particular to Kim HainesEitzen for her encouragement and support of this project over the course of the past four years. I also thank my graduate student Dustin Nash who provided both fastidious editorial assistance and a receptive audience for some of the ideas this book sets forth. Any errors are of course entirely my own. I am ever grateful for my family: my mother, Judith, and my sister, Emily, who cheer me on and forgive my occasional excessive absorption in my own world; and my in-laws Jim, Linda, Jon, Polly, and Nathan Monroe, who have become my family. Their warm homes and comfortable work spaces on the Maine coast provided a place in which much of this book finally came to be. Finally, my husband, colleague, and fellow adventurer, Chris, suffered the vicissitudes of the writing process with me and gives my life the sense of balance that made this book possible.

Abbreviations

KTU

RES

The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani and Other Places. 2nd edition. Edited by M. Dietrich, O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín. Münster, Germany: Ugarit-Verlag, 1995. Répertoire d’épigraphie sémitique. Publié par la commission du Corpus Inscriptiorum Semiticarum 6. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1935.


Josiah’s Reform and the Dynamics of Defilement


1 Destructive Rituals and the Creative Process The Dynamics of Defilement in 2 Kings 22–23

Second Kgs 22–23 tell a story of how the Judean king Josiah (c. 639–609 B.C.E.), discovered a lost “scroll of the law” (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ) during a routine renovation of the Jerusalem temple. Hilkiah the high priest finds the scroll and gives it to Shaphan the scribe, who reads it aloud to Josiah. Upon hearing its contents, the king tears his clothes and exclaims, “Great is the wrath of the Lord that is kindled against us, for our fathers did not heed the words of this scroll, to act according to all that is written concerning us!” (22:13). In a desperate attempt to protect his people from divine wrath and certain ruin, Josiah undertakes a massive reform of Israelite religion; he utterly destroys the cult places and installations where his own people worshiped and eliminates their priests, purifying and, many would argue, centralizing Israelite worship at the Jerusalem temple. The authors of 2 Kgs 23 portray Josiah’s reign as a pivotal moment in the development of monotheistic Judaism and Josiah himself as an agent of what Assmann provocatively refers to as the “Mosaic Distinction.” Assmann explains: The space that was “severed or cloven” by this distinction was not simply the space of religion in general, but that of a very specific kind of religion . . . that rejects and repudiates everything that went before and what is outside itself as “paganism.” It no longer functioned as a means of intercultural

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josiah’s reform and the dynamics of defilement

translation; on the contrary, it functioned as a means of intercultural estrangement. Whereas polytheism, or rather “cosmotheism,” rendered different cultures mutually transparent and compatible, the new counter-religion blocked intercultural translatability. False gods can not be translated.1 Josiah’s destruction of sanctuaries, altars, and divine representations quite literally cleaved the space in which the Mosaic distinction could be drawn. Like the Taliban’s destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas in March 2001, Josiah’s rites of violence served to rid the land of what Mullah Mohammad Omar referred to as “the gods of the infidels.”2 Scholars generally agree that the account of Josiah’s reform bears the telltale signs of composition from multiple sources. The particular interests of this text, coupled with its complex literary history, offer an opportunity to observe some of the ways in which the biblical authors continuously redefined the boundaries of Israelite culture by reshaping narrative. The vocabularies of violence implemented and manipulated by the authors of 2 Kgs 22–23 cast light on the history of this text’s composition and on the essential role that traditions of sanctified violence played in the enterprise of narrativizing emergent Israelite identity. Two interrelated processes are implicated: the reification of ritual violence in recollecting the emergence of ancient Israel both as a people in the land and as a political state, and the sanctioning of Israel’s memory of its own religious and cultural identity through narratives that portray rites of violence.3 As in our own time, in ancient Israel acts of religious violence, whether performed by pen or by sword, were essential in shaping collective consciousness and establishing community.4 How the authors of 2 Kgs 22–23 variously engaged such traditions in recounting the events of Israel’s past reveals their perspectives on how they wanted the Israelites to relate to one another, to their neighbors, and to their God. The layered composition of 2 Kgs 23 provides a window on these shifting social and theological trends. Simply put, how the story of Josiah’s reform is told reveals important information about who its storytellers were. Similarities between Josiah’s reform measures and Deuteronomy’s instructions for purging local religion from the land of Canaan (e.g., Deut 12:2–6), the alleged interest in centralization of worship expressed in both texts, and other shared linguistic and thematic similarities have led modern biblical scholars since the time of de Wette, as well as premodern interpreters, to identify Josiah’s lost book of the law with an early version of Deuteronomy.5 On this basis, Josiah’s reign has become a terminus ad quem for the introduction of Deuteronomic law in the

destructive rituals and the creative process

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southern kingdom of Judah, and 2 Kgs 22–23 has become a linchpin for judging the date and setting of many other biblical texts. As Römer comments, these may be the most widely discussed chapters in the Deuteronomistic History, that is, the history contained in the books of Deuteronomy through 2 Kings.6 Despite widespread acceptance of a connection between Deuteronomy and the Josianic reforms, certain significant literary and sociohistorical problems linger. For example, in 2 Kgs 23:4–20, which details the reform measures themselves, much of the language is without Deuteronom(ist)ic parallel. This is unexpected if indeed the purpose of the reform was to implement Deuteronomy’s iconoclastic policies. Additionally puzzling is the absence of reference to Deuteronomy’s centralization formula “the place that Yahweh chooses” ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʯʫʹʬ, (“to place his name”). Neither this Deuteronomic expression nor either of its deuteronomistic reflexes—ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʭʥʹʬ (“to place his name there”) and ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʺʥʩʤʬ (“his name to be there”)—occurs as part of an explanation for Josiah’s reform measures.7 Modern scholars tend to see the implementation of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization as Josiah’s primary purpose, but the absence of such language raises questions about whether biblical authors saw it this way. Essential differences between Josiah’s reform measures and the language, diction, and ideology of Deuteronomy leads a significant number of scholars to question the presumed connection between Deuteronomy and Josiah’s reform.8 Some try to account for the differences by seeking authority for the reform and/or its description in texts outside of the Deuteronom(ist)ic corpus, but none arrive at a satisfactory solution. Despite considerable doubt, a connection between the reform and Deuteronomy remains entrenched in the scholarly imagination and has become a foundation for the analysis of other texts and critical issues.9 Knoppers observes that “critics have largely duplicated how the Deuteronomist wanted Josiah’s actions to be understood.”10 The tendency has been to privilege the text’s deuteronomistic imprimatur, allowing it to dictate, and inadvertently to limit, the types of questions that can be asked of the text and the intellectual frameworks available for answering them. The present work approaches the text from a new vantage point, focusing first on the ritual and cultic dimensions of the reform measures described in the so-called reform report.11 Josiah’s actions serve to render cult places and installations forbidden points of divine access by imposing a “skulland-crossbones” of sorts, a warning of danger or of poison cultically construed. The spontaneity of Josiah’s responses, the transformative aspect of the reform, and the specificity and repetitiveness of the language used to describe it suggest that the authors conceived of this effort in ritual

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terms. The text’s particular vocabularies of violence ask its readers to consider the narrative in light of the ritual dynamics it invokes, but these have received virtually no scrutiny in the sea of scholarship that the reform account has generated. By attending to the specific acts of defilement attributed to Josiah in the Kings account as they resonate within the larger framework of Israelite ritual, it becomes clear that much of the language of the text and some of its fundamental interests have their closest parallels not in Deuteronomy, but in the priestly legal corpus known as the “Holiness Code” or “Holiness Legislation” (Lev 17–26), as well as in other priestly texts that describe the ritual elimination of impurity.12 I argue that these priestly holiness elements reflect an early literary substratum that was generated close in time to the reign of Josiah, from within the same priestly circles that produced the Holiness Code. The holiness composition was reshaped in the hands of a post-Josianic, exilic, or postexilic deuteronomistic historian who transformed his source material to suit ideological and theological interests that were a product of his postmonarchic vantage point. The account of Josiah’s reform is thus imprinted with the cultural and religious attitudes of two different sets of authors. Teasing these apart reveals a dialogue on sacred space, sanctified violence, and the nature of Israelite religion that was formative in the development not only of 2 Kgs 23, but of the historical books of the Bible more broadly. Some brief comments on terminology are required before we proceed. Throughout this book I use the terms “deuteronomistic” and “holiness” with lowercase “d” and “h.” I use these terms in the adjectival sense, to communicate a style of writing and a set of interests that are otherwise attested only in the core legal material in the book of Deuteronomy (Deut 12–26) and in the Holiness Code (Lev 17–26), respectively. Exceptions to this lowercase style occur in the context of direct citation of other scholars’ work, in more general discussions of previous scholarship, and in the designation “Deuteronom(ist)ic,” which I find to be a convenient way of referring to characteristics attested both in core Deuteronomy and in deuteronomistic texts. The system I employ is in defiance of convention, which prefers the uppercase. By using the lowercase I seek to avoid fixed source-critical categories, which can be too restrictive to capture the complex realities of textual composition and transmission. The term “deuteronomistic” thus is applied more narrowly here than is the norm in biblical scholarship, as a word or phrase’s attestation in a context that scholars have identified as Deuteronomistic (e.g., in the book of Kings) will not necessarily warrant its attribution as such here. An element will be considered deuteronomistic only if a


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parallel can be found in core Deuteronomy. This conservative approach provides a check against circular reasoning and allows us to meet the text on its own terms, unmoored from scholarly expectations of Deuteronomism. In this way I hope to treat the text as a ceramic vessel unearthed from ancient ground, whose fabric and wash convey the signatures of artisans whose handiwork is easily overlooked. In addition, I avoid reference to the “Deuteronomist” and the “Deuteronomistic History” wherever possible. Implicit in these proper nouns is an acceptance of Noth’s foundational assertion that the books of Deuteronomy through 2 Kings constitute a continuous historiographic work by a single author or, in later elaborations of the theory, that such a work was revised one or multiple times by secondary Deuteronomistic redactors. As heuristically useful as this model has been, recent scholarship has begun to call into question the notion that these books constitute a history composed of whole cloth, by drawing attention to distinctive traits in the various books that argue for treating each on its own compositional terms, even while acknowledging that the books were at some point woven together to give the impression of a coherent, linear history.13 I do not take on the question of the viability of the Deuteronomistic History here, and so I have chosen language and an approach that accommodates my agnosticism on this issue. Finally, I often employ the term “postmonarchic” in lieu of differentiating between exilic and postexilic literature. My use of this term reflects an interest in the way authors and editors working after the collapse of the Judahite monarchy grappled with traditions that originated in and served the agenda of the Davidic monarchy. The account of Josiah’s reform, indeed the entire Kings history, took its final shape in an era without kings. By using the term “postmonarchic” I seek to emphasize this rupture and its effect on the biblical authors’ re-presentation of the past.

A Ritual Approach to 2 Kings 23 In its final form, the account of Josiah’s reform was an essential element in the process of institutionalizing a theological shift, a shift that the biblical authors credit to Josiah. Through their portrayal of Josiah’s destruction of the sacred places where Israel traditionally worshiped, the text’s authors sought to assert a new doctrine of a singular, imageless God who ruled on earth through his chosen priests’ steadfast guardianship of his law. The aniconic thrust of this theology demanded the utter destruction of Israel’s divine images, if not in reality, then in the

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telling. The utterly physical enactments that comprise the reform were part of a familiar ritual “language” through which Josiah and the text’s authors could perpetrate the acts of violence necessary to establish Israel as a nation apart. Ritual acts that involve destruction or defilement engage certain beliefs regarding suppression of the dangerous forces of the universe and preservation of the natural order of the cosmos that, in the case of Israel, was believed to be imposed by Yahweh. To maintain order it was necessary to eliminate impurity, conceived of as “the actualized form of evil forces operative in the human environment.”14 Israelite destructive rituals thus implicitly acknowledged the existence of harm as a substantive force that could act independently of Yahweh. As such they were rooted in attitudes that were antithetical to the monotheizing interests of the late biblical authors. At the same time, such rituals were essential to the authors’ program of eliminating from the Israelite cult what they deemed to be non-Yahwistic elements. This ambivalence may account in part for the absence of critical details regarding the performance of such rituals from the biblical text.15 For most biblical authors, in any case, providing accurate descriptions of Israelite ritual was not a primary interest. A necessary dependence upon the written word, a form of expression that in its essence is antithetical to the nature of ritual experience, is an impediment to any study of Israelite ritual. Bell, citing Lévi-Strauss, comments: “What is distinctive about ritual is not what it says or symbolizes, but that first and foremost it does things: ritual is always a matter of ‘the performance of gestures and the manipulation of objects.’ Hence, ritualization is simultaneously the avoidance of explicit speech and narrative.”16 This study works from the assumption that the authors of 2 Kgs 23 deliberately invoked familiar Israelite ritual and cultic motifs in order to portray Josiah and his reform in accordance with the specific ideals they sought to promote.17 My interest lies not in how the account of Josiah’s reform illuminates the performance and experience of actual defilement rites in ancient Israel, but rather in how the biblical authors engaged and manipulated this body of ritual language to suit their particular narrative interests. Wright’s work on ritual dynamics in the Ugaritic Tale of Aqhat provides an important precedent for this kind of investigation. In contrast to “externally oriented” approaches, Wright “looks at ritual within a story’s context to see how it contributes to the development of the story, advances the plot, forges major and minor climaxes, structures and periodicizes the story and operates to enhance the portrayal of characters.”18 As Bibb observes, while the narratives that Wright analyzes do not necessarily correspond with any external ritual


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reality, his approach communicates important aspects of the ritual world in which the Tale of Aqhat was produced, by exposing the views and attitudes of people at the time in which the text was written.19 It is just such views and attitudes that the present study seeks to illuminate in its emphasis on ritual language in the account of Josiah’s reform. In so doing it offers a new perspective on this text’s authorship and evolution as well as its place within the larger Kings history.

Ritual Language in 2 Kings 22–23 as a Window on the Text’s Composition The language of defilement used in the account of Josiah’s reform falls into two distinct categories: apotropaic rites of riddance, and ḥērem, a form of consecration to a patron deity.20 Each of these represents a distinct framework for conceptualizing ritualized destruction.21 Apotropaic ritual is attested frequently in Leviticus and Numbers, where it is a prescribed method of averting divine wrath or harm caused by contact with dangerous or contaminating substances, for example, leprosy (Lev 14:45–52) and corpse contamination (Num 19:2–10). Levine explains that apotropaic rituals served to eliminate destructive or demonic forces identified as the source of impurity and viewed as an offense to the deity. Apotropaic and prophylactic magic thus figures in the enterprise of cleansing or purifying cultic persons, objects, buildings, sacred cities, and sacrificial materials in order to render them fit for cultic use.22 Texts that describe such rites employ a particular set of terms of violation that includes but is not limited to ʠʮʨ (“to defile”), ʳʸʹ (“to burn”), ʸʴʲʬ ʷʷʣ (“to beat to dust”), and ʪʩʬʹʤ (“to cast”). This language appears repeatedly in the account of Josiah’s reform and suggests that this category of ritual was essential to the process of purifying and centralizing the Israelite cult, as conceived by the text’s authors. The rite of ḥērem, by contrast, appears most frequently in Deuteronom(ist)ic texts, where it refers to the destruction and consecration to Yahweh of enemy populations and land. Use of ḥērem as a means of delimiting the physical and cultural boundaries between Israelite and “other” is a hallmark of Deuteronomy’s ideology of Israelite exceptionalism, according to which Yahweh chose the Israelites from among all of the nations and granted them the land of Canaan on the condition that they uphold his covenant with Moses. Destruction through imposition of the ḥērem demonstrates the Israelites’ commitment to Yahweh’s law and serves as an assertion of their rightful occupancy of the land that he promised. It is an affirmation of the tripartite

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relationship between people, land, and God, the integrity of which is essential to the Israelites’ survival. Descriptions of the ḥērem often refer to the slaying of the enemy “by the sword” (ʡʸʧ ʩʴʬ) and the complete eradication of population. In Deut 7:5 as part of the ḥērem against the Canaanites, the Israelites are to “tear down their altars” (ʥʶʺʺ ʭʤʩʺʧʡʦʮ), “smash their standing stones” (ʥʸʡʹʺ ʭʺʡʶʮ), “cut down their sacred poles” (ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʸʩʹʠ), and “burn their sacred images” (ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʤʩʬʩʱʴ ʹʠʡ). The description of Josiah’s reform in 2 Kgs 23 attests much of the same language, suggesting a literary connection between 2 Kgs 23 and Deuteronomy’s ḥērem texts. On the most basic level, parallels between Josiah’s reform and ḥērem manifest themselves linguistically and syntactically, but these signify shared theoretical and ideological underpinnings that are essential to understanding the purpose of the reform described and the interests of the authors responsible for the final composition of the text. The Deuteronom(ist)ic ḥērem draws on and elaborates upon usage of the term in the tribal, political context of early state formation and invokes the ḥērem in the context of combating cultural contamination whose sources are external.23 Deuteronomy’s call for the ḥērem against Israelite idolatry (13:13–16) is no exception, as the text first identifies such practices as inherently non-Israelite: “If you hear in one of your towns that Yahweh your God is giving you to dwell there, that troublemakers have entered your midst, and have led the inhabitants of your town astray, saying ‘let us go and serve other gods whom you have not known . . . you must smite the inhabitants of the town by the sword of the ḥērem.” Deuteronomy treats the Israelite idolater as the enemy or “other” within. Similarly, 2 Kgs 23 does not explicitly identify as “Canaanite” the items Josiah is credited with eradicating; but by echoing Deuteronomy’s ḥērem language the deuteronomistic author draws a subtle connection between these rejected forms of Israelite worship and the practices of the peoples whom Israel displaced. In this way Josiah follows in the footsteps of the great ḥērem warrior Joshua, playing an equally essential role in establishing the boundaries of Israelite territorial and collective identity. In contrast to the Deuteronom(ist)ic war-ḥērem whose targets are conceived of as external to the Israelite body politic, the apotropaic rites found in priestly literature are often employed by the priest to eradicate sources of contamination that come from within the Israelite community. Despite this difference and the different textual environments in which apotropaic ritual and ḥērem tend to occur, they emerge from common anxieties regarding the integrity and sanctity of the Israelite community. Yet the account of Josiah’s reform is the only instance in the Bible in


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which these two modes of elimination are so thoroughly intertwined, a detail that suggests that, compositionally, something unique is at play. In the text’s final form, the use of language associated with both types of ritual has the effect of casting Josiah as the embodiment of both a military and priestly ideal, a presentation that is well suited to the postmonarchic setting in which this deuteronomistic author worked. While apotropaic ritual language employed in the reform account reflects deeply entrenched notions of purity and taboo that Israel’s priests were both heir to and guardians of, there is nothing distinctively Israelite about such concerns, even as these particular received formulations were preserved through Israelite channels. Ritual texts from throughout the ancient Near East attest similar anxieties expressed in local terms.24 The presence of this body of ritual language betrays the text’s general priestly orientation, but it tells us nothing of which priests were involved in its composition. Language and themes in 2 Kgs 23 that are otherwise attested only in the Holiness Code lend greater specificity to this priestly attribution and tie the reform account to a particular Jerusalem-centered ideology. Such details in the text include a particular use of the verb ʠʮʨ (“to defile”) in the piʿel to signify desecration of sacred precincts (e.g., Lev 18:27–28; 20:3); an emphasis on bāmôt and their eradication as punishment for transgression (26:30); and elimination of the cult of mlk, identified by name (20:1–6). Parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code reflect evolving programmatic interests related to the control of Israelite behavior and the definition of a distinctively Israelite sacred community that the Holiness Code sought to establish.25 The linguistic and thematic elements that 2 Kgs 23 shares with the Holiness Code are not sufficiently precise to point to common authorship, nor is it likely that 2 Kgs 23 was written with the Holiness Code itself in mind. Rather, the language and outlook that these two texts share point to origins in a similar literary and social milieu. The presence of holiness themes in 2 Kgs 23, without clear literary dependence on the Holiness Code, suggests the possibility of a holiness school of thought more diverse in its interests and engagement in textual production than the Holiness Code alone might suggest. It is worthwhile to consider the possibility that priestly language in the reform account is the product of post-deuteronomistic editing by a late priestly writer. After all, it is widely recognized that much of the Bible took its final shape in the hands of priests of the Persian period.26 Scholars have identified late Priestly editing in the book of Kings in the description of Solomon’s installation of the ark and temple dedication ceremony in 1 Kgs 8,27 as well as in 12:32–33, where the reference to

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Jeroboam’s establishment of a festival on the fifteenth day of the eighth month is likely associated with the date of Succoth on the fifteenth day of the seventh month in Lev 23:34.28 Van Seters argues, with Hoffmann, that the system of collecting funds in the account of Josiah’s temple repairs in 2 Kgs 22:3–9 and references to the “high priest” and other temple personnel suggest a close association with the Priestly source of the Pentateuch and the period of the Second Temple.29 While the possibility of post-deuteronomistic Priestly editing is not to be dismissed altogether in the account of Josiah’s reign, such an explanation fails to account for priestly ritual elements deeply entrenched in the reform narrative itself, in 23:4–20, that are essential to the efficacy of the reform. These appear to have been revised and transformed by a deuteronomistic author whose editorial modus operandi is often transparent. It is also possible that a deuteronomistic author deliberately employed language associated with priestly elimination rites to dress this singular moment in Israel’s history in the guise of priestly authority. But this explanation rests on an assumption that the present study seeks to move beyond, namely, that because 2 Kgs 23 belongs to the so-called Deuteronomistic History, the Deuteronomist must be responsible for its content. Let us consider instead that this and other long-noted inconsistencies between 2 Kgs 23 and the diction and ideology of Deuteronomy reflect non-deuteronomistic, indeed quintessentially priestly, interests embedded in the text. The relationship I posit between the priestly source material in 2 Kgs 23 and its deuteronomistic recasting may be understood in terms similar to those articulated by Levinson in his work on Deuteronomy’s revision of the Covenant Code (Exod 20:22–23:33): [Deuteronomy] was the composition of authors who consciously reused and reinterpreted earlier texts to propound and justify their program of cultic and legal reform, even—or particularly—when those texts conflicted with the authors’ agenda. Previous scholarship has not fully recognized, let alone conceptualized, the centrality of this hermeneutical question to Deuteronomy’s authors, nor the extent to which, once recognized, it helps to explain a number of long-standing problems that have otherwise resisted solution.30 Levinson’s description of the way the authors of the legal material in Deuteronomy positioned themselves vis-à-vis their source material, as well as his assessment of the state of affairs within scholarship, could profitably be applied to the account of Josiah’s reform in 2 Kgs 23.31 By reworking and relying upon priestly material in formulating his account,


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the deuteronomistic historian established his reformed version of Israelite religion on the foundation of traditions already in place. He thus lent legitimacy not only to his own innovation but also to the traditions of the Jerusalem temple priesthood, whose exclusive sacred authority he sought to assert. Recognizing the existence of a holiness substratum in the account of reform, and the mechanisms by which this composition was revised, resolves a number of historical and textcritical problems that have confounded scholars for decades. The idea of a deuteronomistic author who composed his narrative from preexistent sources is hardly a new idea. It has been long recognized that the book of Deuteronomy was composed in multiple stages around an older core legal code. The conquest accounts in Joshua are understood by many to contain earlier traditions that were transformed in the hands of a deuteronomistic author.32 The book of Judges is likely to have evolved out of an earlier cycle of Israelite “savior narratives” that was revised in the service of deuteronomistic ideology.33 The deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform itself is widely understood to have been molded around an earlier report, as I discuss below. The deuteronomistic propensity for revision of preexistent written traditions is well established; but the idea of a holiness substratum in the reform account is entirely new. The existence of a pre-deuteronomistic holiness substratum in 2 Kgs 23 severs any direct ties between this text in its earliest form and the book of Deuteronomy. It thus precludes the use of the Kings account as a basis for arguing a late-seventh-century date for both the appearance of Deuteronomy in Judah and for the activity of a deuteronomistic school responsible for writing and compiling the edition of the kings history of which 2 Kgs 23 is a part. In addition, the content of this early account presents a more limited picture of the possible scope and extent of a historical reform than scholars have tended to recognize. It is apparent in my reconstruction of the compositional history of 23:4–20 in chapter 4 that the initial holiness account focused primarily on the eradication of bāmôt (“high places”) around Jerusalem and in Bethel in specifically priestly terms. This version reflects decidedly preexilic, indeed Josianic, concerns. Its purpose was to delegitimize particular shrines whose operation posed a threat to Josiah’s control over the cultic affairs of the kingdom. It does not appear to have been written in the service of an ideology of centralization; however, the holiness author is likely to have been aware of, and possibly influenced by, a growing interest in centralization among the religious and political elite of seventh-century Jerusalem. Furthermore, when the deuteronomistic additions to the holiness account are isolated, it becomes clear that for this

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postmonarchic author, Josiah’s exceptionalism lay not in is implementation of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization, as biblical scholarship tends to assume, but rather in his adherence to Deuteronomy’s ideal of a limited kingship. While these two ideas are not mutually exclusive, they resonated differently in the postmonarchic, deuteronomistic imagination. Thus deconstructed, the account of Josiah’s reform provides entrée to a more multifaceted understanding of deuteronomistic implementation of Deuteronomic law and also reveals some of the interests of the preexilic “holiness school” and the duration and scope of its literary activity. In addition, examination of the textual strata in 2 Kgs 23 allows us to see how the deuteronomistic and holiness schools manipulated and engaged differently the details of Josiah’s violent reform and reveals some of the ways in which these two Jerusalem-centered schools participated together in the process of narrativizing ancient Israel.

Approaches to the Problem of Composition in 2 Kings 22–23 The idea that 2 Kgs 23:4–20 reflects an originally independent literary unit was first proposed by Oestreicher, who suggests that these chapters were composed of an Auffindungsgeschichte (“history of discovery”) in 22:3–23:3 and a Reformbericht (“reform report”) in 23:4–14, which differed from each other with regard to narrative style.34 The former, he suggests, is characterized by elaborate narrative, while the latter is made up of short episodic events. Oestreicher concludes from this difference that the compiler of the book of Kings crafted the account from two separate sources to which he added 22:1–2 and 23:25–30 as a frame.35 These designations have had considerable influence on subsequent scholarship, albeit with varying degrees of modification. Certain structural features in 23:4–20 are identified as particularly suggestive of redactional activity. For example, many scholars regard the awkward redundancy of the particle ʭʢ (“also”) in 23:15 as evidence of a redactional seam, although there is disagreement over the parameters of the interpolation it signifies.36 In addition the seven nonconverted vav + perfect verb forms that appear throughout these verses may be a product of secondary development.37 Barrick draws attention to the chiastic structure of 23:4–20, as well as to the framing effect of the phrase ʪʬʮʤ ʥʶʩʥ (“the king commanded”) in 23:4 and 23:21, which suggest that the intervening verses represent a literary unit.38 In addition, scholars have long noted certain thematic inconsistencies between


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22:3–23:3, 21–25, and 23:4–20 that point to these units as separate literary strata. These tensions may be summarized as follows: 1. The focal point of 22:8–23:3 is the book of the law discovered in the temple. There is no mention of this book in 23:4–20. On the contrary, 23:17 seems to indicate that Josiah’s actions, at least against Bethel, were predicted not by the book of the law but rather “by the man of God who foretold these things” (cf. 1 Kgs 13). 2. Second Kgs 23:1–3 and 23:21–23 attribute to Josiah the renewal of the covenant and the performance of the Passover. These verses document formal, public affirmations of Israel’s exclusive relationship with Yahweh and easily read together as a single narrative unit. In both 23:1–3 and 23:21–23 Josiah gathers all of the people (ʭʲʤ ʬʫ) together, and in both it is made explicit that he is acting in the service of the book discovered in the temple. The book is characterized in 23:1, 21 as ʺʩʸʡʤ ʸʴʱ (“the book of the covenant”), not ʤʸʥʺʤ ʸʴʱ (“the book of the law”), which is the term used elsewhere (22:8, 11; 23:24). Second Kgs 23:4–20, with its focus on desecration, interrupts what would otherwise be a seamless narrative. 3. A disjuncture between 23:4–20 and the rest of the narrative is clear from the performance of the covenant-renewal ceremony at the temple (23:1–3) before the reform itself has been enacted. In its current form, the covenant-renewal ceremony takes place in a temple in disarray, still full of offensive cultic paraphernalia and persons.39 4. Some scholars find problematic the chronology of the events of the reform as presented in the text’s current form. The dates provided in 22:3 and 23:3 imply that renovations to the temple, the cult reforms, and the performance of the Passover all occurred during Josiah’s eighteenth year. To many critics this concentration of events in one year is logistically implausible.40 Eynikel, following Lohfink, suggests that the date notices should be read for their literary effect, as an inclusio introduced by a redactor to delimit his passage.41 Support for this may reside in a comparison of 2 Kgs 23 with 2 Chr 34, where Josiah begins his reform in the twelfth year of his reign and launches his temple purification initiative in the eighteenth year, the same year in which the scroll of the law was discovered (34:3–14). In contrast to the author of Kings, the Chronicler makes no effort to connect Josiah’s campaign of defilement to the discovery of the scroll. While the order of events in Chronicles may seem more feasible, it is not

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necessarily more credible, a point to which I return in chapter 3. If anything the tension between the two texts provides a reminder that each is a product of its authors’ particular exegetical tendencies; neither should be taken at face value. Nonetheless, when the two presentations are considered in light of the other inconsistencies in 2 Kgs 23 discussed above, a case mounts for the idea that the reform and the discovery of the scroll are conjoined in the Kings account to serve the rhetorical and etiological interests of the Kings authors. These inconsistencies support Oestreicher’s general schema for dividing the narrative, and taken together, they suggest that 22:3–23:3 and 23:21– 25 represent a literary stratum independent of 23:4–20. While there is a general consensus regarding this division of the text along the lines Oestreicher proposes, scholars disagree over whether these divisions reflect the conjoining of separate sources.42 Among those who accept the notion of a “reform report” there is debate over its extent and its precise literary historical relationship to the surrounding narrative. At one end of the spectrum are those, including myself, who accept in broad strokes Oestreicher’s model of an early source that was revised and edited by a later redactor.43 At the other are those who see 23:4–20 as a later addition to an already extant Deuteronomistic composition.44 Arguments for the lateness of 23:4–20 are based largely on the continuities that exist between 23:1–3 and 23:21–23, which suggest the possibility of a preexistent narrative to which 23:4–20 was added. While this reconstruction is possible, it fails to take into account the welldocumented exegetical Tendenz of the Deuteronomist to transform his source material by reframing. The book of Deuteronomy itself, which reframes the Israelites’ receipt of the law at Horeb/Sinai as an address delivered by Moses to the Israelites east of the Jordan, provides a prime example.45 Some scholars suggest an early date for the frame narrative based on Huldah’s promise in 2 Kgs 22:20 that Josiah will be gathered to his grave in peace (ʭʥʬʹʡ ʪʩʺʸʡʷ-ʬʠ ʺʴʱʠʰʥ). 46T This reference is taken as an indication that Josiah had not yet met his violent death in the battle of Megiddo (23:29) at the time the text was written. While it is possible to argue that the term ʭʥʬʹʡ (“in peace”) contradicts the nature of Josiah’s death, this is not a forgone conclusion. Josiah is the only king to whom this promise is made, but the similar expression ʥʮʲʬ ʳʱʠʩʥ (“and he was gathered to his kin”) appears frequently in the Pentateuch and is often followed by reference to proper burial. Abraham’s death notice provides an illuminating example: “Abraham died at a good age, old and


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abundant, and he was gathered to his kin [ʥʮʲ˰ʬʠ ʳʱʠʩʥ]. His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him [ʥʺʠ ʥʸʡʷʩʥ] in the cave of Machpelah” (Gen 25:8–9).47 In 15:15 the term ʭʥʬʹʡ is used to describe the conditions of Abraham’s burial: “You shall enter to your fathers in peace [ʭʥʬʹʡ]; you will be buried [ʸʡʷʺ] in good gray hair.” These passages suggest that God’s promise to Josiah through Huldah, “and I will gather you to your fathers, and you will be gathered to your grave in peace,” refers not to the nature of Josiah’s death, but rather to the manner of his burial.48 The echo of 2 Kgs 22:10 in the patriarchal narratives may intentionally link Josiah to Abraham, who sets the biblical standard for faith in Yahweh. Furthermore, Josiah’s proper burial, as predicted by Huldah, would contrast with the prophetic oracles predicting the improper burials of the corrupt kings of the Northern Kingdom, Jeroboam, Baasha, and Ahab (cf. 1 Kgs 14:11; 16:4; 21:24; 2 Kgs 9:9). These examples suggest that ultimate judgment of a king’s reign could be encapsulated by reference to the manner of his burial; the nature of his death was not at issue.49 Finally, the reference to Josiah’s proper and peaceful burial would provide a fitting contrast to the unearthing of graves and scattering of human bones that are attested in 23:4–20.Based on these considerations, Huldah’s oracle does not provide a compelling reason to date the frame narrative earlier than the reform report in 23:4–20. Oestreicher’s original proposal that this material predates and was revised by the Deuteronomist remains convincing.

Josiah’s Reform and the Holiness Code A majority of biblical scholars agree that Lev 17–26, referred to as the “Holiness Code” since the time of Klostermann, constitutes a separate corpus within Priestly literature.50 These chapters reflect a unique interest in the holiness of God and Israel, expressed with distinctive diction and terminology that sets them apart.51 As unique as the Holiness Code is, however, certain of its linguistic and stylistic features are also attested elsewhere in Priestly Pentateuchal literature. Explaining how these elements came to be included in both corpora and determining which passages outside of Lev 17–26 should be attributed to the holiness authors are problems to which scholars have devoted much attention.52 In order to avoid embroilment in debates over attribution, the present study will rely only on the Holiness Code itself, that is, Lev 17–26, to illuminate the holiness interests in 2 Kgs 23. In addition to debates over the extent of the Holiness Code, there is also considerable disagreement over its date. Many assert a late exilic

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or postexilic date for the Holiness corpus, while others attribute at least some portion to the late monarchic period.53 Among the latter group, many adhere to the view that at least some of the legal material contained in the Holiness Code is earlier than the Priestly writings, which were produced in large part during the exilic and/or postexilic period.54 Knohl proposes to reverse this general schema, asserting that the Priestly Torah predates the Holiness Code and was revised by it. Milgrom adopts Knohl’s reconstruction in broad strokes, finding the Holiness Code to have “presumed, supplemented and revised P.”55 The two differ, however, on the question of whether the Holiness Code should be viewed as a limited “source” (Milgrom’s view) or whether it represents the work of a more enduring school (Knohl’s “HS”). The idea proposed here of a holiness substratum in the deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform lends support to the view that a holiness school was in operation during the late monarchic period and points to the likelihood that its activity overlapped with the period of Josiah’s reign. That this composition was not written with a fixed text of the Holiness Code in mind suggests a diversity of literary activity among the holiness priests of late preexilic Judah. Establishing a date for the Holiness Code itself is often dealt with in terms of the relative chronology of the three legal codes in the Pentateuch, namely, the Holiness Code, Covenant Code, and Deuteronomy. Even the relative chronology is debated, however. While there is broad scholarly consensus that at least some portion of the Covenant Code dates to the preexilic period and that it predates the legal material in Deuteronomy, the relationship between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code is more contested.56 Stackert makes a fundamental contribution to this debate, arguing forcefully that in their legal compositions, the holiness authors exploited literary sources, including the covenant collection and Deuteronomy.57 Correspondences between Deuteronomy and the Holiness legislation are too many to enumerate here.58 Of critical import in the present context are their common interests in centralization of worship (Deut 11:29–12:31; Lev 17:1–15),59 eradication of cultic installations (Deut 16:21–22; Lev 26:1–2, 30), proscriptions against child sacrifice (Deut 18:10; Lev 18:21; 20:1–5), rules governing the performance of the Passover and other festivals (Deut 16:1–17; Lev 23), and the delineation of blessings and curses (Deut 28; Lev 26). All of these are also central concerns in 2 Kgs 23.60 Among those who see the correspondences between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code as a product of direct literary influence, there is no consensus regarding the direction of dependence. However, three general schemata are well represented in the scholarship: (1) the


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Holiness Code is a pre-Josianic source that had direct influence on Deuteronomy;61 (2) the Holiness Code is a post-Josianic source that depended upon and revised the legal material in Deuteronomy,62 and (3) the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy are multilayered sources that span the preexilic, exilic, and postexilic periods and are dependent upon one another.63 In chapter 5 I argue that a first edition of the Kings history that cast Hezekiah as its hero was written sometime between the reign of Hezekiah and the early years of Josiah.64 This would put the composition of the Kings history and the holiness account of Josiah’s reform close in time to one another. If the first edition of the Kings history was in fact deuteronomistic (a possibility but not a foregone conclusion), it would suggest that deuteronomistic and holiness writers were working close in time and space to one another, perhaps moving in shared intellectual and social circles, although with different institutional affiliations and literary goals at the fore. This scenario may help to illuminate and contextualize some of the similarities between the legal codes the two schools of thought produced.65 The idea that a deuteronomistic historian wrote 2 Kgs 23 based on an extant holiness reform account lends support to the idea that the deuteronomistic and holiness schools were deeply intertwined and mutually influential throughout the period in which the Bible was taking shape. In light of the indisputable points of continuity between the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy, and given the long history of scholarship devoted to the question of identifying Josiah’s “scroll of the law,” it is surprising that more scholars have not proposed the Holiness Code instead of Deuteronomy as the code found in the temple. The one notable exception to this trend is a 1920 article by Berry, who questions the “practically unanimous opinion of adherents to the documentary theory of the Hexateuch” that the book of the law discovered by Josiah was the book of Deuteronomy.66 Drawing attention to the very same similarities between Deuteronomy and Holiness Code outlined above, Berry argues that there are insufficient grounds to assume that Josiah’s book of the law was Deuteronomy and not the Holiness Code. Pointing to what he sees as Deuteronomy’s direct literary dependence on both the Holiness Code and Jeremiah, he dates Deuteronomy to at least as late as the time of the exile and, based on this date, determines that it was too late a document to be the code found in the temple. The Holiness Code was the more likely candidate.67 In the early twentieth century, debate over the degree of connection between Josiah’s reform and Deuteronomy was formulated

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almost exclusively around the question of the identity of Josiah’s lost scroll of the law. The proper identification of this text was seen as a deciding factor in a larger debate over the date of Deuteronomy. In 1928 Paton commented on the obligation incumbent upon scholars who believe in the general historical credibility of 2 Kgs 22–23 but deny that Deuteronomy was written before the exile, to show what book was found in the eighteenth year of Josiah and how it was the basis for his reformation.68 At length he dismisses the proposals of many of his contemporaries, including Berry, before concluding: Josiah’s reformation was the most important event in the religious history of the period of the monarchy. It marked the partial victory of Prophetism and the birth of Judaism. The book on which this reformation was founded was the first book of the Old Testament to be recognized as canonical. A book of such importance, of such influence upon history can not have been lost. It must have been cherished and preserved, whatever else was allowed to perish. . . . From the time of Josiah onward the Old Testament writers unanimously assert that Josiah’s book was Deuteronomy, and not a trace of any other book that will explain Josiah’s reformation is found either in tradition or in the extant literature of the Old Testament.69 Paton’s comments illuminate at once how pervasive skepticism was within the scholarly community regarding the Deuteronomic book hypothesis and, at the same time, how persuasive sentimental scholarship was in silencing those voices. This state of affairs has changed little in the intervening eighty years. Berry’s identification of the Holiness Code as Josiah’s scroll of the law was uniformly rejected by his contemporaries, as it failed to account for language and ideology the text clearly shares with Deuteronomy.70 Having produced his work before the appearance of Noth’s Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien, which drew attention to the enormous role of the Deuteronomist in shaping biblical narrative, Berry had little recourse to defend his premise.71 That he and his contemporaries were unaware of the idea of deuteronomistic literature made his proposal untenable. Yet blissful ignorance may have also allowed him to think outside the parameters of modern scholarly convention. The work of Berry and others of that earlier generation lacks the nuance that has come with our deepened understanding of the Bible’s compositional history, and the preoccupation with identifying the code found in the temple is now understood to assume a greater


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degree of historicity than the biblical text can sustain. However, at the heart of the argument over the identity of the scroll is a larger, more difficult question: exactly whose interests did Josiah’s rites of violence serve? In challenging the status quo and suggesting that the Holiness Code, not Deuteronomy, provided the impetus for Josiah’s reform, Berry touches on an important set of evidence that requires fresh attention.


2 Priestly Rites of Elimination and the Holiness Core of 2 Kings 23:4–20 Since the early nineteenth century, scholars have asserted a connection between Josiah’s reform as described in 2 Kgs 22–23 and Deuteronomy’s laws involving the abolition of rival, Canaanite sanctuaries and the centralization of Israelite worship. In Deut 12 Yahweh commands the Israelites through Moses: ʹʠʡ ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʤʩʸʹʠʥ ʭʺʡʶʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʸʡʹʥ ʭʺʧʡʦʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʶʺʰʥ ʯʥʹʲʺ-ʠʬ :ʠʥʤʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʯʮ ʭʮʹ-ʺʠ ʭʺʣʡʠʥ ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʩʤʬʠ ʩʬʩʱʴʥ ʭʫʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʧʡʩ-ʸʹʠ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʬʠ-ʭʠ ʩʫ :ʭʫʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʯʫ ʤʮʹ ʺʠʡʥ ʥʹʸʣʺ ʥʰʫʹʬ ʭʹ ʥʮʹ-ʺʠ ʭʥʹʬ ʭʫʩʨʡʹ-ʬʫʮ Tear down their altars, smash their standing stones, burn their sacred posts with fire, cut down the statues of their gods, and wipe out their name from that place. Do not act this way to Yahweh your God. Rather, seek out the place that Yahweh your God shall choose from among your tribes to place his name there, to place it, and there you will come. (Deut 12:3–5)1 When 2 Kgs 23 reports that Josiah “smashed” the standing stones, “tore down” the altar at Bethel, and “burned” the asherah (23:14–15), the text clearly conjures Deuteronomy’s destructive imagery and taps into an ancient Israelite tradition of sanctified violence that Deut 7:2 interprets as ḥērem. The deuteronomistic origin of this language in 2 Kgs 23 is

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apparent. However, many of the modes of defilement that Josiah employs in his reform have no precedent in the laws of Deuteronomy. For example, in 2 Kgs 23:6 Josiah does not simply burn the asherah or cut it down, as Deut 12:3 and 7:5 respectively command the Israelites to do to the asherim.2 Rather he burns the asherah, beats it to dust, and casts the dust on the graves of the people. In 2 Kgs 23:12, not only does he tear down the altars of Manasseh, an act that would have been consistent with Deuteronomy’s injunctions, he casts their dust in the Wadi Kidron. References to burning, beating, scattering, casting of dust, and defiling in the reform account reflect apotropaic rites of riddance intended to contain contagion and eliminate dangerous forces perceived to be antithetical to Yahweh.3 Such rites are common in priestly texts of Leviticus and Numbers, but are almost entirely unattested in Deuteronomy and deuteronomistic texts. Besides 2 Kgs 23, the only other example of apotropaic ritual language in a Deuteronom(ist)ic context is Deut 9:21, which describes Moses’s destruction of the golden calf. Here Moses recalls: ʯʥʧʨ ʥʺʠ ʺʫʠʥ ʹʠʡ ʥʺʠ ʳʸʹʠʥ ʩʺʧʷʬ ʬʢʲʤ-ʺʠ ʭʺʩʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʭʫʺʠʨʧ-ʺʠʥ ʸʤʤ-ʯʮ ʣʸʩʤ ʬʧʰʤ-ʬʠ ʥʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʪʬʹʠʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣ-ʸʹʠ ʣʲ ʡʨʩʤ As for your sinful thing that you made, the calf, I took it, and I burned it with fire and beat it thoroughly until it was fine as dust, and I cast its dust into the river that comes down from the mountain. Scholars have long noted a parallel between Moses’s elimination of the golden calf and Josiah’s destruction of the asherah. The connections between these two texts are addressed in chapter 4; however, a few observations are relevant in the present context. In these passages a single cult object is utterly destroyed near a ʬʧʰ (“river, riverbed”) through burning, beating, and scattering its dust. These acts of aggression constitute a rite intended to eliminate the object’s potency and to protect the integrity of Yahweh’s cult and the Israelite community. Since both appear in deuteronomistic texts, it is possible that they originate with a common deuteronomistic author. However, this explanation fails to account for (a) the language describing these events being otherwise unattested in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature, and (b) there being an obvious, direct literary relationship between the two texts—suggesting a single tradition rather than a deuteronomistic trope. Identifying the origin of that tradition and its literary historical development within the Bible will be undertaken later on. For now,

priestly rites of elimination

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suffice it to say that the apotropaic ritual language used in the descriptions of the elimination of the asherah and the golden calf is not otherwise characteristic of Deuteronom(ist)ic writing and may not have entered the Bible through deuteronomistic channels. In addition to the modes of defilement Josiah employs, many of which do not accord with a Deuteronom(ist)ic approach to the problem of cultic contamination, many of the targets of Josiah’s reform fall outside the purview of Deuteronomy. Most notable in this regard are bāmôt (“high places”), which receive no mention in Deuteronomy but are a preoccupation in 2 Kgs 23 and the larger Kings history. Other points of discontinuity include repeated reference to defilement signified by the root ʠʮʨ; the prohibition against mlk offerings, referred to by name; the possible reference to ʭʩʸʲˈ (“goat demons”) in 23:8; and the consumption of ʺʥʶʮ (“unleavened bread”) as a rite disconnected from the Passover festival in 23:9. None of these concerns finds expression in Deuteronomy or anywhere else in the Kings history. When the words used to describe the acts and objects of Josiah’s defilement are situated within their appropriate textual contexts, close connections to priestly literature and to the Holiness Code in particular begin to emerge. Priestly interests are not immediately apparent in the received reform account, as they have been well camouflaged by the nimble pen of the Deuteronomist. Bringing these elements to light creates a kind of literary pentimento, revealing the shadow of an earlier composition and a story of the origins of 2 Kgs 23 that has escaped scholarly attention.

Josiah’s Elimination of Impurity and Priestly Elimination Rites Rituals for the eradication of leprosy and corpse contamination, in Lev 14 and Num 19, respectively, shed light on aspects of the ritual intention of Josiah’s reform measures and bring into relief their priestly character. In Lev 14, if there is suspicion that a house has been contaminated by leprosy, a priest is to come and make an investigation. If he finds greenish or reddish spots that appear to be deeper than the surface, the house is to be quarantined for seven days. On the seventh day, if the contamination has spread, the stones of the house are to be removed and the walls scraped and replastered. If the contamination continues to spread, the house is declared ʠʮʨ (“defiled”). Leviticus 14:45 states that the priest is to destroy the house and bring its stones, wood, and mortar outside the city to a place that is ʠʮʨ:

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ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ ʺʩʡʤ ʸʴʲ-ʬʫ ʺʠʥ ʥʩʶʲ-ʺʠʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰʥ ʠʮʨ ʭʥʷʮ-ʬʠ He shall tear down the house, its stones, its timbers, and all of the mortar of the house, and he shall take (them) outside the town to an unclean place. The use of the verb ʵʺʰ (“to tear down”), reference to ʸʴʲ (used here in the sense of “mortar”), the transporting of the debris ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside of the city”), and the presence of the root ʠʮʨ are all features that this passage shares with 2 Kgs 23. In 23:8 the verbs ʵʺʰ and ʠʮʨ are used to describe Josiah’s destruction of the Judahite high places: ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʤʮʹ-ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ . . . ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʠʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ He brought out all of the priests from the towns of Judah, and he defiled the high places where the priests burned incense, from Geba to Beer-sheba, and he tore down the high places of the goats.4 In 23:12 Josiah tears down (ʵʺʰ) the altars made by Ahaz and Manasseh and casts their dust (ʸʴʲ) in the Wadi Kidron. Like the priest in Lev 14, in 2 Kgs 23:12 Josiah transports the ʸʴʲ outside of the city.5 That the Wadi Kidron should be understood in this light is made clear in 23:6. Here Josiah removes the asherah from the temple and brings it ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside Jerusalem”) to the Wadi Kidron, where he beats it to dust (ʸʴʲ). In 23:12, implicit in Josiah’s casting the dust of the altars in the Wadi Kidron is his casting them ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ or, otherwise stated, ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside the city”). Lev 14:45 and 2 Kgs 23:12, with their shared themes of tearing down and removing contaminated ʸʴʲ from the city, rely on the same ritual categories and share language typical of priestly literature and exceptional in Deuteronom(ist)ic texts. Numbers 19 also shares certain key terms with 2 Kgs 23. According to this text, if an individual comes in contact with a corpse, a brown cow is to be taken outside the camp and slaughtered before the priest.6 The priest is to take some of the cow’s blood on his finger and sprinkle it toward the tent of meeting seven times. The cow—along with cedar, hyssop, and scarlet cloth—is to be burned in sight of the priest. The ashes are then gathered, deposited in a pure place outside the camp, and mixed with pure water in order to serve as the water of cleansing. Any time a person comes in contact with a corpse he is required to have this mixture thrown upon him in order to be purified from contamination.


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Much as the priest brings the cow outside the camp to be killed (ʤʺʠ ʨʧʹʥ ʤʰʧʮʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ ʤʺʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ), in 2 Kgs 23:6 Josiah “brought the asherah” (ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ) “outside Jerusalem” (ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ) “and burned it” (ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ). A similar statement appears in 23:4, where Josiah commands Hilkiah “to bring out of the temple of the Lord (ʤʥʤʩ ʬʫʩʤʮ ʠʩʶʥʤʬ) all of the utensils used in the worship of Baal, Asherah, and all the host of heaven and to “burn them outside of Jerusalem” (ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʭʴʸʹʩʥ). In Num 19:6–7 “the priest is to take” (ʯʤʥʫʤ ʧʷʬʥ) cedar, hyssop, and crimson cloth “and cast them” (ʪʩʬʹʤʥ) into ʤʸʴʤ-ʺʴʩʸʹ (lit. “the cow conflagration”). Burning the cow and other ingredients renders the priest unclean (ʠʮʨ) until evening. Second Kgs 23:16 attests a similar confluence of motifs. Here, Josiah turned and saw the graves on the mount, “and he sent and he took” (ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ) them from their graves, and “he burned them on the altar” (ʧʡʦʮʤ ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ), thus “defiling it” (ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ). In Num 19:6–7 and 2 Kgs 23:16, the potency of a substance is eliminated through the act of burning, and the procedure causes a state of ʠʮʨ (“defilement”). In both cases the use of the substance that defiles is integral to the process of purification from either contracted contamination (Numbers) or cultic contamination (2 Kgs 23). A summary of parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and priestly apotropaic ritual texts in Leviticus and Numbers appears in table 2.1. TABLE

2.1 Priestly Apotropaic Ritual Language in 2 Kings 23

Leviticus 14:45 ʸʴʲ-ʬʫ ʺʠʥ ʥʩʶʲ ʺʠʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰʥ ʠʮʨ ʭʥʷʮ-ʬʠ ʸʩʲʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ ʺʩʡʤ He shall tear down the house, its stones, its timbers, and all of the mortar of the house, and they shall bring (them) outside the town to an unclean place.

2 Kings 23:6 ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ He brought the asherah out of the temple of Yahweh, outside of Jerusalem to the Wadi Kidron. 2 Kings 23:8 ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʠʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʤʮʹ-ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ He brought out all of the priests from the towns of Judah and he defiled the high places where the priests burned incense, from Geba to Beer-sheba and he tore down the high places of the goats. (continued )

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TABLE

2.1 Continued

Leviticus 14:45

2 Kings 23:12 ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʦʧʠ-ʺʩʬʲ ʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ ʺʥʸʶʧ ʩʺʹʡ ʤʹʰʮ ʤʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʭʹʮ ʵʸʩʥ ʪʬʮʤ ʵʺʰ ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ The king tore down the rooftop altars of the upper chamber of Ahaz that the kings of Judah had made, and the altars that Manasseh had made in the two courts of the temple of Yahweh, and he ran from there (?), and he cast their dust into the Kidron Valley.

Numbers 19:3

2 Kings 23:4

ʤʺʠ ʠʩʶʥʤʥ ʯʤʫʤ ʸʦʲʬʠ-ʬʠ ʤʺʠ ʭʺʺʰʥ ʥʩʰʴʬ ʨʧʹʥ ʤʰʧʮʬ ʵʥʧʮ-ʬʠ

ʩʰʤʫ-ʺʠʥ ʬʥʣʢʤ ʯʤʫʤ ʥʤʩʷʬʧ-ʺʠ ʪʬʮʤ ʥʶʩʥ ʤʥʤʩ ʬʫʩʤʮ ʠʩʶʥʤʬ ʳʱʤ ʩʸʮʹ-ʺʠʥ ʤʰʹʮʤ ʠʡʶ ʬʫʬʥ ʤʸʹʠʬ ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʥʹʲʤ ʭʩʬʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʺʥʮʣʹʡ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʭʴʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʮʹʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡ ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʠʹʰʥ

You shall give it [the brown cow] to Eleazar the priest, and he shall bring it outside of the camp and shall slaughter it before him.

The king commanded Hilkiah the high priest, and the priests of the second order, and the guardians of the threshold to bring out of the temple of Yahweh all the objects made for Baal, Asherah, and all the host of heaven. He burned them outside Jerusalem in the fields of the Kidron and he carried their ashes to Bethel.

Numbers 19:6–7

2 Kings 23:12

ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʺʲʬʥʺ ʩʰʹʥ ʡʥʦʠʥ ʦʸʠ ʵʲ ʯʤʫʤ ʧʷʬʥ ʥʸʹʡ ʵʧʸʥ ʯʤʫʤ ʥʩʣʢʡ ʱʡʫʥ :ʤʸʴʤ ʺʴʸʹ ʪʥʺ-ʬʠ ʡʸʲʤ-ʣʲ ʯʤʫʤ ʠʮʨʥ ʤʰʧʮʤ-ʬʠ ʠʥʡʩ ʸʧʠʥ ʭʩʮʡ The priest shall take cedar wood, hyssop and scarlet silk and cast them into the cow conflagration. After that the priest shall wash his clothes and bathe his skin with water. Afterward he may enter the camp, but the priest shall be unclean until the evening.

ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ

He cast their dust in the Wadi Kidron.

priestly rites of elimination Numbers 19:6–7

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2 Kings 23:16 ʧʬʹʩʥ ʸʤʡ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʺʠ ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ ʹʩʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʡʣʫ ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ ʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷ Josiah turned and saw the graves that were there on the mount, and he sent and he took the bones from their graves and he burned them on the altar, and he defiled it according to word of Yahweh that the man of God declared, who foretold these things.

That apotropaic ritual language is used in Leviticus and Numbers but not in core Deuteronomy indicates that while such rites were at home in ancient Israel they were not a concern for the Deuteronomic authors. With the exception of 2 Kgs 23 and Deut 9:21, this disinterest carried over into deuteronomistic literature. Were the original purpose of Josiah’s violent attack on the Israelite cult to implement Deuteronomic law, the modes of defilement the authors attribute to him might be expected to better accord with those sanctioned in Deuteronomy’s call for the elimination of idolatry and rival sanctuaries. The presence of apotropaic ritual language in the reform account suggests a more complicated development and loosens the ties that bind the reform to Deuteronomy. In effect Josiah’s implementation of the scroll of the law is at odds with the injunctions Deuteronomy bestows. The parallels between Josiah’s reform measures in 2 Kgs 23 and the apotropaic rituals in Lev 14 and Num 19 have the effect of imbuing Josiah himself with the authority of a priest. In 2 Kgs 23:5–24 it is Josiah and not Hilkiah who instinctively takes the appropriate ritual actions, eliminating sources of contamination that he perceives to threaten the security of the Israelite community. The books of Samuel and Kings include other instances of Israelite and Judahite kings performing priestly duties; however, no other example attests the detail or ritual specificity of 2 Kgs 23.7 The implications of Josiah’s priestly role for identifying the religiopolitical interests of the text’s authors is taken up in subsequent chapters. For the time being it is necessary to note only

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that inasmuch as Josiah’s purification of the Israelite cult resonates with the language of apotropaic ritual, his reform measures are cast in terms of traditions to which Israel’s priests were otherwise heir and in which the deuteronomists were otherwise uninterested. Additional evidence for a priestly ritual orientation in 2 Kgs 23 resides in Josiah’s treatment of the Judahite bāmôt priests. In 23:8 Josiah brings all of the priests out of the towns of Judah, from Geba to Beer-sheba, and defiles the cult places where they once officiated. A side note in 23:9 states: -ʭʠ ʩʫ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʡ ʤʥʤʩ ʧʡʦʮ-ʬʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʥʬʲʩ ʠʬ ʪʠ ʭʤʩʧʠ ʪʥʺʡ ʺʥʶʮ ʥʬʫʠ. This verse is most often translated, “But the priests of the high places did not come up to the altar of Yahweh in Jerusalem, but rather [ʭʠ ʩʫ] they ate unleavened bread with their brethren.”8 Interpreted this way, the verse is often seen to contradict the stipulation in Deut 18:6–8 that allows any priest to minister at the temple in Jerusalem. Second Kgs 23:8–9 thus is central in discussions of the history of the Israelite priesthood in the late preexilic period and also was a crucial factor in the identification of Deuteronomy as Josiah’s book of the law.9 However, as Barrick rightly observes, there is “nothing beyond the sheer weight of exegetical convention buttressed by historical/theological presupposition” to suggest that the bāmôt priests in 23:9 were forbidden to minister at the altar.10 The impulse to understand these two passages as related to one another is rooted in the assumption of a fundamental connection between Josiah’s reform measures and Deuteronomic law. If this connection is taken as compositionally secondary in the Kings account, then we are free to turn to extra-Deuteronom(ist)ic sources to illuminate the underlying intention of the passage. In an effort to clarify the meaning of 2 Kgs 23:9, Barrick analyzes the 134 occurrences of the ʭʠ ʩʫ + verb idiom in Biblical Hebrew and finds that the accepted interpretation of 23:9 would require both verbs ʤʬʲ and ʬʫʠ, which appear in the imperfect and perfect respectively, to be in the same aspect. Were the verse translated in accordance with other attestations of the conjunction where the imperfect-perfect sequence is used, it would be rendered best, “But the bāmôt-priests would/could not go up to the altar of Yahweh in Jerusalem unless/until they had eaten unleavened bread with their brethren.”11 Based on this translation, Barrick suggests that the eating of unleavened bread “served as (re)ordination ritual of some sort (as in Exod 29:1–37 or Lev 8:22–28, 31–35) conceivably in conjunction with the special Passover (2 Kgs 23:21–23), rendering both the dispossessed bamoth-priests and the resident priests ritually fit to serve at the altar.”12 Barrick’s proposed translation is grammatically and contextually convincing and lends support


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to the notion that a priestly ritual undercurrent pervades the account of the reform enactments. If Barrick is correct that the reference to ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9 should be associated with a reordination or purification rite for the bāmôt priests, it seems unlikely that this rite was related to the Passover mentioned in 23:21–23, contrary to Barrick’s contention.13 First, there is no other instance in the Bible in which the consumption of ʺʥʶʮ as a purification/ reordination rite occurs in the conjunction with the observance of the Passover festival. In addition, if indeed 23:4–20 constitutes a discrete literary unit that has undergone some significant degree of transformation, as most scholars contend, then a connection between the reference to ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9 and the Passover in 23:21–23 would have to have been forged deliberately by a redactor. If this were the case, it is peculiar that the connection was not made more explicit; the word ʺʥʶʮ is not mentioned in 23:21–23, nor is the Passover referred to in 23:9. Finally, though hardly conclusive evidence, it seems inconsistent with the spirit of the text that after their sanctuaries were violently destroyed and defiled, the bāmôt priests were expressly invited to come from their towns to attend the festival in Jerusalem. It is more likely that the references to ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9 and the Passover in 23:21 are compositionally unrelated. If the consumption of unleavened bread in 23:9 is not associated with the Passover, the reference to it here brings 2 Kgs 23 into closer alignment with priestly legislation in Leviticus. In Deuteronomy ʺʥʶʮ is never mentioned outside the context of the festivals of Passover and ʺʥʶʮ. In Leviticus, however, ʺʥʶʮ appears in nonfestal contexts as a type of grain offering (e.g., Lev 2:4–5; 6:9) and, as Barrick notes, is associated with the purification and ordination of Aaron and his sons in 8:26. If the working hypothesis of this study is correct—that an earlier priestly reform account underlies the deuteronomistic composition— then we may posit that the reference to ʺʥʶʮ in 2 Kgs 23:9 belongs to this earlier stratum. In this context it signified a purification/reordination ritual required of any Judean priest who wished to minister at the Jerusalem temple. Understood in this light, the question of a possible contradiction between 2 Kgs 23:9 and Deut 18:16–18 becomes irrelevant. The two texts emerged in different circles, served different interests, and need not be related to one another. The centralized Passover described in 2 Kgs 23:21–23 belongs to a secondary deuteronomistic redaction whose author is likely to have understood the significance of the reference to ʺʥʶʮ in 23:9, found nothing in it that contradicted his own interests, and saw no need to bring the two verses into closer alignment.

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The parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and priestly legislation in Leviticus, including the language associated with purification from corpse contamination and leprosy and the possible reference to the consumption of unleavened bread as a rite of ordination, are all associated with matters of purity positively enjoined upon the priests. The purpose of such rites was to circumscribe the spread of contamination, conceptualized in substantive terms. The contrast between the elimination of contracted contamination in Leviticus and Numbers and cultic contamination in 2 Kgs 23 is significant. The former reflects anxieties over the control of contagion that are primal, practically motivated, deeply embedded in an ancient Near Eastern consciousness and not necessarily unique to Israel. The latter reflects an interest in imposing boundaries around Israelite culture that is programmatic and ideologically motivated. It involves the rejection of indigenous practices in favor of a newly defined conception of Israelite orthopraxis. It is, in part, the programmatic aspects of Josiah’s reform measures that led to the identification of the reform with Deuteronomy. But try as we may to make that glass slipper fit, a more suitable match hides in plain sight, in the legal code produced by the holiness priests. The Holiness Code, like Deuteronomy, contains programmatic features that reflect a deliberate interest in shaping Israelite behavior and identity.14 In contrast to Deuteronomy, however, the Holiness Code is deeply and explicitly rooted in the traditions of the Israelite priesthood. In this way it may provide a more fitting legal corollary to the ritual measures that Josiah undertakes. This hypothesis finds support in the array of correspondences between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code discussed in the pages that follow.

The Verb ʠʮʨ and Bāmôt Eradication as Punishment for Transgression in 2 Kings 23, Ezekiel, and the Holiness Code The verb ʠʮʨ (“to defile”) occurs four times in the account of Josiah’s reform, in a span of nine verses (2 Kgs 23:8–16), and nowhere else in the Kings history. This term is most common in priestly texts, where it signifies the condition that ensues when an impure, contaminating substance enters the realm of the pure (e.g., Lev 5:3; 11:24–36; 17:15; 22:4; Num 6:12; 19:13ff.; 35:34).15 Its frequent use in these contexts reflects a priestly concern with preserving the integrity of sacred space, the dwelling place of Yahweh.16 By contrast, ʠʮʨ appears only a handful of times in Deuteronomy (12:15, 22; 14:7ff.; 15:22; 21:23)—almost all in


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the context of dietary and sacrificial laws, laws that are inherent to the priestly domain (21:23 is the one exception; see below). Besides 2 Kgs 23, the root occurs only twice in the entire deuteronomistic history: in Judg 13:4, where it refers to the dietary restrictions imposed upon the Nazirite, and in Josh 22:19, a text that bears signs of priestly authorship.17 This distribution strongly suggests that the root is most at home in a priestly setting and highlights its exceptionality in 2 Kgs 23. There is, however, an essential difference between the concept of defilement as it manifests itself in the account of Josiah’s reform and in the priestly writings of the Pentateuch. In Lev 14 and Num 19, for example, ʠʮʨ describes an undesirable condition that the priests must properly manage. This sense of the verb is usually communicated by the adjectival form of the root and by finite forms of the qal stem, for example, ʡʸʲʤ-ʣʲ ʠʮʨʩ (“he shall be unclean until evening”) in Lev 14:46 (also Lev 11:24, 27, 31, 39; 15:10, 19, 23; Num 19:31). In 2 Kgs 23, by contrast, the root appears in the piʿel and signifies deliberate desecration. Through the act of ʠʮʨ Josiah desacralizes the high places in the towns of Judah (23:8) and those facing Jerusalem (23:13), the Topheth in the Hinnom Valley where the Israelites made mlk offerings (23:10), and the altar at Bethel (23:16). While Josiah’s actions may render a condition comparable to the one the priests seek to control, in 2 Kgs 23, defilement is actively and deliberately perpetrated and is essential to the efficacy of the reform. Eynikel suggests that this use of the word ʠʮʨ is unique in the Hebrew Bible, with the one exception of Isa 30:22:18 ʤʥʣ ʥʮʫ ʭʸʦʺ ʪʡʤʦ ʺʫʱʮ ʺʣʴʠ ʺʠʥ ʪʴʱʫ ʩʬʩʱʴ ʩʥʴʶ-ʺʠ ʭʺʠʮʨʥ ʥʬ ʸʮʠʺ ʠʶ You shall defile the plating of your sculpted images of silver and the sheathing of your molten images of gold. You shall expel them like menstrual blood; “be gone!” you shall say to it! Here, as in 2 Kgs 23, the verb ʠʮʨ signifies the desecration of rejected cult objects. In both contexts the act of defilement itself becomes a rite of riddance, redressing the sin of cultic transgression. Dating the Isaiah passage to the exilic period with Schoors, Eynikel posits that the use of this term to mean “to desecrate” rather than “to defile” was a Deuteronomistic innovation.19 Were 2 Kgs 23 and Isa 30:22 in fact the only two attestations of this specialized usage it would be difficult enough to make a sound case that they represent a Deuteronomistic development. However, the difficulty is compounded by similar references to the root in the book of Ezekiel that escape Eynikel’s attention. Ezekiel’s

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particular use of the verb ʠʮʨ illuminates the concept of defilement in 2 Kgs 23:8–16 and forges a link to priestly traditions, and to the holiness school in particular, that cast doubt on Eynikel’s Deuteronomistic attribution. Ezekiel’s priestly heritage is established in the book’s superscription, which identifies him as “Ezekiel ben Buzi the priest” (Ezek 1:2). His affiliation with the Jerusalem temple priesthood is apparent in the particular terminology he employs in his prophecies as well as his interest in the temple as the dwelling place of Yahweh (e.g., Ezek 8–10, 43), his concern for preserving its purity (Ezek 44–45), and his preoccupation with the physical details of the temple enclosure (Ezek 40–43). In Ezek 40–48, Ezekiel’s whole vision of restoration centers on the temple itself, another indication of his priestly orientation. Ezekiel 8–11, set in the period before the Babylonian exile, describes Ezekiel’s visit to the polluted temple, where a figure with the appearance of fire shows the prophet “the terrible abominations” (ʺʥʬʣʢ ʺʥʡʲʺ) that the house of Israel has committed. In Ezek 9 a man clothed in linen with a writing implement in his hand is commanded to mark the foreheads of those who grieve the abominations committed in Yahweh’s temple. Those who are marked are to be spared, while the guilty are slaughtered without compassion. There are a number of significant thematic similarities between 2 Kgs 23 and Ezek 9. First, both texts invoke the authority of the written word to justify rites of violence enacted against those guilty of transgression. Second, both are concerned with purity within the city of Jerusalem. This is expressed in Ezek 9:4 by the phrases ʸʩʲʤ ʪʥʺʡ (“in the midst of the city”) and ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʪʥʺʡ (“in the midst of Jerusalem”) and in 2 Kgs 23 by the contrasting expression ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ (“outside of Jerusalem”) as the place where contaminating substances are eliminated. Third, Josiah’s proper burial as a reward for his remorse upon discovering Israel’s transgressions (2 Kgs 22:18–20) corresponds to the marked Israelites in Ezekiel, whose grief protects them from the fate of their brethren (Ezek 9:4, 6). Ezekiel 9:7 graphically articulates this fate when Yahweh commands the prophet to defile the temple by strewing the dead bodies of the guilty who have failed to lament: ʸʩʲʡ ʥʫʤʥ ʥʠʶʩʥ ʥʠʶ ʭʩʬʬʧ ʺʥʸʶʧʤ-ʺʠ ʥʠʬʮʥ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠ ʥʠʮʨ ʭʤʩʬʠ ʸʮʠʩʥ He said to them, “Defile the temple and fill the courts with corpses. Go forth.” So they went forth and attacked the city. Like Josiah, who uses human bones to desecrate sacred space, rendering it unfit for cultic use (2 Kgs 23:14, 16, 19, 20), Ezekiel deliberately


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defiles the temple of Yahweh in order to communicate, incontrovertibly, its contaminated status. In contrast to Ezekiel, however, Josiah does not defile the Jerusalem temple; rather he seeks to safeguard its sanctity through his defilement of competing structures: the high places in Judah, the altar in Bethel, and the Topheth in the Hinnom Valley.20 Josiah assumes that there is still a chance to avert God’s wrath if only he can rid the land of cultic contaminants. In contrast, Ezekiel operates with the understanding that the land has become too toxic for Yahweh to dwell in his holy abode: ʪʩʶʥʷʹ-ʬʫʡ ʺʠʮʨ ʩʹʣʷʮ-ʺʠ ʯʲʩ ʠʬ-ʭʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʣʠ ʭʠʰ ʩʰʠ-ʩʧ ʯʫʬ ʬʥʮʧʠ ʠʬ ʩʰʠ-ʭʢʥ ʩʰʩʲ ʱʥʧʺ-ʠʬʥ ʲʸʢʠ ʩʰʠ-ʭʢʥ ʪʩʺʡʲʥʺ-ʬʫʡʥ Therefore, as I live, speaks Adonai Yahweh: “Indeed you have defiled my sanctuary with all of your detestable things and with all of your abominations, thus I will withdraw and my eye will not have pity, nor will I show compassion. (Ezek 5:11)21 In Ezekiel, Yahweh fulfills his promise in that saddest of moments, when he finally removes his radiant glory (ʣʥʡʫ) from the Jerusalem temple and alights at the entrance to its eastern gate (Ezek 10:19). In this instant, Ezekiel witnesses precisely what Josiah seeks to avoid— Yahweh’s abandonment of his place among his people. Josiah’s reform and Ezekiel’s prophecies give symbolic expression to the same theology and employ the same specialized concept of defilement. In both texts human remains provide the “skull-and-crossbones” that mark sacred space unfit for cultic use, and in both the drama hinges on the active verb ʠʮʨ. In Ezek 5:11 and 9:7 and 2 Kgs 23, religious practices deemed idolatrous compromise sacred space and, by extension, the security of the Israelite people. The idea that idolatry has a defiling effect on the land and God’s sanctuary is introduced for the first time in the Bible in the Holiness Code. Milgrom notes that the Holiness Code provides the only explicit statements to this effect in the Torah.22 In Lev 18:27–28 Yahweh warns: ʠʩʷʺ-ʠʬʥ :ʵʸʠʤ ʠʮʨʺʥ ʭʫʩʰʴʬ ʸʹʠ ʵʸʠʤ-ʩʹʰʠ ʥʹʲ ʬʠʤ ʺʡʲʥʺʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʩʫ ʭʫʩʰʴʬ ʸʹʠ ʩʥʢʤ-ʺʠ ʤʠʷ ʸʹʠʫ ʤʺʠ ʭʫʠʮʨʡ ʭʫʺʠ ʵʸʠʤ The people of the land before you did all of these abominable things and the land became defiled. So do not let the land spew you out for defiling it as it spewed out the nation before you. Leviticus 20:3 is more specific. Here, as part of a prohibition against mlk offerings, Yahweh promises:

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ʯʲʮʬ ʪʬʮʬ ʯʺʰ ʥʲʸʦʮ ʩʫ ʥʮʲ ʡʸʷʮ ʥʺʠ ʩʺʸʫʤʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʹʩʠʡ ʩʰʴ-ʺʠ ʯʺʠ ʩʰʠʥ ʩʹʣʷ ʭʹ-ʺʠ ʬʬʧʬʥ ʩʹʣʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨ I will set my face against that man and will cut him off from among his people, because he gave his offspring to/as a mlk and so defiled my sanctuary and profaned my holy name. The significance of the biblical term mlk is hotly debated. A copious literature is dedicated to the question of whether this term refers to a specific type of sacrifice or to a deity by that name.23 The first possibility, originally proposed by Eissfeldt, is based largely on the appearance of the Punic molk/mulk, a technical term known from inscribed stele in the infant burial grounds at Carthage.24 Most Bible translations, and many scholars, however, understand the term to designate a divine name.25 This position is based in part on evidence of deities named mlk (variously vocalized) in places closer to Israel; for example, mlk who dwells in Ashtoreth attested in a handful of Ugaritic texts, and on the elements malik, milku/i, malki, and muluk which occasionally appear with the divine determinative in onomastic evidence from Ebla and Mari.26 Edelman argues that the term mlk may in fact embrace both meanings and that it may survive as a divine name or epithet in a handful of biblical passages (Amos 5:26; Zeph 1:5, 8; Isa 8:21; 57:9).27 Smith comments that “the connection between Ugaritic mlk and Biblical Hebrew mlk as epithet is possible, but neither appears related to child sacrifice, to judge from the extant evidence.”28 However the term itself is to be understood, it is clear that the mlk offering involved the sacrifice of children, either to Yahweh (e.g., Jer 7:31; Ezek 20:25–26) or to other deities within the Israelite pantheon, and that it was a contested issue within certain circles in late preexilic Judah.29 Prohibition of child sacrifice is a theme that appears in both Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code, but the term mlk itself does not appear in association with prohibitions against child sacrifice anywhere in Deuteronomy,30 nor is it used anywhere in deuteronomistic literature except 2 Kgs 23:10.31 It appears five times in the Holiness Code (Lev 18:21; 20:2, 3, 4, 5) and nowhere else in Leviticus.32 The absence of the term in Deuteronomy and its presence in Leviticus suggest that a different set of intentions and concerns underlies the prohibitions in each text. If the intention of Deuteronomy’s authors was to prohibit offerings to a particular deity by this name, the absence of the name itself is odd. In general the deuteronomists are hardly reticent to point out Israel’s acts of faithlessness to Yahweh. The appearance of the term mlk in only Leviticus, where an interest in cultic regulations is most pronounced, may support Eissfeldt’s original identification of mlk as a technical


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sacrificial term. Whatever the case, it seems clear that the aspect of the sacrifice signified by the term mlk was not a concern for the Deuteronomic authors. Attestation of the term in 2 Kgs 23:10 and the Holiness Code and nowhere else in the Pentateuch or historical books links 2 Kgs 23 more directly to the Holiness Code than to Deuteronomy.33 In Lev 26:30 mlk offerings are not simply inimical to Yahweh, they threaten the very sanctity of his holy abode. This notion may illuminate the mentality that underlies Josiah’s defilement of the Topheth in the Hinnom Valley in 2 Kgs 23:10. By defiling the place where mlk offerings were made, Josiah not only renders the Topheth unfit for cultic use and eliminates an elicit form of Israelite worship, he also takes steps toward purifying the Jerusalem temple itself. Support for this idea resides in the organization of themes in 23:10–11: ʹʠʡ ʥʺʡ-ʺʠʥ ʥʰʡ-ʺʠ ʹʩʠ ʸʩʡʲʤʬ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʰʤ-ʩʰʡ ʩʢʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʴʺʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʥ ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ ʠʡʮ ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ :ʪʬʮʬ ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ ʹʮʹʤ ʺʥʡʫʸʮ-ʺʠʥ ʭʩʸʥʸʴʡ ʸʹʠ ʱʩʸʱʤ ʪʬʮ-ʯʺʰ ʺʫʹʬ-ʬʠ He defiled the Topheth in the Valley of Ben-hinnom to prevent a man from passing his son or daughter through fire as a mlk. He did away with the horses that the kings of Judah had dedicated to the sun, at the entrance of the temple of Yahweh, near the chamber of the eunuch Nathan-melech, which was in the precincts. He burned the chariots of the sun. The rationale governing the movement in these verses from the “Topheth in the Valley of Ben-hinnom” to the “entrance of the temple of Yahweh” is not immediately apparent. However, when read in light of Lev 20:3 it becomes more intelligible. Both the defilement of the Topheth and the eradication of the horses and chariots of the sun serve to restore the sanctity of Yahweh’s temple. The internal logic governing the description of the reform is clarified in light of the Holiness Code. In 2 Kgs 23 Josiah’s desecration of bāmôt constitutes punishment for cultic transgression. This is evident in Josiah’s response to hearing the words of the book of the law. The king rends his garments and exclaims, “Great is the wrath of the lord that is kindled against us because our fathers have not obeyed the words of this book.” Josiah’s acts of defilement are connected to his fear of divine retribution. He undertakes his reform measures with the idea in mind that it is better for him to take matters into his own hands than to wait for Yahweh to act. In light of this we might expect Josiah’s actions to find parallel in Yahweh’s own promises of destruction. And indeed they do, in both the Holiness Code and the book of Ezekiel.

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In Lev 26, amid the curses sworn against the Israelites if they fail to obey God’s commands, Yahweh promises: ʩʸʢʴ-ʬʲ ʭʫʩʸʢʴ-ʺʠ ʩʺʺʰʥ ʭʫʩʰʮʧ-ʺʠ ʩʺʸʫʤʥ ʭʫʩʺʮʡ-ʺʠ ʩʺʣʮʹʤʥ ʭʫʺʠ ʩʹʴʰ ʤʬʲʢʥ ʭʫʩʬʥʬʢ I shall destroy your bāmôt, cut down your incense altars, and cast your carcasses upon the carcasses of your idols. My very being shall abhor you. (Lev 26:30) While the curse sections of Leviticus and Deuteronomy share many common features, both linguistic and syntactic, only Leviticus refers to bāmôt eradication as punishment for transgression. In fact, Deuteronomy never makes reference to bāmôt, nor does it refer to the destruction of Israelite cult places of any sort as a response to breach of covenant (see chapter 4). That Lev 26 refers not only to bāmôt but also to their defilement as recompense for Israelite transgression suggests that, on this point as well, 2 Kgs 23 has more in common with the concerns of the Holiness Code than it does with Deuteronomy. The prophet Ezekiel forewarns of a punishment similar to that promised in Lev 26: ʺʥʲʡʢʬʥ ʭʩʸʤʬ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʣʠ ʸʮʠ-ʤʫ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʣʠ-ʸʡʣ ʥʲʮʹ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʸʤ ʺʸʮʠʥ ʭʫʩʺʥʧʡʦʮ ʥʮʹʰʥ :ʭʫʩʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʣʡʠʥ ʡʸʧ ʭʫʩʬʲ ʠʩʡʮ ʩʰʠ ʩʰʰʤ ʺʩʠʢʬʥ ʭʩʷʩʴʠʬ ʩʰʴʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ ʩʸʢʴ-ʺʠ ʩʺʺʰʥ :ʭʫʩʬʥʬʢ ʩʰʴʬ ʭʫʩʬʬʧ ʩʺʬʴʤʥ ʭʫʩʰʮʧ ʥʸʡʹʰʥ ʭʫʩʺʥʧʡʦʮ ʺʥʡʩʡʱ ʭʫʩʺʥʮʶʲ-ʺʠ ʩʺʩʸʦʥ ʭʤʩʬʥʬʢ Say, “Mountains of Israel, hear the word of Adonai Yahweh. Thus says Adonai Yahweh to the mountains and hills, to the valleys and streams: ‘Look! I am bringing sword against you, and I will eradicate your bāmôt. Your altars will be destroyed, and your incense altars will be shattered, and I will cast your slain in front of your idols. I will place the corpses of the Israelites in front of their idols, and I will scatter your bones around your altars.’” (Ezek 6:3–5) The notion of desecration by corpse contamination of bāmôt, altars, and idols represented in these texts provides an uncanny parallel to Josiah’s reform measures in 2 Kgs 23. Greenberg notes that, like 2 Kgs 23:16 and Lev 26:30, Ezekiel foresees the corpses of the Israelites strewn unburied among their impotent idols on the sites of their illicit worship, their altars polluted by the presence of their own bones.34 There is widespread agreement among scholars that the parallels between Ezek 6:3–5 and Lev 26:30 reflect direct borrowing. Greenberg argues convincingly that Ezek 6 is a gloss, deliberately linking the image


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to Lev 26:30. This is based on the absence of Ezek 6:5a from the Septuagint, as well as the third-person formulation in this part of the verse, which creates a break with 6:4b and 6:5b.35 He speculates that the glossator’s purpose was to create a direct link to the Leviticus passage and to clarify that the pronoun of “your slain” is the inhabitants of the land (ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ), not the mountains themselves. Milgrom shares this view, suggesting that Ezekiel, as the first interpreter of Lev 26, supplies ʭʫʩʬʬʧ where Leviticus reads ʭʫʩʸʢʴ in order to clarify the meaning “your (slain) corpses.”36 Milgrom suggests that that the purpose of the glossator’s reference to ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ ʩʸʢʴ (“the corpses of the Israelites”) was to restore the original Leviticus term. In addition to Ezek 6:3–5 and Lev 26:30, other points of contact between Ezekiel and Leviticus lead many scholars to identify a connection between the two.37 Because Ezekiel’s prophecies can be dated with some accuracy to the first half of the sixth century B.C.E., providing a terminus ante quem for the book named after him, the relationship between the two collections has received much attention.38 Milgrom identifies nine parallels between Lev 26 and Ezekiel and thirteen parallels between Ezekiel and other passages in the Holiness Code where he finds clear evidence of direct borrowing. According to Milgrom’s analysis, in all twenty-two instances Ezekiel expanded, omitted, and refashioned in novel ways based on Leviticus. He finds no example in which borrowing took place in the other direction.39 Milgrom’s conclusion that Ezekiel had before him a version of Lev 17–26 that closely resembled the received text is largely convincing. However, the shared phrasing of certain widespread taboos—for example, the prohibitions against consuming corpses in Lev 22:8a and Ezek 44:31, where Milgrom argues that Ezekiel expands the Leviticus law—may be a product of the two texts’ origins within the same priestly milieu and not a matter of direct literary dependence.40 It falls outside the scope of this study to consider all of the arguments brought to bear on the question of the literary historical relationship between Ezekiel and the Holiness Code. For our purposes it suffices to say that there are strong indications that these two literary corpora reflect a common strand of priestly thought and that the book of Ezekiel took its shape in part under the influence of holiness legislation. The attitudes toward defilement and desecration of sacred space that 2 Kgs 23 shares with the Holiness Code and with Ezekiel may be explained in one of two ways. Either they are the product of late priestly editing of a deuteronomistic composition, under the influence of an extant Holiness Code and possibly also an extant Ezekiel scroll, or they originate in an account of Josiah’s reform generated from within the

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same priestly circles that produced the other two texts. If the former were the case, we would expect to find formulations in 2 Kgs 23 that are identical to those in the Holiness Code and Ezekiel. This is not the situation; the connections with 2 Kgs 23 are thematic, not necessarily linguistic, arguing against direct literary influence. In addition, if the parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code originated at an editorial phase in the composition of the former, we would expect to find evidence of redaction of an earlier source in the verses in 2 Kgs 23 where the rarified use of the verb ʠʮʨ occurs, with ʠʮʨ as part of the later stratum. This also is not the case; language of defilement appears to be deeply embedded in the fabric of the Kings narrative. In light of this evidence, it is likely that the particular concept of defilement of sacred space expressed in 2 Kgs 23 reflects a fundamental connection with the same strand of priestly tradition that produced both Ezekiel and the Holiness Code.

Gates or Goats in 2 Kings 23:8? The phrase ʭʩʸʲˇʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high places of the gates”), which appears in the Masoretic Text of 2 Kgs 23:8, has been a thorn in the side of interpreters for millennia. There are two interconnected issues at stake in the translation of this verse. The first is the plural form ʺʥʮʡ (“high places”), which if read together with ʭʩʸʲˇ suggests the presence of multiple high places in multiple gates located at the entrance of Joshua’s gate. From an architectural standpoint this is difficult to envision, although Barrick notes that the plural is not impossible if one supposes that ʺʥʮʡ were small installations that could be clustered.41 Biran’s excavation of a cultic installation located between the double gates at Tel Dan leads Emerton to suggest that the “gates” in 23:8b indicate that the city of Joshua was entered through just such a double-gate complex.42 Along with others he proposes emending the plural ʺʥʮʡ to the singular ʺʮʡ, a reading provisionally supported by the Targum and Peshitta.43 Thus he postulates a bāmâ situated between the inner and outer gates of the city. Emerton’s suggestion is attractive; however, as Barrick rightly observes, it is not at all clear that gate bāmôt were typical of Iron Age cities in Palestine; only Tel Dan and Bethsaida offer analogues, and these are both northern sites with north Syrian attributes.44 In addition, the reliability of the Targum and Peshitta is compromised by both their lateness and the possibility that they had as much difficulty making sense of the verse as modern commentators.45 In 1882 Hoffmann proposed to resolve this difficulty by repointing the second term to ʭʩʸʲˈ,


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yielding the translation “high places of the satyrs.46 Hoffmann’s reading was widely accepted by his contemporaries and by subsequent scholars and is suggested as an alternative reading in the apparatus to Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia.47 Nonetheless, many scholars and most English Bible translations persist in reading “high places of the gates.”48 Some of those who reject Hoffmann’s proposal do so on the basis that satyrs are not a concern of the Deuteronomists.49 This rationale does not apply, however, if one suspends the assumption that 2 Kgs 23 is an essentially deuteronomistic composition. In light of its grammatical, text-critical, and practical simplicity, the reading ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ (lit. “high places of the goats”) requires further consideration.50 The term ʭʩʸʲˈ is used frequently in the Hebrew Bible in reference to a type of goat offered as a regular part of the Israelite sacrificial cult (Lev 4:24; Num 7:16; Gen 37:31; Ezra 43:22).51 In addition to the possible reference to ʭʩʸʲˈ in 23:8, the term appears four times in the Bible in reference to animals not intended for sacrifice (Lev 17:7; Isa 13:21; 34:14; 2 Chr 11:15). Finally, there is an entirely unique reference to ʭʩʸʲˈ in Deut 32:2 where it describes a downpour of rain. Leviticus and Chronicles use the term similarly to one another; the former prohibits sacrifices to ʭʩʸʲˈ, and the latter uses the term in parallel with ʭʩʬʢʲ (“calves”) to describe the cult objects installed by Jeroboam I in the sanctuary at Bethel. In Isa 13:21 ʭʩʸʲˈ is used in conjunction with jackals (ʭʥʧʠ) and ostriches (ʤʰʲʩ ʺʥʰʡ) and in 34:14 with hyenas (ʭʩʩʠ) and the creature designated as Lilith. Reference to Lilith, a mythological figure well attested in Mesopotamia and in later Jewish texts but a hapax in Biblical Hebrew, leads some scholars to suppose that ʭʩʸʲˈ were legendary animals that populated the desert regions.52 Whether the Israelites believed in such creatures is the subject of debate. Snaith, for example, argues against a belief in the existence of so-called satyrs in ancient Israel and suggests, correctly in my view, that this translation reflects the importation of Greek and Roman images into the ancient Israelite world by biblical scholars.53 Based largely on the unusual use of the term in Deut 32:2 in reference to a downpour of rain and the reference to Lilith in Isa 34, Snaith concludes that the ʭʩʸʲˈ were “the rain gods, the fertility deities, the baals of the rain-storms.” Snaith’s model seems overly reductive and leaves open the semantic relationship between these fertility deities and the goats designated by the term ʭʩʸʲˈ that were a regular part of the sacrificial cult. Nonetheless, his line of thought may be worth pursuing with some refinement. The term ʭʩʸʲˈ in Deut 32 appears in parallelism with ʸʺʮ (“rain”), ʬʨ (“dew”), and ʭʩʡʩʡʸ (“showers”) and clearly refers to the water itself that falls upon the grass. It is quite possible that by metonymy the word

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comes to refer to both the water and the divine being that produces it, just as the name Mot connotes both the name of a deity and the phenomenon with which he was associated. If this were the case, we might speculate that the ʭʩʸʲˈ referred to in Leviticus and Chronicles were divine images associated with fertility that took the form of a goat. This proposal might find support in glyptic evidence from Iron II Israel. Keel and Uehlinger’s analysis of Iron Age seal impressions depicting caprids is instructive.54 A calcite conoid from Dor shows two suckling horned caprids facing each other, with the rudimentary form of a goddess between them.55 The authors comment that these and other images featuring cows arranged similarly “is clear evidence for the relatively fragile status of the anthropomorphic ‘Mistress of the Mother Animals’ in Iron Age IIA Syro-Palestinian glyptic art.”56 On a conoid from Tell en Nasbeh a worshiper with upraised arms is shown in a horizontal position beneath two suckling caprids that face each other.57 Regarding this image Keel and Uehlinger assert: “The goddess is missing, which means this collection of figures depicts an impersonal, numinous power that brings blessing and has, as such, itself become the object of worship.”58 In addition to these images of the suckling mother animals, in which female gender is implicit and the image is clearly associated with fertility, single caprids are also featured on locally produced limestone conoids. Keel and Uehlinger draw attention to a whole group of locally produced limestone seal amulets that show a human figure standing in front of a single caprid with arms raised in worship.59 Five pieces of this type were found at Beth Shemesh, at least four in a tomb that contained material from the end of Iron Age I through the beginning of Iron Age IIB.60 While there is no way to be certain that an ancient Israelite would have identified the caprids represented in these glyphs as ʭʩʸʲˈ, when the images are considered in light of references such as those in Leviticus and Chronicles, a case begins to mount for the idea that ʭʩʸʲˈ were either objects of worship or at the very least symbols of divine presence in some ancient Israelite circles during the monarchic period.61 Eynikel asserts that all of the occurrences of ʭʩʸʲˈ in the Old Testament are found in exilic or postexilic texts.62 The reference in Chronicles is surely late and, as Barrick notes, anachronistically associates the practice with the northern cult.63 Isaiah 34 is also likely to be postexilic.64 The lateness of the references to ʭʩʸʲˈ in Isa 13:21 and Lev 17, however, is hardly a foregone conclusion.65 In light of the evidence discussed here, which suggests that the goat had divine associations in Iron II Israel, it is feasible that cult installations associated with the image of the goat existed in Josiah’s Jerusalem. Textual, grammatical,


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and material considerations point to ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high place[s] of the goats”) as the most plausible rendering of 2 Kgs 23:8. If this reading is correct, Josiah’s eradication of these installations constitutes another important connection between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code, as Lev 17:7 provides the only specific prohibition against offerings to ʭʩʸʲˈ in the Hebrew Bible. Although 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code share certain specific common interests—including the prohibition of mlk offerings, the elimination of bāmôt as punishment for transgression, and possibly the elimination of offerings to ʭʩʸʲˈ—they do not express these ideas using shared linguistic conventions or formulaic turns of phrase. Indeed the absence of such common conventions may explain why the connections between 2 Kgs 23 and the Holiness Code tend to escape scholarly attention. It does not seem likely that the two texts are the work of a common author, nor is it probable that 2 Kgs 23:4–20 was generated with a fixed text of the Holiness Code in mind. Rather these two compositions appear to share a common socioreligious and intellectual orientation that transcends authorship. This situation may be contrasted with the parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and Deuteronomy, where the use of explicitly Deuteronomic conventions in the received reform account indicates that the author “either retouched his source to conform to Deuteronomy or that he composed the reforms himself, imitating the style of his source.”66 It seems that the details 2 Kgs 23 shares with the Holiness Code reflect a diffuse and highly influential holiness-school of thought whose origins date back to the late preexilic period, but whose activity continued at least into the exile and perhaps beyond. The identification of a holiness substratum in the deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform illuminates some of the ideological underpinnings of the reform measures themselves and brings into clearer relief some of the religiopolitical interests of the text’s authors and the social milieus in which the reform account was produced. The credibility of the holiness hypothesis hinges on our ability to answer four essential questions: What would have been the purpose of the original holiness account? How much of this material is preserved in the received text? What would have been the deuteronomist’s motivation for revision? And what text-critical evidence is there for the deuteronomist’s transformation of an earlier source? I have indirectly touched on some of these questions here, and they receive more explicit attention in chapters 4–5. First, however, the deuteronomistic orientation of 2 Kgs 23 must be more clearly defined.


3 Ḥ ērem Ideology and the Politics of Destruction Josiah’s Reform in Deuteronomistic Perspective

In the previous chapter I demonstrated that 2 Kgs 23 attests certain key terms, themes, and underlying interests that are otherwise most at home in priestly literature. Language associated with apotropaic and purification ritual connects the reform account to priestly elimination rites attested in Leviticus and Numbers. The notion of deliberate defilement of sacred space creates a link to the prophecies of Ezekiel and the traditions of the priestly holiness school. Ties to the Holiness Code inhere in the particular targets of Josiah’s reform: his elimination of high places in Jerusalem and Bethel, including the ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high places of the goats”) and the Topheth in the Hinnom Valley where mlk offerings were made. The priestly holiness undercurrent in this text has gone largely undetected by biblical scholars, thanks in no small part to the heavy hand of the deuteronomistic authors. Deuteronomistic editing in 2 Kgs 23:4–20 is most immediately apparent in parallels between Josiah’s reform measures and descriptions of the warfare ban, or ḥērem. These details are editorial to the core narrative and reflect the efforts of a postmonarchic author to account for late monarchic traditions associated with Josiah and his reign. It is clear that on some level the deuteronomistic authors conceived of the reform in ḥērem terms; yet the root ʭʸʧ (“to dedicate to destruction”) never occurs in their rendering of the events.1

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This chapter focuses at once on the specific connections between Josiah’s reform and ḥērem and the significance of the term’s absence for understanding the historiographic interests of the text’s deuteronomistic authors. Toward that end, I examine aspects of the origins and development of the ḥērem concept in biblical and extrabiblical texts, with particular attention to patterns of usage in Deuteronom(ist)ic contexts. A substantial literature exists on the subject of the ḥērem, yet certain attributes of the phenomenon in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature have not been adequately addressed.2 In addition to its contribution to research on 2 Kgs 23 then, this chapter treats a range of interpretive issues related to the ḥērem that require fresh attention. Lohfink argues that the deuteronomistic ḥērem does not appear to have been necessary to legitimize Josiah’s campaigns of destruction against cultic institutions in Judah and in the former northern kingdom. Rather, he contends, “the ancient commandments requiring destruction of the Canaanite cults, now enshrined in Deuteronomy, sufficed.”3 Niditch too finds it surprising that the word ḥērem does not appear in 2 Kgs 22–23.4 I argue here that the absence of the term is consistent with a clear tendency in deuteronomistic literature to situate the ḥērem in the context of Israel’s pre- and early-monarchic wars. At the same time, it is precisely these associations that make it a powerful metaphor for Josiah’s attack on the Israelite cult. Language associated with the ḥērem represents a deliberate effort to forge a connection between the period of Josiah’s reign and the era of Israel’s divine conquest of the land. Through such language the deuteronomistic author presents Josiah as fulfilling Deuteronomy’s call for the eradication of idolatry and at the same time creates a link between Josiah and Israel’s great ḥērem warrior Joshua, who cleansed the land of foreign contaminants and established the cultural and physical boundaries of the Israelite nation. There are fourteen references to ḥērem in Deuteronom(ist)ic texts (Deut 2:34; 3:6; 7:2, 26; 13:16; 20:16; Josh 6, 7, 8, 10; Judg 21:11; 1 Kgs 15; 20:40; 2 Kgs 19:11). In deuteronomistic narratives ḥērem is strongly associated with war and often denotes the complete destruction of enemy populations and towns and the consecration of these to the deity. In this setting, imposition of the ḥērem constituted an assertion of victory and a rite of purification that allowed the new population and its deity to take up residence. In the book of Deuteronomy the Israelites’ inheritance of the land of Canaan is dependent upon their enactment of the ḥērem to eradicate preexistent non-Israelite cults and idolatry in their own midst. Deuteronomy 13:16 is the only text that presents the ḥērem as means of eradicating Israelite idolatry. It is also the only text that belongs to

ḥ ē r em ideology and the politics of destruction

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core Deuteronomy; all of the other references are deuteronomistic.5 From this distribution, it appears that Deuteronomy was familiar with the specific political and military applications of the ḥērem, but reinvented it as means of dealing with the problems of idolatry and the “indigenous other.” The idea that a tactic generally used against one’s enemies could be used within the Israelite community would have represented a significant and terrifying departure from normal expectations and would have driven home one of Deuteronomy’s central messages; namely, that proper Yahwistic worship was a prerequisite for the Israelites’ life in the land. The authors of Deuteronomy are not interested in the ḥērem as a tactic in war; and in the absence of such references, the law in Deut 13 takes on more powerful significance. Remarkably, the deuteronomistic historians never pick up on Deuteronomy’s ḥērem against Israelite idolatry and apply it in their own compositions. For them, ḥērem always serves as a means of dealing with the problem of non-Israelite cults and cultures. In both Deuteronomy and deuteronomistic texts, through imposition of the ḥērem the Israelites demonstrate their commitment to Yahweh by asserting themselves as the rightful occupants of the land that he promised. In this way they affirm the tripartite relationship between people, land, and God, the integrity of which was essential to the Israelites’ survival.6 If they fail to obey God’s military, civic, or cultic commands, they themselves might be destroyed by the ḥērem. In all of the texts in which the word ḥērem appears, both in the Bible and in extrabiblical sources, the devotion of property or populations served to establish the boundaries of collective identity. In deuteronomistic thought, the wartime ḥērem and ḥērem against idolatry represented two sides of the same coin. Each served to delimit the physical and cultural boundaries between Israelite “self ” and Canaanite “other.” Archeological and epigraphic evidence reveals the artificiality of this distinction; the inaccuracy of the designation “Canaanite” (i.e., “not Israelite”) to describe the cult objects and installations whose eradication Deuteronomy calls for is well documented.7 Nevertheless, presenting these and the associated practices as exclusively belonging to the previous inhabitants of the land served the deuteronomists’ interests in delimiting a more distinctively Israelite religion. As a purification rite, the war-ḥērem shares some of its terminology with the priestly elimination rites discussed in chapter 2. In particular the verb ʳʸʹ (“to burn”) is at home in both contexts. In addition ḥērem often provides a means of averting divine wrath and in this way serves a protective function not unlike priestly rituals for purification from corpse contamination and leprosy. However, the ḥērem is distinct from

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these rituals, vis-à-vis the particular phenomenology it attests, the sociopolitical circumstances with which it is most strongly associated, and the literary contexts in which it occurs. At the same time, that these two types of elimination rite share certain attributes facilitated the deuteronomistic authors’ transformation of the apotropaic ritual attested in their source material into an account infused with ḥērem ideology. Lohfink asserts that a deuteronomist working during the time of Josiah applied the concept of ḥērem to Israel’s conquest traditions and in so doing undergirded the sense of religious and national identity of the readers of his own time.8 I argue here that the deuteronomistic authors may not simply have applied the ḥērem to their accounts of Israel’s conquest so much as they worked from sources that preserved more ancient ḥērem traditions.9 Nonetheless Lohfink’s suggestion points to the notion that the circumstances of Josiah’s reign were readily imagined in ḥērem terms.

The War-Ḥērem and Early State Formation The biblical war-ḥērem accounts are generally understood to have been composed long after the period in which they are set, during a time when Israel’s tribal origins may have represented a collective cultural memory more than a social reality. For this reason they are often taken to reveal more about the ideological interests of the Bible’s deuteronomistic authors and editors than they do about any real events in emergent Israel’s history.10 I argue elsewhere that, while this may indeed be the case for a large majority of the biblical references to the ḥērem, Iron Age II textual evidence from Moab and South Arabia attests to the war-ḥērem being a part of the lexicon and social consciousness of the world to which ancient Israel belonged, long before the literary activity of the deuteronomistic school.11 Already in Moabite and Sabaean contexts, ḥērem served as an affirmation of the exclusive relationship between a people on its land and the patron deity who granted that land. Understood in this light, the notion of covenant would naturally inhere in the concept of the war-ḥērem, making it particularly ripe for deuteronomistic application. In contrast to the biblical war-ḥērem texts, which reflect a long and complicated history of transmission, the Moabite and Sabaean texts, though perhaps no less colored by agenda or ideology, appear to have been composed immediately after the events they portray. These texts describe periods in which each nation was, to use terms Routledge applies to Moab, “a tribal confederacy . . . dominated by relations of


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kinship and charisma rather than by class or institutions.”12 The Sabaean text RES 3945 credits the ruler, Karib-ilu, with having consolidated power and expanded considerably the Sabaean kingdom. Mesha played a similar role in the political life of Moab. The Moabite kingdom arose at approximately the same time as the kingdoms of Ammon and Edom in the wake of the dissolution of traditional powers at the end of the Late Bronze Age.13 Each state sought to defend and expand its borders, and the history of Moab and the definition of its territorial borders are intimately linked to the fortunes of other regional states.14 Such conflicts are well attested in the Hebrew Bible, for example, in Judg 3, which describes Israel’s service to Moab and the Israelites’ eventual defeat of the Moabites under the leadership of Ehud, and in 2 Kgs 3:4–27, which describes the Israelite King Jehoram’s Moabite campaign. The picture depicted in biblical and extrabiblical sources is of an unstable political atmosphere in which the fate of particular nations on their land was regularly threatened by potential expansion by rival states. Routledge notes that recent scholarship on the Mesha Inscription is characterized by a particular emphasis on the “fragile, emergent or even nonexistent nature of Moabite statehood as witnessed in the Mesha Inscription” and “the absence of unequivocal evidence in either Mesha or the Hebrew Bible for a territorially integrated state of Moab before Mesha.”15 The closest biblical parallel to the ḥērem as attested in Moabite and Sabaean sources occurs in the account of the conquest of Ai in Josh 8. In this text, after a failed first attempt at taking the city, Yahweh enjoins Joshua not to be discouraged and to take the whole Israelite army with him to attack the city a second time. This time he promises, “I have given the king of Ai, his people, his city, and his land into your hand.” So Joshua and the Israelite army go up to Ai, and Joshua commands, “You shall rise up in ambush and you shall take possession of the land for Yahweh, your God has given it into your hand; and when you have taken the city, you shall set the city on fire as the Yahweh your God has commanded you” (8:7–8). When the Israelites reach Ai, God commands Joshua to hold out his javelin toward the city. Joshua follows the directive, and the Israelites rise in ambush against the city, setting it on fire, killing all of its inhabitants, and putting the whole population—12,000 men, women, and children—to the ḥērem. Once the land was conquered, its population destroyed, and its king’s body hung from a tree as a symbol of defeat, Joshua builds an altar to Yahweh on Mount Ebal, the Israelites offer sacrifices, and Joshua leads the people in a ceremonial renewal of their commitment to Yahweh. Joshua inscribes the laws of Moses and reads them aloud before the entire community.16

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Joshua’s performance of this ceremony provides important information regarding the function of the ḥērem and its underlying ideology. Instructions for carrying out the ceremony are contained in Deut 27.17 This chapter opens with the instruction that when the Israelites cross the Jordan and enter the land, they are to set up two large stones upon which they are to inscribe the law that God commanded the Israelites through Moses. They are to build an altar and offer burnt offerings and peace offerings to Yahweh. At this ceremony the twelve tribes of Israel are to be divided into two groups, one standing on Mount Gerizim and one standing on Mount Ebal. The Levites are to declare a series of curses and thus conclude the ceremony. Deuteronomy’s prescriptions are followed almost precisely in Josh 8, including the central role played by the Levitical priests and the division of the tribes into two groups, each group standing atop a different mount. The accounts of the battle at Ai and the commitment ceremony on Mount Ebal serve similar functions. Both describe the moment of official transfer of land by God to the Israelites. In Deut 27 and Josh 8:30–35 this transfer of land is expressed in cultic terms through the building of an altar and the reading of the law, while in Josh 8:1–29 enactment of the ḥērem constitutes the ultimate expression of Israelite entitlement.18 Joshua 8:1–30 attests four key elements that are also essential in ḥērem texts from Moab and South Arabia:19 1) Ḥērem denotes destruction wrought on a massive scale and effectuated by conflagration. 2) Ḥērem is performed locally, not regionally. Destruction and resettlement by the victors are tied specifically to the occupation of individual towns, so that town in effect becomes like an empty vessel ready to receive the new population. 3) At least some segment of the population of the conquered town is killed and consecrated to the deity. 4) A cult installation is erected signifying that a new population and its god have set up residence. The similar social and political circumstances underlying the Moabite and Sabaean ḥērem texts, and the structural and thematic parallels these texts share with Josh 8, suggest the possibility that the account of the ḥērem on Ai, including the building of the Ebal altar in 8:30, preserves an early Israelite tradition that the deuteronomist inherited and integrated into his account of the Israelites’ sweeping and miraculous conquest of the promised land.20 In many of the Bible’s ḥērem texts and in the Mesha Inscription, enemy populations are to be utterly destroyed. This is communicated


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most clearly in Josh 8, where the word ʬʫ (“all, every”) appears sixteen times in twenty-nine verses, used in reference to both the inhabitants of Ai who are put to the ḥērem and the Israelites themselves, at whose hands the destruction of the city is wrought.21 The comprehensiveness of the destruction meted out against the inhabitants of the city is articulated in a number of ways. Joshua 8:22 reads: ʩʺʬʡ-ʣʲ ʭʺʥʠ ʥʫʩʥ ʺʩʬʴʥ ʣʩʸʹ ʥʬ-ʸʩʠʹʤ (“and they smote them until neither survivors nor fugitives remained”). Then in 8:24, ʭʥʴʣʸ ʸʹʠ ʸʡʣʮʡ ʤʣʹʡ ʩʲʤ ʩʡʹʩ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʢʸʤʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʺʥʬʫʫ ʩʤʩʥ ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʤʺʠ ʥʫʩʥ ʩʲʤ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʬʫ ʥʡʹʩʥ ʭʮʺ-ʣʲ ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʭʬʫ ʥʬʴʩʥ ʥʡ When Israel had finished killing all of the inhabitants of Ai in the wilderness where they pursued them, and all of them, up to the very last one had fallen by the sword, all of Israel returned to Ai and smote it by the sword. Finally, 8:26 reiterates, ʩʲʤ ʩʡʹʩ-ʬʫ ʺʠ ʭʩʸʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʣʲ ʯʥʣʩʫʡ ʤʨʰ ʸʹʠ ʥʣʩ ʡʩʹʤ-ʠʬ ʲʹʥʤʩʥ Joshua did not withdraw his hand that stretched out the javelin until he had put all of the inhabitants of Ai to the ḥērem. It is clear in Josh 8 that extermination of Ai’s population as part of the ḥērem is essential in order for Yahweh to assert himself as the one true god of the land and for the Israelites to establish themselves as his people. The same idea is expressed in the Mesha Inscription, where Mesha boasts, [ʤ]ʬʫ ʢʸʤʠʥ ʤʦ/ʧʠʥ :ʭʸʤʶʤ ʣʲ ʺʸʧʹʤ ʤʷʡʮ ʤʡ ʭʤʺʬʠʥ ʤʬʬʡ ʪʬʤ/ʠʥ ʤʺʮʸʧʤ ʹʮʫ ʸʺʹʲʬ ʩʫ :ʺʮʧʸʥ ʺ/[ʸʢ]ʥ ʺʸʡʢʥ ʯʸ[ʢ]ʥ ʯʸ[ʡ]ʢ ʯʴʬʠ ʺʲʡʹ

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And I went at night and I fought against it [Nebo] from the break of the morning until noon / and I took it and I killed all: 7,000 male citizens and foreign men / female citizens women, foreign women, and female slaves. / For ʿAštar-Kemoš I put it to the ḥērem. (Mesha Inscription 15–17)23 A similar scenario appears in the Sabaean Karib-ilu Inscription: whgrn / nšn / yhḥrm / bn / mwptm ̣ / wCtbhw / hrš / bythw/ Cprw / C whrš / hgrhw / nšn / wbd / bẓhr / nšn / slʾm / ʿpklt / wCtb / bn / nšn / ʿl / wḍʾt / šptmw / nsrn / ʿlʾltn / wyhrgw / wCtb / smhypC / wnšn / kd / yḥwr / sbʾ / bhgrn / nšn / wkd / ybny / smhypC / wnšn / byt / ʿlmqh / bwst / hlrn / nšn / 24

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And he devoted the city of NŠN to the ḥērem by burning, and he instructed him to destroy his palace ʿFRW and his city NŠN and imposed on NŠN a tribute for the priests, and he gave command concerning those of NŠN whose dedication to the gods was allotted(?) so that they were killed, and he instructed SMHYFC and NŠN that Sabaeans should settle in the city NŠN and that SMHYFC and NŠN should build a temple for ʿLMQH in the midst of the city NŠN.25 Here there is no reference to the complete eradication of population, but like the biblical and Moabite ḥērem accounts, a specific point is made of the slaughter of the local inhabitants and their consecration to the deity. This is expressed in the Karib-ilu Inscription by the comment “he gave command concerning those of NŠN whose dedication to the gods was allotted, so that they were killed.” Reference to Karib-ilu’s decree that the Sabaeans should settle in NŠN and SMHYPC suggests that here, too, the ḥērem is conceptualized as rendering the land an empty vessel in which the conquering population could settle and erect a temple to its patron god. This confluence of motifs may be contrasted with well-known descriptions of war from the major powers of the ancient Near East, a difference that reflects the distinct social and political settings in which the ḥērem traditions emerged. While the idea of a conquered territory as both granted by a particular deity and devoted to that deity is well attested in Mesopotamian literature, in the context of empire, conquest served rational imperialist interests. Its purpose was to control land and people and to maximize their potential to generate revenue, not to obliterate them altogether. That land was conceived in this way is communicated by the word mātu(m), which signifies land as population, not simply land as territory.26 So, for example, a royal inscription that records the campaign of Sargon I against the area of the Upper Euphrates and Ebla attests:“Sargon the king bowed down to the god Dagān in Tuttul. He gave to him the Upper Land [ma-tam a-lí-tám]: Mari, Iarmuti, and Ebla as far as the Cedar Forest and the Silver Mountain.”27 The term ma-tam a-lí-tám implies that Sargon effectively became ruler of these lands granted (nadānum) to him by Dagan. In other words, there were populations in place over whom Sargon asserted dominion. Numerous Assyrian and Babylonian royal inscriptions describe terrible atrocities wrought against land and people during times of war, but the root ḫrm itself is never attested in these texts.28 They tend to refer to the exacting of taxes, tribute, and slave labor, implying that a significant portion of the population remained on the land once the


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battles were over.29 A particularly explicit example of this occurs in a cylinder inscription of Tiglath-Pileser I, who boasts: I destroyed the lands of Sarauš and Ammauš, which from ancient times had not known submission (so that they looked) like ruin hills (created by) the deluge. I fought with their extensive army in Mount Aruma and brought about their defeat. I spread out like grain heaps the corpses of their men at arms on mountain ledges. I conquered their cities, took their gods, and brought out their booty, possessions (and), property. I burnt, razed, and destroyed their cities (and) turned them into ruin hills. I imposed a heavy yoke of domination upon them (and) made them vassals of the god Aššur, my Lord. (3.73–87)30 The language of this passage bears a marked resemblance to the language associated with ḥērem, including the term “heap of ruins” (DU6 a-bu-be), which is similar to Hebrew ʭʬʥʲ-ʬʺ, a phrase that appears in a number of the biblical ḥērem texts, including Josh 8:28. In addition, the scattering of bodies (dáb-da-šu-nu áš-kun), the removal of gods (DINGIR.MEš-šu-nu áš-ša-a), the taking of spoil (šal-la-su-nu bu-ša-šu-nu nam-kur-šu-nu u-še-ṣa-a), and the burning of cities (URU.MEš-šu-nu i-na IZI.MEš aš-ru-up)—all resonate with ḥērem language. However, in contrast to the Moabite, Israelite, and Sabaean ḥērem texts, there is no reference to the devotion of the cities to the deity, nor do we find specific reference to the slaughter of population. Killing is limited to fighting men (muq-tab-li-šu-nu), and the people of Sarauš and Ammauš are made subjects of the king. Saggs suggests that many Assyrian war tactics were intended not as “terrorism for sadistic purposes,” but rather as a kind of psychological warfare.31 He may overstate the case when he hypothesizes that “had more attention been paid to such strategic aspects of Assyrian warfare some of the indignation voiced by modern commentators against Assyrian atrocities might have been seen to be unjustified.”32 However, his observation that the atrocities wrought by Assyrian armies were intended to traumatize those who remained on the land once the battles were over speaks to the idea that conquest in Mesopotamia involved assertion of control, not only over land, but over people as well. In contrast to this strategy, the ḥērem represents a distinct notion of warfare associated with an eastern Levantine tribal political milieu, with connections as far south as the Arabian Peninsula. In order to better understand how a ḥērem that produced land without people might have served the particular interests of a conquering people, the Hittite Anitta Inscription is illuminating. Although

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the Hittite text attests no equivalent to the Semitic root ḥrm, this inscription provides a rare example of an ancient Near Eastern text that describes the complete eradication and consecration of a town and its inhabitants in terms akin to the Israelite, Moabite, and Sabaean warḥērem texts.33 Together with his father, Pithana, King Anitta of Kussura in all likelihood was responsible for establishing the foundations of the Hittite kingdom.34 The inscription records his and his father’s struggle for power against the rival cities of Neša, Zalpuwa, Purušanda, Šattiwara, and Hatti (Hattuša) and commemorates the king’s expansion of control from a small area around Kaneš to include most of central Anatolia, from Hattuša in the north to Purušanda in the south.35 These cities were subdued, and Hattuša, which would later become capital of the Hittite kingdom, was given over to Anitta by the goddess Halmaššuit,36 sewn with cress, and cursed in order to prevent its resettlement (Anitta Inscription 48–51). In this detail the account of Anitta’s conquest of Hattuša may be compared with the biblical account of Joshua’s attack on Jericho, which also concludes with a curse against anyone who attempts to reestablish the city. Additional parallels between the Anitta Inscription and biblical and extrabiblical ḥērem texts include taking the city at night (cf. Mesha Inscription 15; Josh 8:9), carrying off the cult objects of the patron god of the conquered city (cf. Mesha Inscription 17), and the building of a cult place dedicated to the deity who insured his/her people’s military success (cf. Josh 8:30; Mesha Inscription 3; RES 3945.16). In its setting, as well as in many of its details, the Anitta Inscription bears a striking resemblance to the ḥērem texts from Moab, Saba, and Israel. Bryce observes that Anitta’s ban on resettlement of the city was short lived as, only 150 years following Anitta’s conquest, it was reestablished as a new seat for the Hittite royal dynasty under Hattušili I, the first clearly attested Hittite king.37 Goetze comments that it is “a curious fact that Hattuša itself was subjected to such treatment by Anitta of Kussar, nevertheless it had been rebuilt and in fact became the capital of a prosperous empire.”38 What Goetze calls a “curious fact” may actually be a significant feature in the Anitta text. According to Bryce, this inscription is preserved in fragmentary form in three copies, allegedly from an original carved on a stele and set up in the gate of the king’s city.39 The earliest surviving version was written in Old Hittite and was made some 150 years after the original. Certain elements of the text’s phraseology unique to Mesopotamia lead some scholars to suggest that an original version of the text was written in Old Assyrian.40 This explanation, however, is much disputed. Gurney, for example, takes issue with the assumption that the inscription is


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simply a late copy of an original that was composed by the king himself.41 He suggests instead that the deeds of Anitta became legendary and were later worked into the form of an apocryphal royal inscription. This interpretation gains credibility when one considers that the earliest copy of the inscription dates to approximately the same period as the reign of Hattušili I, who is responsible for consolidating Hittite control in the capital at Hattuša. Whether or not Gurney’s reconstruction is correct, that the received text was written in Old Hittite and preserved well into the Late Bronze Age suggests that it was significant in the Hittites’ construction of their national identity, at least in hindsight. Much like the biblical ḥērem texts then, the Anitta Inscription provides a retrospective account of the complete destruction of what was to become an important city, originally occupied by a foreign population. Although Jericho and Ai do not have the political significance associated with Hattuša, they are comparable ideologically, for their conquest was essential in the construction of both Israelite national identity and the Israelite state, as these processes are remembered in biblical narrative. Based on the Anitta Inscription and another early Hittite text, known from its colophon as “The Manly Deeds of Hattušili,” Hoffner comments that references to deportees carried back to Hattuša by the Hittite king are conspicuously lacking in texts from this early date and that the permanent subjugation of foes and the imposition of regular troop levies are also missing but are found commonly in later ones.42 Stern sees this change over time as unsurprising, simply “because such customs . . . tend to fade out as time passes and circumstances change.”43 Stern here underestimates the importance of Hoffner’s observation. While there is no equivalent to the word ḥērem in the Anitta Inscription, the Hittite text suggests that, in the context of a national literature, the memory of conquest as producing a land without people constitutes one means by which a nation in the early stages of state formation or expansion, without the infrastructure to support the administration of subject populations, could assert political control.44 The idea that the war-ḥērem creating land without people belongs to the early phases of state formation is supported in the Bible by the frequency with which the root ʭʸʧ occurs in the books of Deuteronomy and Joshua. These references relate primarily to the treatment of local non-Israelite populations and their cults in the period before the rise of the Israelite monarchy. Once the monarchy was established, references to the ḥērem virtually disappear from deuteronomistic texts. This distribution suggests that in the narrative presentation of Israel’s history, once the Israelite monarchy was strong enough to conduct trade and

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diplomatic and military operations both at home and abroad, the ḥērem was no longer a necessary or viable tactic. Explicit evidence in support of this is found in a summary of Solomon’s building initiatives in 1 Kgs 9:20–21: ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡʮ-ʠʬ ʸʹʠ ʩʱʥʡʩʤʥ ʩʥʧʤ ʩʦʸʴʤ ʩʺʧʤ ʩʸʮʠʤ-ʯʮ ʸʺʥʰʤ ʭʲʤ-ʬʫ ʭʮʩʸʧʤʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ ʥʬʫʩ-ʠʬ ʸʹʠ ʵʸʠʡ ʭʤʩʸʧʠ ʥʸʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʤʩʰʡ :ʤʮʤ ʤʦʤ ʭʥʩʤ ʣʲ ʣʡʲ-ʱʮʬ ʤʮʬʹ ʭʬʲʩʥ All the people who were left of the Amorites, the Hittites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites who were not from the Israelites, their descendants who were left after them in the land, whom the Israelites were unable to put to the ḥērem, Solomon set them up as a forced levy as they are to this day. The significance of this statement is clear: according to the deuteronomistic narrative, ḥērem had become an outdated mode of domination by the time of Solomon. Using local populations for conscripted labor was more beneficial to the state than implementing a policy of extermination. The association of ḥērem with early state formation is inconsistent with the late monarchic setting of Josiah’s reign, and this goes part of the way toward explaining the term’s absence in 2 Kgs 23. However, it is precisely its prestate associations that render the ḥērem a powerful metaphor in the deuteronomistic author’s double-edged presentation of Josiah’s reign as a moment of religious and political renewal and the effective end to Israel’s monarchic history.

Agents of Renewal: Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra In the biblical drama of Israel’s emergence in the land of Canaan, Joshua plays the leading role on the battlefield, while Yahweh ensures Israel’s success from on high. As the military leader par excellence who vanquishes his people’s enemies and ensures their occupation of a godgiven land, Joshua stands in the company of kings Mesha, Karib-ilu, and Anitta. In contrast to this cohort, Joshua is not a king as such; yet his actions and aspects of his character are echoed in the deuteronomistic portrayal of King Josiah. With Josiah’s reform, Joshua’s violent purgation of the cities of Canaan provides a bookend in the biblical story of Israel’s life as a landed nation. One of the clearest points of contact between Joshua and Josiah is that both undertake covenant-renewal ceremonies, performed before Yahweh in the presence of the entire community (Josh 24:1–28; 2 Kgs


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23:1–3). The idea that a deuteronomistic historian intended for us to draw a connection between the two ceremonies is supported by reference to a ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ (“book of the law”) in both texts (Josh 24:26; 2 Kgs 22:11). Nelson notes that reference to the law having been encapsulated in a book is used by the Deuteronomist eleven times in 2 Kgs 22–23 and is not mentioned before this except in regard to Joshua.45 As discussed above, Joshua also reads aloud a ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ in the attendance of the entire community in Josh 8 after the conquest of Ai.46 Just as the ceremony performed by Joshua on Mount Ebal expresses in cultic terms what the ḥērem expresses physically—namely, the integrity of the relationship between people, land, and God—Josiah’s renewal of the covenant at the Jerusalem temple communicates the idea of Yahweh as the one true God of Israel, who is the guarantor of Israel’s safety and security. When Joshua builds an altar according to ʤʹʮ ʺʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ (“the book of the law of Moses”), the reference is likely intended to conjure the same book that inspires Josiah’s destruction of illegitimate altars in the deuteronomistic reform account. In contrast to Joshua’s commitment ceremony, which takes place after ḥērem has been imposed on the city of Ai, Josiah’s covenant renewal occurs before his reform enactments. This contrast creates a kind of narrative chiasm consistent with the idea of a bookend effect in the portrayal of the two figures. Barrick and others note that it is peculiar that 2 Kgs 22–23 features Josiah and the Judahite community renewing the covenant with Yahweh in a temple that is still undergoing renovations and that is contaminated by illegitimate forms of the cult.47 Chronicles dates the reform measures to the twelfth year of Josiah’s reign and the temple renovations and covenant-renewal ceremony to his eighteenth year, thus providing a more feasible, though not necessarily more original, order of events. In placing the covenant-renewal ceremony before Josiah’s violent purgation of the cult, the reform account bears a certain structural similarity to the Mesha Inscription, where reference to the building of a bāmâ for Kemosh occurs before the description of Mesha’s military exploits, despite any underlying historical reality, which would have demanded the opposite.48 By referring to the erection of a cult installation prior to the account of the conquest, the author of the text draws attention to this particular act and communicates the idea that transfer of land into Mesha’s hands was divinely sanctioned and divinely mediated. The predictive reference in Deut 27 to Joshua’s building of an altar on Mount Ebal and his commitment ceremony, carried out in Josh 8, have a similar effect, as does the ordering of events in 2 Kgs 23.49 The deuteronomistic reform account situates the events within a ḥērem framework, thereby interpreting them

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as ḥērem. In light of this, it seems likely that the Chronicler, with his distinct historiographic interests, either sought to harmonize the semantic difficulties in the Kings account by rearranging the order of events or worked from a different reform account altogether—one that did not attest the same connections to the ḥērem. Joshua and Mesha impose the ḥērem and build cult installations to their respective gods as expressions of national identity and as assertions of their exclusive relationships with the deities ultimately responsible for the transfer of land into their hands. The setting for Josiah’s reform during a period when resurgent Judean independence was a possibility but hardly a guarantee makes the use of ḥērem imagery in the reform account particularly fitting. The reform measures affirmed Israel’s commitment to Yahweh, who granted the land, the religious and political boundaries of which Josiah rightfully, though ultimately unsuccessfully, sought to articulate more clearly. From this deuteronomistic vantage point, the connection between Josiah and Joshua demonstrated the heroic righteousness of Josiah himself, the end of Judean royal authority, and the beginning of new postmonarchic era when Israel would once again be dependent upon the sacral authority of its charismatic leaders. Additional similarities between Joshua and Josiah support the idea that the deuteronomistic writer deliberately forged a connection between them. In Josh 7:6, after the Israelites’ first failed attempt to take the city of Ai, Joshua tears his clothes (ʥʩʺʬʮʹ ʲʹʥʤʩ ʲʸʷʩʥ). Similarly in 2 Kgs 22:11, upon hearing the words of the book of the law, Josiah tears his clothes (ʥʩʣʢʡ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷʩʥ). The different terms for clothing in these two texts suggest the possibility that this echo is the product of neither common authorship nor direct literary influence, but rather derives from a tradition with which the scribe was familiar and upon which he could draw from memory.50 In both cases the tearing of garments is an expression of failure and remorse reflecting the realization that something has gone awry between Israel and God, and in both the tearing of the garment is followed by an inquiry to Yahweh (Josh 7:7; 2 Kgs 22:13). In Joshua, God rebukes the Israelites for their sin: transgressing his covenant by taking from the ḥērem despite his explicit instructions, lying, stealing, and concealing what they stole. He then provides an oracle: -ʣʲ ʪʩʡʩʠ ʩʰʴʬ ʭʥʷʬ ʬʫʥʺ ʠʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʪʡʸʷʡ ʭʸʧ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠ ʤʫ ʩʫ ʭʫʡʸʷʮ ʭʸʧʤ ʭʫʸʩʱʤ For thus says Yahweh, God of Israel, “There is ḥērem in your midst, Israel. You will not be able to prevail against your


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enemies until you remove the ḥērem from your midst.” (Josh 7:13) According to this promise, if the Israelites perform the requisite rites of elimination, they can restore the broken covenant and overcome their foes. In 2 Kgs 22 God also provides an oracle, this time through the prophetess Huldah, introduced by the phrase ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠ ʤʫ ʩʫ. Here too a list of transgressions is enumerated, but now Israel’s fate is sealed: ʤʺʶʰʥ ʭʤʩʣʩ ʤʹʲʮ ʬʫʡ ʩʰʱʩʲʫʤ ʯʲʮʬ ʭʩʸʧʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʬ ʥʸʨʷʩʥ ʩʰʥʡʦʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʧʺ ʤʡʫʺ ʠʬʥ ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʡ ʩʺʮʧ Because you have forsaken me and burned incense to other gods in order to anger me with all of the works of your hands, my anger will be kindled against this place and will not be extinguished. (2 Kgs 22:17) Where Joshua, in his grief, is mollified by a promise of God’s renewed protection of his people, Josiah’s remorse only secures his own noble end (22:20); the Israelite nation is doomed. While the apparent conflict between Josiah’s efforts and the content of Huldah’s prophecy make it tempting to see the latter as secondary to the deuteronomistic reform account, such a conclusion is not required. If the working hypothesis of this study is correct, then a postmonarchic deuteronomistic historian inherited a set of preexilic traditions that preserved a memory of Josiah’s reign as a period of reform and consolidation of religious and political authority in Jerusalem. The deuteronomistic author revised these traditions with their decidedly preexilic concerns, reinterpreting Josiah’s reform in terms of ḥērem and situating his reign within the more sweeping scope of Israel’s salvation history. Where Joshua succeeded, Josiah failed. Yet this does not diminish Josiah’s valor for his steadfast adherence to Yahweh’s torah; like Joshua, Josiah never turned from it “to the right or to the left” (Josh 1:7; 2 Kgs 22:2).51 For such a writer, Josiah’s faithfulness to Deuteronomic law would have been seen as necessary and appropriate in his day and as model behavior in preexilic Israel; yet ultimately it was not enough to interrupt Israel’s eternal cycle of transgression, punishment, repentance, and return.52 The links created between the figures of Joshua and Josiah reify this metahistorical pattern. In chapter 5 I undertake a detailed discussion of the arguments in favor of a postmonarchic deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23. However, it is worthwhile to note in the present context the oft-observed parallels between the account of Josiah’s reign and certain key details in the

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postexilic books of Ezra and Nehemiah. Both Josiah and Ezra read a book of the law in the hearing (ʩʰʦʠ) of the entire Judean community (ʭʲʤ ʬʫ) (2 Kgs 23:1–2; Neh 8:2–3); and in both the reading of the law is associated with a reconsecration of the Jerusalem temple and a recommitment to Yahweh’s law (Ezra 6:16–17; 2 Kgs 23:3). Both perform the Passover at the newly rededicated temple (Ezra 6:19–22; 2 Kgs 23:21– 23). In Nehemiah the festival of booths is observed, as was not done since the time of Joshua (Neh 8:14–17), much as Josiah’s Passover was the first since the days of the judges (2 Kgs 23:22). In both cases the observance of the festival is done according to the words of the scroll of the law (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ). The parallels between the figures of Josiah and Ezra may be explained in one of two ways. It is possible that the author of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah deliberately drew on the deuteronomistic re-presentation of Josiah, in which case it seems likely that this author saw in Josiah the same ideal model of postmonarchic governance that I propose was the intention of the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 22–23. It is also possible, however, that the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 22–23 and the author(s) of Ezra and Nehemiah, both of them working in scribal schools of the postmonarchic period, were familiar with the same incarnation of Josiah as the ideal postmonarchic model of governance—as a figure with ties to the Davidic line who represented an ideal amalgam of priestly and royal authority. The author(s) of the books of Ezra and Nehemiah may have drawn on this model in the representation of Ezra, without direct literary dependency on 2 Kgs 22–23. In either case, for the final biblical authors and editors, Josiah’s preexilic reign and ḥērem-like reform mark a new beginning that at once hearkens back to Israel’s more perfect past and is fully realized under the leadership of Ezra and his compatriots in the postexilic period. Like Josiah and Ezra, Joshua also performs the Passover at a specific sanctuary before the entire Israelite community, and the parallels between these three traditions are illuminating. Joshua 5:10–12, which refers to the Passover at Gilgal, is not generally treated as deuteronomistic,53 and Joshua is not explicitly made the officiant at this ceremony. Nelson comments that, “while Joshua is not present in the text of Joshua 5:10–12, he was certainly there in the Deuteronomist’s conception of things.”54 While this is surely the case, it requires further explication, as does the literary relationship between the portrayals of Joshua and Josiah in these passages. Joshua’s Passover takes place on the heels of the Israelites’ crossing of the Jordan and entering the promised land. According to Josh 4:14, on the day the Israelites crossed the Jordan and arrived on dry land,


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Yahweh “exalted Joshua in the eyes of all Israel,” and the Israelites “feared him as they feared Moses, all the days of his life.” Joshua 5 opens with a second circumcision of the Israelites at Gilgal. It is here that the Passover is performed. In this context, the Passover offering marks a transition between the Israelites’ sojourn in the desert and their arrival and settlement in the land that God promised. The idea of the Passover as a transitional moment is emphasized in 5:11–12, where it is explained that manna ceased on the day after the Passover; from this day forward the Israelites ate from the produce of the land. While the circumstances of Josiah’s Passover are different, the event may be understood by the deuteronomistic author to mark a similar transition. Support for this comes from Josh 5:4–6, which explains why the second circumcision was necessary. Joshua 5:4–5 reports that all of the men of military age who had come out of Egypt had died during the forty years of wandering in the desert, and none of the people born after the exodus had been circumcised. This explanation seems to be sufficient; but 5:6 elaborates: ʭʩʠʶʩʤ ʤʮʧʬʮʤ ʩʹʰʠ ʩʥʢʤ-ʬʫ ʭʺ-ʣʲ ʸʡʣʮʡ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʩʰʡ ʥʫʬʤ ʤʰʹ ʭʩʲʡʸʠ ʩʫ ʵʸʠʤ-ʺʠ ʭʺʥʠʸʤ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʤʬ ʤʥʤʩ ʲʡʹʰ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʬʥʷʡ ʥʲʮʹ-ʠʬ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʶʮʮ ʹʡʣʥ ʡʬʧ ʺʡʦ ʵʸʠ ʥʰʬ ʺʺʬ ʭʺʥʡʠʬ ʤʥʤʩ ʲʡʹʰ ʸʹʠ Because the children of Israel traveled in the desert for forty years, until all of the nation, the men of fighting (age) who had left Egypt, had died who had not heeded the voice of Yahweh, to whom Yahweh swore not to show them the land that Yahweh had sworn to their fathers to give us,55 a land flowing with milk and honey. Deuteronomistic redaction of Josh 5:4–6 is widely recognized, based on the repetition of references to the men of fighting age who left Egypt in 23:5b and 23:6a, echoing reference to the natural deaths of these men in 5:4b and reference to “a land flowing with milk and honey” in 5:6.56 The latter, though not a distinctively deuteronomistic trope, occurs more frequently in the book of Deuteronomy than anywhere else in the Bible.57 It is likely that through editorial insertion a deuteronomistic author transformed the natural death of the Israelite males into death as punishment for transgression. The second circumcision, which might otherwise have been understood as the finishing of old business, thus is presented as repairing Israel’s broken relationship with Yahweh. With this addition, Josh 4–5 takes on a character similar to 2 Kgs 22–23. In both texts, performance of the Passover comes on the heels of transgression, and in both cases a ceremony of recommitment to Yahweh

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precedes the Passover. In the deuteronomistic formulation, both Joshua and Josiah are compared to Moses, who was unsurpassed in his faithfulness to Yahweh and who led the Israelites to freedom. In both cases the Passover functions as a rite of purification that reflects Israel’s renewed commitment to Yahweh’s law and secures a new era in Israel’s life in the land.58 In this way, both texts, but especially 2 Kgs 23 with its focus on rededicating the Jerusalem temple, resemble the Passover performed in Jerusalem by Ezra and the returnees from exile. As part of their efforts to reconsecrate the Jerusalem temple, both Josiah and Ezra read a scroll before the entire Judean community, and each does so from a podium of sorts, designated in Neh 8:4 by the term ʵʲ ʬʣʢʮ (lit. “wooden tower”) and in 2 Kgs 23:3 by the more difficult term ʣʥʮʲ, which usually signifies a pillar, although here this translation is insufficient. The only other occurrence of this term to designate something upon which one stands is in 2 Kgs 11:14, a text whose late features suggest the likelihood either of literary dependence or common authorship with the deuteronomistic text of 2 Kgs 23. The context and imagery in Neh 8 and 2 Kgs 23 are similar, yet the language is different, and the unusual choice to use the word ʣʥʮʲ raises questions about what the author of 2 Kgs 23 had in mind. In Exodus the term ʣʥʮʲ refers to the pillar of cloud that is the locus of divine theophany in the desert. The term occurs in this sense in Deut 31, at the moment when authority is transferred from the hands of Moses to Joshua. In Deut 31:15, after Moses and Joshua have presented themselves at the tent of meeting, ʬʤʠʤ ʧʺʴ-ʬʲ ʯʰʲʤ ʣʮʲʩʥ ʯʰʲ ʣʥʮʲʡ ʬʤʠʡ ʤʥʤʩ ʠʸʩʥ (“God appeared at the tent in a pillar of cloud, and the pillar of cloud stood at the entrance of the tent”). The language of this verse may be compared with that of 2 Kgs 23:3: ʣʥʮʲʤ-ʬʲ ʪʬʮʤ ʣʮʲʩʥ. In the Kings passage it is clearly Josiah who stands upon the ʣʥʮʲ, while in Deuteronomy, God himself, embodied in the pillar of cloud, stands at the entrance to the tent; the semantics of the two verses are totally different. Nonetheless the language in Deut 31:15 and 2 Kgs 23:3 seems too close for coincidence. Certain other elements shared by these two texts suggest that that a deuteronomistic historian deliberately forged a connection between Josiah’s covenant renewal and the reaffirmation of the covenant as Moses passed the mantle of his authority to Joshua in the days immediately preceding the Israelite conquest. In Deut 31:16–22 God foretells of the Israelites forsaking his covenant and prostituting themselves to other gods. He provides them with a song (presumably the Song of Moses in Deut 32) as a testimony to their covenant obligation. Moses writes down the song and teaches it to the Israelites. In 32:23 Joshua commands the people to be strong and resolute as they enter the land


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that God has promised them. Then Moses commands the priests to take the scroll he has written down, now referred to as a ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ, and to place it in the ark of the covenant to serve as a witness to Israel’s covenant obligation. Deuteronomy 32:15 sets all of this at the tent of meeting, at whose entrance stands the pillar of cloud. In Deut 31 and 2 Kgs 23, a scroll, described in both texts as a ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ, provides a reminder of the Israelites covenant obligation, and in both texts the scroll is put into effect in response to Israel’s history of transgression. In Deuteronomy, these transgressions have yet to transpire, while in 2 Kgs 23 Josiah looks at them in horrified retrospect; the promise of Deut 31 has been fulfilled and Josiah’s ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ provides witness. In light of these parallels it is surprising that the word ʣʲ (“witness”) does not occur in 2 Kgs 23, nor are their particularly strong linguistic connections between the two chapters. The reference to Josiah’s standing upon the ʣʥʮʲ, however, may deliberately recall the events of Deut 31, with the ʣʥʮʲ in both texts marking the site of Israel’s affirmation of its covenant and the place where Moses’s authority passes into the hands of his successors. Understood in this light, Josiah comes to embody the character of Israel’s earliest charismatic leaders. The imagery of 2 Kgs 23 evokes Ezra’s covenant renewal, while the language of the text evokes the era of Moses and Joshua. Josiah thus becomes a link in an enduring chain of tradition that originates in premonarchic Israel and culminates with Ezra in postmonarchic Jerusalem. (The parallels between Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra are summarized in table 3.1.) The temporal, social, and political conditions of Josiah’s reign differ considerably from those that characterize the period of Joshua on the one hand and Ezra on the other. Yet the pivotal moments in Israel’s history represented by these three prototypical figures are presented in similar terms. The link created between Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra has the effect of casting Josiah as reconqueror and reunifier of Israel, in terms that are decidedly nonmonarchic. Inasmuch as he is modeled on a premonarchic ideal, the deuteronomist’s Josiah may be compared with Ezekiel’s Nasi, a position otherwise most strongly associated with Israel’s tribal leadership during the period of wandering in the desert (e.g., Num 7, 25, 34). Ezekiel envisions a return to this form of authority after Israel has been restored to its land (Ezek 34:24). In his utopian imagination the Nasi will be descended from the line of David and will be king (37:24), but only in the most limited sense, with Yahweh as shepherd of his people (34:11–31) and juridical and cultic authority resting solely in the hands of the priests (44:24). As in Ezekiel, the postmonarchic authors who gave us Josiah as we know him did so as part of a process of legitimating forms of

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TABLE

3.1 Joshua, Josiah, and Ezra as Agents of Covenant Renewal

Feature

Joshua

Josiah

Ezra

public reading from a scroll

Josh 8:34 (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ)

2 Kgs 23:2 (ʺʩʸʡʤ ʸʴʱ)

Neh 8:2–3 (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ)

association with a scroll of the law (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ)

Josh 1:8; 8:34

2 Kgs 22:8, 11

Neh 8:3

public affirmation of Israel’s ancient covenant (ʺʩʸʡ) bond with Yahweh

Josh 24:25–26

2 Kgs 23:3

—

tearing of clothes as an expression of remorse for past behavior

Josh 7:6 (ʥʩʺʬʮʹ)

2 Kgs 22:11 (ʥʩʣʢʡ)

Ezra 9:13–15 (ʬʩʲʮʥ ʣʢʡ)

fear of divine punishment expressed through inquiry to Yahweh

Josh 7:7

2 Kgs 22:13

Ezra 9:13–15

devotion to Yahweh expressed as not turning “to the right or left”

Josh 1:7

2 Kgs 22:2

—

Jerusalem temple as locus of dedication to Yahweh, with reference to written tradition (ʸʴʱ)

—

2 Kgs 23:1–3

Ezra 6:16–17

performance of pēsaḥ

Josh 5:10–12

2 Kgs 23:21–23

Ezra 6:19–22

ʣʥʮʲ as locus of commitment to ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ

Deut 31:15–29

2 Kgs 23:2–3

—

“podium” as locus of covenant renewal

—

2 Kgs 23:3

Neh 8:4

authority and political structures that provided Israelite self-definition in a time without kings.

Josiah’s Reform and Ḥērem Phenomenology In the deuteronomistic imagination, Joshua ben Nun, the great ḥērem warrior who reclaimed the land from the clutches of the Canaanites, provides a powerful model on which to redraw Josiah’s contours. Consistent with this interest, interspersed throughout the deuteronomistic reform account is language closely associated with the Deuteronom(ist)ic ḥērem. The most explicit linguistic connection between Josiah’s reform and the war-ḥērem is found in Deut 7:1–5, where the root ʭʸʧ is


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used to describe the destruction of the cult places of local populations, upon the Israelites’ entry into the land: ʭʩʡʸ-ʭʩʥʢ ʬʹʰʥ ʤʺʹʸʬ ʤʮʹ-ʤʡ ʤʺʠ-ʸʹʠ ʵʸʠʤ-ʬʠ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʪʠʩʡʩ ʩʫ ʭʩʡʸ ʭʩʥʢ ʤʲʡʹ ʩʱʥʡʩʤʥ ʩʥʧʤʥ ʩʦʸʴʤʥ ʩʰʲʰʫʤʥ ʩʸʮʠʤʥ ʩʹʢʸʢʤʥ ʩʺʧʤ ʪʩʰʴʮ ʺʸʫʺ-ʠʬ ʭʺʠ ʭʩʸʧʺ ʭʸʧʤ ʭʺʩʫʤʥ ʪʩʰʴʬ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʭʰʺʰʥ :ʪʮʮ ʭʩʮʥʶʲʥ ʩʫ :ʪʰʡʬ ʧʷʺ-ʠʬ ʥʺʡʥ ʥʰʡʬ ʯʺʺ-ʠʬ ʪʺʡ ʭʡ ʯʺʧʺʺ ʠʬʥ :ʭʰʧʺ ʠʬʥ ʺʩʸʡ ʭʤʬ :ʸʤʮ ʪʣʩʮʹʤʥ ʭʫʡ ʤʥʤʩ-ʳʠ ʤʸʧʥ ʭʩʸʧʠ ʭʩʤʬʠ ʥʣʡʲʥ ʩʸʧʠʮ ʪʰʡ-ʺʠ ʸʩʱʩ ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʸʩʹʠʥ ʥʸʡʹʺ ʭʺʡʶʮʥ ʥʶʺʺ ʭʤʩʺʧʡʦʮ ʭʤʬ ʥʹʲʺ ʤʫ-ʭʠ-ʩʫ ʹʠʡ ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʩʬʩʱʴʥ When Yahweh your God brings you into the land that you are entering to occupy, when he drives out the many nations before you—the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations greater and more powerful than you—Yahweh, your god, will give them over to you for you to defeat them. You shall put them utterly to the ḥērem. Do not make a treaty with them and do not have mercy on them. Do not marry with them, do not give one of your daughters to one of their sons, do not take one of their daughters for one your sons, for they will turn your children away from me to serve other gods, and the anger of Yahweh will be kindled against you and he will quickly destroy you. Rather, thus you shall do to them: tear down their altars, smash their standing stones, hew down their asherim, and burn their idols with fire. While Deut 7 is set in the context of war, the purpose of the ḥērem is not eradication of population; in fact, there is no reference at all to the killing of people, and the prohibition against intermarriage suggests Israelites cohabiting with their Canaanite neighbors. In this text ḥērem refers to the irrevocable destruction of cult places and objects associated with Canaanite religion; it is not a call to genocide. A similar injunction for the Israelites to eradicate local indigenous cults occurs in Deut 12:3– 5, except here the treatment of the asherim and idols is reversed, with the former burned and the latter hewn down. In addition, the word ḥērem does not appear: ʩʬʩʱʴʥ ʹʠʡ ʯʥʴʸʹʺ ʭʤʩʸʹʠʥ ʭʺʡʶʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʸʡʹʥ ʭʺʧʡʦʮ-ʺʠ ʭʺʶʺʰʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʯʮ ʭʮʹ-ʺʠ ʭʺʣʡʠʥ ʯʥʲʣʢʺ ʭʤʩʤʬʠ You shall tear down their altars, smash their standing stones, burn their asherim with fire, and hew down their idols, and so erase their names from that place.

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Three verbs of destruction found in Deut 7:5 and 12:3 (ʸʡʹ, ʵʺʰ and ʳʸʹ) and their objects (ʺʥʧʡʦʮ, ʺʥʡʶʮ and ʭʩʸʹʠ) appear repeatedly in the description of Josiah’s reform. For example, in 2 Kgs 23:6 Josiah removes the asherah from Yahweh’s temple and burns it (ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ) in the Wadi Kidron. In 23:12 he tears down altars (ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ . . . ʵʺʰ) set up by Judah’s kings and does likewise to the Bethel altar in 23:15. In 23:14 he smashes the standing stones (ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠʸʡʹʥ). The description of Josiah’s actions is clearly informed by this deuteronomistic language of destruction, expressed in terms of ḥērem in Deut 7. Deuteronomy 12, where the root ʭʸʧ is not used, belongs to what scholars identify as core Deuteronomy. The absence of the root here is consistent with Deuteronomy’s use of the ḥērem to refer only to the eradication of Israelite idolatry. Deuteronomy 7, where the term appears, reflects a later, deuteronomistic interpretation.59 Details in 2 Kgs 23 that connect Josiah’s reform to ḥērem likewise reflect a secondary deuteronomistic interpretation of an earlier tradition. Whether or not Deut 7 and 2 Kgs 23 belong to same deuteronomistic stratum (an association that should not be taken for granted), they both reflect a deuteronomistic application of the ḥērem theme in traditions that were not originally cast in ḥērem terms.60 Where Deut 7 is military in its setting and attests the term, 2 Kgs 23 is not an account of war and the term is absent in it. The absence of the term in 2 Kgs 23 and its presence in Deut 7 are in keeping with deuteronomistic patterns of usage. That both texts attest a secondary application of the ḥērem theme reflects the degree to which the tradition of ḥērem was essential to the construction of ancient Israel as a remembered entity and to the structure and theology of a deuteronomistic history that cast Josiah as its hero. In Deuteronom(ist)ic thought, the Israelites’ receipt of divine favor comes first and foremost in the form of protection from enemies (e.g., Deut 7:6–11; 12:5–9). In the event of Israel’s breach of covenant, the threat of Yahweh’s severed ties with Jerusalem is presented as an assurance of Israel’s destruction by enemy hands. For the deuteronomistic writers this ideology provides an interpretive lens through which all of Israel’s fortunes and adversities are filtered. Within this framework, ḥērem serves to affirm Israel’s covenant with Yahweh through the eradication of forms of worship and populations whose practices are offensive to the deity. Many of the narratives in the deuteronomistic history are shaped by covenant ideology and are framed in terms of the tenuousness of the Israelites’ occupation of the land. Josiah’s reform sets the standard in this regard. His reign takes place against the backdrop of Assyrian hegemony, when the destruction and exile of the northern kingdom were


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still recent memories and the threat of Assyria, however diminished, was still a reality. From the standpoint of the postmonarchic deuteronomist, however, living in the aftermath of the Babylonian exile, Josiah’s reform measures would have represented a last desperate attempt to stave off the Babylonian assault. Huldah’s prophecy of doom in 2 Kgs 22:15–20, itself a deuteronomistic element, reinforces the futility of Josiah’s efforts and the inevitability of Israel’s downfall. Within the narrative setting, as well as for the text’s audience, the discovery of a lost scroll of the law promising retreat of divine presence as punishment for transgression would have been a disturbing reminder of those troubled times and the precariousness of the Israelite condition. It is apparent in 2 Kgs 23:26–27 that these ideas inform the reform narrative and were a primary motivation for the reform measures as conceived by the text’s deuteronomistic authors: ʭʩʱʲʫʤ-ʬʫ ʬʲ ʤʣʥʤʩʡ ʥʴʠ ʤʸʧ-ʸʹʠ ʬʥʣʢʤ ʥʴʠ ʯʥʸʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʡʹ-ʠʬ ʪʠ ʩʺʸʱʤ ʸʹʠʫ ʩʰʴ ʬʲʮ ʸʩʱʠ ʤʣʥʤʩ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠʩʥ :ʤʹʰʮ ʥʱʩʲʫʤ ʸʹʠ ʸʹʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ-ʺʠ ʩʺʸʧʡ-ʸʹʠ ʺʠʦʤ ʸʩʲʤ-ʺʠ ʩʺʱʠʮʥ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ ʩʺʸʮʠ But Yahweh did not turn from his great wrath that burned against Judah because of all of the acts of provocation that Manasseh had committed. And Yahweh said, “I will also remove Judah from before me, just as I removed Israel, and I shall reject this city that I chose, Jerusalem, and the temple about which I said, ‘My name will be there.’” In this verse, rejection of the Jerusalem temple by metonymy comes to represent rejection of all Israel. This formulation is decidedly late and reflects the perspective of an exilic or postexilic deuteronomist, as Cross suggests.61 Within this ideological framework, Josiah’s rites of violence, described in ḥērem language, would have represented an attempt to draw more restrictive boundaries around Israel and thereby to avert divine wrath and attendant disaster. The idea that ḥērem can serve this function is explicit in Deut 13:16–18: ʤʡ-ʸʹʠ-ʬʫ-ʺʠʥ ʤʺʠ ʭʸʧʤ ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʠʥʤʤ ʸʩʲʤ ʩʡʹʩ-ʺʠ ʤʫʺ ʤʫʤ ʹʠʡ ʺʴʸʹʥ ʤʡʧʸ ʪʥʺ-ʬʠ ʵʡʷʺ ʤʬʬʹ-ʬʫ-ʺʠʥ :ʡʸʧ-ʩʴʬ ʤʺʮʤʡ-ʺʠʥ :ʣʥʲ ʤʰʡʺ ʠʬ ʭʬʥʲ ʬʺ ʤʺʩʤʥ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʬʩʬʫ ʤʬʬʹ-ʬʫ-ʺʠʥ ʸʩʲʤ-ʺʠ ʭʩʮʧʸ ʪʬ-ʯʺʰʥ ʥʴʠ ʯʥʸʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʡʥʹʩ ʯʲʮʬ ʭʸʧʤ-ʯʮ ʤʮʥʠʮ ʪʣʩʡ ʷʡʣʩ-ʠʬʥ ʪʩʺʡʠʬ ʲʡʹʰ ʸʹʠʫ ʪʡʸʤʥ ʪʮʧʸʥ Indeed you are to kill the inhabitants of that city by the sword. You are to put it to the ḥērem by the sword, with all that is in it,

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along with its beasts. All of the booty you are to gather into the midst the its street, and you are to burn with fire the city and all of the booty, a whole burnt offering to Yahweh your God, and it shall be a permanent heap; it shall never be rebuilt. Nothing from the ḥērem may cling to your hand, so that Yahweh will turn from his anger and show you mercy; and he will be merciful to you and multiply you as he swore to your ancestors. In this passage, imposition of the ḥērem as a means of eradicating idolatry appeases Yahweh’s anger and ensures that he will fulfill his promise of protection. Josiah’s rites of violence are wrought to achieve the same end. Through the motif of the lost scroll of the law, Josiah’s whole reform is presented as an attempt to restore Israel’s broken covenant. This point is emphasized through repeated use of the term ʺʩʸʡ in 2 Kgs 23:2–3. In 23:2 Josiah reads ʺʩʸʡʤ ʸʴʱ (“the book of the covenant”) in its entirety to all of the inhabitants of Judah and Jerusalem. Second Kgs 23:3 attests to Josiah’s making a covenant with Yahweh (ʺʩʸʡ ʺʸʫ) and ends with the comment that the people committed themselves to the covenant (ʺʩʸʡʡ ʭʲʤ ʬʫ ʣʮʲʩʥ).62TThese references present the reform as motivated by an interest in reestablishing Israel’s exclusive status as Yahweh’s chosen people who rightfully occupy the land that he promised. As the primary purpose of the ḥērem was to assert the integrity of the relationship between people, land, and God, ḥērem language in the reform account is fitting. An essential effect of the ḥērem as described in Deuteronom(ist)ic texts is the elimination of ʤʡʲʥʺ (“abomination”). For example, in Deut 20:16–18, upon entering a town that Yahweh promised to the Israelites, they were to completely destroy the town by the ḥērem, so that nothing that breathed would remain alive. This was in order to prevent the ʺʥʡʲʥʺ of the nations from infecting the Israelite people. The imposition of ḥērem to control ʤʡʲʥʺ is also attested in 7:25–26 and 13:15. In the book of Kings ʤʡʲʺ appears only in reference to non-Israelite practices that might tempt the Israelites to sin (1 Kgs 14:24; 2 Kgs 16:3; 21:2, 11). Its attestation in 2 Kgs 23 is consistent with this pattern. In 23:13–14 Josiah defiles the high places that were east of Jerusalem in order to eradicate from them the detestation (ʵʷʹ) of the Sidonians, Moabites, and ʯʥʮʲ-ʩʰʡ ʺʡʲʥʺ (“the abomination of the Ammonites”). He “breaks the standing stones, cuts down the asherim, and fills their place with human bones.” Josiah seeks to eliminate ʤʡʲʥʺ from the city of Jerusalem, and he does so in part using methods that Deuteronomy associates with the ḥērem. As in the ḥērem texts in Deuteronomy, in 2 Kgs 23 the elimination of ʤʡʲʥʺ is


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associated with clarifying the boundaries of Israelite identity and asserting claims to legitimacy in relation to neighboring peoples. The term ʤʡʲʥʺ occurs seventeen times in Deuteronomy, with a wide range of applications. For example, it appears in reference to a blemished ox or sheep intended as an offering (17:1), cross-dressing (22:5), the fee of a whore dedicated to the temple (23:19), consulting ghosts (18:12), and idolatry (27:15; 32:16).63 Deuteronomy’s wide range of uses for the term reflects its import in Deuteronomic thought. This may be contrasted with the Holiness Code, where ʤʡʲʥʺ appears only in the context of sexual misconduct (Lev 18:22, 26, 27, 29, 30; 20:13). The Holiness Code’s rarified usage receives elaboration in the book of Ezekiel, where the term occurs more often than in any other biblical book. It appears in reference to both real sexual misconduct (e.g., Ezek 22:11; 33:26) and Israel’s innumerable transgressions against Yahweh, conceived metaphorically in terms of promiscuous behavior (e.g., 16:2, 22, 36). Use of the term ʤʡʲʥʺ in reference to sexual misconduct constitutes an important point of contact between the Holiness Code and Ezekiel and lends support to the notion that these two corpora share a similar priestly outlook. That the concept of ʤʡʲʥʺ is of critical import in the theologies of both the priestly holiness school represented by the Holiness Code and Ezekiel, and in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature constitutes a notable link between these two schools of thought. Inasmuch as ḥērem is associated with the appeasement of divine wrath and complete destruction by fire, it may be understood in sacrificial terms. The sacrificial implications of the ḥērem are clear in Lev 27:28, which stipulates that anything dedicated to Yahweh as ḥērem is ʤʥʤʩʬ ʭʩʹʣʷ ʹʣʷ (“most holy to Yahweh”). This verse constitutes the only reference to ḥērem in the priestly literature of the Pentateuch, and it is widely regarded as part of a Priestly editorial appendix to the book of Leviticus.64 It appears in the context of regulations governing particular types of dedicatory offerings, and it gives no indication that the devoted items are to be destroyed. Despite its lateness, this verse indicates that at least within certain ancient Israelite circles ḥērem was conceived as a form of sacrifice to Yahweh. The sacrificial intent of the ḥērem is also expressed through the term ʬʩʬʫ to describe those items to be burned in Deut 13:17. This term, like ʤʬʥʲ, signifies a sacrifice consumed wholly on the altar (cf. Deut 33:10; 1 Sam 7:9; Lev 6:15; Ps 51:21).65 Lohfink cautions that it is not certain whether ʬʩʬʫ is intended in a sacrificial sense here.66 It seems unlikely, however, that the term was chosen with no thought to its sacrificial implications; thus I translate “as a whole burnt offering,” above. A particularly explicit example of the connection between ḥērem and sacrifice occurs in Isaiah’s prophecy against Edom:

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ʭʩʬʩʠ ʺʥʩʬʫ ʡʬʧʮ ʭʩʣʥʺʲʥ ʭʩʸʫ ʭʣʮ ʡʬʧʮ ʤʰʹʣʧ ʭʣ ʤʠʬʮ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʡʸʧ ʭʥʣʠ ʵʸʠʡ ʬʥʣʢ ʧʡʨʥ ʤʸʶʡʡ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʧʡʦ ʩʫ The sword of Yahweh is full of blood and gorged with fat, from the blood of lambs and goats, from the fat of the kidneys of rams, for there is a sacrifice to Yahweh in Bozrah and a great slaughter in the land of Edom. (Isa 34:6) As with Deut 13, Lohfink argues against a cultic interpretation of the ḥērem in Isa 34, suggesting that the common element of the comparison to sacrifice is probably the killing and abundance of blood and fat, not the cultic aspect.67 This interpretation is tenuous in light of the clear sacrificial context suggested by reference to sheep and goats, both of them sacrificial animals, as well as use of the term ʧʡʦ (“sacrifice”) to describe the devastation wrought on Edom. Stern also rejects the notion of ḥērem as sacrifice in Isa 34:6, arguing that the word ʧʡʦ was chosen for its assonance with ʧʡʨ, which appears in the same verse. He then goes on to exclaim, “In any case Yahweh does not sacrifice to Yahweh!”68 While it is likely that the verbs ʧʡʨ and ʧʡʦ were chosen in part for their rhyming effect, it is neither possible nor productive to speculate on which word has conceptual priority; rather the terms and their connotations should be considered as a pair. One could argue that ʧʡʦ simply denotes “slaughter,” on analogy with ʧʡʨ, but this English distinction is artificial when the Hebrew word ʧʡʦ encompasses both.69 The sacrificial implications of this verse are clear. The idea of ḥērem as ʧʡʦ may illuminate use of the term ʧʡʦ in the description of Josiah’s attack on the towns of Samaria in 2 Kgs 23:20: ʭʤʩʬʲ ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʧʡʦʩʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʡʹʩʥ And he slaughtered/sacrificed on the altars all of the priests of the high places that were there, and he burned human bones on them, and he returned to Jerusalem. The word ʧʡʦʩʥ here is most often translated “he slaughtered,”70 but as with Isa 34, this translation does not sufficiently reflect the term’s sacrificial nuances. Like the idolatrous cities of Deut 13, burnt as an offering to the Lord in accordance with the law of ḥērem, these priests were not simply slaughtered; they were consecrated as a ceremonial offering to Yahweh. This interpretation is supported by the text’s explicit reference to ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ (“the altars”) as the locus of slaughter. While the purpose of slaying the priests here would also have been to eliminate them as a source of contamination and to decommission the altars permanently, the words


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ʧʡʦ and ʺʥʧʡʦʮ strongly suggest sacrificial intent.71 Like the elimination of ʤʡʲʥʺ in 2 Kgs 23:13, Josiah’s “sacrifice” of the priests on the altars of Samaria reflects the text’s tendency to cast the reform in ḥērem terms. According to 23:20, after eliminating the Samaria priests, Josiah burns human bones on the altars.72 The verb ʳʸʹ occurs repeatedly in the reform account in reference to the destruction of the asherah (23:6), the chariots of the sun (23:11), the bāmâ at Bethel (23:15), and the bones exhumed at Bethel (23:16) and in Samaria (23:20). In addition, in 23:24 Josiah removes (ʸʲʡ) “the necromancers, mediums, household gods, idols, and all of the abominations seen in the land of Judah and Jerusalem . . . in order to uphold the words of the law written on the scroll that Hilkiah the priest found in the temple of Yahweh.” Use of the verb ʸʲʡ to describe the elimination of “wickedness” (ʤʲʸ) is common in deuteronomistic texts, where it signifies the restoration of order within the Israelite community following breach of covenant (e.g., Deut 13:6; 17:7, 12; 19:13, 19; 21:21). The primary sense of this root, however, is “to burn” or “to consume.” The specialized meaning employed in deuteronomistic sources develops from the idea of fire as an effective mode of elimination and separation of the sacred from the profane. The presence of this idiom in 2 Kgs 23 is in keeping with the theme of burning manifested elsewhere in the text. Destruction by fire is an essential element in many descriptions of the ḥērem. For example, the phrase ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ occurs in Deut 13:17, cited above, as well as in reference to the destruction of the city of Jericho (Josh 6:22), Ai (8:28), and the Canaanite idols (Deut 7:5). In these contexts fire serves two distinct but related functions: it utterly destroys the items singled out for dedication to the ḥērem, thereby purifying and protecting the Israelites from cultic and cultural contamination; and it physically removes these items from their human setting and transfers them into the divine realm. In this way the verb ʭʸʧ may be compared to the verb ʹʣʷ, which also denotes separation.73 In the received text, Josiah’s reform serves to definine more clearly the boundaries of Israelite culture and restore the sanctity of the covenant by eliminating forms of worship identified as anathema to the deity. Destruction by fire is an essential element in this process and constitutes a significant link between the reform account and the Deuteronom(ist)ic ḥērem. From the standpoint of textual composition, the verb ʳʸʹ represents a pivot point for the deuteronomistic transformation of an early priestly account, where elimination by fire is also represented as a key phenomenological element. Drawing on ḥērem language allows the deuteronomistic author to present Josiah’s reform as a critical moment in the development of

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Israel’s commitment to the covenant and cult of Yahweh alone. Yet despite his best efforts, even Josiah could not save Judah from its fate. From the standpoint of deuteronomistic historiography, his failed reform marks the effective end of the Israelite monarchy and the beginning of a new postmonarchic era. In addition, then, these authors tapped into the ḥērem’s powerful and enduring political resonances to recall a time before kings when Yahweh trusted in his people and Israel still had its best days ahead.

Ḥērem in the Book of Kings The deuteronomistic author employs language that connects Josiah’s reform to the phenomenology of ḥērem, and the associations of the ḥērem with Israel’s pre- and early-monarchic history make it a powerful metaphor for describing the period of Josiah’s reign. At the same time the ḥērem’s prestate associations may help to explain why 2 Kgs 23 never attests the term itself. This factor alone, however, does not account for the term’s absence, as ḥērem is attested in two instances in the book of Kings: the account of Ahab’s defeat of the Aramean army under Benhadad of Damascus (1 Kgs 20), and the words of the messenger sent to Hezekiah by the Assyrian Rabshakeh (2 Kgs 19). These texts provide an illuminating counterpoint to the absence of the term in 2 Kgs 23. First Kgs 20 describes the Israelites and Arameans encamped across from one another for seven days. On the seventh day the Israelites approach for battle and slay 100,000 Aramean foot soldiers. The rest of the Aramean army escapes to Aphek, where a wall collapses, killing 27,000 more of them. The Aramean king, BenHadad, survives the onslaught and is approached by his officials who, having heard that the kings of the house of Israel are merciful, suggests that they go to Ahab and beg him to spare the life of Ben-Hadad. Ahab responds to their request, with the question, “Is [Ben-Hadad] still alive? He is my brother” (20:32). Ben-Hadad’s officials are encouraged by this response and bring him before the Israelite king. In 20:34, in a charged moment, as the two kings stand before one another, Ben-Hadad suggests to Ahab: ʯʥʸʮʹʡ ʩʡʠ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠʫ ʷʹʮʣʡ ʪʬ ʭʩʹʺ ʺʥʶʥʧʥ ʡʩʹʠ ʪʩʡʠ ʺʠʮ ʩʡʠ-ʧʷʬ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʲʤ (“I will return the cities my father took from your father so that you can set up your own outside areas [markets?] in Damascus as my father did in Samaria”). Ahab accepts Ben-hadad’s offer and declares: ʺʩʸʡʡ ʩʰʠʥ ʪʧʬʹʠ (“then I, on the basis of the treaty, will let you go”). Nothing in this narrative fits the pattern of ḥērem, and up to this point the word does not appear. But in 20:42 an unidentified prophet pro-


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nounces ʥʮʲ ʺʧʺ ʪʮʲʥ ʥʹʴʰ ʺʧʺ ʪʹʴʰ ʤʺʩʤʥ ʣʩʮ ʩʮʸʧ-ʹʩʠ-ʺʠ ʺʧʬʹ ʯʲʩ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠ ʤʫ (“thus says the Lord, ‘Because you have set free a man I had assigned to the ḥērem, therefore it is your life for his life, your people for his people’”). Reference to the ḥērem is completely unexpected here. The battle already has taken place with no mention of ḥērem or associated language; neither would we expect to find such references in this context, as the mercy of the Israelite kings and Ahab’s willingness to conduct diplomatic negotiations with Ben-Hadad are focal points of the narrative. In addition, use of the ḥērem as a particular claim on a ruler’s life is otherwise unprecedented in biblical literature. Unlike other ḥērem texts, there are no instructions for how the ḥērem against Ben-Hadad is to be carried out, nor is any punishment for failing to impose the ḥērem realized. Taken together, these details suggest that, at least conceptually, reference to the ḥērem is secondary.74 The introduction of the prophet, “a certain man,” in 20:35 marks an uneasy transition from the preceding verse, which is concerned with kings’ diplomatic negotiations. Walsh suggests that the discordance between 20:1–34 and 20:35–41 reflects the original independence of the Ahab stories and their subsequent expansion within prophetic circles.75 He understands the story of Ahab’s victories in the Aramean war to be symmetrically structured and narratively complete without the scene of prophetic condemnation.76 These factors point to the possibility that reference to the ḥērem in 20:42 is compositionally secondary. The addition would have provided support for the deuteronomistic rejection of Ahab. This is suggested by certain connections between 20:35–41 and other deuteronomistic narratives. The prophet’s denunciation of the king comes on the heels of a peculiar episode in 20:35–36 in which one prophet threatens another with attack by a lion. Walsh draws attention to the striking similarities between this episode and 13:11–32: “In both, prophetic figures are in conflict with one another; one prophet occasions another’s unwitting disobedience to Yahweh, then condemns him for disobeying; the condemnation involves a lion attacking the disobedient prophet, and the attack takes place.”77 He suggests that these links invite us to read 1 Kgs 20 with one eye on the whole Jeroboam narrative in 1 Kgs 13 and to imagine Ahab with the same distain as the evil Jeroboam.78 There are also similarities between the prophet’s condemnation of Ahab for failure to enact the ḥērem in 1 Kgs 20:42 and Samuel’s condemnation of Saul in 1 Sam 15:16–23. Both stories recount events where a king is engaged in military operations against a foreign population, in both cases the king wages war under divine command, and in both he is condemned for failing to impose a proper ḥērem. Both narratives

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end with the king returning in shame to his home. It seems likely that, just as 1 Kgs 20:35–36 links Ahab to Jeroboam and so establishes his sinfulness, 20:42–43 links Ahab to Saul and so predicts God’s rejection of Ahab as king. These parallels suggest that reference to ḥērem in 1 Kgs 20:42 should be associated with a deuteronomistic historian working at a late stage in the composition of the Kings history, who sought to infuse his work with a certain thematic continuity. It is difficult to determine whether this historian is the same one who created the received account of Josiah’s reform. In the present context we need only emphasize that that the relationship between the historian and the source material is comparable in the two compositions, indicating that when a deuteronomistic historian wanted to, he might choose to introduce the ḥērem, despite its being somewhat out of place. Where the reference to ḥērem in 20:42 is jarring in its incompatibility with the rest of the narrative, in 2 Kgs 23 the term is conspicuous by its absence. A similar situation occurs in 2 Kgs 19. Here, the Assyrian Rabshakeh sends a messenger from Libnah to Hezekiah in Jerusalem with a message: :ʬʶʰʺ ʤʺʠʥ ʭʮʩʸʧʤʬ ʺʥʶʸʠʤ-ʬʫʬ ʸʥʹʠ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʠ ʺʲʮʹ ʤʺʠ ʤʰʤ ʯʣʲ-ʩʰʡʥ ʳʶʸʥ ʯʸʧ-ʺʠʥ ʯʦʥʢ-ʺʠ ʩʺʥʡʠ ʥʺʧʹ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʥʢʤ ʩʤʬʠ ʭʺʠ ʥʬʩʶʤʤ ʤʥʲʥ ʲʰʤ ʭʩʥʸʴʱ ʸʩʲʬ ʪʬʮʥ ʣʴʸʠ ʪʬʮʥ ʺʮʧ-ʪʬʮ ʥʩʠ :ʸʹʠʬʺʡ ʸʹʠ “Behold you have heard what the kings of Assyria have done to all lands, putting them to the ḥērem; and you should be delivered?” Did the gods of the nations that my fathers wiped out save them? Gozan, Haran, Rezeph, and the people of Eden in Telassar? Where was the king of Hamath and the king of Arpad, and king of the city of Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivvah? (2 Kgs 19:11–13)79 This speech is the second of two directed to Hezekiah from the king of Assyria. The first is delivered by the Rabshakeh himself (18:19–23), in which he urges Hezekiah to surrender to Sennacherib. This speech is followed by an address to the people of Judah, advising them against putting their trust in Hezekiah. The messenger’s speech in 19:11–13 forms a doublet with the Rabshakeh’s address to the people in 18:33–35, where the Rabshakeh asks: “Did any of the gods of the nations save his land from the hand of the king of Ashur? Where were the gods of Hamath and Arpad? Where were the gods of Sepharvaim, Hena, and Ivvah? Did they save Samaria from my hand?” Two points of divergence between the Rabshakeh’s speech in 2 Kgs 18 and his messenger’s


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speech in 2 Kgs 19 are significant. First, where the Rabshakeh mentions the powerlessness of the gods of the lands vanquished by Assyria, his messenger refers to the powerlessness of their kings. Second, the Rabshakeh makes no mention of the ḥērem. There are striking parallels between the messenger’s speech to Hezekiah in 19:11–13 and the speech delivered to the Israelites by Rahab, the Canaanite prostitute, in Josh 2:10: ʸʹʠʥ ʭʩʸʶʮʮ ʭʫʺʠʶʡ ʭʫʩʰʴʮ ʳʥʱ-ʭʩ ʩʮ-ʺʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʹʩʡʥʤ-ʸʹʠ ʺʠ ʥʰʲʮʹ ʩʫ ʭʺʥʠ ʭʺʮʸʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʢʥʲʬʥ ʯʧʩʱʬ ʯʣʸʩʤ ʸʡʲʡ ʸʹʠ ʩʸʮʠʤ ʩʫʬʮ ʩʰʹʬ ʭʺʩʹʲ For we have heard of how Yahweh dried up the waters of the Sea of Reeds before you when you went out from Egypt, and what he did to the two kings of the Amorites, Sihon and Og, who were across the Jordan, putting them to the ḥērem. Both speeches open with a reference to hearing (ʲʮʹ) the news of a great conquest, and in both the hiphʿil of the root ʭʸʧ describes the imposition of ḥērem on the victims. In addition, both refer to the kings of foreign lands. The Assyrian messenger, however, inverts these themes as they appear in the speech of Rahab, so that where Rahab refers to the ḥērem against the kings Sihon and Og and thus to the inevitability of the Israelites’ conquest and inheritance of the land, the messenger refers to the kings of lands that fell victim to the ḥērem and thus to the inevitability of the Israelites’ demise and disinheritance. When the parallels between these verses are considered in light of the repetition in 2 Kgs 18:33–35 and 19:11–13, it appears that the latter picks up on the language of the former, with the messenger’s words also mimicking and inverting the structure of Rahab’s speech. Taken together, the speeches of Rahab and the messenger of the Rabshakeh create an echo chamber of sorts, in which the whole of Israel’s landed history reverberates. In both 2 Kgs 19 and 1 Kgs 20 the deuteronomistic authors introduce the theme of ḥērem despite it not being at home in the political environments in which the narratives are set. These references serve the rhetorical, ideological, and political interests of the text’s authors, much as the parallels with ḥērem in 2 Kgs 23 serve the interests of the deuteronomistic authors who produced this text. At first blush the term’s absence in 2 Kgs 23 is peculiar in light of its presence in 2 Kgs 19 and 1 Kgs 20. However, the account of Josiah’s reform differs from the other two texts in that while it is infused with military language and imagery, it does not describe a military conflict per se. The absence of the term in 2 Kgs 23 and its presence in the other two Kings texts is in fact consistent with the deuteronomistic tendency to situate the ḥērem

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in the context of war. Since there is no other instance in the deuteronomistic corpus in which the ḥērem is used to eliminate Israelite forms of the cult, it is fitting that the term does not occur in the account of Josiah’s reform. It is possible that by recasting Josiah’s reform as an act of ḥērem, even without using the term itself, an exilic deuteronomist sought to reject Deuteronomy’s notion that the ḥērem against Israelite idolatry could ensure Israel’s continued occupation of the promised land. For the deuteronomistic author responsible for 2 Kgs 23, it would have been all too obvious that this approach did not work, and his account of the Josianic reforms would provide the proof-text. Whether this is the case, the use of language and imagery associated with the ḥērem in 2 Kgs 23 allowed the authors of the text at once to set up reverberations with Deuteronomy’s ḥērem against idolatry and to cast Josiah in the garb of Joshua, Israel’s great ḥērem warrior. Ḥērem language thus provided a mechanism for the deuteronomists to re-present Josiah’s reform in terms of sanctioned and idealized patterns of behavior and to situate the rites of violence ascribed to Josiah within the larger framework of Israel’s landed history.

4 The Mechanics of Transformation The Holiness Substratum and Deuteronomistic Revision of 2 Kings 23:4–20 In the two preceding chapters I demonstrated that the Kings account of Josiah’s reform is shaped by both priestly holiness and deuteronomistic interests. Parallels between 2 Kgs 23:4–16 and the language and ideology of the Holiness Code suggest that underlying the narrative in 2 Kgs 22–23 is a holiness source that presented Josiah’s reform measures themselves in terms of apotropaic rites of riddance. This account was generated close in time to the period of Josiah’s reign and reflects concerns that are deeply rooted in preexilic Judah. The holiness source was reinterpreted and recast by a postmonarchic historian who invoked the ritual language and ideology of ḥērem to bring the account into alignment with a deuteronomistic historiographic agenda. This chapter begins with a reconstruction of the holiness source presented alongside its deuteronomistic redaction. My purpose here is to illuminate both the scope and parameters of this early document and aspects of the hermeneutic process by which the deuteronomistic author reworked it to create the received text. It is not my intention to reconstruct the exact process by which the text was composed. I identify postdeuteronomistic additions only in cases where this is the best possible explanation for a verse’s compositional history. This does not preclude the possibility of other late editorial activity that the particular focus of my analysis does not reveal. Disentangling primary and secondary material in the reform

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account not only exposes the remains of a text whose focus was markedly different from that of 2 Kgs 23 in its final form, it also reveals aspects of this particular text’s deuteronomistic ideology that are often overlooked or misconstrued and that contribute to a deeper, more nuanced understanding of the nature of deuteronomistic writing. Table 4.1 lays out the priestly and deuteronomistic compositional phases in 2 Kgs 23:4–20. Deuteronomistic revisions are indicated in bold, and post-deuteronomistic additions are underlined.

TABLE

4.1 Holiness and Deuteronomistic Strata in 2 Kings 23:4–20

Holiness Account

Deuteronomistic Transformation ʬʥʣʢʤ ʯʤʫʤ ʥʤʩʷʬʧ-ʺʠ ʪʬʮʤ ʥʶʩʥ4 ʳʱʤ ʩʸʮʹ-ʺʠʥ ʤʰʹʮʤ ʩʰʤʫ-ʺʠʥ ʭʩʬʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʬʫʩʤʮ ʩʶʥʤʬ ʠʡʶ ʬʫʬʥ ʤʸʹʠʬ ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʥʹʲʤ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʭʴʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʮʹʤ ʭʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʠʹʰʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʺʥʮʣʹʡ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡ

The king commanded Hilkiah the high priest, and the priests of the second order, and the guardians of the threshold to bring out of the temple of Yahweh all the objects made for Baal, Asherah, and all the host of heaven. He burned them outside Jerusalem in the fields of the Kidron and he carried their ashes to Bethel.

ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ5 ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ

ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ5 ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ ʺʥʮʡʡ ʸʨʷʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ -ʺʠʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʩʱʮʥ ʠʡʶ-ʬʫʬʥ ʺʥʬʦʮʬʥ ʧʸʩʬʥ ʹʮʹʬ ʭʩʮʹʤ

He did away with the idolatrous priests whom the kings of Judah appointed when they burned incense at the high places in the cities of Judah and around Jerusalem, and those who burned incense to Baal, the sun, moon, stars, and the whole host of heaven.

ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ6 ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʵʥʧʮ ʬʧʰʡ ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʺʠ ʪʬʹʩʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʭʲʤ-ʩʰʡ ʸʡʷ ʬʲ ʤʸʴʲ

ʵʥʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ6 ʤʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʺʠ ʪʬʹʩʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰʡ ʭʲʤ-ʩʰʡ ʸʡʷ ʬʲ ʤʸʴʲ

6 He brought the asherah out of the temple of Yahweh, outside Jerusalem to the Wadi Kidron, and he burned it in the Wadi Kidron, and he beat it to dust and he cast the dust on the graves of the common people.

4

5

the mechanics of transformation Holiness Account

Deuteronomistic Transformation

ʭʩʹʣʷʤ ʩʺʡ-ʺʠ ʵʺʩʥ7 ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʹʣʷʤ ʩʺʡ-ʺʠ ʵʺʩʥ 7 ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʤʸʹʠʬ ʭʩʺʡ ʭʹ ʺʥʢʸʠ ʭʩʹʰʤ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʺʡ ʭʹ ʺʥʢʸʠ ʭʩʹʰʤ ʸʹʠ ʤʸʹʠʬ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ8 ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʤʮʹ–ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ ʲʹʥʤʩ ʸʲʹ ʧʺʴ-ʸʹʠ ʬʥʠʮʹ-ʬʲ-ʸʹʠ ʸʩʲʤ-ʸʹ ʸʩʲʤ ʸʲʹʡ ʹʩʠ

ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʥʬʲʩ ʠʬ ʪʠ9 ʩʫ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʡ ʤʥʤʩ ʧʡʦʮ-ʬʠ ʭʤʩʧʠ ʪʥʺʡ ʺʥʶʮ ʥʬʫʠ ʭʠ

ʩʢʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʴʺʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʥ10 ʸʩʡʲʤʬ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʰʤ-ʩʰʡ ʹʠʡ ʥʺʡ ʺʠʥ ʥʰʡ-ʺʠ ʹʩʠ ʪʬʮʬ

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ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʠʡʩʥ8 ʤʮʹ-ʥʸʨʷ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʩʥ ʵʺʰʥ ʲʡʹ ʸʡ-ʣʲ ʲʡʢʮ ʭʩʰʤʫʤ ʸʲʹ ʧʺʴ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʲˈʤ ʺʥʮʡ-ʺʠ ʬʥʠʮʹ-ʬʲ-ʸʹʠ ʸʩʲʤ-ʸʹ ʲʹʥʤʩ ʸʩʲʤ ʸʲʹʡ ʹʩʠ

7 He tore down the houses of the cult prostitutes that were in the temple of Yahweh, where the women wove coverings for Asherah. 8 He brought all of the priests out of the towns of Judah and he defiled the high places where the priests burned incense, from Geba to Beer-sheba, and he tore down the high places of the goats that were at the entrance to the gate of Joshua, minister of the city, that was on a person’s left side [as he entered] the gate of the city.

ʧʡʦʮ-ʬʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʥʬʲʩ ʠʬ ʪʠ9 9The priests of the high ʺʥʶʮ ʥʬʫʠ ʭʠ ʩʫ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʡ ʤʥʤʩ places did not come up to the ʭʤʩʧʠ ʪʥʺʡ altar of Yahweh until they ate unleavened bread with their brethren. ʩʢʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʴʺʤ-ʺʠ ʠʮʨʥ10 10He defiled the Topheth in ʹʩʠ ʸʩʡʲʤʬ ʩʺʬʡʬ ʭʰʤ-ʩʰʡ the Valley of Ben-hinnom to ʪʬʮʬ ʹʠʡ ʥʺʡ ʺʠʥ ʥʰʡ-ʺʠ prevent a man from passing his son or daughter through fire as a mlk.

ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ11 ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ11 ʠʡʮ ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʺʫʹʬ-ʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ ʠʡʮ ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʪʬʮ-ʯʺʰ ʺʫʹʬ-ʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ-ʺʩʡ ʭʩʸʥʸʴʡ ʸʹʠ ʱʩʸʱʤ ʪʬʮ-ʯʺʰ ʭʩʸʥʸʴʡ ʸʹʠ ʱʩʸʱʤ ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ ʹʮʹʤ ʺʥʡʫʸʮ-ʺʠʥ ʹʮʹʤ ʺʥʡʫʸʮ-ʺʠʥ ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹ

He did away with the horses that the kings of Judah had dedicated to the sun, at the entrance of the temple of Yahweh, near the chamber of the eunuch Nathan-melech, which was in the precincts, and he burned the chariots of the sun. 11

(continued )

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TABLE

4.1 Continued

Holiness Account

Deuteronomistic Transformation

ʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ12 ʦʧʠ-ʺʩʬʲ ʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ12 ʵʺʰ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʭʸʴʲ ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʪʬʮʤ -ʺʩʡ ʺʥʸʶʧ ʩʺʹʡ ʤʹʰʮ ʤʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ -ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤʥ ʭʹʮ ʵʸʩʥ ʪʬʮʤ ʵʺʰ ʤʥʤʩ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʸʴʲ

ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ13 ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ

ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʬʮʩʥ14 ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ

ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ13 ʤʰʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ ʵʷʹ ʺʸʺʹʲʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʪʬʮ ʤʮʬʹ ʭʫʬʮʬʥ ʡʠʥʮ ʵʷʹ ʹʥʮʫʬʥ ʭʩʰʣʶ ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ ʯʥʮʲ-ʩʰʡ ʺʡʲʥʺ

The king tore down the altars that were on the roof, the upper chamber of Ahaz, that the kings of Judah had made, and the altars that Manasseh had made in the two courts of the temple of Yahweh, and he ran from there(?), and he cast their dust into the Kidron Valley.

12

The high places that were facing Jerusalem, that were to the south of the Mount of the Destroyer that Solomon king of Israel had built for Ashtoreth the abomination of the Sidonians, for Kemosh the abomination of the Moabites, and for Milcom the detestation of the Ammonites, the king defiled

13

-ʺʠ ʺʸʫʩʥ ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʥ14 14 and he smashed the sacred ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʬʮʩʥ ʭʩʸʹʠʤ pillar and he cut the sacred ʭʣʠ-ʺʥʮʶʲ post and he filled their place with human bones.

ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ15 ʤʮʡʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ15 ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ -ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ ʤʸʹʠ ʳʸʹʥ

ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ16 -ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ16 ʸʤʡ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʺʠ -ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ ʸʤʡ ʭʹ -ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ ʹʩʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʡʣʫ ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ ʤʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ

And also, the altar that was in Bethel the high place made by Jeroboam ben Nebat, who caused Israel to sin, also that altar and the high place he tore down and broke its stones and beat it to dust, and he burned the asherah.

15

Josiah turned and saw the graves that were there on the mount, and he sent and he took the bones from their graves and he burned them on the altar, and he defiled it according to word of Yahweh that the man of God declared, who foretold these things.

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Deuteronomistic Transformation ʤʠʸ ʩʰʠ ʸʹʠ ʦʬʤ ʯʥʩʶʤ ʤʮ ʸʮʠʩʥ17 -ʹʩʠ ʸʡʷʤ ʸʩʲʤ ʩʹʰʠ ʥʩʬʠ ʥʸʮʠʩʥ -ʺʠ ʠʸʷʩʥ ʤʣʥʤʩʮ ʠʡ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ ʧʡʦʮ ʬʲ ʺʩʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡ

17 And he said, “What is the marker I see there?” And the men of the town replied, “The grave of the man of God who came from Judah and foretold these things that you have done to the altar at Bethel.”

ʲʰʩ-ʬʠ ʹʩʠ ʥʬ ʥʧʩʰʤ ʸʮʠʩʥ18 18And he said to them, “Let ʺʥʮʶʲ ʺʠ ʥʩʺʮʶʲ ʥʨʬʮʩʥ ʥʩʺʮʶʲ him rest. Let no one disturb ʯʥʸʮʹʮ ʠʡ-ʸʹʠ ʠʩʡʰʤ his bones.” So they left his bones undisturbed, together with the prophet who came from Samaria. ʩʸʲʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʺʡ-ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ19 19And also all of the temple ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʩʫʬʮ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʯʥʸʮʹ high places that were in the ʭʤʬ ʹʲʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʸʩʱʤ ʱʩʲʫʤʬ cities of Samaria, that the ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʹʲʮʤ-ʬʫʫ kings of Israel had made to provoke, Josiah removed and he did to them according to all that he had done in Bethel. ʺʥʮʡʤ ʩʰʤʫ ʬʫ-ʺʠ ʧʡʦʩʥ20 20And he sacrificed all of the -ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʺʥʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ priests of the high places that ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʡʹʩʥ ʭʤʩʬʲ ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ were there, on the altars, and he burned human bones on them and he returned to Jerusalem.

The Scope and Parameters of the Pre-Deuteronomistic Holiness Account The accessible remains of the holiness account are reconstructed in English below: He did away with the idolatrous priests whom the kings of Judah dedicated to the sun. 6He brought the asherah out of the temple of Yahweh, outside Jerusalem to the Kidron Valley, and burned it in the Kidron Valley. He beat it to dust and he cast the dust on the graves of the common people. 7He tore down the houses of the cult prostitutes that were in the temple of Yahweh, where the women wove coverings for Asherah.8 5

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He brought all of the priests out of the towns of Judah and defiled the high places where the priests burned incense, and the high places of the goats that were at the entrance to the gate of Joshua, minister of the city, that was on a person’s left side [as he entered] the gate of the city. 9The priests of the high places did not come up to the altar of Yahweh until they had eaten unleavened bread with their brethren. 10He defiled the Topheth in the Valley of Ben-hinnom to prevent a man from passing his son or daughter through fire as a mlk. 11He did away with the horses that the kings of Judah devoted to the sun, at the entrance to the temple of Yahweh, near the chamber of the eunuch Nathan-melech, which was in the precincts, and he burned the chariots of the sun. 12The king tore down the altars that were on the roof, that the kings of Judah made, and he cast their dust in the Kidron Valley. 13The high places that were facing Jerusalem, to the south of the Mount of the Destroyer, the king defiled 14and filled their place with human bones. 15The high place made by Jeroboam ben Nebat he tore down and broke its stones and beat it to dust. 16 Josiah turned and saw the graves that were there on the mount, and he sent and took the bones from their graves and he burned them on the altar and he defiled it. Based on this reconstruction, the reform measures in Judah consist of these narrative elements: • 2 Kgs 23:5–7: purification of temple worship (elimination of komer priests involved in astral worship; elimination of the asherah) • 2 Kgs 23:8–9: defilement of Judahite bāmôt and dispensation of their priests • 2 Kgs 23:10–11: purification of temple worship (elimination of mlk offerings1 and astral worship, including horses and chariots of the sun) • 2 Kgs 23:13–14: defilement of bāmôt on the Mount of Olives through corpse contamination The reform measures in Israel include: • 2 Kgs 23:15–16: destruction of Bethel bāmâ and defilement of its altar through corpse contamination It is difficult to discern a rational structure or organizing principle based on these preserved elements; however, certain structural patterns are worth noting. In the account of the Judahite reforms, references to

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destructive measures taken against bāmôt (23:8–9, 13–14) alternate with destructive measures taken in the service of purifying Jerusalem temple worship (23:5–7, 10–11). In addition, in the descriptions of the decommissioning of the Judahite and Bethel bāmôt, the verbs ʠʮʨ (“to defile”) (23:8, 13) and ʵʺʰ (“to tear down”) (23:9, 15) are also alternated. Whether these patterns reflect the actual structure of the underlying composition or are an accident of preservation is impossible to determine. The rationale governing the separation of 23:5 and 23:11 by five intervening verses is also difficult to discern. Both verses refer to royal patronage of the astral cult and open with a form of the verb ʺʩʡʹʤ (lit. “to enforce sabbatical upon”).2 It is tempting to wonder whether 23:5 and 23:11–12 constituted bookends in the description of the Judean reforms, but linguistic and thematic and factors suggest that these continue in 23:13, with the king’s destruction of the bāmôt facing Jerusalem. The original text may not have come down to us sufficiently intact to allow for an evaluation of the structural and thematic relationships between its various elements. As discussed in chapter 2, priestly and holiness themes in the first edition of the account include defilement of bāmôt as a response to a history of transgression, elimination of ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“high places of the goats”) (23:8), eating of unleavened bread as a rite of ordination not connected to the Passover (23:9), and defilement of the Topheth in the Hinnom Valley to eliminate offerings to mlk (23:10). In addition, the breaking and tearing down of the stones of the Bethel altar that appears in the earliest version of 23:14–15 accords with the ritual for eliminating building contamination described in Lev 14:45, a point to which I return below. Along with themes that associate the original account with the priestly holiness school, the early version also includes motifs that have no parallel the Bible’s priestly writings. These are the elimination of astral worship (2 Kgs 23:5, 11, 12) and the cult of Asherah (23:6, 7) from the Jerusalem temple and the definition of Judah’s boundaries as extending “from Geba to Beer-sheba” (23:8).3 Linguistic cues indicate that these elements are primary in the text’s composition. Their early attribution may also be supported by application of lectio difficilior. According to this rule of textual criticism, a textual tradition that provides a more difficult reading is more likely to be correct (i.e., original) than a simpler textual witness. While the rule of lectio difficilior is usually applied to corruptions that occur in the process of textual transmission, the logic can be applied profitably to questions of compositional history. In the absence of compelling evidence to the contrary it may be posited that more difficult (i.e., less well attested) terminology is more likely to be

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original than added, as an addition usually serves the purpose of the bringing a text into alignment with larger theological, ideological, historiographic, or narrative interests that are part and parcel of later editorial processes. Unique features may be witness to literary creativity that is not motivated by integration into an extended collection or ideological program but rather served the author’s more limited narrative goals.4 The disparities between the content of the reform account and the Holiness Code become more comprehensible when we consider the circumstances and motivations that underlie the original composition. The early text should not be taken to be a priestly account of royal reform, but rather a royal account of a priestly reform undertaken by the king. This distinction is not a matter of splitting hairs. The former implies a text produced by priests to serve their own interests; the original reform account, however, would have served the political and economic interests of Josiah himself, not those of the priests he favored. By consolidating priestly authority in the hands of the Jerusalem temple priests, Josiah would have secured his own hold on the operation and oversight of the Jerusalem temple. While the effect of his consolidation would have been to elevate the status of the Jerusalem temple priesthood above all others, the autonomy of the priests themselves would have been significantly circumscribed as the king used his royal authority to establish them as a loyalist faction. It therefore is likely that the reform account was produced from within the royal court by a scribe who portrayed Josiah in the role of a priest—as one having a natural facility for the performance of ritual—in order to establish the king’s authority over Jerusalem’s priestly domain. This author would have been commissioned by the royal court, but would have been trained in the circles of the Jerusalem-centered holiness school, in whose idiom wrote. If this picture approximates the circumstances under which the original reform account was produced, the holiness writer would have worked with a purpose that differed considerably from that of the authors of the Holiness Code itself, thus accounting for some of the differences between the two compositions. Destruction of bāmôt is a prominent leitmotif in the original account, providing the focus of five out of the eleven preserved verses. At this stage the bāmôt theme has no discernible connection to an ideology of centralization.5 The emphasis on bāmôt is perpetuated in the deuteronomistic revision, so that the term, in either the singular or plural, occurs ten times in the received text of 23:4–20, far exceeding references to these installations in any other single biblical text. While bāmôt eradication may be associated with a centralizing agenda in some texts in the book of Kings, it is not at all clear that the deuteronomistic author who


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transformed the account of Josiah’s reform did so with the idea in mind of casting Josiah as an agent of centralization, a point to which I return later on in this chapter. The importance of the theme of bāmôt eradication in the book of Kings presents something of a conundrum to biblical scholars. All of the positive evaluations of Judah’s kings include the qualification “nevertheless the bāmôt were not removed” (1 Kgs 15:14; 22:44; 2 Kgs 12:3; 14:4; 15:3, 35),6 with the exception of Hezekiah, whose removal of bāmôt is referred to in the opening lines of the account of his reign. Paradoxically, Josiah is the only positively evaluated Judean king for whom bāmôt eradication is not mentioned at all in his regnal formula.7 The use of bāmôt is cited as an essential reason for the destruction of the northern kingdom (1 Kgs 17), and the perpetuation and proliferation of bāmôt constitute a primary basis for the negative evaluations of the reigns of the Judean kings Ahaz and Manasseh. In contrast to the emphasis on bāmôt in the Kings history, there are no references to these cult installations anywhere in the book of Deuteronomy itself.8 This tension has not escaped the attention of biblical scholars. For example, Barrick comments that a connection between the reform and Deuteronomy would imply that Josiah’s actions were related in some fashion to the proscriptions in Deut 12, but those proscriptions do not mention bāmôt.9 Knoppers suggests that “even though the Deuteronomist applied the law of centralization to cover bmwt, the very fact that Deuteronomy does not mention them suggests some distance between this work and the Deuteronomistic History.”10 Indeed, inasmuch as the term “deuteronomistic” designates material that derives from and relies upon language and ideology set forth in the book of Deuteronomy, a concern over bāmôt is not a deuteronomistic theme. The preoccupation with bāmôt constitutes a particular interest unique to the deuteronomistic historians that was independent of their reliance on Deuteronomic law and ideology. But this begs the question of the socioreligious context in which this idea emerged and why it came to be a defining feature in the historiography of Israel’s kings. The focus on bāmôt eradication in the holiness account and its elaboration in 2 Kgs 23 in its final form provide new information regarding the development of the bāmôt theme within the larger Kings history. In the early reform account a connection was wrought between Josiah and the elimination of bāmôt that either reflected real events that took place during Josiah’s reign or served the religiopolitical interests of the text’s authors who, themselves, were writing to promote the agenda of the Josianic court. The preexilic bāmôt-centered account provided the source material for a postmonarchic deuteronomistic historian who

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identified Josiah as the ideal Deuteronomic king. It is possible that the deuteronomistic idea of bāmôt eradication as the gold standard by which all of Israel’s kings were judged originates with Josiah and the earliest holiness account of the events of his reign. However, it is also possible and, as I argue in chapter 5, more probable that the deuteronomistic and holiness schools shared an interest in the bāmôt eradication that reflected the particular social, political, and economic circumstances of late preexilic Jerusalem and that this interest manifested itself differently in the texts that these two schools of thought produced.

The Mechanics of the Deuteronomistic Transformation Where the holiness account of Josiah’s reform was steeped in the political and material realities of preexilic Judah and Jerusalem and the Josianic court in particular, the deuteronomistic revision connects the composition to more universal themes in Israel’s landed history as articulated in the book of Kings and elsewhere in the historical books. Among these are Israel’s unique and ancient covenant bond with Yahweh as mediated by the laws of Moses, the agency of Israel’s earliest leaders in realizing Yahweh’s covenant promise through the conquest and settlement of the land of Canaan, and the repeated failure of Israel’s kings after David to fulfill the potential that Moses and Joshua embodied. The themes introduced in the deuteronomistic revision are also expressed in the frame narrative in 2 Kgs 22:1–23:3 and 23:21–27. The role attributed to Hilkiah the high priest and the Jerusalem temple priests in 23:4 connects the deuteronomistic reform account to 22:4–14, where Hilkiah also plays an essential role. Huldah’s prophecy of doom in 22:15–20, which is often understood to be at odds with the actions taken by Josiah, in fact articulates some of the very same ideas expressed in the deuteronomistic revision of the holiness account; namely, that Israel’s monarchic history was tainted by illicit cultic practices, including the burning of incense to other gods; that Israel’s kings were complicit; and that Josiah, whose righteousness was matched only by his ancestors, was exceptional for his deep understanding of Yahweh’s law. Josiah’s renewal of the covenant in 23:1–3 achieves ceremonially what his reform measures achieved ritually, and his performance of the Passover in 23:21–23 likens him to Joshua, much as does the language of conquest in the reform account. Finally, in both the deuteronomistic revision in 23:4–20 and in the surrounding narrative, Josiah’s reform is presented as an admirable yet ultimately ineffective stopgap; Judah’s fate was sealed. A new, postmonarchic model of governance was needed,


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and Josiah—transformed from an agent of priestly reform to the only figure since Joshua to truly understand the dictates of Mosaic law— provided an ideal frame upon which the flesh of a new regime could be fashioned. Deuteronomistic additions are concentrated at the beginning and the end of the original account. Second Kgs 23:6–11 remains entirely unchanged, while 23:5 and 23:12–16 are the focus of substantive revision, creating brackets around the earlier source. Revisions in 23:5 and 23:12 anchor the deuteronomistic composition, shifting the focus from royal patronage of the astral cult to the problem of idolatry more generally, which the text’s authors saw as endemic among preexilic Judah’s kings and priests. Four major categories of revision can be discerned in the deuteronomistic text: 1. The association of the kings of Judah with the astral cult in the original account becomes a foundation upon which an accusation of idolatry on the part of specific Judahite kings is built (23:5, 11, 12, 13).11 In this way the deuteronomistic author establishes a history of apostasy that characterized the monarchic era, and he sets Josiah apart as distinct from all of his predecessors in his strict adherence to Yahweh’s cultic law. This characterization is consistent with the superscription and postscript to the account of Josiah’s reign, in which his steadfastness is likened to that of David (22:2), and he is lauded for turning to Yahweh with all of his heart and being (23:25). 2. Apotropaic ritual defilement of bāmôt is transformed into destruction of cult places and installations by ḥērem (23:13–16). The cult installations that Josiah removes thus come to be treated as nonIsraelite, and Josiah’s reform comes to represent an ideal fulfillment of Deuteronomy’s laws governing the treatment of Canaanite cults upon the Israelites’ entry into the land. The deuteronomistic author thus connects Josiah to Israel’s ancient, premonarchic ḥērem tradition and so creates bookends in his history of Israel as a landed nation. 3. Josiah’s destruction of the Bethel calf cult is expanded into a polemic against Jeroboam and the cult at Bethel (23:6, 15, 16, 17, 18). This shift ties the reform account to a penetrating critique of traditional Israelite religious observance as epitomized by the Bethel cult and links Josiah’s reign and reform to other significant moments in Israel’s cultic history. 4. Josiah’s attack on Bethel is expanded to include cult reforms throughout all of Samaria (23:19–20). This contributes to a

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picture of Josiah as reuniting north and south and restoring the boundaries of Israel to what they were in bygone eras. The notion of sweeping territorial expansion into Samaria reflects a late, ideologically motivated interest in Josiah’s reign as a period of national renaissance, not the political reality of the late seventh century.12 Through this motif, the deuteronomistic historians restored Israel to its more ancient glory, at least in the collective imagination of their audience. Josiah is remembered as Joshua of his day and the only king in Israel’s history to live up to, indeed to surpass, the standard set by David. The first three categories of revision involved internal editorial insertions and other manipulations of the source material to bring it into alignment with deuteronomistic interests and ideology, while the fourth was produced through the addition of two new verses. This chapter focuses on the mechanics and modi operandi that governed some of these transformations. In so doing it helps clarify the deuteronomist’s particular interests in Josiah and his illustrious reform and illuminates certain overlooked aspects of deuteronomistic writing more generally. Transforming Rejection of Royal Patronage of the Astral Cult into Blanket Accusations of Institutionalized Apostasy among Judah’s Kings and Priests

The holiness account places a clear emphasis on delegitimizing nonJerusalemite priesthoods in order to consolidate sacred authority in the hands of Josiah and the Jerusalem temple priests. At this stage Josiah himself acts in a priestly capacity, performing apotropaic rites of riddance and single-handedly decommissioning sacred places, installations, and personnel that belonged to the priestly domain. Josiah’s priestly role at this early stage was in keeping with the interests of the text’s postmonarchic, deuteronomistic revisers, who made little effort to obscure it. However, in their retelling Josiah’s agency is made subservient to Mosaic law, which from their perspective fell under priestly, not royal jurisdiction, and his authority is circumscribed by Hilkiah the high priest, who discovers the book of the law and in whose hands the responsibility for carrying out the reforms is placed (2 Kgs 23:4). Where the deuteronomists’ source material used priestly language to promote the extension of royal authority into the priestly realm, in the deuteronomistic reform account the power of the king is subordinate to the authority of the priests. Thus the deuteronomistic authors effectively imposed a sanction on Israelite memory, bringing the past into


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alignment with the ideals of the present by recasting Josiah as the ultimate fulfillment of Deuteronomy’s royal ideology. They rework the preexistent themes of purification of the Jerusalem cult and consolidation of priestly authority into a scathing critique of Judah’s civic and religious leadership, and they re-present Josiah as the only king in Israel’s history to abide in the law of Moses “with all of his heart and all of his being” (23:25). In contrast to the righteousness of Josiah and his priestly counterpart, Hilkiah, in the deuteronomistic imagination preexilic Judah was teeming with heretical priests and tainted by a legacy of kings who failed to grasp Mosaic law. This picture is developed in part through the addition of references to Ahaz and Manasseh in 23:12 and the attribution of the high places facing Jerusalem to Solomon’s syncretistic policies in 23:13—details that lend greater specificity to the more general references to “the kings of Judah” in the original account. The guilt of Manasseh is further emphasized in 23:26, where his sins are singled out as the justification for Yahweh’s rage unleashed. The phrase “the kings of Judah” occurs three times in the original composition (23:5, 11, 12)—all in reference to royal patronage of the astral cult. It is often suggested that the lack of specificity in this terminology points to the lateness of these references.13 However, there is no textual basis for this assertion; it rests entirely on an assumption that the rationale underlying the convention is transparent to the modern reader. That all of these references occur in the context of astral worship, a point that has not been adequately addressed, suggests that this generalizing tendency is not random. While we may not fully understand the authors’ narrative purpose in their use of this phrase, at the most basic level its use in reference to royal patronage of the astral cult sets Josiah apart from his predecessors in this regard and emphasizes his reform as a moment of transition in the life of the Jerusalem temple and its cult. The original version of 23:12 situates the rooftop altars on the roof of the chamber of Nathan-melech and in this way associates them with the astral cult described in 23:11.14 Josiah’s destruction of these altars would have been part of a targeted attack on astral worship in the Jerusalem temple.15 While the kings of Judah are held accountable at this stage, the purpose of the verse in its original form was less to lay blame at their feet than to assert that these practices known to have been supported by Judah’s kings were now deemed illegitimate by a Josianic regime that was in league with the Jerusalem temple priests. According to the perspective of this text, by eliminating such practices from Jerusalem, Josiah set himself apart as unique among “the kings of Judah.”16

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The deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23 used this trope as a basis for accusing specific kings of Judah of institutionalized apostasy. This transformation is particularly evident in the awkward phrase ʦʧʠ ʺʩʬʲ ʢʢʤ (“the roof, the upper chamber of Ahaz”) in 23:12, which moves the rooftop altars from the Jerusalem temple precincts to the royal domain and associates them with Ahaz in particular.17 By adding the reference to Ahaz, the author shifts the focus of the text’s critique from the astral cult itself, with its royal patronage, to Ahaz specifically and his syncretistic policies, also enumerated in 2 Kgs 16. The additional reference to the altars of Manasseh serves a similar function. Together these details implicate specific, notoriously corrupt Judahite kings and create a direct link between Josiah’s reign and other critical moments in Judah’s preexilic history; they impress upon us that Josiah’s aim was to reverse the sins of his royal predecessors. A similar, though more complicated process of refocusing is evident in the deuteronomistic transformation of 23:5. Several text-critical problems in the received text of this verse have captured the interest of interpreters. Reference to “the sun, moon, stars, and whole host of heaven,” which appears in 23:5b, suggests deuteronomistic authorship. This phrase is also attested in Deut 4:19 and 17:3, both part of the book’s deuteronomistic frame. However, the inclusion of Baal at the beginning of the list is unique. Many suggest that the absence of a copula before the phrase ʹʮʹʬ (“to the sun”) reveals ʬʲʡʬ (“to Baal”) to be a later insertion, possibly in response to a tradition of burning incense to Baal already attested in Jeremiah (e.g., 7:9; 11:13, 17; 32:29).18 Most problematic is the third-person masculine singular imperfect verb ʸʨʷʩʥ (lit. “he burned incense”) modifying a presumably plural subject in 2 Kgs 23:5b.19 Two alternatives to this reading are attested in the manuscript traditions, and most commentators adopt one or the other in lieu of the Masoretic Text. Most Septuagint manuscripts and the Targum attest a third-person masculine plural finite form of the verb. Commentators who adopt this reading tend to identify the subject as the komer priests and translate along the lines of “he eliminated the komer priests whom the kings of Judah appointed, who burned incense.”20 This rendering corrects for the problem of number agreement between subject and verb; however, the translation “who burned incense” would require a participle or infinitive construct, not a finite form of the verb. In addition, given that ʸʨʷʩʥ is a vav consecutive + imperfect form, it should share its subject with one of the verbs that precedes it. The subjects of the two preceding verbs, however, are Josiah and the kings of Judah, respectively; the komer priests are the object of these verbs and therefore, from


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a grammatical standpoint, should not be the subject of ʸʨʷʩʥ. The Peshitta, Vulgate, and Lucianic recensions of the Septuagint attest an infinitive form of the verb ʸʨʷ, inviting the translation “whom the kings of Judah appointed to burn incense.”21 While this alternative is grammatically preferable, the lateness of the manuscripts in which it appears raises the question of whether the variant was introduced to correct for a problem already inherent in the text. Based on these considerations, Uehlinger suggests that the entire phrase beginning with ʸʹʠ and ending with ʺʠʥ is a later addition, so that the verse might have originally read ʹʮʹʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ ʭʩʮʹʤ ʠʡʶ-ʬʫʬʥ ʺʥʬʦʮʬʥ ʧʸʩʬʥ (“he eliminated the komer priests who burned incense to the sun, moon, stars, and to the whole host of heaven”).22 This reconstruction satisfies the need for a participial form by making ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ the term characterizing the activity of the idolatrous priests. However, there are no textual cues to suggest that the ʸʹʠ clause was added. In addition, Uehlinger’s solution sidesteps the grammatically difficult form ʸʨʷʩʥ, whose presence in the received text still requires explanation. Furthermore, there are no other instances in the Hebrew Bible where the astral bodies are the recipients of incense offerings, and while this problem also inheres in the verse in the received text, it may not have been a feature in the original composition. In light of these difficulties, I propose that the ʸʹʠ clause is original and that the problematic verb form ʸʨʷʩʥ marks the beginning of an editorial insertion. Based on the Septuagint and Targum traditions this insertion would have originally read ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʱʮʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ ʺʥʮʡʡ ʥʸʨʷʩʥ, with the final vav having been lost through scribal error. Rather than treat this finite verb form as if it were a participle, as many commentators do, it may be preferable to take the vav consecutive prefixed form as an example of what Lambdin identifies as “anticipatory subordination.”23 According to Lambdin, such constructions occur in the context of punctual, habitual sequences and introduce circumstantial information about action that occurred prior to the time of the sequence. In the examples he cites, the temporal subordinate clause introduces information that takes place prior to the clause that follows, and so he suggests translating “and when he had done so and so.” If the original verb ʥʸʨʷʩʥ in 23:5 is taken as an example of such anticipatory subordination, it would differ from Lambdin’s examples in that it introduces a temporal clause whose action takes place prior to the clause that precedes it. An example comparable to the construction in 23:5 may be found in 1 Kgs 2:5:24

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ʺʥʠʡʶ ʩʸʹ-ʩʰʹʬ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʩʥʸʶ-ʯʡ ʡʠʥʩ ʩʬ ʤʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʺʠ ʺʲʣʩ ʤʺʠ ʭʢʥ ʩʮʣ ʯʺʩʥ ʭʬʹʡ ʤʮʧʬʮ-ʩʮʣ ʭʹʩʥ ʭʢʸʤʩʥ ʸʺʩ-ʯʡ ʠʹʮʲʬʥ ʸʰ-ʯʡ ʸʰʡʠʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʥʩʬʢʸʡ ʸʹʠ ʥʬʲʰʡʥ ʥʩʰʺʮʡ ʸʹʠ ʥʺʸʢʧʡ ʤʮʧʬʮ You yourself know what Joab ben Zeruiah did to me, what he did to the two heads of the army of Israel, to Abner ben Ner and to Amasah ben Jeter, when/that he killed them and shed the blood of war in peacetime and placed the blood of war on the girdle on his loins and on the sandals on his feet. In both this verse and 2 Kgs 23:5, a vav consecutive prefixed form follows a relative clause marked by ʸʹʠ in which a simple perfect verb governs the action (ʯʺʰ in 2 Kgs 23:5 and ʤʹʲ in 1 Kgs 2:5). In each case the vav consecutive on the imperfect introduces a subordinate clause providing information that occurred prior to the action in the clause that precedes it and elaborating on the circumstances to which the ʸʹʠ clause alludes. While the syntax of 2 Kgs 23:5 and 1 Kgs 2:5 is not identical, in light of the limited available options for analyzing the form [ʥ]ʸʨʷʩʥ and the problems inherent in the most common solutions, anticipatory subordination may provide the best possible grammatical explanation. Thus I translate “whom the kings of Judah appointed when they burned incense at the high places in the towns of Judah and around Jerusalem.” This translation has the advantage of keeping the komer priests in the object position and “the kings of Judah” in the subject position, thus preserving the syntax established earlier in the verse. In addition it is in keeping with the redactor’s retrospective vantage point. The implication of Judah’s kings in offering incense is consistent with the reference to the altars of Ahaz and Manasseh in the deuteronomistic revision of 2 Kgs 23:12. Both verses call to mind the condemnation of Ahaz in 16:4, in which the king is also accused of offering incense at bāmôt. In addition the insertion in 23:5 is consistent with Huldah’s prophecy of doom in 22:16–17, where burning incense is one of the primary reasons for Judah’s demise. The deuteronomistic additions in 23:5 and 23:12 compliment one another and function together to transform the critique of royal patronage of the astral cult in the original account into a pointed condemnation of particular Judahite kings. If [ʥ]ʸʨʷʩʥ marks the beginning of a deuteronomistic insertion and the list of astral bodies is also a deuteronomistic element, it suggests that the beginning of 23:5, ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ (“he did away with the idolatrous priests whom the kings of Judah appointed”), is original. A number of factors support this attribution. First, the shift from “Hilkiah the high priest, the priests of the second order, and the


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guardians of the threshold” in 23:4, to a third-person masculine singular subject, presumably referring to Josiah in 23:5, suggests that 23:5 marks the beginning of a separate source upon which the deuteronomistic author of 23:4 relied—a source that featured Josiah as the chief executor of the reform. The identification of the komer priests with the original account is supported by the absence of this term elsewhere in Deuteronom(ist)ic literature. It is unlikely that a deuteronomistic author would have introduced the term in his recasting the events of the reform when these priests are not otherwise an object of his critique.25 In addition, the term ʺʩʡʹʤ used in reference to the elimination of tangible objects is not attested anywhere else in the Deuteronom(ist)ic corpus.26 Use of the verb ʯʺʰ with the specific sense of appointing cultic functionaries is unusual in the deuteronomistic literature.27 However, Eynikel rightly argues—based on the frequent occurrence of this word with the simple meaning “to appoint personnel” in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History as well as its occasional appearance in the Tetrateuch—that the term “does not allow us to draw conclusions on redactional origin.”28 While this specialized use of the verb does not preclude its deuteronomistic origin, that it governs the action in a phrase otherwise atypical of deuteronomistic diction suggests that the entire phrase belongs to the text’s predeuteronomistic stratum. In other passages in which the verb ʯʺʰ is used in the sense of appointing functionaries, it always takes a preposition, so that it carries the meaning “to appoint to” or “to appoint over” (e.g., 1 Kgs 2:35; 14:7; 16:2). Thus it is likely that the original version of 2 Kgs 23:5 also included a preposition. Since the phrase ʬʲʡʬ is likely to be a post-deuteronomistic addition to the list of astral bodies, the only prepositional phrase that is a candidate for association with the verb ʯʺʰ is ʹʮʹʬ (“to the sun”). Therefore I assign this element to the original account and reconstruct an early version of 23:5 that read ʹʮʹʬ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ-ʺʠ ʺʩʡʹʤʥ (“he did away with the idolatrous priests whom the kings of Judah appointed to the [service of] the sun”). Reference to “the sun” would have provided the impetus for deuteronomistic elaboration, so the received text includes the entire list of astral bodies: “the sun, moon, stars, and whole host of heaven.” If the proposed elements of 23:5 are original it would situate the reference to ʭʩʸʮʫ in a seventh-century context. According to Uehlinger, this term is of north Syrian origin and is attested in two seventh-century Aramaic funerary inscriptions from Neirab set up by priests of the moon god (kmr šhr).29 All of the gods mentioned on the steles belong to the astral realm. The reference to ʭʩʸʮʫ in 23:5 would provide another

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example of the association of these priests with the astral cult in a seventh-century Levantine text. In the foregoing discussion, the only element in 23:5 unaccounted for is the phrase ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ ʺʠʥ (“and those who burned incense to Baal”). According to Eynikel, the piʿel of ʸʨʷ, when used for illegitimate sacrifices is typical of Deuteronomistic redaction of the book of Kings.30 However, since the name Baal is not associated with the list of astral bodies elsewhere in deuteronomistic literature, it is unlikely that the text’s deuteronomistic authors are responsible for the entire phrase “who burned incense to Baal, the sun, moon, stars, and whole host of heaven.” I therefore take ʬʲʡʬ ʭʩʸʨʷʮʤ-ʺʠʥ as a post-deuteronomistic addition that was influenced by deuteronomistic diction and that echoes the verb ʸʨʷ, used earlier in the verse. In its earliest form, then, 23:5 describes Josiah’s elimination of the idolatrous komer priests whom the kings of Judah appointed to the worship of the sun. In its final, deuteronomistic form, the verse expands the critique of Judah’s kings to include their participation in other syncretistic practices, including burning incense at bāmôt and making offerings to the heavenly host. Rare terminology coupled with common deuteronomistic tropes and muddled grammar attest the verse’s complicated history of transmission. The compositional strata tell their own story of how the reform account was transformed from a description of Josiah’s targeted elimination of particular cultic personnel and practices to a comprehensive critique of preexilic Judah’s royal and religious establishment. If the reconstruction of 23:5 proposed here is correct, 23:5 in its original form would have been structurally parallel to and thematically consistent with 23:11a, which reads ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʥʰʺʰ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʥʱʤ-ʺʠ ʺʡʹʩʥ ʹʮʹʬ (“he eliminated the horses that the kings of Judah appointed to [the service of] of sun”). Both would refer to the elimination of functionaries of the astral cult, appointed by the kings of Judah. Both employ hiphʿil ʺʡʹ, although in 23:5 the verb is in the vĕqāṭal form while 23:11 uses the vayiqṭôl, and both attest the verb ʯʺʰ in the somewhat specialized sense of appointing or dedicating functionaries. It is difficult to understand why there would have been so much material separating 23:5 and 23:11 in the original account, given their common structure and shared interest in astral worship. However, as noted earlier, this source may not have survived sufficiently intact to allow us to draw conclusions regarding the rationale behind the order of its presentation. It is important to note that, while internal cues suggest that the theme of astral worship is original in 23:5 and 23:11, this feature has no parallel in the Holiness Code. This should not impede its identification with the


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earliest holiness stratum, however. The theme of astral worship in the original reform account and its absence in the Holiness Code indicate that it was integral to this text’s specific narrative goals and not tied to the implementation of a particular ideological or more extended narrative agenda. The received reform account shows certain formal similarities between 23:5, which describes the enforcement of sabbatical upon the komer priests, and 23:8, which describes Josiah’s treatment of the Judahite priests who burned incense at bāmôt. Both refer to high places (ʺʥʮʡ) in the towns of Judah (ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ) where a particular group of priests made incense offerings (ʸʨʷ). Translations of 23:5 that identify the komer priests as the subject the verb [ʥ]ʸʨʷʩʥ and render “the idolatrous priests who burned incense” produce a text that attributes the same behaviors to the two sets of priests; both are accused of burning incense at bāmôt. On this basis, some interpreters argue that 23:5 and 23:8 refer to the same Judahite priests.31 Others point to important differences between these verses that argue against this association.32 For example, in 23:5 Josiah “eradicates” (ʺʩʡʹʤ) the priests, whereas in 23:8 he brings them out (ʠʩʶʥʤ) of the towns where they ministered and defiles (ʠʮʨ) their high places. Second Kgs 23:9 contains a provision for how the bāmôt priests might integrate themselves into the Jerusalem priestly establishment, while 23:5 implies that the ʭʩʸʮʫ were given a permanent sabbatical. The identification of a holiness substratum in the deuteronomistic reform account complicates this discussion by requiring that we first consider whether the ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ were related in the original reform account and, then, whether and how the deuteronomistic author sought to recast that relationship. In my reconstruction of 23:4–10, 23:8 in its entirety is attributed to the pre-deuteronomistic stratum. This is based on the themes of removal (ʠʩʶʥʤ) of contamination, defilement (ʠʮʨ) of high places, and the likely reference to the high places of the ʭʩʸʲˈ (“goats”)—all of which have their closest parallels in priestly literature and in the Holiness Code in particular (see chapter 2). At this stage there would have been no connection between the ʭʩʸʮʫ of 23:5 and the ʭʩʰʤʫ of 23:8. The former were functionaries dedicated to the service of Jerusalem’s astral cult, and the latter were responsible for the operation of the high places in the towns of Judah. If the phrase ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʱʮʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʸʲʡ ʺʥʮʡʡ ʥʸʨʷʩʥ (“when they burned incense at the high places in the towns of Judah and around Jerusalem”) is a deuteronomistic insertion and an example of anticipatory subordination, as argued above, then the activity condemned by the deuteronomists is not that of the komer priests, but rather of Judah’s kings. Even at

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the level of the received text, then, there is no connection between ʭʩʸʮʫ of 23:5 and ʭʩʰʤʫ of 23:8. However, the deuteronomistic insertion in 23:5 does deliberately echo the description of the Judahite kohen priests who officiated at bāmôt in 23:8 in its earliest form. The effect of this appropriation is that Judah’s kings come to be portrayed not just as tolerant of the proliferation of bāmôt, as some deuteronomistic texts contend, but as equally guilty of cultic transgression as the priests who served at those illicit sanctuaries and, therefore, as equally complicit in Judah’s demise. While the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23 did not explicitly equate the ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ, they may have been associated by some early biblical interpreters. The term ʭʩʸʮʫ occurs only three times in the Bible (2 Kgs 23:5; Hos 10:5; Zeph 1:4). Only the Zephaniah passage refers to ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ together. This verse is situated within an account of the destruction that shall be wrought on the “Day of Yahweh” (1:2–18). Zephaniah 1:4–5 focus on syncretistic, idolatrous practices that were rampant in preexilic Judah: ʸʠʹ-ʺʠ ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ-ʯʮ ʩʺʸʫʤʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʡʹʥʩ-ʬʫ ʬʲʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ-ʬʲ ʩʣʩ ʩʺʩʨʰʥ ʭʩʮʹʤ ʠʡʶʬ ʺʥʢʢʤ-ʬʲ ʭʩʥʧʺʹʮʤ-ʺʠʥ:ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ ʭʩʸʮʫʤ ʭʹ-ʺʠ ʬʲʡʤ ʭʫʬʮʡ ʭʩʲʡʹʰʤʥ ʤʥʤʩʬ ʭʩʲʡʹʰʤ ʭʩʥʧʺʹʮʤ-ʺʠʥ I will spread out my hand against Judah and against all of the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and I shall cut out from this place the remnant of Baal, the name of the komer priests together with the kohen priests, those who bow down upon rooftops to the host of heaven, those who swear by Yahweh and those who swear by Milcom.33 Scholars often read the book of Zephaniah as reflecting efforts on the part of the late-seventh-century prophet Zephaniah to marshal support for the Josianic reforms.34 This is based in part on the book’s superscription, which situates Zephaniah’s prophetic career during the reign of Josiah. The superscript, however, is the work of an editor and may reflect a literary and theological interest in associating Zephaniah’s prophecies of doom with the failed attempt of Josiah to turn back Yahweh’s wrath.35 Others argue that the book’s fundamental concern for the threat of judgment posed to Jerusalem and Judah on the Day of Yahweh is better situated in the period following the Babylonian destruction and exile than in the days of Josiah.36 Most scholars, regardless of their dating of the core material in the book, identify extensive exilic or postexilic redaction. The emphasis on alien cult practices in 1:4–5 is unique in Zephaniah. Many scholars note that the key terms in this passage also appear in the


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account of Josiah’s reform.37 Only Zeph 1:4–5 and 2 Kgs 23 refer to ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ together. In addition, both texts refer to Baal and possibly Milcom, and they share a common interest in worship of the host of heaven at rooftop altars, a motif attested only once outside of these texts (Jer 19:3). Nowhere else in the Bible besides Zephaniah and 2 Kgs 23 does this entire cluster of terms occur. Ben-Zvi comments that the theme of idolatrous cult practices and the use of the terms “Baal” and “host of heaven” point to what may be considered a literary or traditional constraint, suggesting a secondary development in a literary work that may or may not represent the sayings of Zephaniah himself.38 The language that the Zephaniah passage shares with 2 Kgs 23, as well as the idolatrous cult practices not otherwise being a focus in the book of Zephaniah, favors attributing these verses to the editorial framework of the book. I would go one step further than Ben-Zvi, and suggest that they were written with the deuteronomistic text of 2 Kgs 23:4–20 in mind.39 Based on the rarity of the term ʭʩʸʮʫ in the Bible, it is often suggested that the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ in Zeph 1:4 is a gloss explaining the more difficult term ʭʩʸʮʫ. Support for this hypothesis comes from the absence of this phrase in the Septuagint, that it disturbs the metrics of the unit, and that it stands outside the structure built upon the pair ʭʹ-ʸʲʹ.40 Ben-Zvi rightly suggests, however, that while the term ʭʩʸʮʫ is rare in the Hebrew Bible, it may not have required explanation for the text’s ancient audience, as it appears in Aramaic from as early as the seventh century B.C.E. as well as in Elephantine texts, Genesis Rabbah, and both Talmuds. I suggest that the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ is indeed a late addition to 1:4, but that it is not an explanatory gloss. Rather it reflects the editor’s awareness of the text’s literary dependence on 2 Kgs 23. The addition of ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ may constitute a midrash of sorts on the deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s Judean reform, representing the earliest preserved attempt to equate the idolatrous ʭʩʸʮʫ of 23:5 and the ʭʩʰʤʫ of 23:8. Use of the particle ʭʲ to denote the semantic equivalence of two otherwise oppositional entities reflects a late and rarified usage. Besides Zeph 1:4 it occurs only five times in the Hebrew Bible (Eccl 2:16; Ps 26:9; 28:3; 69:28; Gen 18:23). In the three Psalm passages it signifies Yahweh’s apparently unjust equation of the “righteous” (ʭʩʷʩʣʶ in Ps 69) and the “wicked” (ʭʩʲʹʸ in Ps 28 and ʭʩʠʨʧ in Ps 26). All three of these verses call to mind Abraham’s intercession with God at Sodom, where Abraham demands, “Will you really sweep away the righteous along with the wicked [ʲʹʸ ʭʲ ʷʩʣʶ]?” It is not necessary in the present context to attempt to discern the literary-historical relationship between

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these verses; all four are likely to reflect the postmonarchic biblical authors’ grappling with the problem of Yahweh’s capricious nature. Within this late setting, the Sodom story remembers Abraham alone as having had the power to mediate divine justice. If the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ is an addition in the Zephaniah text, the semantic equivalence it denotes may belong to this same literarytheological matrix. Like the passages in Psalms, Zeph 1:4 may evoke, albeit more subtly, Abraham’s pregnant moment at Sodom. If at the same time Zeph 1:4–5 deliberately recalls Josiah’s Jerusalem, the addition of the phrase ʭʩʰʤʫʤ-ʭʲ would forge a connection between that city and iniquitous Sodom and between Josiah himself and Abraham, each of whom offered too little too late in his effort to intercede on behalf of his city. The idea that the authors of Zephaniah envisioned the day of Yahweh as a reenactment of the destruction of Sodom finds support in 2:9, where Yahweh promises, “Moab will become like Sodom and Ammon like Gomorrah.” The book of Zephaniah ends with a vision of God’s restoration of his people in an era when Yahweh’s righteousness alone will replace Israel’s corrupt rulers, prophets, and priests (3:3–4). Picking up on motifs in the deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform, the book of Zephaniah in its final form associates the ʭʩʸʮʫ and ʭʩʰʤʫ with the ills of monarchic Israel and promises the elimination of these illegitimate leaders in a new postmonarchic era. Both texts see the responsibility for the destruction of Judah as resting squarely on the shoulders of Judah’s corrupt priests and kings, and both texts envision a future in which Yahweh is restored to his position as supreme ruler of his people Israel. In 2 Kgs 23 these themes are effectuated through carefully placed additions to the original priestly composition, which shifted the text’s emphasis from the rejection of particular practices and places that impeded Josiah’s control over the priestly domain to the outright rejection of Judah’s civic and religious leadership, with the singular exception of Josiah himself and the Jerusalem temple priests to whose authority Josiah willingly submitted. 2 Kings 23:13–16: Transforming Apotropaic Ritual into Destruction by Ḥērem

Among the original elements in the reform account is Josiah’s attack on the cult center at Bethel, identified as “the high place made by Jeroboam ben Nebat.” This detail reflects the concerns of a preexilic author, for whom Bethel, with its ancient cult site in close proximity to Jerusalem, was a natural and politically significant target. There is no evidence that


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for the author of this text apostasy was the problem the Bethel sanctuary posed, as it was for the later, deuteronomistic writers; rather Bethel and its priesthood represented a threat to the singular authority of the Jerusalem establishment that Josiah sought to assert. The original reference to Jeroboam, which located the high place and altar in Bethel, provided a basis for deuteronomistic embellishment, so that Josiah’s attack came to represent an attempt to reverse the sin of Jeroboam and thereby to safeguard Judah from the fate that befell Israel. The oppositional link established between the reigns of Josiah and Jeroboam in the deuteronomistic account is made explicit in 2 Kgs 23:16b–17 through reference to “the man of God who foretold these things” and in 1 Kgs 13:2 through the man of God’s prediction that Josiah would destroy the Bethel altar. In addition the “prophet who came from Samaria” in 2 Kgs 23:18 is likely a reference to the “prophet who lived in Bethel” referred to in 1 Kgs 13:11.41 The tension between Josiah and Jeroboam is intensified by reference to Jeroboam, “who led Israel to sin” (2 Kgs 23:15aβ), in contrast to Josiah, who “walked in the path of his ancestor David” (22:2). Rejection of Jeroboam and his calf cult is a deuteronomistic leitmotif and structuring element in the Kings history, and it comes to a crescendo in the account of Josiah’s reform (1 Kgs 12:30; 13:34; 14:16, 22; 15:3, 26, 30, 34; 16:2, 13, 19, 26, 31; 2 Kgs 3:3; 13:2, 6, 11; 14:24; 15:9, 18, 24, 28; 17:22). In reformulating the attack on the Bethel cult, the deuteronomist transformed a description of Josiah’s destruction of the altar and high place in apotropaic ritual terms typical of priestly literature into a description of destruction by ḥērem. In his rendering, Josiah does more than eliminate the potency of these installations; he wages holy war against them, just as the Israelites were commanded to do to the Canaanite cult places in their midst (Deut 7, 12). By treating this ancient Israelite cult place as if it were Canaanite, Josiah’s assault on Bethel— or, more accurately, the text that describes it—represents a pivotal moment in the process of constructing an Israelite identity hewn from its Canaanite roots. Josiah’s elimination of the Bethel cultus is described in 2 Kgs 23:15– 16. These are particularly difficult verses from text-critical standpoint, and much ink has been spilled over their compositional relationship. Here is 23:15–16 as it appears in the Masoretic Text: ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʤ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʧʬʹʩʥ ʸʤʡ ʭʹ-ʸʹʠ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ ʺʠ ʠʸʩʥ ʥʤʩʹʠʩ ʯʴʩʥ :ʤʸʹʠ ʳʸʹʥ ʹʩʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʡʣʫ ʥʤʠʮʨʩʥ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʬʲ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʭʩʸʡʷʤ-ʯʮ ʺʥʮʶʲʤ-ʺʠ :ʤʬʠʤ ʭʩʸʡʣʤ-ʺʠ ʠʸʷ ʸʹʠ ʭʩʤʬʠʤ

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And also the altar that was in Bethel, the high place that Jeroboam ben Nebat made that caused Israel to sin, also that altar, and the high place he tore down, and he burned the high place and beat (it) to dust, and he burned the asherah. And Josiah turned and saw the graves that were there on the mount, and he sent and took the bones from the graves, and he burned (them) on the altar and defiled it, according to word of Yahweh, which the man of God proclaimed who proclaimed these words. The two verses appear to contradict one another, as 23:16 features Josiah burning bones on the very altar that he destroyed in 23:15. Interpretation of 23:15 centers on two key issues: the likelihood that some portion of the verse was added secondarily, although there is disagreement regarding exactly which portions, and the reliability of the Septuagint reading, καὶ συνέτριψεν τοὺς λίθους αὐτοΰ καὶ ἐλέπτυνεν, which appears in place of the Masoretic Text’s ʷʣʤ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ. The Septuagint variant is retroverted into Hebrew by the editors of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia as ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ (“and he broke its stones and beat [it]”).42 Because the Septuagint provides an alternative text from which to work, the question of the reliability of this reading is addressed first, followed by a discussion of how 23:15 might have been altered in a secondary phase of transmission. The verse as it appears in the Masoretic Text is both logically and syntactically problematic. First, there is no other instance in the Hebrew Bible in which the verb ʵʺʰ (“to tear down”) appears in conjunction with a second verb of destruction when it refers to the elimination of a single object. The idea that Josiah would tear down and then burn the bāmâ is inconsistent with the semantics of this particular verb as attested elsewhere in the Bible. Second, it is peculiar that Josiah tears down both the altar and high place, but burns only the high place. Finally, the perfect verb form ʷʣʤ with no conjunctive vav is suspicious. In light of these problems in the Masoretic Text, we may understand either that the Septuagint variant reflects an effort to correct a corrupt Hebrew text or that the Greek is correct and there was a corruption in the transmission of the Masoretic Text. This problem provides fertile ground for debate, with many interpreters taking the Septuagint as the more reliable reading.43 The translators of the Revised Standard Version and Jerusalem Bible, for example, render some variation of “he tore down the high place, broke its stones, and beat it to dust.” Objections to such readings are raised by scholars on several grounds. Barrick sees the Greek text as suspect due to its


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exegetical Tendenz. He postulates that the Greek translator saw the object of destruction as the Bethel altar alone, with the Hebrew . . . ʤʮʡʤ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ becoming adjectival modifiers of the altar. The bāmâ having disappeared, the Septuagint translator read ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ as ʸʡʹʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʲ-ʺʠ, producing a reading that gave a logical sequence of events to the altar’s complete obliteration.44 Eynikel argues against the Septuagint reading on the basis of lectio facilior, asserting that the Greek translator manipulated the Hebrew text by combining the altar and high place in one elevated altar.45 Cogan and Tadmor object to a translation based on the Greek because the expression ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ (“he broke its stones”) is unattested in the Hebrew Bible.46 However, it is precisely this factor that lends credibility to the Septuagint reading and argues against lectio facilior as the principle governing the Greek variant. Were the Greek translators emending the verse in order to render it more logical based on their understanding of biblical destructive ritual, it would be odd for them to choose a phrase that describes a mode of elimination otherwise unattested. Moreover, there is a thematic basis for the possibility that the Septuagint reading is correct. While the phrase ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ would be unique in the Hebrew Bible, the Greek version of 2 Kgs 23:15 bears a strong resemblance to Lev 14:45, which describes the treatment of a house contaminated with leprosy. In both the retroverted Hebrew text of the Septuagint and in Lev 14:45 the verb ʵʺʰ governs the destruction of an installation that is a source of contamination. In addition, both passages make explicit reference to the dismantling of the structure’s stones as part of the purification process. In light of the Leviticus passage, use of the verb “to tear down” in the Greek version of 2 Kgs 23:15 may preserve a text that described a known mode of eradicating building contamination. The verb “to tear down” denotes the destruction of a contaminated structure whose stones are dismantled as part of the process of purification. That the two texts express the elimination process differently reflects their literary independence. Given the apotropaic ritual tendency in 2 Kgs 23:4–16 and the other parallels between these verses and phenomenology attested in Lev 14 in particular (see chapter 2), the Septuagint reading is credible. The plausibility of this reading finds additional support in the verb ʵʺʰ also appearing in 2 Kgs 23:8, where it governs the destruction of ʭʩʸʲʹʤ ʺʥʮʡ (“the high places of the goats”), a detail that suggests that this mode of destruction was essential to the reform measures as conceived by the text’s authors.47 If the Septuagint provides the more reliable textual witness, how might the Masoretic rendering of 23:15 have come to be? The writing ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠ ʳʸʹʩʥ (“and he burned the high place”) is more likely to reflect

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a scribal error than a deliberate change to the text, as there is no reason to see the reading provided by the Septuagint as any more objectionable than that furnished by the Masoretic Text. Since neither phrase is specifically attested elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible, there is no reason why the Masoretic Text should be favored over the Septuagint. Given that the words ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠ appear twice in 23:15 before their appearance in the phrase in question, it is not difficult to imagine them accidentally finding their way into the verse a third time. The similarities in spelling between ʳʸʹʩʥ and ʸʡʹʩʥ and the verb ʳʸʹ appearing at the end of the verse in reference to the asherah lend additional support to the idea that a scribe inadvertently rendered ʳʸʹʩʥ (“he burned”) in lieu of ʸʡʹʩʥ (“he broke”). This error could have come about in one of two ways. It is either a case of metathesis, wherein the scribe reversed the letters ʡ and ʸ while copying the word ʸʡʹʩʥ and corrected his error by rendering ʳʸʹʩʥ instead, or he mistook ʡ for ʸ and corrected similarly.48 While ʡ and ʸ are generally easy to distinguish in early Hebrew script, their stance is different and the base of ʡ tends to hook toward the left, as it does in the later, formal Jewish hand—the two letters appear quite similar in a second-century B.C.E. Leviticus fragment.49 There is also a marked similarity between these two letters in the classical Aramaic cursive of the late Persian Empire.50 Taken together, these factors support the Septuagint as the more reliable textual witness. Let us turn our attention now to the possibility that some portion of 23:15 was added secondarily. Even with the better text provided by the Septuagint, the verse as it stands cannot possibly be correct. The absence of a dissociative particle such as ʺʠʥ separating references to the altar and high place is problematic, and there is a narrative discontinuity between 23:15 (in which the altar is destroyed) and 23:16 (where it appears to be intact and awaiting defilement).51 Emendation of the text is required to make sense of these difficulties. Barrick suggests an original version that made no reference to the activities of Jeroboam and also may not have mentioned Bethel as the location of the altar.52 He proposes that an original version of 23:15 read ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ ʺʠ ʭʢʥ (“and even the altar that was in Bethel and the high place [Josiah] demolished”; or simply, “even the altar [Josiah] demolished”). Based on this reconstruction, Barrick posits that 23:15 as it currently appears in the Masoretic Text “transformed a ritualistic decommissioning of the altar by contamination by human bones (found in 23:16) into a physical destruction at the expense of narrative continuity.”53 Based on the presence of the particle ʭʢʥ, which Barrick identifies here as indicative of a redactional seam, he suggests that 23:15 was added to the reform account during a secondary phase of its composition.54


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The particle ʭʢʥ in this verse is indeed a likely indicator of redaction, and Barrick is correct that redactional activity in 23:15 transformed the nature of the decommissioning of the cult installations at Bethel. However, the verse as it stands is too convoluted to be the product of a single, secondary author. Barrick’s hypothesis would require a tertiary phase of redaction in which additional difficulties were introduced, a scenario that while not impossible, may be unnecessarily complicated. It is more likely that some portion of 23:15 is original and that the phases ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ (“and also the altar that was in Bethel”) and ʧʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ (“and also that altar and the high place”), both of which are marked by the element ʭʢ, are late additions.55 If this is the case, 23:15 features Josiah tearing down the high place built by Jeroboam, and 23:16 describes his defilement of the Bethel altar. Removing the ʭʢ clauses from the text alleviates the problems of the absence of the particle ʺʠʥ and the narrative discontinuity between 23:15 and 23:16. These elements, along with the typically deuteronomistic turn of phrase ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ (“who caused Israel to sin”), are likely to have been introduced to the text by a deuteronomistic author who sought to bring the account into line with Deuteronomy’s centralizing agenda. An original version of 23:15 thus would have contained reference only to the high place and not to the altar, and both installations would have been associated with Jeroboam and Bethel in the earliest compositional phase. If the proposed elements of 23:15 are indeed late additions and the reading provided by the Septuagint is correct, then an original version of the verse (hereafter referred to as “phase 1”) might have read ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʨʡʰ ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ (“the high place made by Jeroboam ben Nebat he tore down and broke its stones and beat [it] to dust”). The original reform account thus would have included the tearing down of the Bethel high place and the breaking of its stones in 23:15 and the strewing of human bones on the altar, thus irrevocably defiling it, in 23:16. The verse in its earliest form would have reflected interests that were decidedly priestly in character: eradication of contamination and the power of human bones to defile. Phase 1 preserves the reference to Jeroboam, without the deuteronomistic judgment “who caused Israel to sin,” and the association with him situates the installation under attack in Bethel. Until this point, every cult place and installation in 23:4–20 is identified by its specific location.56 Without reference to Jeroboam, 23:15 attests the only unidentified cult installation in the reform account.57 If phase 1 read ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʨʡʰ ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ, then a deuteronomistic editor might have transformed 23:15 as follows:

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ʠʩʨʧʤ ʸʹʠ ʨʡʰ-ʯʡ ʭʲʡʸʩ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʤʮʡʤ ʬʠ-ʺʩʡʡ ʸʹʠ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʥʩʰʡʠ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʩʥ ʵʺʰ ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʠʥʤʤ ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ And also, the altar that was in Bethel, the high place made by Jeroboam ben Nebat, who caused Israel to sin, also that altar and that high place he tore down, broke its stones, and beat it to dust. Mention of burning the asherah, which appears at the end of 23:15 in the Masoretic Text, is omitted from the above reconstruction, as this element is widely recognized as a late addition to the text.58 Knoppers posits that in attacking this cult symbol, Josiah removed the last vestiges of Ahab’s transgression, noting that according to 13:6, the asherah remained standing in Samaria after Jehu’s cleansing of the northern cult (10:25–26).59 It is possible that the final editors of 2 Kgs 23 meant to draw a connection between the asherah erected by Ahab and the one eradicated by Josiah; but if this were the intention, it is odd that this was not made more explicit. It is unlikely that the deuteronomistic historian, or someone writing in the deuteronomistic mode, would have passed up the opportunity to implicate a northern king. In addition, the sudden appearance of the perfect ʳʸʹ gives the impression that reference to the destruction of the asherah was an afterthought. If the reading ʤʮʡʤ-ʺʠ ʳʸʹʥ reflects a scribal error that occurred much later in the course of textual transmission so that the deuteronomist’s source looked something like the text as reconstructed in phase 1 above, then the addition of references to the altar and the burning of the asherah as they now appear lends the verse a distinctively deuteronomistic character. In the command in Deut 12:2 to enact the ḥērem upon the dispossessed local populations of the land, the requisite actions include tearing down the altar (ʧʡʦʮʤ-ʺʠ ʵʺʰ), smashing sacred stones (ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹ), and burning the asherim with fire (ʳʸʹ ʹʠʡ ʭʩʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ). With the correction provided by the Septuagint, 2 Kgs 23:15 calls for tearing down of the altar (ʵʺʰ), breaking its stones (ʸʡʹ), and burning the asherah (ʳʸʹ)—in that order, the same order in which the verbs appear in Deut 12:2. Thus, like the verb ʳʸʹ (see chapter 3), the verb ʸʡʹ provides a pivot point for the deuteronomistic transformation of priestly apotropaic ritual into destruction by ḥērem. While the phrase ʤʸʹʠ ʳʸʹʥ is peculiar and it is difficult to be certain of its location in the redactional history of the verse, its position at the end of the verse after references to the tearing down of the altar and the smashing of stones suggests that its inclusion was at the very least inspired by Deuteronomy’s formulation, although it may represent a post-deuteronomistic expansion.


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From the above analysis it may be posited that a deuteronomistic author/editor had before him a text that described Josiah’s desecration of the Bethel high place and altar in priestly terms. With a few strategically placed additions, he was able to transform this priestly description into a fulfillment of deuteronomistic ideology and Josiah into a hero of the deuteronomistic movement. While the resulting verse remains somewhat awkward, this may reflect a deuteronomistic interest in preserving an extant textual tradition. By making only the smallest alterations, the postmonarchic author effectively replaced the priestly notion of apotropaic ritual as a means of defiling sacred space with Deuteronomy’s ḥērem model, with its pan-Israel perspective. A similar transformation may be evident in 2 Kgs 23:13–14. These verses describe the defilement of high places and destruction of standing stones and asherim located on the Mount of Olives. The verses in their final form read: ʤʮʬʹ ʤʰʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʯʥʮʲ-ʩʰʡ ʺʡʲʥʺ ʭʫʬʮʬʥ ʡʠʥʮ ʵʷʹ ʹʥʮʫʬʥ ʭʩʰʣʶ ʵʷʹ ʺʸʺʹʲʬ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʪʬʮ ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ ʠʬʮʩʥ ʭʩʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʺʸʫʩʥ ʺʥʡʶʮʤ-ʺʠ ʸʡʹʥ :ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ ʭʣʠ-ʺʥʮʶʲ As for the high places that were facing Jerusalem, to the right of the Mount of the Destroyer, which Solomon, the king of Israel, built for Ashtoreth the detestation of the Sidonians, for Kemosh the detestation of the Moabites, and for Milcom the abomination of the Ammonites, the king defiled. He shattered the maṣṣebot, cut down the asherim and filled their places with human bones. Barrick notes that “the language of verse 14 is stereotypical, but not ‘Deuteronomic.’”60 While the verb ʸʡʹ (“to break”) appears together with ʺʥʡʶʮ (“standing stones”) in Deut 7:5 and 12:3, the use of the verb ʺʸʫ (“to cut”) with asherim as its object is unattested in Deuteronomy. The only other place where this sequence occurs is in reference to Hezekiah’s reforms in 2 Kgs 18:4. Here the resemblance is almost exact. The only significant difference lies in the verb governing the elimination of bāmôt: ʠʮʨ (“to defile”) in 23:14 and ʸʩʱʤ (“to remove”) in 18:4. Use of the verb ʸʩʱʤ conforms to the deuteronomistic convention applied in the evaluation of kings Jehoshaphat (1 Kgs 22:44), Joash (2 Kgs 12:4), Amaziah (14:4), Azariah (15:4), and Jotham (15:35). The account of each king’s reign begins with a four-part, four-verse formula that includes these elements: (1) the year in which the king came to the throne and his age, (2) the duration of his reign and the name of his

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mother, (3) whether he did good or evil in the eyes of Yahweh, and (4) whether he removed the bāmôt. In the case of Hezekiah, reference to his reform measures occurs in precisely the position in the formula where a statement regarding his removal of the bāmôt is expected. A deuteronomistic attribution for 18:4 is therefore all but certain. Such an attribution is less secure in 23:14, however, as Josiah’s defilement of bāmôt has no Deuteronom(ist)ic parallel. Let us consider the possibility that reference to Josiah’s defilement of the high places in 23:14 belongs to a pre-deuteronomistic stratum and that, as with 23:15–16, 23:13–14 was later expanded to include the destruction of maṣṣebot and asherim. If this were the case, the deuteronomistic expansion of these verses would also have included the reference to Solomon in 23:13, a detail that sets up a contrast between Josiah the pious king and Solomon, whose apostasy set the Davidic monarchy on a course of self-destruction. The close correspondence between this verse and Ahijah’s promise of doom in 11:33 point to the likelihood that 23:13 and 11:33 belong to the same deuteronomistic hand.61 Support for this hypothesis resides in the appearance of the vĕqāṭal form ʸʡʹʥ in 23:14, a construction that is often, though not always, an indication of lateness.62 Barrick demonstrates the necessity to evaluate each individual passage where this formulation appears on its own terms.63 The sequence is used seven times in 2 Kgs 23 (23:4bβ, 5a, 8b, 10a, 12bβ, 14a, 15bβ). In the reconstruction presented above, two of these verses are identified as part of the Josianic priestly composition (23:8b, 10a), and five are identified as secondary additions. The presence of the vĕqāṭal sequence in the original reform account suggests that where it appears as part of a late addition, the editor may have been deliberately mimicking the style of his source material.64 When the deuteronomistic elements are removed from 23:13–14, a significantly different picture emerges of Josiah’s rites of violence on the Mount of Olives. An original version of the text might have read: ʠʬʮʩʥ ʪʬʮʤ ʠʮʨ ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤʬ ʯʩʮʩʮ ʸʹʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ ʩʰʴ-ʬʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʥʮʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʲ ʭʮʥʷʮ-ʺʠ And as for the high places that were facing Jerusalem to the right of the Mount of the Destroyer,65 the king defiled and he filled their places with human bones. According to this reconstruction, Josiah was originally depicted targeting only the high places on the Mount of Olives and not the maṣṣebot or asherim. Reference to the latter would belong to a later, deuteronomistic expansion of the verse. Whereas in the received reform account


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defilement of the high places is an act distinct from the scattering of human bones where the maṣṣebot and asherim once stood, in an original version the scattering of human bones would have been the mode by which Josiah defiled the high places. The original verse accords with the interest in eradication and defilement of bāmôt attested in the holiness strand of tradition represented by Lev 26:30 and Ezek 6:3–5 and 9:7 (see chapter 2).66 In the deuteronomistic text, like the cult place at Bethel, that which was Israelite comes to be conceived as Canaanite and as such becomes a target of destruction by ḥērem. Taken together, 2 Kgs 23:13–16 provides a window on the process by which the deuteronomistic author constructed the received account of Josiah’s reform. He inherited a text characterized by an interest in the elimination of specific bāmôt whose operation impeded Josiah’s consolidation of royal and sacred authority in Jerusalem. This text was steeped in the Realpolitik of the preexilic period, and it described the events of the reform in ritual terms that were typical of the Jerusalem-centered priestly holiness school. The revised version, by contrast, drew on Deuteronomy’s ḥērem ideology to transform this source into a call for a new religious order, dissociated from the temporal, social, and political trappings of monarchic Israel. 2 Kings 23:6, Deuteronomy 9:21, and Exodus 32:20: Josiah’s Destruction of the Asherah and the Weaving of a Polemic against Jeroboam and the Bethel Cult

The deuteronomistic author’s use of the figure of Josiah in an evolving polemic against Jeroboam and the Bethel cult involved internal developments within the reform account, as well as more complicated editorial processes that engaged a web of textual traditions. Central among these is the description of Josiah’s removal and eradication of the asherah from the Jerusalem temple in 2 Kgs 23:6. This verse provides a quintessential example of apotropaic ritual destruction of an object for the sake of eliminating its potency. As such it fits well within the ritual orientation of the original holiness reform account. However, 23:6 has its closest biblical parallel not in priestly literature, but in the account of Moses’s destruction of the golden calf in Deut 9:21, a passage that recapitulates events described in Exod 32:20 (see table 4.2). These texts feature a similar series of destructive acts (see chapter 2): a sacred object is seized, burned with fire, beaten to a pulp, and disposed of. There are, however, important differences between the three accounts. Most notably, they all diverge on the matter of the location where the debris is disposed. In addition, while Exod 32:20 and 2 Kgs 23:6 attest a

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josiah’s reform and the dynamics of defilement 4.2 Ritual Elimination of the Golden Calf and the Asherah

Exodus 32:20 ʹʠʡ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʬʢʲʤ-ʺʠ ʧʷʩʥ ʭʩʮʤ ʩʰʴ ʬʲ ʸʦʩʥ ʷʣ-ʸʹʠ ʣʲ ʯʧʨʩʥ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʰʡ-ʺʠ ʷʹʩʥ

He took the calf that they had made, and he burned it with fire and beat it until it was fine and sprinkled (it) on the surface of the water and forced the Israelites to drink it.

Deuteronomy 9:21

2 Kings 23:6

ʭʺʩʹʲ-ʸʹʠ ʭʫʺʠʨʧ-ʺʠʥ ʵʥʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʺʩʡʮ ʤʸʹʠʤ-ʺʠ ʠʶʩʥ ʳʸʹʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰ-ʬʠ ʭʬʹʥʸʩʬ ʥʺʠ ʳʸʹʠʥ ʩʺʧʷʬ ʬʢʲʤ-ʺʠ ʣʲ ʡʨʩʤ ʯʥʧʨ ʥʺʠ ʺʫʠʥ ʹʠʡ ʪʬʹʩʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣʩʥ ʯʥʸʣʷ ʬʧʰʡ ʤʺʠ ʭʲʤ ʩʰʡ ʸʡʷ-ʬʲ ʤʸʴʲ-ʺʠ ʺʠ ʪʬʹʠʥ ʸʴʲʬ ʷʣ-ʸʹʠ ʸʤʤ-ʯʮ ʣʸʩʤ ʬʧʰʤ-ʬʠ ʥʸʴʲ As for your sinful thing that you made, the calf, I took it and burned it with fire and beat it, ground well, until it was a fine dust, and cast the dust into the river that descended from the mountain.

He brought the asherah out of the temple of Yahweh, outside Jerusalem to the Wadi Kidron, and he burned it in the Wadi Kidron and beat it to dust and cast its dust on the grave of the people.

similar phenomenology, they employ a different set of terms. For example, where Moses “takes” the calf, Josiah “brings out” the asherah. They both beat the detestable object, but the two texts express this using entirely different turns of phrase. In addition, whereas Josiah “casts” the debris, Moses “sprinkles” it. Exodus and Deuteronomy differ from one another with regard to the mode by which the debris of the calf is eliminated: in Deuteronomy it is cast in a nearby stream, whereas in Exodus it is made into a solution that Moses forces the Israelites to drink. In addition Deuteronomy refers to the debris as dust (ʸʴʲ) and features Moses casting it (ʪʩʬʹʤ), two details that are absent from the Exodus account. Finally Deuteronomy refers to the calf as “your sin” (ʭʫʺʠʨʧ), a term that is absent in Exodus. How are we to explain the differences between the two accounts of the same event in Exodus and Deuteronomy, and how should we account for the closeness of the language in Deuteronomy and Kings? Scholars generally assume that the shared language in Deut 9:21 and 2 Kgs 23:6 reflects their common deuteronomistic origin.67 However, the language of burning, beating, and casting used to describe the elimination of the asherah and the golden calf in Deut 9:21 is not attested anywhere else in the corpus of Deuteronom(ist)ic literature, even in passages that describe the eradication of cult images. This argues against its identification as a deuteronomistic formulation. In addition, the use of this vocabulary of violence to describe Josiah’s


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removal of the asherah from the Jerusalem temple in and of itself calls into question a deuteronomistic attribution. In its final form, Moses’s destruction of the golden calf is woven into a polemic against Jeroboam and the calf-cult at Bethel. If the account of Josiah’s destruction of the asherah were a deuteronomistic invention, it is peculiar that the very language that echoes Moses’s destruction of the calf with its implicit rejection of the Bethel cultus would have been used in reference to Josiah’s purification of the Jerusalem temple and not his attack on the Bethel. While this oddity by itself is not evidence, it suggests the possibility that at some point in the evolution of these traditions, Josiah’s destruction of the asherah existed independently of the deuteronomistic golden calf account. Two oft-cited references in the Ugaritic Baal Cycle (KTU 1.6; see table 4.3)68 to the goddess Anat’s destruction of her rival Mot in terms markedly similar to the biblical descriptions of the elimination of the golden calf and the asherah leads some scholars to conclude that the destructive acts committed by Moses and Josiah represent a fixed rite of elimination that was at home in a second/first-millennium SyroPalestinian cultural milieu.69 The attestation of the same ritual at Ugarit employed by Moses and Josiah in the Bible suggests that, while a deuteronomistic author may have drawn on this ritual motif, it was not his

TABLE

4.3 Anat’s Destruction of Mot

KTU 1.6 ii 30–35

tiḫd/bn.ilm.mt c

bḥrb/tbq nn./

With a sword she splits him

bḫṯr.tdry/nn

With a sieve she winnows him

bišt.tšrpnn

With a fire she burns him

brḥm.tṭḥnn

With millstones she grinds him

c

KTU 1.6 v 12–19

She seizes divine Mot

bšd/tdr .nn.

In a field she sows him

c

lk.pht/dry.bḥrb.

Due to you I faced splitting with a sword

c

lk.pht.šrp.bišt

Due to you I faced burning with fire

c

lk.[pht.ṭḥ]n.brḥ/m.

Due to you [I faced grin]ding with millstones

c

[lk.]pht[.dr]y.bkbrt

Due to you I faced [winnowing] with a riddle

c

lk[.]pht.[ ]l[ ]/bšdm.

Due to you I faced . . [.] in a field

c

Due to you I fa[ced] scattering in the sea

c

[ l]k[.]p[ht]/dr .bym

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invention. In fact, it is rooted in the very Canaanite heritage he sought to disavow. Much scholarship on the biblical golden calf traditions focuses on three essential issues: the relevance of the Ugaritic parallel for illuminating the evolution of the biblical tradition,70 the literary historical relationship between Exod 32 and Deut 9,71 and the relationship between these texts and the account of Jeroboam’s establishment of the Bethel cult in 1 Kgs 12–13.72 In this literature 2 Kgs 23:6 tends to enter the discussion as something of an afterthought. However, the unique ritual phenomenology attested in Exod 32:20, Deut 9:21, and 2 Kgs 23:6, with its specific parallel in the Baal Cycle, invites their systematic treatment in tandem. In the Ugaritic Baal myth, Mot, cast as the divine personification of death, is one of the primary antagonists of Baal. According to a seasonal interpretation of the myth, Baal may be understood to represent the life-giving aspect of the autumn rainfall, while Mot is a source of death associated with the summer heat.73 But Mot is antithetical to Baal in more than just meteorological terms. While Baal holds a position as one of the chief gods of the pantheon, Mot’s name is absent from Ugaritic pantheon lists and onomastica, and this leads to the conclusion that he was not in fact a deity worshiped like others. Healey, for example, argues that Mot is to be understood as a dangerous, demonic force, not as a legitimate cult-receiving deity.74 Anat’s burning, beating, and scattering of Mot is undertaken as a means of eradicating this threat to all life, both human and divine.75 That Mot may be understood in this light is apparent when he describes himself taking Baal in his mouth like a lamb and “crushing him in the chasm of his throat”76 and in his repeated threats to consume human flesh; Mot is a threat to the security of the pantheon and by extension to human society. The golden calf may be viewed in a similar light. In Exod 32 it is clear from the repetition of the phrase ʭʩʸʶʮ ʵʸʠʮ ʪʥʬʲʤ ʸʹʠ (“who brought you up from the land of Egypt”)—used in reference to both Moses, servant of Yahweh, and the golden calf—that the calf was to serve as a proxy for Yahweh, not as an antagonistic deity.77 However, the golden calf narratives present the image as an idol and as such it is inimical to Yahweh. By burning, beating, and scattering the golden calf as Mot was burned, beaten, and scattered, Moses treats the image as if it were a dangerous, even demonic power whose presence threatens both the legitimate worship of Yahweh and the integrity of the Israelite community. From the parallel with Mot and the golden calf, we may surmise that Josiah’s destruction of the asherah constituted a response to a perceived


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threat the object posed to the deity (in this case Yahweh), his cult, and ultimately his people. Much like the debate over the cultic function of the golden calf, scholars disagree on whether the asherah in the Jerusalem temple was an installation associated with the cult of Yahweh or whether it represented a separate deity, Asherah; indeed this question constitutes a major crux in the study of Israelite religion.78 It is not necessary to engage the details of that debate here. The salient point is that the object had a dangerous potency that Josiah sought to eliminate through a known apotropaic rite of riddance. As in the biblical passages, both Ugaritic texts refer to the destruction of a divine image by means of burning, beating or grinding, and scattering, and here too the passages differ on the matter of the location where the debris is deposited. The similarities between these texts suggest that they describe a fixed rite of elimination known to both Ugaritic and Israelite authors. That all five texts diverge in their final element suggests that this rite incorporated a degree of flexibility that allowed it to fit an array of cultic—and, by extension, narrative—contexts. In light of this evidence, and given the reasons to doubt the deuteronomistic origin of the shared vocabulary of violence in 2 Kgs 23:6 and Deut 9:21 articulated above, I posit that Exod 32:20 and Josiah’s elimination of the asherah in 2 Kgs 23:6 reflect two originally independent, pre-deuteronomistic witnesses to an elimination rite practiced in ancient Israel, although it is not attested in any ritual texts. The Exodus and Deuteronomy traditions differ from one another due to their divergent narrative contexts and the separate literary environments in which they emerged. The author of Deut 9:21 had access to both traditions and imported the language associated with Josiah’s disposal of the dust of the asherah in his rendering of Moses’s destruction of the calf, thereby establishing Moses as a model for Josiah’s behavior and Josiah as the fulfillment of Mosaic promise. Begg and Hayes convincingly demonstrate that Deut 9:21 is dependent upon Exod 32:20 and that when Deuteronomy’s wording diverges from Exodus, the former evidences verbal links with a wide range of texts in Kings recounting significant moments (both positive and negative) in the cultic history of Israel.79 Among the examples these authors cite are Deuteronomy’s reference to the calf as “your sin” (ʭʫʺʨʧ), the term repeatedly applied to Jeroboam’s calves in the book of Kings, and the word ʸʴʲʬ (“to dust”) added to the phrase ʷʣ ʸʹʠ ʣʲ, which links Deut 9:21 to 2 Kgs 23:4, 6, 12. Hayes concludes: “In short, Deut 9:21’s unique terminology and formulations are not random or capricious, but establish verbal contacts between Deuteronomy and later cultic developments: Jeroboam’s fatal offense (1 Kings 12:26ff.)

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and the four major Judean cultic reforms in 1 Kings 15:13; 2 Kings 11:18b, 18:4b and 23:4ff.”80 While there are indeed echoes of later cultic developments in Deuteronomy’s golden calf account, Begg and Hayes do not devote sufficient attention to the linguistic and phenomenological parallels between Deut 9:21 and 2 Kgs 23:6 specifically. Begg does note that the phrase ʸʴʲ ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤ (“he cast the dust”) occurs only three times in the Bible (Deut 9:21; 2 Kgs 23:6, 12), but he sees this cluster of references as the product of deuteronomistic editing. He suggests that the formulation of Moses’s fourth action in Exod 32:20 was deliberately altered in Deut 9:21 with a view toward creating a connection between Moses’s actions and those of Josiah later on. I would modify this hypothesis somewhat and suggest that the phrase ʸʴʠ ʺʠ ʪʩʬʹʤ in 2 Kgs 23:6, 12, along with the other similarities between 2 Kgs 23:6 and Deut 9:21, preserves apotropaic ritual language associated with the elimination of the potency of a cult image, present already in the priestly holiness reform account. The deuteronomistic author of Deut 9:21 used this language in his reformulation of Exod 32:20, setting up sympathetic reverberations between Moses and Josiah that suited his historiographic agenda. While Begg and Hayes are correct that the deuteronomist’s transformation of Exod 32 brings the calf event into alignment with significant moments in Israel’s monarchic history, this transformation, at least in part, is undertaken in response to a specific, preexistent, independent tradition of Josiah’s elimination of the asherah. Put otherwise, the differences between Deut 9:21 and Exod 32:20 are mediated in part by a pre-deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform that presented Josiah’s elimination of the cult object in quintessentially apotropaic ritual terms. As Begg and Hayes suggest, the term ʭʫʺʨʧ (“your sin”) in reference to the golden calf in Deut 9:21 reflects an effort on the part of the deuteronomistic author to connect Moses’s destruction of the calf to Jeroboam’s calves and to the larger themes of the Kings history. By creating a literary connection between Exod 32:20; Deut 9:21; and 2 Kgs 23:6, the deuteronomistic author casts Josiah as reenacting Moses’s ritual annihilation of the calf and establishes him as the embodiment of Mosaic adherence to Yahweh’s law. In addition all three texts come to be incorporated into an evolving polemic against Jeroboam and the Bethel cult. The circle is closed in 1 Kgs 12:28, when Jeroboam exclaims ʵʸʠʮ ʪʥʬʲʤ ʸʹʠ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʪʩʤʬʠ ʤʬʠ ʭʩʸʶʮ (“these are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt”), thus reenacting the Israelites’ breach of faith at Sinai.81 For the authors of the Kings history, Moses and Aaron at Sinai represent the two poles of behavior that could be embodied by Israel’s leaders. Within this


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schema, Jeroboam stands as the ultimate monarchic realization of Aaron’s apostasy—and the figure to whom all of Israel’s kings as well as the worst of Judah’s are compared—while Josiah stands alone as the supramonarchic fulfillment of Mosaic promise. This effect is wrought less through changes made to the reform account itself than through the importation of language associated with Josiah into the descriptions of other key moments in Israel’s past. The foregoing analysis demonstrates how the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23 used strategically placed additions, elaborations, and echoes of earlier moments in Israel’s landed history to recast Josiah as the ideal Deuteronomic king. This association was so convincingly wrought that many modern scholars have taken it as historical fact. By reworking and relying on priestly material in formulating his account of Josiah’s reform, this author rooted his reformed version of Israelite civic and religious leadership in the firm foundation of traditions already in place. He thus lent legitimacy both to his own innovation and to the Jerusalem temple priesthood, whose exclusive sacred authority he sought to establish in an era without kings.

The Centralization Theme in 2 Kings 22–23 In examining the specific themes and modes of transformation the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 23 employed, it becomes clear that he did not undertake revision of this particular text with the idea in mind of promoting a program of centralization. This is an unexpected discovery, given both the degree to which centralization is seen as a defining characteristic of deuteronomistic writing and the widely held assumption that centralization of worship in Jerusalem was a Josianic development, or at the very least a product of postexilic deuteronomistic authors who sought to cast Josiah as the progenitor and primary agent of the centralization movement. From the textual analysis presented here, it appears that the deuteronomistic authors transformed the holiness account not with the intention of casting Josiah as an agent of Deuteronomy’s centralization law, but rather with a primary interest in the nature of his governance. In their retelling, the king acted first and foremost as an advocate for the priority of priestly authority, and his adherence to ʤʹʮ ʺʸʥʺ (“the law of Moses”) would ensure Yahweh’s ultimate kingship, even after Josiah and the Judahite monarchy were a thing of the past. The idea that Josiah represents this Deuteronomic ideal is expressed through parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and the law of the king in Deut 17.

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Hilkiah’s role as custodian of the “book of the law” (ʤʸʥʺ ʸʴʱ) is reminiscent of Deuteronomy’s Levite priests before whom the king was to copy the “second law” (ʤʸʥʺ ʤʰʹʮ) in Deut 17:18.82 Like the ideal king in Deut 17:20, Josiah never “strays to the right or left” (2 Kgs 22:2); and much as the king in Deuteronomy is to observe all of the words of the torah that he has written before the priests upon a scroll, Josiah upheld the words of the torah that were written on the scroll that Hilkiah the priest found in the temple of Yahweh. Many scholars note tension between Josiah’s royal prerogative on the one hand and the limitations placed on the power of the king in Deut 17 on the other. Efforts to grapple with this problem reveal fundamental flaws in the way that biblical scholarship tends to treat the reform account. Sweeney’s comments are illuminating in this regard: Insofar as the “book of the Torah” found in Josiah’s temple restoration is identified as a form of the book of Deuteronomy, scholars maintain that Josiah tempered the Judean ideology of unconditional monarchic authority based on divine election with the northern ideology of divine favor conditioned by adherence to Mosaic law—that is, Josiah’s reform was intended to limit the power of the monarchy by subjecting it to Mosaic Law. Putting aside the question of the northern origin of Deuteronomic ideology, which is ancillary in the present context, Sweeney’s representation of previous scholarship on 2 Kgs 22–23 resembles the proposal offered here, but with a critical difference. His summary reflects the tendency among biblical scholars to assume the historicity of the reforms and their rootedness in Deuteronomy, thus replicating the biblical authors’ presentation of Josiah as an exceptional king in his adherence to Deuteronomic law. According to this model, in his devotion to Yahweh, Josiah did what no other king before him had done; namely, he implemented a legal code with the express purpose of restricting his own authority. Were we not dealing with a biblical king, such an explanation would never gain traction.83 While a limited kingship may be Deuteronomy’s prerogative, it is unlikely to have been Josiah’s. In contrast to those scholars he cites, Sweeney sees Josiah’s reform as having sought to reestablish Davidic rule over the former northern kingdom and thus to have extended, not restricted, royal authority; he thus rejects the idea that Josiah sought to limit his own powers. However, his explanation of the relationship between Josiah’s actions and Deuteronomic law is equally problematic. He posits: “Because


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Deuteronomy defines ideal kingship in terms that anticipate Josiah’s policies, Deuteronomy was apparently composed to support King Josiah’s program of religious reform and national restoration.” This begs the question of why a law code that seeks to subject the powers of the king to Mosaic law and priestly jurisdiction would have been written with the express purpose of supporting a royal reform that sought to expand royal control. The fault in this logic is both striking and pervasive in biblical scholarship on Josiah’s reform. The reconstruction proposed in this study alleviates the problem by situating Josiah’s efforts to tighten royal control and extend royal authority in the preexilic period in a composition commissioned by the Josianic court. From the perspective of the postmonarchic deuteronomistic author, Josiah was indeed a great king; perhaps the greatest in Israel’s preexilic history, but his ultimate failure to protect Judah from destruction provides the necessary proof that governance by kings is insufficient. This author draws on Deuteronomy’s law of the king to recast Josiah as the ideal monarch for his subservience to priestly authority represented by the law of Moses. This subservience was not historical fact; it was the ideological innovation of an author working after Josiah the king was long gone. It is clear that a primary effect of the deuteronomistic transformation was the establishment of Josiah as the embodiment of Mosaic exceptionalism and as unique among Israel’s kings. There is nothing particularly new about this observation, although many see this theme as originating in the Josianic period, whereas my analysis situates it in a postmonarchic milieu. It is less widely recognized that, in modeling Josiah on the figures of Moses and Joshua, the deuteronomistic author effectively bypassed David as the ideal model of Israelite governance, establishing Josiah’s authority on the basis of earlier, premonarchic archetypes. It is in keeping with this interest, although nonetheless surprising, that the deuteronomistic author does not introduce into his account any of the typical language of centralization that we might expect if his purpose were to re-present Josiah as the embodiment of a Deuteronomic ideal. The absence of centralization language in the deuteronomistic revision of 2 Kgs 23:4–20 suggests that deuteronomistic writing could be undertaken in the service of other Deuteronomic themes, without an explicit interest in centralization as such. The association of Josiah with the centralization movement is based in part on the text’s emphasis on bāmôt eradication, which is taken to indicate the elimination of all outdoor sanctuaries and shrines where Israelites worshiped and the restriction of cultic activity to one temple in

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Jerusalem.84 However, my analysis suggests that the bāmôt theme was a prominent feature in the pre-deuteronomistic reform account, with no discernible connection to centralization, and that this carries over into the deuteronomistic composition. In the text in its final form, Josiah targets bāmôt in Judah that operated under their own priests (2 Kgs 23:8–9), particular cult places and installations in Jerusalem that were deemed illegitimate (23:6, 7, 10, 11, 12, 13a, 14b), the high place at Bethel (23:15– 16a), and the ʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʡ (“high place temples”) in Samaria (23:19–20).85 It is difficult to ascertain the precise meaning of the term ʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʡ, but there is some agreement among scholars that it referred to a particular type of public and permanent cult place as opposed to the outdoor shrines that one might find “on every hill and under every green tree.”86 The latter are not at issue in the deuteronomistic composition. The theme of bāmôt eradication does not appear to be intrinsically connected to centralization as an ideological and theological imperative and should not be used as a basis for identifying Josiah with the centralization movement. Many interpreters contend that the short form of the centralization formula—“the place that Yahweh chooses [from one of your tribes]”— originates in the Josianic period.87 As Sweeney, Richter, and others note, this language, which is first introduced in Deut 12:2–13:19, is intimately connected to the Davidic/Zion tradition, in which David is “chosen” by Yahweh and Zion is the place where Yahweh dwells.88 The idea of a Josianic origin for this complex is rooted in the assumption of a historical connection between Deuteronomy and Josiah’s reform. In general, scholars do not take into consideration that neither the short form of the centralization formula nor the deuteronomistic reflexes of this idiom—ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʭʥʹʬ (“to place the name”) and ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʺʥʩʤʬ (“my name to be there”)—appears as a rationale for Josiah’s actions. This and other language associated with the Zion tradition is conspicuous by its absence in the reform account. That the deuteronomistic author did not add such language when he revised his source material at the very least calls into question the importance of this theme to his editorial agenda. The absence of centralization language in the reform narrative may be contrasted with the deuteronomistic account of the reign of the corrupt King Manasseh. Second Kgs 21:4 refers to altars erected in the temple of Yahweh, “about which Yahweh said, ‘in Jerusalem I shall place my name.’” Similarly in 21:7 Manasseh is accused of installing an image of Asherah in Yahweh’s temple, “about which Yahweh said to David and to Solomon his son, ‘In this temple and in Jerusalem, which I chose from among all of the tribes of Israel, I have placed my name in perpetuity.’”89 Use of the centralization formula in 2 Kgs 21 makes explicit that Manasseh’s perverse policies were in direct conflict with


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the ideology of a centralized Yahwistic cult. From the deuteronomistic perspective, Josiah’s elimination of these same installations should have served to restore the sanctity of Zion as the place of Yahweh’s choosing; but we find no such statement in 2 Kgs 22–23. Whereas the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 21 regarded centralization as a bellwether for judging the quality of Manasseh’s reign, the author of 2 Kgs 23 applied no such standard to Josiah. The references to the placing of the name in 2 Kgs 21 are the first to appear in the Kings history since 1 Kgs 14:21, where Rehoboam ascends to the throne in Jerusalem, “the city that Yahweh chose to place his name.” Curiously, all references to bāmôt eradication in the regnal formulas in the book of Kings occur between these two chapters, so that the reigns of Rehoboam and Manasseh constitute brackets around the bāmôt-centered history of the divided monarchy.90 From the perspective of the deuteronomistic author of the book of Kings, Josiah’s reign stands outside of this closed circuit, a point made explicit in 2 Kgs 23:26–27: ʸʹʠ ʭʩʱʲʫʤ-ʬʫ ʬʲ ʤʣʥʩʡ ʥʴʠ ʤʸʧ-ʸʹʠ ʬʥʣʢʤ ʥʴʠ ʯʥʸʧʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʡʹ-ʠʬ ʪʠ ʩʺʸʱʤ ʸʹʠʫ ʩʰʴ ʬʲʮ ʸʩʱʠ ʤʣʥʤʩ-ʺʠ ʭʢ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠʩʥ :ʤʹʰʮ ʥʱʩʲʫʤ ʸʹʠ ʺʩʡʤ-ʺʠʥ ʭʬʹʥʸʩ-ʺʠ ʩʺʸʧʡ ʸʹʠ ʺʠʦʤ ʸʩʲʤ-ʺʠ ʩʺʱʠʮʥ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ ʩʺʸʮʠ But Yahweh did not turn from his fierce wrath by which his anger burned against Judah because of all of the provocations that Manasseh committed. So Yahweh said, “I will also remove Judah from before me as I removed Israel, and I will spurn this city that I chose—Jerusalem and the temple about which I said, ‘My name shall be there.’” From the deuteronomistic perspective represented in this passage, Manasseh’s reign marks the effective end of the Davidic promise of Zion. Through no fault of his own, Josiah’s reform was too little too late. The dissolution of the Davidic covenant with its promise of centralization also finds expression in Huldah’s prophecy, where the phrase ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ (“this place”) appears five times, once in each of the five verses that comprise the pericope. The term ʭʥʷʮ is strongly associated with the Davidic covenant and the associated call for centralization. This is evident in Yahweh’s two-pronged assurance to David: first, “I will make your name great” (ʬʥʣʢ ʭʹ ʪʬ ʩʺʩʹʲʥ), “and I shall establish a place for my people Israel” (ʬʠʸʹʩʬ ʩʮʲʬ ʭʥʷʮ ʩʺʮʹʥ) (S 2 Sam 7:10); and then “I shall raise up your offspring after you (ʪʩʸʧʠ ʪʲʸʦ-ʺʠ ʩʺʮʩʷʤ), and “it shall be he who builds a house for my name” (ʩʮʹʬ ʺʩʡ-ʤʰʡʩ ʠʥʤ) (7:12–13). Through repetition of the phrase ʤʦʤ ʭʥʷʮʤ in Huldah’s oracle, the

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prophet reflects on the whole of Judah’s monarchic history and sees a downward spiral of idolatry and transgression that ultimately results in Judah’s demise and the failure of Yahweh’s aspiration for centralization to materialize. That her prophecy reflects this long view is exemplified in the use of the phrase ʩʰʥʡʦʲ ʸʹʠ ʺʧʺ (“because you have forsaken me”), which appears only one other time in the book of Kings (1 Kgs 11:33: ʯʲʩ ʩʰʥʡʦʲ ʸʹʠ). Here it provides an explanation for the division of the Davidic monarchy. Huldah’s use of this phrase serves as a reminder that throughout its history, Israel consistently disappointed Yahweh’s expectations for faithfulness; punishment was therefore inevitable. Huldah’s prophecy and Yahweh’s promise to destroy his people in 2 Kgs 23:27 stand at a conceptual distance from the reform account itself; neither is intended to provide a rationale for Josiah’s reform measures. Nowhere in the deuteronomistic text of 2 Kgs 22–23 is the language of centralization employed to communicate the idea that Josiah’s purpose was to realize the notion of Zion as Yahweh’s dwelling place and the only legitimate cult site in his kingdom. If anything, the language associated with centralization in 22:16–20 and 23:27 emphasizes the failure, not the aspirations, of the centralization movement. Use of the phrase ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ (“my name will be there”) elsewhere in the deuteronomistic history illustrates this point. Besides 23:27, the only other attestation of this idiom is in Solomon’s prayer upon dedicating the temple. In 1 Kgs 8:15–19 Solomon proclaims: ʭʥʩʤ-ʯʮ :ʸʮʠʬ ʠʬʮ ʥʣʩʡʥ ʩʡʠ ʣʥʣ ʺʠ ʥʩʴʡ ʸʡʣ ʸʹʠ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʪʥʸʡ ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʨʡʹ-ʬʫʮ ʸʩʲʡ ʩʺʸʧʡ-ʠʬ ʭʩʸʶʮʮ ʬʠʸʹʩ-ʺʠ ʩʮʲ-ʺʠ ʩʺʠʶʥʤ ʸʹʠ ʣʥʣ ʡʡʬ-ʭʲ ʩʤʩʥ :ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʮʲ-ʬʲ ʺʥʩʤʬ ʣʥʣʡ ʸʧʡʠʥ ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʺʥʩʤʬ ʺʩʡ ʺʥʰʡʬ ʤʩʤ ʸʹʠ ʯʲʩ ʩʡʠ ʣʥʣ-ʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʸʮʠʩʥ :ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʤʬʠ ʤʥʤʩ ʭʹʬ ʺʩʡ ʺʥʰʡʬ ʩʡʠ ʩʫ ʺʩʡʤ ʤʰʡʺ ʠʬ ʤʺʠ ʷʸ :ʪʡʡʬ-ʭʲ ʤʩʤ ʩʫ ʺʡʩʨʤ ʩʮʹʬ ʺʩʡ ʺʥʰʡʬ ʪʡʡʬ-ʭʲ ʩʮʹʬ ʺʩʡʤ ʤʰʡʩ-ʠʥʤ ʪʩʶʬʧʮ ʠʶʩʤ ʪʰʡ-ʭʠ Praise be to Yahweh, the God of Israel, who spoke with his mouth with my father David, and by his own hand brought fulfillment, saying: “Since the day I brought my people, that is, Israel, out of Egypt, I have not chosen a city from any of the tribes of Israel to build a temple for my name to be there, but I have chosen David to be over my people Israel.” It was in the heart of David, my father to build a temple for the name of Yahweh, the God of Israel. But Yahweh said to my father David, “Because it was in your heart to build a temple for my name, you did well because this was in your heart. Only, it shall not be you who builds the temple, but your son, who


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came forth from your loins; he is the one who will build the temple for my name.” Richter argues convincingly that the phrase ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ (“my name shall be there”), a reflex of the idiom “to place the name,” was “pioneered by the author of 1 Kings 8:16 in order to make the association between Yahweh’s election of the place and his election of David (and thus Solomon’s temple) blatant.”91 Through the use of the phrase ʺʥʩʤʬ ʭʹ ʩʮʹ in 2 Kgs 23:27, the postmonarchic deuteronomistic author shines a harsh light on the failure of Israel’s kings to live up to the expectations associated with those intertwined promises. This disillusion is emphasized in the deuteronomistic rendering of 23:13–14, where the bāmôt facing Jerusalem are attributed to Solomon’s apostasy. The destruction of these installations constitutes the grande finale of Josiah’s Judahite reforms and communicates in no uncertain terms that Yahweh’s expectations of the line of David have been irrevocably dashed. Scholars often point to parallels between 2 Kgs 23 and the call for centralization in Deut 12:1–5 as evidence for the notion that Josiah was an agent of the Deuteronomic centralization movement. However, the elements that 2 Kgs 23 shares with Deut 12 are concentrated in Deut 12:3, which calls for the destruction of Canaanite cult places upon the Israelites’ entry into the land, interpreted as ḥērem in Deut 7. The reform account does not employ the ʭʥʷʮ (“sacred place”) terminology or the “placing the name” idiom that appears in 12:5. This sets it at a distance from Deuteronomy’s ideology of centralization. While Deut 12 associates the destruction of Canaanite cult places with centralization of the Israelite cult, in Israelite thought as represented in deuteronomistic texts such as Josh 6–8, the ḥērem against the Canaanites had its own semantic and ideological implications that were unrelated to centralization and inextricably bound to Israel’s landed relationship with Yahweh. While the notion of centralization is connected to a similar understanding of Israel as Yahweh’s elect, its rootedness in the Davidic covenant sets it apart. That 2 Kgs 23 has parallels in the ḥērem language of Deut 12:3 and not in the centralization language of 12:5 is deeply significant, as it links Josiah less to the time-bound traditions of the Davidic monarchy than to an eternal bond between Israel, Yahweh, and the land that he promised, which could be sustained in an era without kings.


5 Literary, Historiographic, and Historical Implications

In the preceding pages I demonstrated that by approaching the account of Josiah’s reform from the standpoint of the dynamics of defilement, that is, by considering the ritual language of the text within its appropriate literary traditional contexts, new fault lines emerge that reveal aspects of the text’s compositional history, its Sitze im Leben, and its political and ideological purposes that to this point have not been fully understood. Apotropaic ritual language in the reform account reflects a composition generated by a scribe trained within the circles of the Jerusalem-centered holiness school. This early narrative was connected to concerns intimately tied to the material, social, and political realities of preexilic Judah and the Josianic court. Language that recalls the ḥērem in 2 Kgs 23 reflects the work of a deuteronomistic author who sought to transform Josiah into the paradigmatic example of ideal royal leadership in preexilic Judah. In this edition the king is portrayed not as extending royal authority into the priestly domain, as the original composition portrays Josiah doing, but rather as restoring sacred authority to the exclusive domain of the Jerusalem temple priests. In this way the deuteronomistic authors pave the way for a postmonarchic era when royal prerogative would be replaced by priestly rule and when figures like Ezra and Jeshua ben Jozadak would come to inherit the guardianship of Israel’s legal and sacred obligations. In this revised version of Josiah’s reform, the

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king stands together with Moses and Joshua as progenitor of an ideological movement whose aim was to (re)establish the Israelites as a congregation set apart from the surrounding nations by their covenant bond with Yahweh. These conclusions have implications that extend beyond the text of 2 Kgs 22–23 itself to certain larger issues central to biblical criticism: the nature of “holiness” writing and the duration of the activity of the so-called holiness school, the relationship between the holiness and deuteronomistic schools, the use of 2 Kgs 23 as a basis for arguing a seventh-century date for Deuteronomy, the idea of a Josianic redaction of the book of Kings, and the import of the idea of centralization within the literary traditions of the Deuteronom(ist)ic school. In addition, this study calls into question the deeply entrenched historical claim that in the late-seventh-century B.C.E. King Josiah, acting as an agent of Deuteronomic law, implemented a series of reforms aimed at revolutionizing the nature of Israelite religious practice and centralizing worship at the Jerusalem temple. This chapter addresses these literary historical and historiographic concerns and concludes with some reflections on the traditions of sanctified violence that stand at the core of the account of Josiah’s reform and the essential role that the preservation and manipulation of these traditions played in the process of narrativizing emergent Israelite identity.

Revisiting the Question of a Josianic Redaction of the Book of Kings The idea that the deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform was molded around a core text produced close in time to Josiah’s reign within the preexilic circles of the Jerusalem temple holiness school pushes the introduction of deuteronomistic elements in 2 Kgs 22–23 into the postJosianic period. In his celebrated volume Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic, Cross posits that the contrast between the exceptionally positive stance toward Josiah in 2 Kgs 22–23 and the awareness of his failure to save Judah from its unfortunate fate, as well as other theological inconsistencies in the so-called deuteronomistic history, point to the existence of preexilic and postexilic strata.1 According to Cross, a preexilic edition of this historical work was intended as a programmatic document of Josiah’s reform and of his revival of the Davidic state.2 An exilic edition (Dtr2) was completed about 550 B.C.E., and it updated this history by adding a chronicle of events subsequent to Josiah’s reign. Cross’s hypothesis had significant influence on subsequent scholarship and was further

literary, historiographic, and historical implications

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developed and more systematically argued by adherents to his “double redaction” model.3 The present work brings new evidence to bear on the question of a Josianic redaction of the book of Kings, as well as on the notion of a preexilic history that sought to cast Josiah as reviving the Davidic state. The Cross school of thought by and large takes for granted the viability of Noth’s Deuteronomistic History hypothesis. Recently, however, the idea of a continuous historiographic work beginning in Deuteronomy and ending in 2 Kings has been called into question (see note 13 in chapter 1). In light of this scholarship, as well as new, more nuanced models for thinking about the production of literature in ancient Israel by scholars such as Carr and van der Toorn,4 I limit my comments here to the question of a double redaction as it pertains to 2 Kgs 22–23 and the book of Kings alone. According to the model proposed here, the tone of optimism in 2 Kgs 22–23, which suggests a preexilic date of composition, is attributed to the deuteronomistic author’s inheritance of a reform account that was commissioned by the Josianic court to serve the propagandistic interests of that institution and already presented Josiah in glowing terms. The focus on priestly reform in this text provided the raw materials from which a subsequent author crafted a new image of Josiah as the ultimate fulfillment of the Deuteronomic ideal of limited kingship. While it is possible that this literary activity took place in the final two and half decades of the Judean monarchy and was updated in the exilic or postexilic period, once the positive stance toward Josiah is accounted for, no details in the deuteronomistic composition require a preexilic attribution. To the contrary, themes such as Josiah’s failure to stem the tide of divine wrath, the intense critique of Judah’s kings and priests, the disappointed hope for the centralization of worship in Jerusalem, the emphasis on premonarchic themes such as the ḥērem, and the parallels drawn between Josiah on the one hand and Moses and Joshua on the other, which circumvent the Davidic promise of Zion as the dwelling place of Yahweh—all point to a postmonarchic perspective for the author. Second Kgs 22–23 alone then provides no basis for the assertion of a Josianic deuteronomistic redaction updated in the postexilic period, and it argues against a preexilic deuteronomistic edition of the Kings history that included the account of Josiah’s reform. Cross’s hypothesis that a first Deuteronomistic redaction derived from the period of Josiah is based primarily on his interpretation of the message of this work: that the destruction of the north was tied to the apostasy of Jeroboam, and that David’s faithfulness was matched only by that of Josiah. Under the leadership of Josiah, Israel would at last

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return to Judah and to Yahweh’s sole legitimate shrine in Jerusalem. Cross concludes that “the Deuteronomistic History, insofar as these themes reflect its central concerns, may be described as a propaganda work of the Josianic reformation and imperial program.”5 He identifies Huldah’s prophecy in 2 Kgs 22:16–20 and the comment on the failure of Josiah’s efforts to stem the tide of divine wrath in 23:25–27 as part of the contribution of Dtr2, who transformed the work into a sermon on history directed toward the Judean exiles.6 In general Cross’s engagement with 2 Kgs 22–23 itself is limited, and while he may be correct that the deuteronomistic author responsible for the composition of this text presents Josiah as a bastion of faithfulness and a hero in Israel’s covenant history, he overstates the degree to which the king’s behavior is modeled on that of David: Even King David and Hezekiah had peccadilloes. Josiah alone escaped all criticism. Josiah “did that which was right in the eyes of Yahweh and walked in all the ways of David his father and did not turn aside to the right or the left. And like him there was no king before him turning to Yahweh with his whole mind and soul and strength according to the laws of Moses.” . . . He attempted to restore the kingdom or empire of David in all detail. The cultus was centralized according to the ancient law of the sanctuary, and Passover was celebrated as it had not been “since the days of the judges.”7 Most of the language Cross cites here in support of the idea of Josiah as a fulfillment of Davidic promise in fact is never used in reference to David. Rather, as discussed in chapters 3–4, phrases such as “he did not turn aside to the right or the left” and “turning to Yahweh with his whole mind and soul” are used only of Israel’s premonarchic leaders, Joshua and Moses; in this way they bypass the monarchic model of leadership established by David. In addition, while Josiah’s actions are interpreted by modern scholars as evidence of an effort to centralize the cult, language associated with “the ancient law of the sanctuary” (i.e., the “placing of the name” idiom) is never used to describe Josiah’s reform. Josiah surpasses David in faithfulness; however, he represents an entirely different model of leadership, one rooted in Israel’s premonarchic traditions. Reference to the Passover in 2 Kgs 23:22–23, the likes of which had not been performed since the period of the judges, contributes to this picture. Such a portrayal hardly argues for Josiah’s “restoration of the kingdom of David in full detail.”8 Reference to Josiah following in the path of his ancestor David creates an obvious but superficial correlation between the two kings that is not borne out elsewhere in the account


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of Josiah’s reign, and it need not have its origins in a Josianic redaction of the book of Kings. Eynikel notes that Cross’s distinction between Dtr1 and Dtr2 is not supported by a critical analysis of the text.9 Others after him go further in providing a textual foundation for Cross’s conclusions and their own, with specific attention devoted to stylistic variations in the judgment formulas that introduce each king’s reign in the book of Kings, as well as variations in the attitudes toward bāmôt.10 While there is agreement among scholars of the Cross school regarding the existence of a preexilic version of the Deuteronomistic History, as Provan demonstrates, none of this work proves that the redactional break in the text occurs after the account of Josiah’s reign.11 Among those who accept the notion of a double redaction of the Deuteronomistic History, a handful of scholars argue for a preexilic account written during the time of Hezekiah.12 This explanation finds its strongest support in the regnal formulas in the book of Kings, which show a decisive break following Hezekiah.13 In addition, it is provisionally supported by the absence of reference to Hezekiah’s death, which suggests the possibility of an author/editor who was active during Hezekiah’s lifetime. The idea of a Hezekian redaction, however, fails to account for certain peculiarities in the descriptions of the reigns of the last four kings of Judah that suggest strongly that these belong to the same editorial hand. In view of these difficulties, Provan proposes an alternative solution that blends together both Josianic and Hezekian attributions, without the cumbersome introduction of a second preexilic redactor. He agrees with the assertion that variations within the judgment formulas imply that more than one Deuteronomistic redactor was at work, and he finds in favor of those who argue that the first Deuteronomistic edition of Kings was preexilic and ended with the account of Hezekiah’s reign. He argues, however, that this edition of Kings was produced during the period of Josiah, as most scholars who support the hypothesis of a preexilic edition think.14 Provan’s argument in favor of Hezekiah’s reign as the end point for the first redaction of the book of Kings is based on two observations. First, the use of David as a comparative figure is an important feature of the judgment formulas up to and including Hezekiah, after which point it is completely absent, except in 2 Kgs 22:2, which according to Provan is a later addition.15 On the basis of this, as well as linguistic and thematic similarities between Hezekiah and David that are stronger than any specific connections between Josiah and David, Provan argues that Hezekiah, not Josiah, was regarded as the “modern day” David and the hero of the first Deuteronomistic History.

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The parallels drawn in 2 Kgs 18 between Hezekiah and David can be summarized as follows: only of David and Hezekiah among the kings of Judah is it said ʥʮʲ ʤʥʤʩ ʤʩʤʥ (“Yahweh was with him”); it is said of only these two that the king “prospered” (ʬʩʫʹʩ) in war; and only David and Hezekiah are said to have “defeated [ʤʫʤ] the Philistines.” Sennacherib’s Prism credits Hezekiah with taking prisoner King Padi of Ekron, and Sennacherib boasts of granting Hezekiah’s despoiled cities to the Philistine kings of Ashdod, Ekron, and Gaza.16 It seems from these references that relations between Israel and Philistia were tense during Hezekiah’s reign. Reference to Hezekiah’s defeat of the Philistines in 2 Kgs 18:8 may reflect this underlying reality; however, use of the verb ʤʫʤ to describe Hezekiah’s military engagement with the Philistines deliberately underscores his likeness to David in this respect. The several points of contact between Hezekiah and David may be contrasted with the single passing remark in the evaluation of Josiah’s reign that the king “did right in the eyes of Yahweh and followed in every path of his ancestor David, turning neither to the right or left” (22:2). This comment seems to echo and elaborate on the evaluation of Hezekiah, of whom it is also said that the king “did right in the eyes of Yahweh according to all that his ancestor David had done.” Provan’s assertion that 22:2 is secondary in the account of Josiah’s reign is convincing.17 Josiah appears to be modeled on David only as an afterthought, part and parcel of the rhetorical process of replacing Hezekiah with Josiah as the hero of the Kings history.18 The closer parallels between Hezekiah and David are not accounted for in a model in which Josiah is the hero of a first edition of the Kings history. Second, Provan asserts that two clearly discernible attitudes toward bāmôt are present in the book of Kings. In 1 Kgs 22–2 Kgs 15, where according to Provan the case for common authorship is virtually undisputed, the bāmôt are viewed as Yahwistic shrines. Based on the formulaic expression ʥʸʱ ʠʬ ʺʥʮʡʤ (“he did not remove the high places”) being used in reference only to Judean kings who are otherwise judged positively, Provan concludes that, while bāmôt were regarded as a threat to centralization, failure to remove them did not constitute sufficient cause for negative judgment. A different, later view of the bāmôt is detectable elsewhere in Kings, both in redactional additions within 1 Kgs 3–2 Kgs 18 and at the end of the Kings history (2 Kgs 17:7aα–12). Here worship at bāmôt is viewed as tantamount to idolatry.19 Provan suggests that the primary theme comes to a close with Hezekiah, after which there is a marked shift in attitude. He asserts that this should be taken as evidence of a preexilic edition of the book that ended with Hezekiah, not with Josiah.


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The shift in attitude toward bāmôt that Provan posits is difficult to track in the text, as references to these installations disappear entirely from the regnal formulas for Judah’s kings after Manasseh. How then are we to know that the association of bāmôt with idolatry is a postHezekian development and therefore compositionally secondary where it appears in 1 Kgs 3–2 Kgs 18? There is a certain circularity to this reasoning. Nonetheless, the disappearance of the bāmôt theme in the descriptions of the reigns of Josiah, Jehoiahaz, Jehoiakim, and Zedekiah strongly suggests a separate author responsible for the accounts of the reigns of Judah’s last four kings. In addition, Provan notes a critical difference in references to the queen mothers in Kings and Chronicles. In the latter these references cease after the reign of Hezekiah, while in the former they continue down to the exile. From this Provan posits that Chronicles’ Vorlage named no queen mothers after Hezekiah.20 Halpern and Vanderhooft expand on this observation, noting that in Kings the praenomina of the queen mothers up to and including Hezekiah’s are identified either by patronym or place of origin but never by both; whereas after Manasseh’s reign the regnal formula includes both patronym and place of origin.21 Taken together, this evidence strongly argues for a change in authorship in the book of Kings after the account of Hezekiah’s reign. In proposing a Josianic date for the writing of a preexilic Kings history ending with Hezekiah, Provan understands two pieces of evidence to be decisive. The first is the attribution of Jerusalem’s deliverance to Sennacherib’s death, which dates the composition of the narrative to a point after 681 B.C.E. Understanding this passage to be preexilic, he concludes that the composition of Kings must be placed no earlier than the same period.22 Provan is correct in his contention that the reference to Sennacherib’s death is decisive and provides a terminus post quem for the composition of the Hezekiah narrative; this does not, however, necessitate a date during the reign of Josiah. Second, Provan asserts that the statement in 2 Kgs 18:5, ʤʩʤ ʠʬ ʥʩʸʧʠʥ ʤʣʥʤʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʬʫʡ ʥʤʮʫ (“and after him there was none like him among all the kings of Judah”), is unlikely to have been written after the reign of Josiah, but is also unlikely to have been written before it, as the reigns of Manasseh and Amon must have already passed in order for this expression, with its plural ʩʫʬʮ, to have made any sense.23 This last argument is tenuous, as use of the term ʩʫʬʮ may be understood hyperbolically to emphasize the king’s unsurpassable faithfulness to Yahweh. The author may not have been casting judgment on specific subsequent kings so much as imagining their inferiority in relation to Hezekiah. It is reasonable, however, to argue that the phrase “and after him there

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was none like him among all the kings of Judah” is unlikely to have been written after the reign of Josiah, of whom it is asserted ʤʩʤ ʠʬ ʥʤʮʫ ʥʩʰʴʬ (“there was no king like him before”). These factors suggest that Provan’s proposal of a Josianic date for the first deuteronomistic redaction of the Kings history might be modified to allow for the possibility of composition during the reign of Manasseh.24 Having asserted a date early in Josiah’s reign for the composition of the first edition of Kings, Provan must explain the absence of references to Hezekiah’s death and the reigns of Manasseh and Amon. He suggests that the preexilic edition of Kings finished on a high note, with Hezekiah, not Josiah, as the Davidic hero. Hezekiah, whom Yahweh helped (2 Kgs 18:7) and who survives the Assyrian threat, is contrasted with Sennacherib, whom Yahweh opposed (19:6–7) and who is finally killed by his own sons.25 From a literary standpoint, the presence of a death/burial notice for Hezekiah would have diminished the force of this distinction, and the reigns of Amon and Manasseh would have been structurally superfluous.26 In the previous chapter I noted that use of the centralization formula “to place the name” occurs in 1 Kgs 14:20 and 2 Kgs 21:4, 7 and nowhere else in the intervening chapters. These references to the Davidic promise of a centralized Yahwistic cult in Jerusalem bracket the bāmôt-centered account of the divided monarchy. If indeed a first edition of the kings history that ended with the reign of Hezekiah and cast him as the ultimate fulfillment of Yahweh’s promises to David was produced during the reign of Manasseh or early in the reign of Josiah, the account of Manasseh’s reign would per force have been the product of the postmonarchic author also responsible for the accounts of the reigns of the last four kings of Judah. The postmonarchic deuteronomist’s use of the centralization formula in 2 Kgs 21 would have deliberately recalled its use in 1 Kgs 14:20 to emphasize the erosion of the Davidic covenant that began with the division of the monarchy and ended with Manasseh’s syncretistic policies. The idea that the accounts of Manasseh and Josiah’s reigns are the work of a single author is supported by the close correlation between the cultic crimes attributed to Manasseh and Josiah’s corrective measures. For example, where Manasseh “rebuilt the high places” (2 Kgs 21:3), Josiah “defiled” them; Manasseh erected altars for Baal and Asherah (21:3), while Josiah “brought out of the temple of Yahweh all of the vessels made for Baal and Asherah” (23:4); Manasseh burned his son as an offering (21:6), while Josiah defiled the Topheth so that no one would offer his son or daughter to/as a mlk (23:10).27 In the revised and expanded postmonarchic Kings narrative, Manasseh’s reign would have marked the final breach in the Davidic covenant and the


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dashing of all hope for the installation of a singular cult of Yahweh centralized at the temple in Jerusalem. On the foundation of those ruins Josiah became as the phoenix, who rose from the ashes of his own nest to constitute himself anew, in a new era of postmonarchic governance. The brief reference to Amon’s reign in 22:19–25 was a necessary element in the postmonarchic, deuteronomistic expansion of the Hezekian history simply because this king’s existence had to be accounted for. Likewise the brief and dispassionate regnal formulas used in reference to the last four kings of Judah reflect this author’s need to account for the reigns of kings in whom he was ultimately disinterested. Provan assumes, with Lemaire, that the first edition of the Kings history is likely to have been produced in the royal court and that its purpose was not simply to inform readers about the past but also to influence their attitudes and behavior in the present.28 He further speculates that the author of this narrative refers back to Hezekiah as a precedent for the behavior of the present king. Given the generally distrustful stance toward the monarchy exhibited in Deuteronom(ist)ic texts, the attribution of a first deuteronomistic edition of Kings to an author working within the royal court is dubious.29 Ascertaining the social locus of this would-be composition is a problem with no clear solution. Perhaps of more substantive significance for our understanding of literary production in the seventh century, however, is the question of whether a preexilic edition of Kings that ended with the reign of Hezekiah need necessarily be identified as deuteronomistic at all. The Deuteronomistic attribution of the first edition of Kings tends to be taken for granted in double redaction scholarship, but it has not been systematically argued.30 It would be worthwhile to consider what language, if any, in texts assigned to the first edition of Kings is tied closely enough to Deuteronomy to warrant the identification of this historiographic work as deuteronomistic. Might certain formulaic turns of phrase, for example, “he smashed the maṣṣebot and cut down the asherah” (2 Kgs 18:4), reflect a synthesizing effort on the part of a postmonarchic redactor of Deuteronomy through 2 Kings, who incorporated these books into a coherent history of preexilic Israel? The theme of bāmôt eradication, while certainly tied to an interest in the consolidation of public worship, is not necessarily tied to the ideology of centralization envisioned in Deuteronomy, as I argued in chapter 4. Bāmôt eradication is a deuteronomistic theme only by virtue of its inclusion in what scholars identify as the Deuteronomistic History. There is a danger here of entrapment in our own self-fulfilling prophecy. The impulse to identify a first edition of Kings with the deuteronomistic movement may be a product of too limited a view of literary productivity in seventh-century

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Judah. While it may have been in this period that Deuteronomic law came to be of interest, we should not allow the weight of Deuteronomic innovation to obscure from view other sorts of literary activity that might have gone on simultaneously. It is quite possible that an edition of the Kings history was produced under the auspices and designed to promote the interests of the royal court in Jerusalem, but was not explicitly tied to the Deuteronom(ist)ic movement. Such a hypothesis obviously requires rigorous testing; for the time being we may simply bear it in mind as we consider the evolution of the Kings traditions. These cautions aside, Provan’s arguments in favor of a first edition of the Kings history that ended with the reign of Hezekiah and was produced early in the reign of Josiah (or possibly, I would argue, during the reign of Manasseh) account well for many features of the book of Kings that Cross’s model of a Josianic redaction fails to explain, including the absence of reference to bāmôt in the regnal formulas of the last four kings of Judah, the shift in the style of references to the queen mother after the reign of Hezekiah, and the impression that the figure of Hezekiah is more closely modeled on the figure of David than is Josiah. In addition, such a reconstruction accords well with the evidence brought to bear in the present work, which points away from a Josianic deuteronomistic redaction in 2 Kgs 22–23.

Temporal and Literary-Traditional Connections between the Holiness and Deuteronomistic Schools If the central hypothesis of this study is correct—that a preexilic account of Josiah’s reform was commissioned by the Josianic court and written by holiness priests—then this text would have been produced close in time to the first edition of the book of Kings (i.e., within the same half century), and both would have placed an emphasis on the elimination of bāmôt. In the Kings history, reference to the failure to remove the bāmôt, which occurs in the evaluations of Asa (1 Kgs 15:14), Jehosaphat (22:44), Joash (2 Kgs 12:4), Amaziah (14:4), Azaria (15:4), and Jotham (15:35), would have served the interests of a Jerusalem-oriented consolidation and/or centralization movement that may or may not have been tied to Deuteronomic ideology. In the holiness account of Josiah’s reform, Josiah is portrayed as targeting specific bāmôt whose operation interfered with the consolidation of his relgiopolitical control, with no evidence of a Deuteronomic agenda. It thus becomes clear that the theme of bāmôt eradication need not necessarily be tied to the implementation of Deuteronomy’s law of centralization, nor to the monotheizing


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tendencies of late biblical authors and editors. A picture begins to emerge of bāmôt eradication as a theme that evolved in both the holiness and history-writing circles of the late preexilic period, but for different reasons and with different literary and historiographic goals at the fore. This is not to say that the theme developed independently in these two intellectual circles, and here Carr’s recent work on textuality in ancient Israel is instructive. Whether the preexilic historians and holiness scribes would have been trained in the same scribal schools is difficult to know. However, it is likely that the texts they produced became part of an Israelite scribal curriculum that fostered crossfertilization.31 In part, this may account for the elaboration of common themes within the two corpora, including an interest in the destruction and defilement of bāmôt. In order to better understand such cross-fertilization, consider the web of relationships that exists between the book of Ezekiel and the holiness and deuteronomistic accounts of Josiah’s reform. In the preexilic period the work of the historian responsible for the first edition of Kings took place simultaneously with the activity of the holiness writers who produced first account of Josiah’s reform and possibly Holiness Code itself. The preexilic reform account shares essential aspects of its ritual attitudes and ideology with the book of Ezekiel (see chapter 2). The book of Ezekiel preserves an expression of holiness interests that shares its postmonarchic Sitz im Leben with the deuteronomistic recasting of Josiah’s reform. The latter is based on a preexilic holiness composition, and it too shares certain interests with the book of Ezekiel. For example, both the deuteronomistic reform account and Ezekiel rely heavily on premonarchic imagery and forms of governance. In Ezekiel this manifests itself most notably in the prophet’s interest in the establishment of a Nasi, a form of leadership that had its origins in the premonarchic period, as well as in his visions of Yahweh’s fiery chariot, which were rooted in descriptions of the tabernacle in Leviticus. These may be compared, for example, with the parallels drawn between Josiah and Joshua in 2 Kgs 22–23 and the use of language associated with the ḥērem, both of which, as argued above, are evocative of a time before kings. Finally, the revised, deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform is woven into a Kings history that expands and elaborates on an edition of Kings that may have promoted centralization without necessarily having been tied to Deuteronomy. If the above reconstruction makes the reader’s head spin, to use a metaphor that Ezekiel might have appreciated, this is precisely the point. It begins to appear that, while we may differentiate characteristics typical of holiness and deuteronomistic literature, at another level these

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schools of thought and the texts they produced were thoroughly intertwined through a Jerusalem-centered scribal matrix that transcended both textual and institutional specificity.32 Perhaps this should be taken into consideration when scholars pose the question of the literary historical relationship between Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code itself. While it can be useful to look for signs of literary borrowing, we may also imagine an intertextuality that, as Carr argues, was more complex than what the process of “visually consulting, citing, and interpreting separate written texts” accounts for.33 The textual analysis presented in this study helps to more clearly define the temporal parameters of holiness writing, a question that is a source of debate (see notes 53 and 54 in chapter 1). Based on a Hezekian date for the Holiness Code itself, Knohl envisions a Holiness School whose earliest compositions can be dated to the period after Ahaz’s rise to power in 743 B.C.E. but before 701 B.C.E., which he assigns as the date for the speech of the Rabshakeh that mentions Hezekiah’s reforms.34 According to Knohl, the relationship between the Holiness Code and Hezekiah suggests Jerusalem as the place of composition. He understands the Holiness School’s literary activity to have extended well into the postexilic period.35 Milgrom, Haran, and others identify a more limited Holiness source, the body of whose work was composed in the late preexilic period although not necessarily in connection with Hezekiah’s reforms.36 The present work has no bearing on the date of the Holiness Code itself; however, the existence of a holiness account of Josiah’s reform embedded in 2 Kgs 23:4–20 does point to the literary activity of holiness priests during the period of Josiah’s reign. If the Holiness Code originates in the late preexilic period as many contend, this suggests that there were different types of holiness writing going on simultaneously. The idea of holiness writing that is neither legalistic nor directly tied to the Holiness Code itself has not been considered and deserves further study. The influence of preexilic holiness writing on postmonarchic texts such as 2 Kgs 22–23 in its final form and the book of Ezekiel suggests that we should think of a holiness strand of tradition that had its roots in the late preexilic period but continued to shape the production of biblical literature after 586. These conclusions point to the need for biblical scholars to relax the conventional boundaries between Priestly, Holiness, and Deuteronomistic writing to incorporate the material realities of scribal training, which involved more fluidity in the transmission of tradition than source-critical designations tend to accommodate. This is not to say that we should abandon those well-honed tools of the trade. Rather we


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should continue to allow dominant traits in particular types of biblical literature and their resonances in unexpected literary contexts to guide us toward a deeper understanding of the social, institutional, and intellectual affiliations of a text’s authors, as source criticism has traditionally enabled and encouraged us to do.

The Deuteronomic Book Hypothesis and the Historicity of the Josianic Reforms The account of Josiah’s reform in 2 Kgs 22–23 has long been used by biblical scholars as point of reference for dating the appearance in Judah of an early version of the book of Deuteronomy. I argue here that the literary connections between these two texts were introduced at a secondary stage in the development of the Josiah account by a deuteronomist working in the postmonarchic period. The association between Josiah’s book of the law and Deuteronomy therefore postdates Josiah’s reign and cannot be used as a basis for arguing a late-seventh-century date for the latter. In fact this association in and of itself has no bearing whatsoever on the date of Deuteronomy. This is not to say that a seventh-century date is necessarily incorrect; if Deuteronomy preserves northern (i.e., Israelite) interests that were reshaped in a Judahite setting, as Ginsberg first proposed, a seventh-century date for this literary activity might still make the most sense, as during this period Jerusalem would have been the locus of an unusual interface of Israelite and Judahite perspectives.37 In this case, the seventh-century date originally assigned to Deuteronomy by de Wette on the basis of a connection to Josiah is correct only by coincidence.38 I also argue that deuteronomistic revision of the holiness reform account was not undertaken in the service of an ideology of centralization. While the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 22–23 regarded centralization as an ideal regretfully unattained in the preexilic period, his revisions are intended to redraw the lines of royal power, rendering it subservient to textual authority, the latter having the ability to transcend the spatial and political constraints of his day.39 The reform account should not be read as propaganda for the centralization movement, as centralization does not appear to have been a particular interest of the text’s deuteronomistic author. The idea of deuteronomistic writing not explicitly focused on the promotion of a centralizing agenda has received little if any attention from biblical scholars. It suggests that while the influence of Deuteronomic law on the production of literary texts was pervasive,

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Deuteronomy’s ideology of centralization was neither its only nor even necessarily its primary bequest. For the deuteronomistic author responsible for 2 Kgs 22–23 in its final form, the ideology of centralization, tied as it was to Yahweh’s covenant promise to David, did not resonate as powerfully as the ideal of limited kingship. While these two Deuteronomic principles are hardly mutually exclusive, they lived on differently in the postmonarchic imagination and suggest a greater degree of heterogeneity within deuteronomistic writing than is generally understood to be the case. When the holiness account of Josiah’s reform was transformed to portray Josiah as acting in the service of Deuteronomic law, the king was recast as an agent of ḥērem, who, like Joshua before him, asserted by rites of violence Yahweh’s legal authority over the promised land and his people Israel. As part of this revision, Josiah’s attack on Bethel in the original account was expanded to include all of the royally sponsored cult places in Samaria; thus in the deuteronomistic mind’s eye, Josiah reunited Judah and Samaria in their covenant commitment to the cult of Yahweh alone. This should not be mistaken for Josiah’s reestablishment of a politically unified Israelite state with its capital in Jerusalem, as in the days of David and Solomon; nor should it be taken as a rearticulation of the political boundaries of that bygone era. These ideas do not inhere in deuteronomistic composition, and there is no reason to think that they were realized by Josiah himself.40 The idea of Josiah’s northern expansion is based primarily on 2 Chr 34:6, which situates Josiah’s attack on the northern cult “in the towns of Manasseh, Ephraim, Simeon, and as far as Naphtali”; that is, as far north as the site of Dan. But as Na’aman cogently argues on the basis of his analysis of the town lists in Joshua and archeological evidence from the seventh century, “there are no grounds for the assumption that Josiah attempted to conquer the entire North and to impose his reforms throughout the territory of Palestine.”41 The picture that emerges is, at best, of a limited and localized reform that was neither undertaken by Josiah in the service of Deuteronomic law nor associated with Deuteronomy’s centralizing agenda. Over the course of the last century, other scholars have argued for the dissociation of Josiah’s reform from Deuteronomy. Yet the weight of this scholarship has failed to shake loose this correlation from the collective consciousness of biblical scholarship. One reason for this may be that the story itself is so compelling. In my own undergraduate teaching I find it difficult to present the idea of Deuteronomism without recourse to Josiah and his book of the law. To some extent this is appropriate, as the deuteronomistic author of 2 Kgs 22–23 clearly wanted his readers to draw this


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connection. However, we have for too long taken the deuteronomist at his word, incorporating his story into our reconstruction of the religious and intellectual history of late-seventh-century Judah. In A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period, Albertz comments that “the most important decision in the history of Israelite religion is made with a dating of an essential part of Deuteronomy in the time of Josiah.”42 Reflecting on this assertion more than a decade later, he recalls: I had become aware that any reconstruction of Israel’s religion decisively depends on whether you—in accordance with W. M. L. DeWette—equate the core of Deuteronomy with Josiah’s law book (2 Kings 22:8, 11), dating it in the last third of the seventh century, or whether you dissolve this connection and—in company with Hölscher . . . and Kaiser . . . —shift the date of Deuteronomy to the post-exilic period. . . . Giving up the seventh-century dating of Deuteronomy would have farreaching consequences: not only important features of Israel’s religion like monotheism, exclusivism and brotherhood would have to be dated much later, but also most of the Deuteronomic reform ideas like centralization of the cult or the subordination of all the state to the law would lose any connection to social reality.43 With important exceptions, biblical scholarship on Deuteronomy and Josiah’s reform tends to align itself with one of the two positions Albertz articulates: either scholars date Deuteronomy to the seventh century based on an explicit or implicit assumption of a historical connection to Josiah’s law book, or they reject this historical claim and push the date of Deuteronomy into the exilic or postexilic period, in some cases calling for the complete abandonment of the notion that the emergence of monotheistic Judaism had its roots in processes that began in the late preexilic period.44 Construed thus, there is much at stake in dissociating the reform from Deuteronomy. This polarization, however, imposes constraints that obscure the complexities of literary production in the late preexilic period. Work on the book of Deuteronomy may have been underway in Josiah’s Jerusalem even if the original reform account was not produced within these literary circles. A first edition of the Deuteronomistic History may have been in progress, even if it did not end with Josiah as its hero and his reign as its climax. An interest in bāmôt eradication, which the deuteronomistic school may have associated with Deuteronomy’s ideology of centralization, was a key factor in the production of an array of contemporary literary works, including the

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pre-deuteronomistic account of Josiah’s reform, the Holiness Code, and the first edition of the Kings history. The dissociation of Deuteronomy and Josiah hardly yields a seventh-century Jerusalem bereft of significant literary and theological activity. To the contrary, unlocking the bolt that has fastened Deuteronomy to the Josianic reforms reveals a more diverse, dynamic, and fertile center of social and literary production.

Conclusions In light of the foregoing discussion we may reconstruct the evolution of 2 Kgs 22–23 along these lines: a deuteronomistic author/editor working in the postmonarchic period inherited an account of Josiah’s reform that was generated by a holiness writer appointed by the Josianic court. The connections between 2 Kgs 23:4–20 and the Holiness Code point to that legal corpus as the closest point of reference for the original text’s programmatic character, as Berry argued with somewhat less nuance already in the early twentieth century.45 This is not to say that the Holiness Code as we know it necessarily existed by the time of Josiah; rather, the legal and programmatic interests it attests were influential in the mind of the scribe who produced the original reform account. The deuteronomistic author may have been attracted to this palace commission for its implicit endorsement of the Jerusalem temple priesthood, but he turned on its head the original composition’s interest in the extension of royal authority into the priestly domain. Instead, in the deuteronomistic text, royal prerogative is made subservient to the book of the law, whose stipulations are understood to be a matter of priestly jurisdiction. In this way the text’s author took exclusive sacred authority out of royal hands, where it no doubt ultimately rested in the preexilic period, and turned it over to the Jerusalem temple priesthood for safekeeping. In situating the authority for Josiah’s actions in a lost book of the law, the deuteronomistic author conceded that the king was acting in accordance with programmatic interests already in place; but by integrating Deuteronomic phraseology and ideology, he established Deuteronomy as the point of reference, a connection that has endured millennia. This revised text became the new climax of a (second?) deuteronomistic edition of the book of Kings, in which Josiah, in his likeness to Joshua, supplanted Hezekiah as the hero of Israel’s preexilic history. Like the great ḥērem warrior, Josiah sought to reaffirm God’s covenant through the elimination of non-Israelite practices and to (re)claim Israel as the land that Yahweh promised.


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The account of Josiah’s reform preserves a conversation across time and space about what constituted an ideal leader, where Yahweh dwelled amid his people, how the promises of covenant were both kept and violated, and how they were best upheld. These questions play themselves out against the backdrop of rites of violence deeply rooted in Israel’s most basic understanding of itself. In the received biblical text, Josiah’s reign and reform represent a pivotal moment in the establishment of the so-called Mosaic distinction; that is, the distinction drawn between Israel and its neighbors that fostered Israel’s collective forgetting of its Syro-Canaanite heritage. Assertion of the boundaries between insiders and outsiders, even if it played out only in texts produced by Israel’s intellectual elite, was an inherently violent act. That is to say, the hostility inherent in the rejection of the Other both manifested itself and justified itself through narrative traditions of sanctified violence. The holiness account of Josiah’s reform remembers the destruction associated with the assertion of a distinctively Israelite religion in apotropaic ritual terms tied to priestly conceptions of purity and taboo. The deuteronomistic author reimagined that vital moment of self-definition in the idiom of ḥērem, an indigenous concept in ancient Israel, that was associated both with the real experience of Israel’s emergence in the land of Canaan and with an enduring and essential ideology of exclusion.


Notes

chapter 1 1. Assmann, Moses the Egyptian, 3. For a thorough study on the subject of divine translatability in the ancient Near East, see Smith, God in Translation. 2. “U.N. Pleads with Taliban Not to Destroy Buddha Statues,” New York Times, March 3, 2001, A.3. 3. On the Bible’s violent legacy, see Avalos, Fighting Words; Bekkenkamp and Sherwood, Sanctified Aggression; Bernat and Klawans, Religion and Violence; and Schwartz, Curse of Cain. For a brilliant discussion of memory sanctions in the ancient world, see Flower, Art of Forgetting, 1–13. Flower explains memory sanctions as strategies, usually imposed within the memory spaces of the political elite, intended to shape recollection of the past through destruction, erasure, and/or redefinition. 4. For an excellent treatment of the role of narrative in the construction of Israelite identity, and the power of biblical narrative to transform the reader, see Gorospe, Narrative and Identity. 5. De Wette, Dissertatio critico-exegetica; cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, 16. The identification of Josiah’s law book with Deuteronomy was made already in St. Jerome’s Commentary to Ezekiel 1.1 (340–420 C.E.), as well as in a scholium to 2 Kgs 22 by Procopius of Gaza (465–529 C.E.); cf. van der Toorn, Scribal Culture, 279n18. 6. Römer, “Deuteronomistic and Biblical Historiography,” 1.

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notes to pages 5–6

7. The phrase ʭʹ ʩʮʹ ʤʩʤʩ (“my name shall be there”) is used in God’s promise to destroy Jerusalem and its temple in 2 Kgs 23:27, but in this context it serves to emphasize the failure of the centralization movement in general; it is structurally and compositionally disconnected from the reform account itself (see chapter 4). On the translation of ʭʹ ʥʮʹ ʯʫʹʬ as “to place his name” and not “to cause his name to dwell,” see Richter, Deuteronomistic History. Through an investigation of the meaning and occurrences of the Akkadian idiom šuma šakānu (“to place the name”), Richter argues (p. 211) that rather than introducing a “corrective” to the traditional understanding of the temple as Yahweh’s dwelling place, the Deuteronomist used the “placing of the name” idiom in order to relate the divine warrior of Israel’s heroic past to an even more ancient past and to communicate the idea that failure on the part of the Israelites to recognize the severity of Yahweh’s law would have no less dire consequences than to betray the stipulations of the great kings of the East. 8. The first to question this connection was Hölscher, “Komposition und Ursprung,” 251–53; see also Ahlström, History of Ancient Palestine, 770–81, who identifies eight reasons why Josiah’s reform cannot have been inspired by Deuteronomy. His acknowledgment of the non-Deuteronomic character of the reform account in 23:4–20 is important; however, his specific arguments are often based on the silence of the text rather than on existing evidence. Others who attempt to dissociate Josiah’s reform from Deuteronomy include Barrick, Cemeteries, 7–16; Berry, “Code Found in the Temple”; Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.163–66; idem, “Solomon’s Fall and Deuteronomy,” 402–3; McConville, Law and Theology, 155–57; and Reuter, Kultzentralisation, 227ff. For a systematic survey of scholarship on the date of Deuteronomy and its relationship to Josiah’s reform, see Houtman, Der Pentateuch, 279–342. 9. Van der Toorn, Scribal Culture, 34–35, 143–47, represents an otherwise excellent contribution to biblical scholarship that is hampered by the assumption of a historical connection between Deuteronomy and Josiah’s reform. For a critique, see Monroe, “Review of van der Toorn.” Other examples include Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 207; and Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 9–10. 10. Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.163. 11. The term “reform report” is a translation of Oestreicher’s Reformbericht, which he uses to differentiate this material from the Auffindungsgeschichte (“history of discovery”) in 2 Kgs 22:8–23:3, 21–24. See Oestreicher, “Das deuteronomische Grundgesetz.” It is widely recognized that the material in 23:4–20 differs considerably in language and style from the surrounding narrative. 12. On the term “Holiness legislation,” see Schwartz, “Israel’s Holiness,” 52n14, who prefers this term to the more conventional


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“Holiness Code,” as he does not see Lev 17–26 as a book or a code per se, nor does he see Holiness passages outside of these chapters as part of a redaction. In Holiness Legislation, 17–24, Schwartz explores the implications of the various terms that scholars apply to this and other biblical law collections. Schwartz’s terminology has gained traction in scholarship; for example, Stackert, Rewriting the Torah. Despite its limitations, I use the term “Holiness Code” here in order to specify a focus on Lev 17–26 alone, distinct from passages outside of these chapters that may belong to the holiness school. 13. Coggins, “What Does Deuteronomistic Mean?”; Knauf, “Deuteronomistic Historiography?” 388; Lohfink, “Was There a Deuteronomistic Movement?”; idem, So-Called Deuteronomistic History; and Römer and de Pury, “Deuteronomistic Historiography,” 139. 14. Levine, Presence of the Lord, 77–78. 15. Smith, To Take Place, 9, notes that no single biblical ritual can be reenacted from start to finish based solely on the evidence the Bible provides. 16. Bell, Ritual Theory, 111 (emphasis added). Cf. Lévi-Strauss, Naked Man, 4.670–72. 17. My choice of words here echoes Wright, Ritual in Narrative, 4, whose work provides an excellent model for thinking about the way ancient Near Eastern authors used ritual language to meet particular narrative needs. 18. Wright, Ritual in Narrative, 6. 19. Bibb, Ritual Words, 39. Bibb’s and Wright’s works on ritual in narrative represent a new and fruitful direction in the study of Israelite ritual. See also Grimes, Reading, Writing, and Ritualization. 20. I use the word ḥērem as a technical term and therefore render it throughout the book in transliteration, not in Hebrew characters. 21. On ḥērem as an explicitly ritual act, see Bornapé, “El problema del ʭʸʧ.” 22. Levine, Presence of the Lord, 56. 23. On the political context out of which the Deuteronom(ist) ic ḥērem emerged, see chapter 3 and the more detailed discussion in Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions.” 24. For example, scapegoat rituals, intended to counteract plague, are attested in the Bible (Num 25:6–13), in Hittite texts, and as far west as the Aegean. On Numbers 25 as preserving an Israelite scapegoat rite, see Monroe, “Phinehas’s Zeal.” For translations of the Hittite texts, see Hallo and Younger, Context of Scripture, 1.161–67; and Gurney, Hittite Religion, 49. For a comparative study, see Bremmer, “Scapegoat between Hittites.” Parallels between particular Israelite ritual and prophetic texts and Akkadian šurpu incantations for exorcising demons have also received

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attention; see Cathcart, “Micah 5,4–5”; Geller, “Šurpu Incantations”; Watson, “Akkadian Incantations”; and Abusch, “Socio-Religious Framework of Maqlû,” 29. Studies explicitly dedicated to ancient Near Eastern attitudes toward purity and taboo include Schwartz et al., Perspectives on Purity; van der Toorn, Sin and Sanction; and Abusch and van der Toorn, Mesopotamian Magic. 25. Programmatic features of the Holiness Code are well attested. For example, Joosten, People and Land, 25n49, notes the recurrent phrase “when you come into the land” (Lev 19:23; 23:10; 25:2). Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 220 posits that the Holiness Code was designed as a program for Hezekiah’s reform and became operational during his reign. Others argue that the Holiness Code was composed during the exile as a program for life during the period of return; see Elliger, Leviticus, 16–17. 26. For an excellent discussion of how Priestly revision and interpretation helped shape the Pentateuch, see Smith, Priestly Vision of Genesis 1, 117–38. On priestly circles as centers of scribal production in Israel and elsewhere in the ancient Near East, see van der Toorn, Scribal Culture. On Priestly editing in the formation of the “Enneatuech,” see Kratz, Narrative Books, 306–7. 27. Burney, Hebrew Text, 104–9, provides a detailed list of possible priestly interpolations in 1 Kgs 8. See also Gray, I and II Kings, 191, who suggests that the Deuteronomistic text was revised by a Priestly editor familiar with Chronicles. Based on a date of 300 B.C.E. for that text, he dates the Priestly editing of 1 Kgs 8 to the third century B.C.E. Also Sweeney, I and II Kings, 131, with bibliography at n117. Cogan, I Kings, 291, points to the diversity of designations for those in attendance at the ceremony, as well as other linguistic features, as evidence that the Deuteronomistic composition was glossed by a Priestly editor. The purpose of the glossator would have been to “point up the legitimacy of Solomonic Temple as heir to the desert Tabernacle by reference to the Tent of Meeting and its sacred vessels. The temple ceremony became, as it were, a second inauguration, parallel to the one described in Num 7:1–2, in which all of the tribal leadership (kwl rʾšy hmṭwt) participated.” On the relative unity and cohesiveness of the Deuteronomistic composition, see Knoppers, “Prayer and Propaganda.” 28. Gray, I and II Kings, 293; and Van Seters, “Deuteronomistic History,” 215. On the relatively late date of the Leviticus Succoth tradition and its bearing on the date of the reference in 1 Kgs 12, see Cogan, I Kings, 360. 29. Van Seters, In Search of History, 318; cf. Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 192–96. 30. Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 4.


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31. Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 9 takes for granted a historical connection between Josiah’s reform and Deuteronomy, a point on which we disagree. In addition, we may differ on the decisive import of centralization as an attribute of deuteronomistic writing. However, our work coincides regarding the nature of Deuteronom(ist)ic historiography and the ways in which the authors of such texts relied on, incorporated, and transformed their source material. My own thinking on these matters is shaped in part by Levinson’s work, which I have come to know both through his writing and in conversation during the two happy years when we were colleagues at the University of Minnesota. 32. On this history of this scholarship, see the thorough discussion in Boling and Wright, Joshua, 55–72. 33. This idea was first proposed by Richter, Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen, and had considerable influence on subsequent scholarship. 34. Oestreicher, “Das deuteronomische Grundgesetz.” 35. Oestreicher, “Das deuteronomische Grundgesetz,” 12. 36. Barrick, Cemeteries, 47–49; Van Seters, “Deuteronomistic History,” 219; and the discussion of the redactional history of 2 Kgs 23:15–16 in chapter 4. For a general treatment of the functions of the particle ʭʢ in Biblical Hebrew, see van der Merwe, Old Hebrew Particle gam. 37. For a thorough treatment of the issues at stake, see Barrick, Cemeteries, 64–105. 38. Barrick, Cemeteries, 3. 39. Barrick, Cemeteries, 118; see also Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 320, 343. 40. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 320 and n12 for bibliography. 41. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 321; cf. Lohfink, “Bundesurkunde des Königs Josias,” 267. 42. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 341, concedes the divisions, but rejects that they indicate the author’s use of separate sources. Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 251–52, sees 23:4–24 as the product of the same Deuteronomistic author who composed the surrounding narrative. For this view, see also Levin, “Joschija,” 371; and Van Seters, In Search of History, 318–20. 43. Talstra, “De hervorming van Josia,” 157–59; cf. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 342; Barrick, Cemeteries, 111–32; Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.176–81; and Lohfink, “Cult Reform of Josiah of Judah,” 464–65, who rejects the notion of a reform report as such, but concedes the possibility that the Deuteronomist freely adapted a preexistent document. 44. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 284, 302; and Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 342.

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45. There is broad scholarly consensus on this aspect of Deuteronomy’s literary structure. See discussions in Friedman, Who Wrote the Bible? 123–24; and Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, 13–14. 46. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 284; Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings,” 223; and Lohfink, “Bundesurkunde des Königs Josias,” 277. 47. A similar reference occurs in Gen 35:29 regarding Isaac: “He was gathered to his kin [ʥʮʲ-ʬʠ ʳʱʠʩʥ], old and abundant in years, and he was buried [ʥʺʠ ʥʤʸʡʷʩʥ] by his sons Esau and Jacob.” 48. Others who make a similar case include Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 182–89, who asserts that being gathered to one’s grave in peace does not preclude a violent death; it simply means that the king would be buried in his own tomb; Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 147–49; Mayes, Story of Israel, 129–30; and Van Seters, In Search of History, 318–19. 49. This point was brought to my attention by Daniel Oden (personal communication, Dec. 7, 2010) 50. Klostermann, Der Pentateuch, 368–18; cf. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 2. Among those who accept the idea of the Holiness Code as an independent unit, there is debate over whether Lev 17 and Lev 26 are its real termini. See discussions of scholarship in Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1332; Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 12; and Vriezen and van der Woude, Jewish Literature, 246–47. For fuller discussions of scholarship on the Holiness Code, see Grünwaldt, Das Heiligkeitgesetz Leviticus 17–26, 5–22; and Ruwe, Heiligkeitsgesetz und Priesterschrift, 5–38. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 3n9, provides references to the work of scholars who doubt the existence of the Holiness Code as a separate unit within the corpus of priestly literature. See also Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 12n33. Vriezen and van der Woude, Jewish Literature, 246–52, esp. 247, may be added to these lists. 51. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 108–10, provides a comprehensive list of terminology used in the holiness legislation and unattested elsewhere in priestly literature. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1325–26, suggests certain refinements to Knohl’s list as well as terms that receive a unique nuance in the Holiness Code. On the style of the Holiness Code, see Paran, Forms of the Priestly Style, 29–46. 52. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 59–106, systematically identifies Holiness texts in all five books of the Torah. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1333–34, takes a somewhat more limited view, seeking to avoid guesswork by concentrating exclusively on legal passages attributable to the Holiness source. He cites two dissertations—Franke’s “Stories of Murmuring” (published as Murmuring Stories) and King’s “priestly literature”—that cast doubt on the narrative passages on Knohl’s list.


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53. For the former view, see Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 18 and n50 for additional bibliography. A preexilic date is posited by Hurvitz, “Evidence of Language”; Joosten, People and Land, 207; Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence; and Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1361–64. Levine, who generally understands the Priestly writings to represent the latest phase in the composition of the Pentateuch, regards portions of the Holiness Code as preexilic; see his “Leviticus: Its Literary History.” 54. Levine, “Leviticus: Its Literary History,” 16. Examples of early work on this subject include Keunen, Historico-Critical Inquiry, 87; and Driver, Introduction to the Old Testament, 47–48. 55. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1349. 56. Cholewinski’s Heiligkeitgesetz und Deuteronomium constitutes the most comprehensive study of the parallels between the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy. On the Covenant Code as predating Deuteronomy and revised by it, see Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 7; idem, “Is the Covenant Code an Exilic Composition?” Van Seters’s Law Book for the Diaspora is in the minority in proposing that the Covenant Code postdates both Deuteronomy and the Holiness Code and belongs to the postexilic period. 57. Stackert, Rewriting the Torah. See also Levinson, “Manumission of Hermeneutics”; and idem, “Birth of the Lemma.” Levinson demonstrates that the Holiness Code revises and reinterprets the slave laws of both Deuteronomy and Covenant Code. 58. For a list that demonstrates the extent of correspondence between the two codes, see Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 7–8, and his references to other such lists in n18. Among the parallels compared by Cholewinski, Heiligkeitgesetz und Deuteronomium, are the laws pertaining to cult centralization, the festival calendar, Jubilee, and manumission. 59. But see Milgrom, “Does H Advocate?” 60. These and other correspondences lead Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” to conclude that the Holiness Code, not Deuteronomy, was Josiah’s lost law code. See below. 61. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple”; idem, “Date of Deuteronomy”; Japhet, “Laws of Manumission”; Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1357; and Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 180–83. 62. Stackert, Rewriting the Torah. See also Cholewinski, Heiligkeitgesetz und Deuteronomium; and Levinson, “Birth of the Lemma,” 630–33. 63. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 203; Rofé, Introduction to Deuteronomy, 16; and Bettenzoli, “Deuteronomium und Heiligkeitsgesetz”; cf. Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 10. 64. This is a minority opinion, whose proponents include Peckham, Composition of the Deuteronomistic History; and Provan,

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Hezekiah and the Book of Kings. Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings,” also argue for a Hezekian redaction, but their model, like that of Weippert’s “Beurteilungen” and “Fragen des israelitischen Geschichtsbewusstseins,” includes a second (Josianic) and third (exilic) redaction. On this view, see also Barrick, “Removal of the High Places”; Mayes, Story of Israel; and Sweeney, I and II Kings, 4–26. I do not see evidence of a Josianic redaction of the book of Kings and therefore advocate a model closer to those of Provan and Peckham (see chapter 5). 65. The idea that similarities between the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy might be the product of a more complicated process than literary borrowing accords with the work of Fleming in “Israelite Festival Calendar” and “Break in the Line.” In the latter, Fleming asserts (p. 161) that comparison with Emar suggests that the calendar frameworks in Lev 23 and Num 28–29 are not best understood as a development from those of Exodus and Deuteronomy; rather, independent witnesses to Israel’s festival calendar derive from an early period in which several major Yahweh sanctuaries thrived side by side. 66. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 44. See also van Hoonacker, “Le rapprochement.” 67. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 49–51. 68. Paton, “Post-exilic Date of Deuteronomy,” 340. 69. Paton, “Post-exilic Date of Deuteronomy,” 341. 70. Bewer, “Case for the Early Date of Deuteronomy”; Dahl, “Currently Accepted Date of Deuteronomy”; and Freed, “Code Spoken.” 71. Noth, Deuteronomistic History.

chapter 2 1. Richter, Deuteronomistic History, 62–63, argues convincingly that the redundancy in Deut 12:5 reflects an external, interlinear gloss, imposed by the deuteronomistic historian to clarify the difficult idiom lešakken šemô šām. 2. Much has been written on the cultic function of the asherim and evidence for the cult of Asherah in ancient Israel. Systematic studies include Day, Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses, 42–68; Dever, Did God Have a Wife?; Olyan, Asherah and the Cult of Yahweh; and Smith, Early History of God, 43–54. 3. On the containment of contagion, see Levine, Presence of the Lord, 56–91; Neusner, Purity in Ancient Judaism; Milgrom, “Paradox of the Red Cow”; idem, “Sancta Contagion”; and Wright, Disposal of Impurity. 4. On the reading ʭʩʸʲˈ (“goats”) as opposed to ʭʩʸʲˇ (“gates”), see below.


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5. Lev 14 is the only instance in the Hebrew Bible in which the word ʸʴʲ bears the meaning “mortar.” 6. On the translation “brown cow” in lieu of the more traditional “red cow,” see Brenner, Colour Terms, 62–65. Brenner argues that despite the frequent association of the term ʭʥʣʠ with the color of blood (an association that may be deliberately invoked in Num 19) “brown” is obviously a more accurate translation and is in fact consistent with the term’s semantic range. 7. For example, 2 Sam 6:14–20; 24:25; 1 Kgs 8:22, 54, 63–66; 2 Kgs 10:25; 16:10–20. For discussion of the priestly role of the king in these texts, see Morgenstern, “History of the High Priesthood,” who notes that in 2 Kgs 22–23 Josiah exercises supreme authority over the affairs of the temple; however, he is not certain that Josiah functions as chief priest, as such. 8. For a list of other similar translations, see Barrick, Cemeteries, 187. 9. On the idea that these verses preserve important information regarding real tensions between the Jerusalem temple priesthood and the Judahite bāmôt priests in the seventh century, see Haran, Temples and Temple Service, 100; Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 187; and Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 96–97. Some scholars see in 2 Kgs 23:8–9 an admission of failure to adhere to the stipulation in Deuteronomy and find the verses in Kings to support the identification of Deuteronomy as the basis for the Josianic reforms; for example, Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 95–96. Others point to the presumed contradiction between 2 Kgs 23:8–9 and Deut 18:6–7 as evidence against a historical connection between Deuteronomy and the law book; for example, Hölscher, ‘Komposition und Ursprung,” 200–203; and Nicholson, Deuteronomy and Tradition, 1–6. 10. Barrick, Cemeteries, 190. Others who question the plausibility of a real connection between what is narrated in 2 Kgs 23:8–9 and Deut 18:6–7 include Mayes, Deuteronomy, 278–79. Mayes advises distinguishing “between the priests of the high places in 2 Kings 23:9 who would have been considered contaminated from a cultic point of view and so unfit for service at the central sanctuary, and the Levites of Dt 18:6ff.” This is, indeed, an important distinction. His use of the language of contamination is noteworthy vis-à-vis Barrick’s suggestion, to which I adhere, that the eating of ʺʥʶʮ signifies a purification/ reordination rite. For fuller discussion, see below. Also Nicholson, “Josiah and the Priests,” 501. 11. Barrick, Cemeteries, 192. 12. Barrick, Cemeteries, 192. 13. For a similar view to the one expressed here, see Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 287.

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14. For a brief survey of scholarship on the programmatic character of the Holiness Code, see Joosten, People and Land, 24–25. 15. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 233, notes that 85% of the cases in which the root appears are in Leviticus, Numbers, and Ezekiel. 16. On importance of such concerns within priestly tradition, see Schwartz et al., Perspectives on Purity. 17. Evidence for the priestly attribution of Josh 22:18–19 includes reference to the community as ʤʣʲ and reference to the incident at Baal Peʿor (Num 25), an episode that scholars tend to agree received its final form in the hands of the priestly writer. 18. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 233. 19. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 234. Cf. Schoors, Jesaja, 182. 20. On the idea that Josiah’s defilement of the Topheth was intended to serve in the process of purifying the Jerusalem temple itself, see below. 21. Also Ezek 43:8: ʩʴʠʡ ʭʺʠ ʬʫʠʥ ʥʹʲ ʸʹʠ ʭʺʥʡʲʥʺʡ ʩʹʣʷ ʭʹ-ʺʠ ʥʠʮʨʥ (“they defiled my holy name with their abominations that they committed and I devoured them in my wrath”). 22. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1579. 23. Treatments of the subject with extensive bibliography include Heider, Cult of Molek; idem, “Molech,” 582; Levenson, Death and Resurrection; and Smith, Early History of God, 171–81. 24. Eissfeldt, Molk als Opferbegriff. The association of these burial grounds with child sacrifice has been called into question by analysis of skeletal and dental remains from the cemetery. Schwartz, Skeletal Remains. 25. Barrick, Cemeteries, 86; Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 288; Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 247; Heider, “Molech,” 581; and Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1422. 26. KTU 1.100.41; 1.107.17; Ras Shamra 1986/2235.17. Bordreuil, “Découvertes épigraphique récentes,” 298. For discussion of these texts, see Smith, Early History of God, 178. 27. Edelman, “Biblical Molek Reassessed,” 730. 28. Smith, Early History of God, 180. 29. On the idea that this was a legitimate Yahwistic practice, see Smith, Early History of God, 172; and Zevit, Religions of Ancient Israel, 469–70. 30. Deut 12:31 contains a prohibition against child sacrifice, and 18:10 a prohibition against passing one’s son or daughter through fire, but neither uses the term mlk. 31. The name ʪʬʥʮ appears as a designation for the god of the Ammonites in the Masoretic Text of 1 Kgs 11:7, but this is likely to be a miswriting of ʭʫʬʮ (cf. 11:5, 33).


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32. This difference between the Holiness Code and Deuteronomy is acknowledged by Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 50. 33. This point is also noted by Barrick, Cemeteries, 102. 34. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–20, 140. 35. Greenberg, Ezekiel 1–20, 132. 36. Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 2319. 37. For example, Joosten, People and Land, 12–13; Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1362, 1579; idem, Leviticus 23–27, 2348–63; and Zimmerli, Ezekiel, 1.46–52. 38. Joosten, People and Land, 12. 39. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1362; and idem, Leviticus 23–27, 2348–63. For an excellent discussion of methodological considerations associated with the question of literary dependence, see Stackert, Rewriting the Torah, 21–27. 40. Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 2356. 41. Barrick, Cemeteries, 78. 42. Emerton, “High Places of the Gates,” 463–65. Excavation of the gate complex at Dan is published in preliminary reports by Biran: “Tel Dan” (IEJ), 239; “Tel Dan” (BA), 45–48; Biblical Dan, 238–41; and “Tel Dan: Biblical Texts,” 8–11. 43. Snaith, “Meaning of ʭʩʸʲˈ,” 116; and Stade and Schwally, Books of Kings, 294. Gray, II Kings, 664, reads ʺʩʡ for ʺʥʮʡ based on the Septuagint’s τὸν οíκον. 44. Barrick, Cemeteries, 79n55. See also Bloch-Smith, “Real Maṣṣebot,” 74. 45. Barrick, Cemeteries, 78, who draws attention to only the Peshitta being unambiguous in its use of the singular. 46. Hoffmann, “Kleinigkeiten,” 175. For detailed discussion of the term “satyr,” see Jankowski, “Satyr.” 47. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 137–38, 236–38. Also Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 99–100, 426, who likens the term to the Akkadian šēdu, a type of demonic spirit similar to lamāssu. In early scholarship, see Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 49. For additional bibliography on this reading, see Brown, Driver, and Briggs, Hebrew English Lexicon, 972. 48. For example, Jewish Publication Society Bible, New American Standard Bible, New International Version, New Jerusalem Bible, King James Version, New King James Version, Revised Standard Version, New Revised Standard Version, and English Standard Version. Of the many translations consulted, only the New American Bible translates “high places of the satyrs.” 49. For example, Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 235.

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50. For a survey of scholarship on this issue and an assessment of proposed readings, see Blomquist, Gates and Gods, 151–63, who favors preserving the Masoretic Text and taking the construction as a noun followed by a genitive in which the plural is used on both nouns to communicate a compound idea. She cites 1 Chr 7:5; Ezra 9:11; and Neh 9:30 as supporting examples. 51. The designation ʭʩʸʲˈ may be compared with other terms for goat, including ʦʲ, ʣʥʺʲ, and ʩʣʢ. On animal taxonomy in the Hebrew Bible, see Whitekettle, “Where the Wild Things Are”; idem, “Rats Are Like Snakes.” 52. Duhm, Die bösen Geister, 47. 53. Snaith, “Meaning of ʭʩʸʲˈ,” 118. 54. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 142–44, 147–51. 55. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 142 fig. 166b. This image calls to mind a plaque from Ugarit featuring a female figure holding bundles of grain in each hand, with goats feeding on either side. For bibliography on the publication of this object, see Smith, Early History of God, 113n20, who comments that “if this plaque were a depiction of the goddess Asherah, it would indicate that the tree found in comparable later iconography was a symbol of the goddess giving nourishment to the animals flanking her.” The two wild goats flanking a stylized tree are attested on pithos A from eighthcentury Kuntillet ʿAjrud, on the second register of the Taʾanach cult stand, and on the Lachish ewer inscription. For drawings and discussion of the Kuntillet ʿAjrud pithoi and the Taʾanach cult stand, see Zevit, Religions of Ancient Israel, 370–405, 318–28. On the Lachish ewer inscription, see Hestrin, “Lachish Ewer Inscription.” Against the dendrical associations of the goddess Asherah, see Wiggins, “Of Asherahs and Trees.” 56. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 143. 57. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 148 fig. 176b. 58. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 147. 59. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 150 figs. 178a, 178b. 60. Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 150. 61. While far removed from Iron Age Israel both temporally and geographically, the ornate “rearing goat with flowering plant” sculpture discovered in the Royal Cemetery at Ur may suggest that the association of the goat with fertility was quite ancient and indigenous in a Near Eastern context. Reade, “Royal Tombs of Ur,” 122, comments that the statue “encapsulates in a highly symbolic manner the basic Sumerian concerns with plant fecundity and animal fertility. Further, the plant


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combines the rosette, often seen as a symbol of the goddess Inanna with a shape that on this plant does not function as a leaf.” 62. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 238, who claims (n320) that there is an opinio communis for Leviticus and 2 Chronicles. For the Isaiah passages, he follows Schoors, Jesaja, 97, 200. 63. Barrick, Cemeteries, 76. 64. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 450, posits that Isa 34 and Isa 35 belong together and comprise a recapitulation of the message of the book as understood in eschatological terms of the Second Temple period. 65. On the difficulty ascertaining a date for Isa 13, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39, 277. 66. Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.179.

chapter 3 1. I am grateful to Peter Machinist for suggesting that absence of the word ḥērem in the reform account might itself hold important information about the evolution of the text and the interests of its authors. This observation lends definition and focus to this chapter and to the project as a whole. 2. Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions.” Stern’s Biblical Ḥērem remains the most comprehensive work on the subject. See also Bornapé, “El problema del ʭʸʧ”; Dietrich, “‘Ban’ in the Age of Israel’s Early Kings”; Greenberg, “Ḥērem”; Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem”; Nelson, “Ḥērem and the Deuteronomic Social Conscience”; Niditch, War in the Hebrew Bible; and Schäfer-Lichtenberger, “Bedeutung und Funktion.” For earlier work on the subject, see von Rad, Holy War in Ancient Israel; Schwally, Der Heilige Krieg; and Weber, Ancient Judaism, 118–39. 3. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 197–98. 4. Niditch, War in the Hebrew Bible, 56. 5. The distinction between enemies who are nearby and those far away in Deut 20:15–18, and the injunction to impose the ḥērem on the former, is widely recognized as a deuteronomistic addition to the so-called law of war. See Veijola, “Principle Observations,” 137–39; Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 196–97; Dietrich, “‘Ban’ in the Age of Israel’s Early Kings,” 198; von Rad, Deuteronomy, 133; and Schäfer-Lichtenberger, “Bedeutung und Funktion,” 272. 6. Stern, Biblical Ḥērem, 220. 7. Day, Yahweh and the Gods and Goddesses; Dever, Did God Have a Wife?; Hess, Israelite Religions; Nakhai, Archaeology and the Religions of Canaan and Israel; Smith, Early History of God; and Zevit, Religions of Ancient Israel. 8. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 197; also Suzuki, “New Aspect,” who argues that the law of ḥērem in Deut 7:2 originated in the time of

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Josiah as part of an official policy of assimilation. Surprisingly, she does not discuss specific correlations between the language of Josiah’s reform and the language of ḥērem. 9. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 196, acknowledges the possibility that the Bible preserves older ḥērem traditions, but he posits that “the Old Testament does not contain a single text from which we might derive trustworthy information about an Israelite ḥērem for any period of Israel’s history.” I suggest here that an original ḥērem tradition was preserved relatively intact in the deuteronomistic account of the conquest of Ai in Josh 8 (see below). This is not to say that this chapter provides witness to the ḥērem as a historical phenomenon, but rather that it preserves a textual tradition of ḥērem that, like the Mesha and Karib-ilu inscriptions, was produced close in time to the events it portrays and served a particular sociopolitical function within that setting. On the idea that the deuteronomists worked from earlier sources that described the ḥērem in authentic terms, see Dietrich, “‘Ban’ in the Age of Israel’s Early Kings,” 204. 10. Nelson, Joshua, 111, identifies the conquest account as pre-deuteronomistic and Benjaminite, but takes the reference to ḥērem to be part of a later, deuteronomistic redaction, where a parallel is created between the conquest of Ai and the defeat of Sihon and Og (Deut 2:31–35; 3:1–7). Also Van Seters, In Search of History, 329. 11. The date of the Sabaean text is the subject of debate. The most convincing arguments favor a date sometime in the eighth–seventh centuries. For detailed discussion of the issues at stake, see Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions,” 327–31. 12. Routledge, Moab in the Iron Age, 141. The designation “tribal confederacy” should not be understood to be at odds with the notion of statehood. On the tribal state at Mari, see Fleming, Democracy’s Ancient Ancestors, 104–15. 13. Dearman, Mesha Inscription, 156. 14. On the political landscape depicted in the Mesha Inscription and biblical sources, see Liver, “Wars of Mesha.” For discussion of the Late Bronze Age–Iron Age I transition in Transjordan and the ways in which this process differed from the transition in Palestine, see Routledge, Moab in the Iron Age, 91–92. 15. Routledge, Moab in the Iron Age, 139. 16. This event is often described by scholars as a “covenantrenewal ceremony.” See Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 535. The word ʺʩʸʡ (“covenant”), however, does not appear in this chapter, in contrast to Josh 24, where the ceremony undertaken by Joshua is explicitly referred to in terms of covenant. While this ceremony may serve the same function as a covenant-renewal ceremony, the exclusion of the term ʺʩʸʡ


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may be a significant marker of a particular literary tradition. See Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions,” 337–38. 17. The word ʺʩʸʡ is also absent from the instructions in Deut 27. 18. This point is illustrated by the repeated use of the phrase ʣʩʡ ʯʺʰ (“to give into the hand”) in Josh 8:30–35. This phrase is often understood as a juridical formula in which the legal right to land is handed over by Yahweh to Israel. See Miller, “Gift of God,” 455, who cites Plöger, Untersuchungen zum Deuteronomium, 79. In this way the verb ʯʺʰ functions similarly to its Akkadian cognate nadānu(m), which among other uses appears in Mesopotamian land-grant texts to describe the bequeathing of agricultural land or sometimes entire villages and their populations to an individual, often by the king. On this use of the verb nadānu, see Greenfield, “Naṣû-nadānu.” 19. For detailed discussion of these arguments, see Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions,” 335–40. 20. Daniel Fleming (personal communication) observes that the whole notion of a conquest of the entire land of Canaan may be a late, Judahite (i.e., not originally Israelite) development. 21. On the question of the comprehensiveness of the ḥērem in the Deuteronom(ist)ic conquest accounts and its implications for understanding the hermeneutics of Deuteronomistic revision, see the excellent discussion of the development of the biblical Transjordanian conquest traditions in Brettler, Creation of History, 71–76. 22. Transcription from Dearman, Mesha Inscription, 94. 23. Translation based on Routledge, “Politics of Mesha,” 248. 24. RES 3945.16. Transliteration is my own, based on Beeston, Sabaean Inscriptions, 61. 25. Translation is my own, based in part on Beeston, Sabaean Inscriptions, 64. For detailed discussion of this translation, see Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions,” 333–35. 26. Chicago Assyrian Dictionary M.1.414–21 (mātu). See Fleming’s in-depth discussion of the mātu as a political entity in Democracy’s Ancient Ancestors, 104–47. 27. The phrase ma-tam a-lí-tám occurs in 6.20–21. For transliteration, translation, and notes, see Frayne, Sargonic and Gutian Periods, 27–29. See also Gelb and Kienast, Die altakkadischen Königsinschriften, 164. 28. According to the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary Ḫ.89–90 (ḫarāmu), the root ḫrm is attested in Akkadian, only with the meaning “to separate.” While the sense of separation inheres in the West Semitic usage, the Akkadian has none of the political or military associations of the West Semitic war-ḥērem.

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29. For two recent studies on ancient Near Eastern warfare, see Bahrani, Rituals of War; and Hasel, Military Practice and Polemic. 30. Translation and transliteration from Grayson, Assyrian Rulers, 18–19. Grayson’s translation “lands” reflects the KUR determinative on sa-ra-uš and am-ma-uš. 31. Saggs, “Assyrian Warfare,” 150. 32. Saggs, “Assyrian Warfare,” 150. 33. Stern, Biblical Ḥērem, 72–77, provides detailed discussion of Hittite parallels to the biblical ḥērem. For translation of the text with notes, see Hoffner, “Proclamation of Anitta of Kuššar,” who provides publication information and bibliography. 34. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 65. 35. Saggs, “Assyrian Warfare,” 150. See also Gurney, Hittites, 19. 36. The earliest association of the goddess Halmaššuit with the city of Hattuša appears in the Anitta Inscription; see Bryce, Life and Society, 149. 37. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 72; idem, Life and Society, 117. 38. Goetze, “Warfare in Asia Minor,” 129. 39. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 37. 40. Archi, “Hittite and Hurrian Literatures,” 2369. 41. Gurney, Hittites, 20. Bryce, Kingdom of the Hittites, 37, also rejects this interpretation, arguing that the text was originally written in Old Hittite, not Old Assyrian. 42. Hoffner, “History and Historians,” 298. 43. Stern, Biblical Ḥērem, 73. 44. This is consistent with the suggestion of Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic School, 167n2, that “the very command ‘not to let a soul remain alive’ may be an ancient one, and may have accompanied the warriors in old times.” The idea that eradication of population is associated with the early phases of state formation finds support in the phenomenon of warfare cannibalism, which according to Smith, “Anat’s Warfare Cannibalism,” 373, “is well known in pre-state societies.” Harris, Sacred Cow, 220–21, comments: “Band and village societies lack a military or political organization that is capable of uniting defeated enemies under a central government or a governing class that stands to benefit from taxation…. Since captives cannot produce a surplus, bringing one home to serve as a slave simply means one more mouth to feed. Killing and eating captives is the predictable outcome. In contrast, for most state societies, killing and eating captives would thwart the governing class’s interest in expanding its tax and tribute base.” According to Sanday, Divine Hunger, 125, for the Iroquois “the motive for cannibalism was to appease the appetite of the war god who demanded that the captives be taken and eaten.” Smith draws attention to Anat’s


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warfare cannibalism in KTU 1.3 ii 3–30, which he suggests may be an example of the ḥērem rendered from the divine perspective. Isa 34:5–6, which describes God’s sword as engorged with the blood and fat of the ḥērem against Edom, supports a connection between ḥērem and divine cannibalism. 45. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 535. 46. Cf. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 536–37, who also suggests that Joshua and Josiah are the only two figures in Dtr to play this particular role. On this basis he observes: “No other covenant renewal ceremony within Deuteronomy’s purview corresponds so exactly to Josiah’s covenant renewal ceremony as Joshua’s does.” 47. Barrick, Cemeteries, 110. 48. Barrick, Cemeteries, 132ff., discusses other structural and thematic similarities between the Mesha Inscription and 2 Kgs 23. On the basis of these he speculates that an original version of the events of Josiah’s reform may have belonged to the same genre as the Mesha Inscription; that is, it may have originally been recorded as a monumental inscription. 49. This is not to say that Deut 27 and Josh 8 necessarily belong to the same hand. To the contrary, I suggest that Josh 8:1–30 preserves an old ḥērem tradition that included reference to the building of the Ebal altar and that the authors of Deut 27 had to contend with that tradition. For detailed discussion, see Monroe, “War-Ḥērem Traditions,” 335–39. 50. On the importance of memorization in the process of textual production and transmission, see Carr, Tablet of the Heart; Niditch, Oral World and Written Word; and van der Toorn, Scribal Culture. 51. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 354, notes that this phrase, denoting obedience to the law, is used four times in Deuteronomy, while in the deuteronomistic history it occurs only once outside the book of Joshua, in reference to Josiah. 52. The concerns that lend shape to the deuteronomistic revision of the account of Josiah’s reform also find expression in the introduction to the book of Judges, where older traditions are also reframed with a new emphasis on Israel’s salvation history. On the notion of an original “book of saviors” embedded in the Deuteronomistic text, see Richter, Traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchungen. Richter’s model had considerable influence on subsequent scholarship. For treatments of the compositional issues in the book of Judges, see Amit, Book of Judges; Brettler, Judges; O’Connell, Rhetoric of the Book of Judges; and Wong, Compositional Strategy. 53. For bibliography on this subject, see Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 537. 54. Nelson, “Josiah in the Book of Joshua,” 354.

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55. The Syriac and other versions attest the more likely reading ʭʤʬ in lieu of ʥʰʬ in the Masoretic Text. 56. For example, Gray, Joshua, Judges, and Ruth, 69; and Nelson, Joshua, 76. On the juxtaposition of circumcision and Passover in Joshua as an extant cultic or cultural phenomenon transformed in deuteronomistic hands, see Bernat, Sign of the Covenant, 68. Bernat sees evidence of a link between Passover and circumcision in the priestly writings, but does not regard this link as unique to the priestly source. 57. The phrase ʹʡʣʥ ʡʬʧ ʺʡʦ ʵʸʠ is attested fourteen times in the Bible: four times in Exodus (3:8, 17; 13:15; 33:3), once in Leviticus (20:24), once in Numbers (16:14), five times in Deuteronomy (6:3; 11:9; 26:9; 13:5; 33:3), once in Joshua (5:6), and twice in Jeremiah (11:5; 32:22). In every instance it is associated with the fertility of the land that Yahweh promised to the Israelites and his having brought them forth from Egypt. The concentration of attestations of the phrase in Deuteronomy may reflect Deuteronomy’s particular interest in the Israelites’ prosperity in the land of Canaan as a sign of his covenant promise. 58. Bernat, Sign of the Covenant, 68n42, observes that in the historical works of the Bible, Passover functions as a communal rite of passage. 59. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 196–98, for example, comments that references to ḥērem in Deut 7:2–5 and 20:10–18 should be understood to reflect the deuteronomistic historian’s framing a synthesis of the occupation, according to which all the nations dwelling in the promised land were exterminated at Yahweh’s command. 60. On the problem of the existence of a coherent deuteronomistic historiography, see Knauf, “Deuteronomistic Historiography?” 388–98; and Schearing and McKenzie, Those Elusive Deuteronomists. 61. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 286. See also Levine, “Next Phase in Jewish Religion.” 62. The phrase ʺʩʸʡʡ ʣʮʲʩʥ is difficult to translate and appears only here. In Chronicles the verb appears in the hiphʿil and so may be translated “he imposed the covenant upon them.” Various emendations are proposed for the reading that appears in 2 Kgs 23:3; see Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 385. I argue below that the unusual language of this verse deliberately echoes the language of Deut 31:15. 63. For a full list of references, see Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1569. 64. Milgrom, Leviticus 23–27, 2407–9. 65. Levine, Presence of the Lord, 128, alludes to the connection between ḥērem and sacrifice by suggesting a similarity between ḥērem and the ʾāšām sacrifice, which was an offering of restitution. 66. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 184. 67. Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 184. 68. Stern, Biblical Ḥērem, 191. 69. Lust, “Isaiah 34 and the Herem,” 286.


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70. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 280. The Revised Standard Version and New International Version also render “slaughtered”; New Jewish Publication Society Bible renders “he slew,” as does Barrick, Cemeteries, 23. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 286, suggests the more vivid translation: “he butchered.” 71. Evidence for the idea that the priests themselves could be a source of contamination may be found, for example, in Lev 21:22, which stipulates that a priest with a blemish “shall not enter behind the curtain or come near the altar, for he has a defect. He shall not profane my sacred places [ʩʹʣʷʮ-ʺʠ ʬʬʧʩ ʠʬ] for I, Yahweh, have set them apart as holy [ʭʹʣʷʮ ʤʥʤʩ ʩʰʠ ʩʫ].” Similarities between this verse and 2 Kgs 23:9 were discussed in chapter 2. 72. It is unclear whether the ʭʣʠ ʺʥʮʶʠ referred to here are the bones of the slaughtered priests. 73. The idea that these concepts are related is exemplified in Lev 17:28, cited above, and Deut 7:6, where the reason provided for enacting the ḥērem upon the local populations of the land is to maintain the Israelites as a nation apart: ʤʺʠ ʹʥʣʷ ʭʲ ʩʫ (“for you are a holy nation”). The association between ʹʣʷ and ʭʸʧ is noted by Lohfink, “Ḥārem/Ḥērem,” 184, who comments: “The occurrences of ḥrm in Lev. 27 and Nu. 18 appear in texts dominated by the verbal phrase hiqdîš leYHWH and the noun qōḏeš. Ezk. 44:29, too, deals with offerings to the sanctuary. The ḥērem pronounced by Joshua over Jericho implies that the gold, silver, and vessels of bronze and iron are qōḏeš leYHWH and are therefore to be put into the treasury of the house of Yahweh (Josh. 6:19, 24).” 74. Cogan, I Kings, 470, comments that unlike the account of Saul’s war with Amalek, in which Samuel announces the ḥērem before battle (1 Sam 15:3), in 1 Kgs 20 Ahab receives no such instruction. 75. Walsh, I Kings, 293. 76. Walsh, I Kings, 294. 77. Walsh, I Kings, 314. 78. Walsh, I Kings, 315. 79. A substantial literature exists on this speech. See Childs, Isaiah and the Assyrian Crisis, 73–93; Evans, Invasion of Sennacherib, 151–65; Gonçalves, L’expedition de Sennachérib, 416–42; and Seitz, Zion’s Final Destiny, who does not treat 2 Kgs 19:8–13 explicitly, but his discussion on pp. 48–61 is relevant.

chapter 4 1. On mlk offerings as defiling the temple itself, see chapter 2. 2. This point was first noted by Sanda, Die Bücher der Könige, 135, who suggests that the placement of 23:5 reflects a disturbance in the original order of the notices that was introduced by

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the historian. Cf. Nelson, Double Redaction, 80, who criticizes Sanda for having failed to explain why the compiler would have arbitrarily disordered his source. This is a good question, although one has to imagine that the disordering would not have been as arbitrary as it appears from our vantage point. 3. According to Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 234–35, Geba is likely to be present day Jebaʿ, located eight to nine kilometers north of Jerusalem, on the eastern edge of the so-called Plateau of Benjamin. The phrase “from Geba to Beer-sheba” occurs only here in the Hebrew Bible. Eynikel suggests that that this local delimitation reflects the real boundaries of Judah in the late seventh century B.C.E. and that it warrants dating 2 Kgs 23:8a during or soon after Josiah’s reign. Others who date this reference to the period of Josiah’s reign include Barrick, Cemeteries; Grabbe, “Kingdom of Judah,” 105; and Na’aman, “Josiah and the Kingdom of Judah,” 217. 4. Daniel Fleming (personal communication, July 2009). Fleming and his student S. Milstein take this literary creativity as a sign of either an original text or “early phase revision.” 5. The idea that the deuteronomistic historian relied on a source that did not present Josiah’s reform in terms of centralization is posited by Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 153–59; Hollenstein, “Literarkritische Erwägungen”; Würthwein, “Die josianische Reform,” 415–18; cf. Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 299. 6. The Hebrew in these verses varies slightly with regard to the disjunctive marker. Variations include use of the particles ʧʠ, ʷʸ, and ʥ. 7. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 82–83, observes that the references to bāmôt in 2 Kgs 23 are ill suited to be the climax of the bāmôt theme found in the regnal formulas of the book of Kings. He regards this as evidence against a Josianic Deuteronomistic redaction of the Kings history. Provan does not acknowledge the conspicuous absence of reference to Josiah’s elimination of bāmôt in his regnal formula, but this detail lends support to his hypothesis. Provan’s arguments in favor of a Hezekian redaction of the book of Kings are taken up in chapter 5. See also Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings,” 206–7; and Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah, 29–32, 315–23. For early work on the subject, see Weippert, “Beurteilungen”; and responses by Barrick, “Removal of the High Places.” 8. Deut 32:13 features an unusual use of the term ʺʥʮʡ in a noncultic context, where it simply signifies a topographic feature in the landscape. 9. Barrick, Cemeteries, 9. 10. Knoppers, “Solomon’s Fall,” 402–3.


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11. No king is mentioned by name in 2 Kgs 23:5; however, deuteronomistic revisions in this verse make Ahaz the implicit object of critique. Condemnation of this king’s cultic practices is explicit in 23:12. 12. Na’aman’s “Kingdom of Judah under Josiah” (revised and updated in idem, “Josiah and the Kingdom of Judah”) levels serious challenges to the idea of a Josianic expansion into Samaria, based on the absence of convincing textual or archeological data. 13. E.g.. Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 149–50; Hollenstein, “Literarkritische Erwägungen,” 334–35; and Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 301. 14. Rooftop altars associated with the astral cult are attested elsewhere in the Bible (Jer 19:13; Zeph 1:5). Jer 32:29 refers to rooftop altars where offerings to other gods were made. On the Zephaniah passage, see below. 15. For detailed discussion of evidence for astral worship in eighth- or seventh-century Jerusalem, see Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 297–306. Also Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 283–372; and Barrick, Cemeteries, 159–64. 16. The association of references to solar worship with the original reform account is supported by several studies that identify 23:11 as pre-deuteronomistic; see Barrick, Cemeteries, 164; Spieckermann, Judah unter Assur, 107; Würthwein, “Die josianische Reform,” 417; and Hollenstein, “Literarkritische Erwägungen,” 334–35. 17. In many standard translations this phrase is taken as a construct chain: “the roof of the upper chamber of Ahaz” (e.g., New Revised Standard Version, Jewish Publication Society Bible, English Standard Version; also Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 279). While this rendering makes good sense, it is not borne out by the Hebrew syntax. First, the phrase ʦʧʠ ʺʩʬʲ is already definite and therefore does not require the definite article that appears on the word ʢʢ. Furthermore, if a definite article were necessary, it should appear on the final not the first element in the construct. 18. Cf. Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 304n111. 19. On the translation “to burn incense” and the possible alternative, “to burn food offerings,” see Edelman, “Meaning of qitter.” 20. Burney, Hebrew Text, 358; and Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 137. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 279, follow the Septuagint, but translate “he put an end to the idolatrous priests who had been installed by the kings of Judah to offer sacrifices.” The passive translation of ʯʺʰ and the treatment of ʥʸʨʷʩʥ as if it were an infinitive have no textual or grammatical basis. 21. Montgomery, Book of Kings, 529; Gray, I and II Kings, 663; Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.190 and n38; and Sweeney, I and II Kings,

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436. In addition, most English Bible translations prefer this reading; for example, New Interpreter’s Bible, New International Version, King James Version, New American Bible, New King James Version, and New Revised Standard Version. 22. Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 304. 23. Lambdin, Introduction to Biblical Hebrew, 280–82. 24. Kautsch, Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar, 328, cites this verse as an occurrence of the imperfect consecutive as the continuation of a perfect (preterite) in a subordinate clause. 25. Besides 2 Kgs 23, the term appears elsewhere in the Bible only in Hos 10:5 and Zeph 1:4. On the Zephaniah passage, see below. 26. The verb ʺʩʡʹʤ occurs in only two other Deuteronom(ist) ic texts outside of 2 Kgs 23: Deut 32:26, where it signifies erasing the memory of God’s people, and Josh 22:25, where it refers to preventing individuals from worshiping Yahweh. 27. It occurs only once outside of 2 Kgs 23, in 1 Kgs 2:35, where it refers to David’s appointment of Zadok the priest. However, as Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 219, notes, this text does not bear the signs of Deuteronomistic authorship. Spieckermann, Judah unter Assur, 83, identifies the term as non-Deuteronomistic, in contrast to ʤʣʥʤʩ / ʬʠʸʹʩ ʩʫʬʮ ʤʹʲ ʸʹʠ. 28. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 219. 29. Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 303; cf. Donner and Röllig, Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften, nos. 225 and 226. 30. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 221. 31. Barrick, Cemeteries, 67–70, Levin, Fortschreibungen Gesammelte Studien, 205; and Provan, 1 and 2 Kings, 276. 32. Gray, I and II Kings, 732–33; Jones, 1–2 Kings, 618; Wiseman, 1–2 Kings, 301; and Uehlinger, “Was There a Cult Reform?” 304. 33. I omit the second ʭʩʥʧʺʹʮʤ from my translation, with the Septuagint. The editors of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia suggest reading ʧʸʩʬ in lieu of ʤʥʤʩʬ, based on the visual similarity between the two. Although ʧʸʩʬ is more fitting to the context of idolatry, without a textual basis for emendation, I retain the Masoretic Text. The sense of the reading ʭʫʬʮ (“their king”) in the Masoretic Text is difficult to determine, as the term clearly refers to a divine being other than Yahweh. The divine name ʭʥʫʬʮ would make sense and is the preferred reading of some interpreters, including Seybold, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, 95; and Strieck, Das Vordeuteronomistische Zephanjabuch, 99–100. ʭʥʫʬʮ is attested in Lucianic recensions of the Septuagint, the Peshitta, and the Vulgate, but the lateness of these manuscript traditions along with lectio facilior render it suspect. The question remains unresolved. On the confusion of Molech and Milcom, see 2 Kgs 23:13 and 1 Kgs 11:7; cf. Smith, Early History of God, 180.


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34. Sweeney, Zephaniah, 2. 35. On the prophetic superscript as an editorial device, see van der Toorn, Scribal Culture, 38. 36. Sweeney, Zephaniah, 2. 37. Ben-Zvi, Historical-Critical Study, 72; Dietrich, Gott allein? 467–68; Irsigler, Zefanja, 106; Scharbert, “Zefanja und die Reform des Joschija,” 247–48; and Seybold, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephanja, 94–95. 38. Ben-Zvi, Historical-Critical Study, 276. On the idea that Zeph 1 reflects postexilic deuteronomistic redaction, see discussion in Vlaardingerbroek, Zephaniah, 45–46. 39. Irsigler, Zefanja, 106, points to the absence in Zeph 1:4–5 of certain important themes in 2 Kgs 23—namely, worship of the asherah and the proliferation of bāmôt—as evidence that the two texts do not belong to the same Deuteronomistic hand. At the same time he acknowledges that the Zephaniah passage refers to the same religious circumstances as 2 Kgs 23, but he too sees this as a product of a later Deuteronomistic editor of Zephaniah. 40. Ben-Zvi, Historical-Critical Study, 69–71. 41. Samaria had not yet been built in the time of Jeroboam. According to Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 290, “its mention betrays the usage of the seventh century when Samaria was a regional territory, juxtaposed to Judah.” An exilic or postexilic date, however, is equally feasible, in which case “Samaria” would represent a remembered entity. 42. Textual variants are unhelpful in resolving this debate. The Aramaic Targum of Jonathan is identical to the Masoretic Text, and 2 Kgs 23 is not preserved in any of the Dead Sea Scrolls Kings fragments or other texts from the Judean Desert. For the Targum of Jonathan, see Sperber, Bible in Aramaic, 323–24. For a complete catalogue of the biblical fragments from the Judean Desert, see Ulrich et al., Qumran Cave 4. 43. Burney, Hebrew Text, 361; Montgomery, Book of Kings, 534, 540; Gray, II Kings, 731; Jones, 1–2 Kings, 624; and Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.202. 44. Barrick, Cemeteries, 46n62. 45. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 348. 46. Cogan and Tadmor, II Kings, 289. See also Barthélemy, Critique textuelle de l’Ancien Testament, 1.420. 47. On the reading “goats” instead of “gates,” see chapter 2. 48. On metathesis as a textual error, see Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 250. On the graphic similarity of ʡ and ʸ in “early” Hebrew script, in paleo-Hebrew script, and in its Samaritan version, see p. 244. 49. Naveh, Early History of the Alphabet, fig. 70; cf. Tov, Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible, 409 pl. 29.

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50. On the development of the Aramaic Script, see Cross, “Development of the Jewish Scripts,” 175 fig. 1; also Yardeni, Book of Hebrew Script, 11–46, 165–69. 51. This discontinuity is frequently noted in the scholarship. See Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.198; and Barrick, Cemeteries, 48. 52. Barrick, Cemeteries, 46–60. 53. Barrick, Cemeteries, 49. 54. Barrick, Cemeteries, 49. On the particle ʭʢ as a redactional element, see Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 273, who provides extensive bibliography and several examples where ʭʢ is identified as an indication of redaction. He concludes that the particle can serve as a signal of the possibility of redactional activity, but cannot be taken as a sure sign of such activity. 55. The possibility that these phrases represent late additions is supported by the apparatus in the 1997 edition of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, which suggests that they be deleted. In the 1952 edition of Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, only the words ʤʮʡ and ʤʮʡʤ ʺʠʥ are identified as late additions. While this solves certain internal semantic problems within the verse, it does not alleviate the narrative tension between 23:15 and 23:16. 56. Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 156, notes “a stereotype sequence of measure, object of the measure and place of the object” that characterizes 2 Kgs 23:4–11. This sequence is not limited to these verses; it permeates the reform account at both the deuteronomistic and predeuteronomistic stages. 57. Contra Barrick, Cemeteries, 49, who suggests that the cemetery defiled by Josiah was located in Jerusalem and not in Bethel. For detailed discussion, see Monroe, “Review of Barrick.” 58. E.g., Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 349. 59. Knoppers, Two Nations, 2.206–7, with Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 78–81; and Tagliacarne, “Keiner war wie er,” 239–46. 60. Barrick, Cemeteries, 103. 61. For bibliography and discussion of this issue and its implications for understanding the redaction of the deuteronomistic history, see Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 258–68; and Barrick, Cemeteries, 196–215. 62. On the compositional implications of the vav conjunctive with the perfect, see Hollenstein, “Literarkritische Erwägungen,” 321–36; and Spieckermann, Juda unter Assur, 120–30. 63. Barrick, Cemeteries, 64–105. 64. Hardmeier, “King Josiah,” 148, suggests that an original account of Josiah’s res gestae was presumably kept in an enumerating wktb style and was transformed into a wyktb narrative. This may be an


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oversimplification; however, the idea that the wktb verb forms in the earlier composition reflect a difference in register bears consideration. 65. Reference to ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤ (“the Mount of the Destroyer”) is retained, however tentatively, in the reconstructed early version of the text. The term ʺʩʧʹʮ appears throughout the Bible in a variety of contexts, but use of the phrase ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤ as a designation for the Mount of Olives is unique to 2 Kgs 23. The significance of the term here is the subject of much debate. A number of possible emendations are proposed, none of which provides a satisfactory alternative reading. Barrick, Cemeteries, 49–50, offers the viable suggestion of a connection between the designation ʺʩʧʹʮʤ-ʸʤ and the chthonic associations of the Mount of Olives throughout antiquity. 66. Ezek 6:3–5 presents an interesting complication, in that, like the received version of 2 Kgs 23:14, it refers to the desecration of altars (ʺʥʧʡʦʮ) through the scattering of human remains. However, Ezekiel does not use the deuteronomistic turns of phrase attested in 2 Kgs 23, suggesting again that the similarities are not a simple matter of literary influence. It seems likely that Ezek 6 represents a priestly aniconic tradition that evolved in different literary circles than the Bible’s deuteronomistic texts, even while the two sets of traditions share certain common interests. 67. A Deuteronomistic explanation for the similarities between these two texts was first proposed by Minette de Tillesse, “Sections,” 60. For another articulation of this view, see Begg, “Destruction of the Calf,” 236. 68. Text and translation from Smith, “Interpreting the Baal Cycle,” 156, 161. 69. On the annihilation of Mot and the golden calf as a fixed rite, see Fensham, “Burning of the Golden Calf.” On the ritual mutilation of statues in Mesopotamia, see Brandes, “Destruction et mutilation.” 70. Fensham, “Burning of the Golden Calf ”; Loewenstamm, “Making and Destruction of the Golden Calf ”; idem, “Making and Destruction of the Golden Calf: A Rejoinder”; and Purdue, “Making and Destruction of the Golden Calf.” 71. Hayes, “Golden Calf Stories,” who provides bibliography on the subject. 72. Fleming, “Bits of the Bethel Cult”; Knoppers, “Aaron’s Calf”; Milstein, “Allusions of Grandeur”; and Smith, “Counting Calves at Bethel.” 73. Seasonal implications of the Baal myth are pointed to frequently, the most comprehensive treatment being that of de Moor, Seasonal Pattern. Virolleaud, “La mythologie phénicienne,” was the first to propose a seasonal interpretation of the Baal Cycle. De Moor’s specific

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methodology and interpretation of the Baal Cycle is criticized by Watson, “Death of Death”; Grabbe, “Seasonal Pattern”; Healey, “Burning the Corn”; and Smith, “Interpreting the Baal Cycle,” among others, who acknowledge a seasonal pattern in the epic, but challenge a comprehensive seasonal interpretation. 74. Healey, “Mot,” 599. 75. On this characterization of Mot, see Smith, “Interpreting the Baal Cycle,” 321. 76. KTU 1.6 ii 21–23. Smith, “Interpreting the Baal Cycle,” 156. 77. In the Exodus golden calf account both Moses and the calf seem to have been conceived of as forms of divine theophany, a characterization that demands more attention than it has received. On the cult image as theophany, see Jacobsen, “Graven Image.” 78. Ackerman, “Women and the Worship of Yahweh,” 189–90. For a comprehensive treatment of the issue and extensive bibliography, see Smith, Early History of God, 108–47, who argues provocatively against the existence of a cult of the goddess Asherah. Arguments in favor of its existence are put forth forcefully by Dever, Did God Have a Wife? 176–247. See also Olyan, Asherah and the Cult of Yahweh; and Keel and Uehlinger, Gods, Goddesses, and Images of God, 177–281. 79. Hayes, “Golden Calf Stories,” 79; and Begg, “Destruction of the Calf,” 236. The most extreme view to the contrary (i.e., that Exodus postdates and depends upon the Deuteronomy text) is held by Van Seters, Life of Moses, 290–318, who views Exod 32 as a post-deuteronomistic composition from the postexilic period. 80. Hayes, “Golden Calf Stories,” 80. 81. Milstein, “Allusions of Grandeur,” convincingly demonstrates that 1 Kgs 12:28b is a secondary interpolation in the Kings account, creating an “arranged marriage” with Exod 32. 82. For Deuteronomy’s stance toward the Levites and possible connections to Josiah’s reform, see Leuchter, “Levite in Your Gates.” 83. Davies, “Josiah and the Law Book,” 74, makes the same point, albeit in harsher terms: “In short the belief of most biblical scholars that a scroll depriving the monarch of all real powers (and in effect destroying the institution of the monarchy) is a plausible product of seventh-century Judah is astonishing and can only be explained by assuming that such scholarship is taking the fact for granted and thus either ignoring the absurdity or fabricating an implausible rationalization for it.” 84. Levin, “Joschija”; idem, Fortschreibungen Gesammelte Studien, 198; Levine, “Next Phase in Jewish Religion,” 246; Cross, Canaanite Myth, 283; and other proponents of the double redaction theory, including Friedman, Who Wrote the Bible? 101–2; Halpern, First


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Historians, 113; and Nelson, Double Redaction, 120–22. See also Levinson, Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation, 9. 85. On the idea that the term ʤʮʡ specifically denotes a built cult place and not any outdoor shrine or sanctuary, see Barrick, “On the Meaning of bêt-hab/bāmôt,” 642. 86. The term ʺʥʮʡ ʩʺʡ occurs five times in the Kings history, all in reference to northern cult places. Barrick, “On the Meaning of bêt-hab/bāmôt,” 642, suggests that both this term and the more common term ʤʮʡ signified built, public cult places and that the difference between them was one of regional vocabulary, with ʺʥʮʡ ʺʡ as more typical of northern (Israelite) diction. He acknowledges that absence of the term from the book of Hosea is a mitigating factor. Haran, Temples and Temple Service, 25, suggests that the Deuteronomistic redactor coined the term ʺʥʮʡ ʺʩʡ as a derogatory reference to certain northern temples, including that of Jeroboam in Bethel. 87. See the discussion of this scholarship in Richter, Deuteronomistic History, 26–36. 88. Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah; and Richter, Deuteronomistic History, 7–9. 89. The association of the image of Asherah in the Jerusalem temple with Manasseh’s syncretistic policies may constitute an etiology, attempting to explain the origin of this object, which Josiah is said to have removed in the original holiness account of Josiah’s reform. The latter represents a separate literary tradition from the deuteronomistic Manasseh text. 90. The compositional implications of this observation are discussed in chapter 5. 91. Richter, Deuteronomistic History, 208.

chapter 5 1. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 274–87. 2. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 287. 3. Friedman, “Deuteronomistic School”; idem, Exile in Biblical Narrative; idem, “From Egypt to Egypt”; Halpern, First Historians; Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings”; Knoppers, Two Nations; Mayes, Story of Israel; McKenzie, Trouble with Kings; and Nelson, Double Redaction. 4. Carr, Tablet of the Heart; and van der Toorn, Scribal Culture. 5. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 284. 6. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 287. Adherents to the Cross school show virtual unanimity over the attribution of 2 Kgs 22:16–20 and 23:25–27 to Dtr2. 7. Cross, Canaanite Myth, 283.

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8. Others after Cross corrected for this problem; for example, Friedman, Exile and Biblical Narrative, 1–43; and Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah. Arguments against the notion of a restoration of the Davidic state under Josiah are also marshaled on the basis of archeological evidence; see Fried, “High Places”; Na’aman, “Josiah and the Kingdom of Judah”; and Vaughn, Chronicler’s Account of Hezekiah, 19–79. Yet the idea persists that Josiah was modeled on David and that he in fact restored Judah to its position during the period of David’s reign; see Cogan, Imperialism and Religion, 71; Cross, Canaanite Myth, 284; Finkelstein and Silberman, Bible Unearthed, 2.275–76; and Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah. 9. Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 16. 10. Barrick, “Removal of the High Places”; Friedman, Exile and Biblical Narrative, 1–26; idem, “From Egypt to Egypt”; and Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings.” For detailed discussion of such scholarship, see Eynikel, Reform of King Josiah, 7–31. 11. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 48. 12. This was first proposed by Weippert, “Beurteilungen,” followed by Barrick, “Removal of the High Places”; and Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings.” See also Peckham, Composition of the Deuteronomistic History, 7–8. 13. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 153. 14. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 77. 15. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 116–17. 16. Cogan, “Sennacherib’s Siege of Jerusalem,” in Hallo and Younger, Context of Scripture, 2.302–3. 17. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 117. 18. This hypothesis may find support in the portrayal of the two kings’ reigns in Chronicles, where Hezekiah’s reform is more elaborately detailed than it is in Kings. Vaughn, Chronicler’s Account of Hezekiah, 79, argues, with Rosenbaum, “Hezekiah’s Reform,” that the more circumscribed account of Hezekiah’s reign in Kings reflects the Deuteronomist’s interest in Josiah’s exceptionalism. In Chronicles, Josiah undertakes the Passover according to instructions written by David (2 Chr 35:4), whereas Hezekiah seems to act autonomously in the performance of the Passover and in all of the events of his reign. Josiah’s autonomy is circumscribed by textual authority that precedes him; he oversees the rite, but does not act with his own authority. In Chronicles, much as in Kings then, Hezekiah more than Josiah embodies the royal initiative of a Davidic king. 19. The former perspective is more in touch with the realities of preexilic Judah than the latter, which seeks to characterize preexilic religion in Judah as corrupt to the core. 20. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 139–41.


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21. Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings,” 197–98. 22. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 153. On his arguments in favor of a preexilic date for this material, see pp. 120–31. 23. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 153. 24. The possibility that a first Hezekian edition was produced during Manasseh’s reign was first brought to my attention by M. S. Smith (personal communication), who suggests that in the wake of Sennacherib, Manasseh may have seen fit to exalt his father or at least lend tacit support to those who were still amazed at the historical confluence of the fall of the north in 722 and the miracle of Jerusalem’s deliverance in 701. On the ideological underpinnings of Manasseh’s vilification and the possibility of his reign as a more vibrant and creative period in Israel’s history than biblical scholarship has allowed for, see Knauf, “Glorious Days of Manasseh”; Stavrakopoulou, “Blackballing of Manasseh”; and Sweeney, “King Manasseh of Judah.” 25. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 154. 26. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 154. 27. Correlations between the accounts of Manasseh and Josiah’s reigns are laid out in full detail in Halpern and Vanderhooft, “Editions of Kings,” 240–41. 28. Provan, Hezekiah and the Book of Kings, 154. Cf. Lemaire, “Vers l’histoire.” 29. Daniel Fleming (personal communication) observes that it might make more sense in institutional terms for a “holiness” circle with strong temple affiliations to have this kind of influence on palace decisions than a deuteronomistic school with unknown affiliations. After all, the deuteronomistic writer supports the Davidic monarchy but claims the right to evaluate good and bad kings. This does not suggest a palace perspective. 30. See my critique in Monroe, “Review of Barrick,” 423–24. 31. Carr, Tablet of the Heart, 159–61, provides a brilliantly nuanced description of intertextuality in the Bible that is not solely dependent on a process of “visually consulting, citing and interpreting separate written texts.” 32. The ambiguity of these texts’ institutional allegiances argues against the notion that the Hebrew Bible is entirely a product of a priestly scribal culture, as van der Toorn posits in Scribal Culture. 33. Carr, Tablet of the Heart, 159–61. 34. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 209. Knohl’s determination of the date of the Rabshakeh’s speech based on a fixed date for Sennacherib’s campaign against Hezekiah assumes a degree of historicity that the text cannot sustain. Even if such a speech was delivered, the idea that the biblical text that preserves it dates to the same year as the Assyrian invasion is dubious.

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35. Knohl, Sanctuary of Silence, 201, 207n25. 36. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1510. 37. Ginsberg, Israelian Heritage of Judaism. 38. This point was brought to my attention by Daniel Fleming (personal communication, Sept. 2009). 39. These conclusions accord well with work on the book of Judges by Milstein, “When There Was No King,” who argues that the positive reputation of the Israelite judges is retained in the Judahite form of the book, with the Israelites themselves, not their leaders, as the target of critique. 40. Others who argue similarly include Barrick, Cemeteries, 36–37; Lohfink, “Recent Discussion,” 39; Na’aman, “Josiah and the Kingdom of Judah”; and Ogden, “Northern Extent of Josiah’s Reforms.” 41. Na’aman, “Josiah and the Kingdom of Judah.” 42. Albertz, History of Israelite Religion, 1.199. 43. Albertz, “Why a Reform,” 27. 44. On the latter view, see Davies, “Josiah and the Law Book,” esp. 75–76; idem, In Search of Ancient Israel, 39–40; Hoffmann, Reform und Reformen, 264–70; Van Seters, In Search of History, 315–21; and Thompson, Mythic Past, 311–12. 45. Berry, “Code Found in the Temple,” 44–49.

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Index

Aaron, 32, 112, 113 Abraham, 16–17, 97–98 Ahab, 17, 72–74, 104 Ahaz, 85, 89, 132 rooftop altars of, 26, 28, 80, 90, 92 Albertz, R., 135 Amon, 127–129 Anat, 109, 110, 154 Anitta Inscription, 53–56 anticipatory subordination, 91–92, 95 apotropaic ritual, 9–11, 24–30,48, 87, 98–107, 112, 121, 137. See also Leviticus, apotropaic ritual in; Numbers, apotropaic ritual in Asherah, goddess, 27, 78–79, 81, 83, 111, 116, 128 asherah, installation 23–28, 66, 71, 78–83, 100–112, 129 asherim, 24, 65, 66 Assyria, 52–54, 66–67, 72, 74–75, 128 astral cult, 82–83, 87, 88–96 Ba’al, 27, 28, 78, 90, 94, 96, 97 Baal Cycle, 109, 110, 128, 163–164n73 Babylonian exile, 34, 67, 96

bāmôt, 25, 125–127, 130–131, 135, 147n9, 158n7, 161n39, 165nn85–86. burning incense at, 92, 94–95 and centralization, 84–86, 115–117, 128–130, 135 eradication of, 11, 13, 32–40, 42, 43, 82, 83, 85–87, 105–107, 117, 119, 129–130 at gates, 40 priests of, 30–31, 96, 116 Barrick, B., 14, 30–31, 40, 42, 57, 85, 100, 102–103, 105, 106 Begg, C., 111, 112 Ben Hadad, 72–73 Berry, G. R., 19–21, 136 Bethel Jeroboam’s cult at, 41, 99, 109, 110, 112 Josiah’s attack on, 13, 15, 23, 28, 33, 35, 45, 66, 71, 78–83, 87, 96, 98–207, 116, 134 Bryce, T., 54 book of the law. See scroll of the law burial Carthaginian, 36, 148n24 of Josiah, 16–17, 34

200

index

burning in apotropaic ritual, 24, 27, 28, 104, 108–111 in ḥe¯rem, 52, 53, 66, 71 of human bones, 70–71, 81, 100 of incense, 86, 90, 92, 94–95 Carr, D. 123, 131, 132 centralization in the Book of Kings, 126, 128–131 in Deuteronomy, 5, 18, 23, 130, 134, 135, 143n31 in the Holiness Code, 18, 145n58 Josiah’s reform and, 4, 5,13, 14, 84, 85, 113–120, 123, 133, 140n7, 158n5 child sacrifice, 18, 36. See also mlk conquest of Hattusˇ a, 54–55 by Joshua, 13, 46, 48–50, 57, 62, 75, 86 in Mesha Inscription, 57 in Mesoptamian sources, 52–53 corpse contamination, 9, 25, 32, 38, 47, 82 covenant book of the, 15, 68 breach of, 38, 66, 68, 71–72 with David, 117, 119, 123, 128,134 with Moses, 9, 62–63, 86 renewal of, 15, 56–57, 62–64, 68, 86, 122, 134, 136, 152n16, 155n56 Covenant Code, 12, 18, 145n56 Cross, F. M. 67, 122–125, 130 Dagan, 52 David, 7, 60, 63, 86–88, 99, 115–119, 123–126, 128, 130, 134 Deuteronomistic History, 5, 7, 12, 66, 85, 93, 118 double redaction of, 122–130, 135 Deuteronomy, 4–7, 9, 12, 16, 25, 61, 93, 123 centralization as theme in, 14, 23, 24, 29, 85, 1–3, 113, 116, 119, 130, 131 covenant in, 62, 63, golden calf in, 108–112, 164n79

ḥe¯rem in, 9–10, 46–47, 50, 55, 66, 69, 76, 87, 104–105, 107 Holiness Code and, 18–20, 31–32, 36–38, 43, 132, 145nn56–60, 146n65 law of the King in, 14, 89, 113–115 scroll of the law as, 4, 20, 29–30, 133, 147n9 7th-century date for, 13, 122, 133–136 divine wrath, 3, 9, 35, 37, 96, 117, 123, 124 ḥe¯rem as averting, 47, 67, 69 Ebal, Mount, 49–50, 57, 155n49 Eissefeldt, O., 36, 148n24 Eynikel, E., 15, 33–34, 42, 93–94, 101, 125, 158n3 Ezekiel, book of, 32–40, 45, 69, 131–132, 163n66 Nasi in, 63, 131 Ezra, book of, 41, 60, 150n50 figure of, 56, 60–64, 121 Fleming, D. E., 146n65, 152n12, 153n20, 153n26, 158n4, 167n29, 168n38 Gerizim, Mount, 50 Gilgal, 60–61 goats, 70, 146n4, 155n5 high places of, 26–27, 40–43, 79, 82–83, 95, 101 See also seˇ cirîm Goetze, A., 54 golden calf, 24–25, 107–112, 164n77. See also Bethel, Jeroboam’s cult at graves, 17, 24, 27, 29, 78, 80–82, 100 Greenberg, M., 38 Gurney, O. R., 54–55 Halpern, B., 127, 146n64, 167n27 Hayes, C. 111–113 ḥe¯rem and covenant, 9, 48, 57–59, 63–64, 66, 68, 71, 119, 136 against Canaanite cult and cultures, 4, 9–10, 23, 46, 48, 56, 65, 71, 88, 99, 107, 119

index in Deuteronomy (See Deuteronomy, ḥe¯rem in) against Israelite idolatry, 10, 46–47, 66, 68, 76, 107 in Kings (See Kings, ḥe¯rem in) in Leviticus, 69 in the Mesha Inscription, 48–51 in Sabaean evidence, 48–51 as unifying people, land and god, 10, 47, 57, 68 war as context for, 10–11, 48–56, 64–66, 73–76, 151n5, 153n28, 154–155n44, 157n74 Hezekiah, 19, 72, 74–75, 85, 105–106, 124–132, 136, 142n25, 167n34 High places. See bāmôt Hilkiah, 3, 27–29, 71, 78, 86, 88–89, 92, 114 Hinnom Valley, 33, 35, 37, 45, 79, 82–83 Hoffmann, G., 12, 40–41, 143n42, 144n48 Hoffner, H., 55 Holiness Code, 6, 25, 43, 45, 77, 84, 94–95, 136 date and parameters of, 17–21, 131–132, 140–141n12, 144n50–51, 145n53 Deuteronomy and (See Deuteronomy, Holiness Code and) eradication of bāmôt in, 32–40 and Ezekiel 69, 32–40, 131 as Josiah’s scroll of the law, 19–21 programmatic features of, 11, 32, 142n25 holiness school, 11, 14, 18–19, 45, 69, 121–122 diversity of literary production within, 34, 43, 69, 83–86, 107, 132 Huldah, 16–17, 59, 67, 86, 92, 117–18, 124 human bones, 34, 68, 80, 82, 102–107 burning of, 70–71, 81 exhumation of, 17 idolatry, 10, 29, 35, 46–47, 66–69, 76, 87, 118, 126–127, 160n33 ḥe¯rem as eradicating (See ḥe¯rem, against Israelite idolatry)

201

impurity, 6–9, 11, 25–32, 34, 137 Isaiah, book of, 33, 36, 41–42, 69–70 Jeroboam I, 11–12, 17, 73, 82, 87, 103, 112, 161n41 and Bethel, 41, 80, 87, 98–99, 102–103, 107–113, 165n86 and Josiah, 99, 103, 113, 123 sin of, 74, 99–100, 104 Jeremiah, book of, 19, 90, 156n57 Jericho, 54–55, 71, 157n73 Jerusalem, 26–34, 74, 78, 80–86 bāmôt in, 13, 30, 40–43, 45, 84–85, 89–92, 95–96, 105–108 centralization of worship in, 113–119, 140n7 schools of literary production in, 11, 14, 121–136, 167n24 Yahweh’s rejection of, 66–72, 96–99 temple of, 3, 30–31, 34–37, 57–62, 64, 67, 83–90, 98, 107–117, 121–122, 128–129, 136, 140n7, 147n9, 148n20, 165n89 temple priests (See Priests, of Jerusalem temple) See also Zion Joshua, 49–51, 56–64 book of, 13, 50–51, 55, 58, 60–61, 134, 155n51, 156n56, 156n57 city of, 40 gate of, 40, 79, 82 ḥe¯rem warrior, 10, 46, 49, 54, 64, 75–76, 134, 157n73 and Josiah, 56–64, 76, 86–88, 115, 122–124, 131–136, 155n46 and Moses, 62–63, 86–87, 115, 122–124 Judah, 5, 26, 36, 46, 57, 67, 72, 77, 81–82, 86, 161n41, 166n19 borders of, 83, 158n3 high places (bāmôt) in, 26, 33–35, 82–85, 96, 116, 130, 147n9 kings of, 7, 28–29, 37, 66, 78–82, 85–98, 113, 123–130, 159n20 people of, 57, 68, 74

202

index

Judah (continued) priests of, 18, 30, 95–98, 123, 147n9 reforms in, 81–86, 88–99, 119, 133–136, 166n8 scribal activity in, 13, 18, 115, 121–136, 164n83, 168n39 towns of, 26–27, 30–33, 78–79, 82, 92, 95 Karib-ilu, 49–52, 56, 152n9 Keel, O., 42 Kings, book of, 5, 15, 29, 62, 68, 86, 165n86 centralization in, 113–119 deuteronomistic revision in, 6–7, 25, 30, 74–119 double redaction of, 121–137, 145–146n64, 147n9, 158n7, 166n18 compositional history of, 14–19, 58, 77–119, 121–137, 164n81, 166n18 ḥe¯rem in, 72–76 Holiness substratum of, 6, 13, 19, 23–43, 77–119, 121–137 priestly editing of, 11 and ritual, 7–14, 23–43, 98–107 Knohl, I., 18, 132, 142n25, 144n50–n52, 167n34 Knoppers, G., 5, 85, 104 leprosy, 9, 25–26, 32, 47, 101 Levine, B., 9, 145n53, 156n65 Levinson, B., 12–13, 143n31, 145n57 Levites, 50, 147n10, 164n82 Levticus, book of apotropaic ritual in, 9–11, 24–32, 83, 101 eradication of bāmôt in, 24, 32–40, 107 ḥe¯rem in, 69 See also Holiness Code Lohfink, N., 15, 46–48, 69–70, 143n43, 152n9, 156n59, 157n73 Manasseh, 24, 67, 116–117, 167n27 altars of, 26, 28, 80, 90–92, 128 installation of Asherah image by, 116, 165n89

and high places (bāmôt), 85, 89, 117, 127–128 textual production during reign of, 127–130, 167n24 Manasseh, territory of, 134 maṣṣe¯bôt. See standing stones maṣṣôt. See unleavened bread Mesha, Inscription, 48–58, 152n9, 155n48 King of, 49 Milcom, 80, 96–97, 105, 160n33 Milgrom, J, 18, 35, 39, 132, 144n51, 144n52 mlk, offerings to/for, 11, 25, 32, 35–37, 43, 45, 79, 82–83, 128, 148n30 as deity, 36–37 Moab, 48–54, 68, 98 Moabite, 48–54, 68, 80, 105 Moses, 9, 16, 23, 61–63, 86, 89, 115, 122–124 destruction of golden calf by, 24, 107–113, 164n77 song of, 62–63 torah of, 49–50, 57, 63, 86, 89, 113, 115, 124 Mot, 42, 109–111, 163n69, 164n75 Mount of Olives, 82, 105–107, 163n65 Na’aman, N., 134, 159n12, 166n8 Nehemiah, book of, 60, 62, 64 Nelson, R., 57, 60, 152n10, 152n16, 155n46, 155n51, 157–158n2 Noth, M., 7, 20, 123 Numbers, book of, apotropaic ritual in, 9–11, 24–32 control of impurity in, 32, 33 Nasi in, 63 seˇ cirîm in, 41 Oestreicher, T., 14–17, 140n11 Passover associated with consumption of maṣṣô. (See unleavened bread) as performed by Ezra, 60–62

index as performed by Joshua, 60–62, 156n56 as performed by Josiah, 15, 18, 30–31, 60–62, 86, 124, 166n18 priests, 7, 11, 30, 32–33, 52, 63, 71, 81–82, 84, 87–98, 114, 123, 157n71, 157n72 of Holiness School, 18, 32, 130–132 of Judahite bāmôt, 3, 26–27, 30–31, 70, 78–79, 81–82, 95–96, 116, 147n9, 147n10, 159n20 of Jerusalem temple, 13, 28, 78, 84, 86, 88–89, 92, 95, 98, 113, 121, 136, 147n9 komer, 90–96 kohen, 96 Levitical, 50, 114 Provan, I., 125–130, 145–146n64, 158n7 purification, 15, 27, 29–32, 82, 89, 109 ritual, 45–48, 62, 101, 147n10 Queen Mother, 127–130

203

priests of, 71 Sargon I, 52 scroll of the law, 3–4, 15, 19–21, 29–30, 37, 57–60, 64–68, 88, 114, 133–136 as Holiness Code, 19–21 seˇ cirîm, 25–27, 40–43, 45, 79, 83, 95, 101 See also goats Sennacherib, 74–75, 126–128, 167n24, 167n34 Sinai, 16, 112–113 Smith, M. S., 36, 142n26, 150n55, 154n44, 163–164n73, 164n78, 167n24 Solomon, 11–12, 56, 80, 89, 105–106, 116–119, 134 South Arabia, 48–56 standing stones, 10, 23, 65–69, 80, 104–105 Stackert, J., 18, 149n39 Stern, P., 55, 70, 151n2, 154n33 Sweeney, M., 114–116

Rabshakeh, 72–75, 132, 167n34 Rahab, 75 reform report, 5, 14–17, 140n11, 143n43 Rehoboam, 117 revision, in Deuteronomy, 12–13 in deuteronomistic texts, 11–13, 43, 153n21, 155n52 in 2 Kgs 23, 77–119, 133–134, 159n11 of Pentateuch by Priestly writers, 142n26 Richter, S., 116–119, 140n7, 143n33, 146n1, 155n52 ritual, 3–21, 29–32, 83–86, 101–102, 107–108, 112, 131, 141n15 apotropaic (See apotropaic ritual) language, 9–14, 24–30, 77, 112, 121, 141n17 priestly, 12, 23–43, 45–48, 99, 104–107, 137 at Ugarit, 109–111. 163n69 Routledge, B., 48–49

Tel Dan, 40, 149n42 Tiglath-Pileser I, 52–53 tophet, 33–37, 45, 79–83, 128, 148n20 Torah, 35, 59, 114, 144n52 Priestly, 18 See also scroll of the law; Moses, torah of

Sabaean, 48–56, 152n11 Samaria, 70–75, 81, 87–88, 99, 104, 116, 134, 159n12, 161n41

Zephaniah, book of 36, 96–98, 159n14, 160n25, 161n39 Zion, 116–119

Uehlinger, C., 42, 91, 93–94 unleavened bread, 25, 30–32, 79–83, 147n10 Valley of Ben-Hinnom. See Hinnom Valley Vanderhooft, D., 127, 145–146n64 van der Toorn, K., 123, 140n9 veˇ qātal forms, 94–95, 106 Wadi Kidron, 24–28, 66, 78, 108 de Wette, W.M.L., 4–5, 133 Wright, D, 8–9, 141n17, 141n19

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