Journal of Biblical Literature VOLUME 121, No. 4
Winter 2002
The Circumscription of the King: Deuteronomy 17:16–17 in Its Ancient Social Context PATRICIA DUTCHER-WALLS
601–616
Ancestral Motifs in 1 Samuel 25: Intertextuality and Characterization MARK E. BIDDLE
617–638
What’s in a Name? Neo-Assyrian Designations for the Northern Kingdom and Their Implications for Israelite History and Biblical Interpretation BRAD E. KELLE
639–666
Experiments to Develop Criteria for Determining the Existence of Written Sources, and Their Potential Implications for the Synoptic Problem ROBERT K. MCIVER and MARIE CARROLL
667–687
Wisdom for the Perfect: Paul’s Challenge to the Corinthian Church (1 Corinthians 2:6–16) SIGURD GRINDHEIM
689–709
Jewish Laws on Illicit Marriage, the Defilement of Offspring, and the Holiness of the Temple: A New Halakic Interpretation of 1 Corinthians 7:14 YONDER MOYNIHAN GILLIHAN
711–744
Book Reviews 745—Annual Index 796 US ISSN 0021–9231
JOURNAL OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE PUBLISHED QUARTERLY BY THE
SOCIETY OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE (Constituent Member of the American Council of Learned Societies) EDITORS OF THE JOURNAL General Editor: GAIL R. O’DAY, Candler School of Theology, Emory University, Atlanta, GA 30322 Book Review Editor: TODD C. PENNER, Austin College, Sherman, TX 75090
EDITORIAL BOARD
Term Expiring 2002: BRIAN K. BLOUNT, Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, NJ 08542 DAVID M. CARR, Union Theological Seminary, New York, NY 10027 PAMELA EISENBAUM, Iliff School of Theology, Denver, CO 80210 JOHN S. KSELMAN, Weston Jesuit School of Theology, Cambridge, MA 02138 JEFFREY KUAN, Pacific School of Religion, Berkeley, CA 94709 STEVEN L. McKENZIE, Rhodes College, Memphis, TN 38112 ALAN F. SEGAL, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York, NY 10027-6598 GREGORY E. STERLING, University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, IN 46556 STEPHEN WESTERHOLM, McMaster University, Hamilton, ON L8S 4K1 CANADA 2003:
SUSAN ACKERMAN, Dartmouth College, Hanover, NH 03755 MICHAEL L. BARRÉ, St. Mary’s Seminary & University, Baltimore, MD 21210 ATHALYA BRENNER, University of Amsterdam, 1012 GC Amsterdam, The Netherlands MARC BRETTLER, Brandeis University, Waltham, MA 02254-9110 WARREN CARTER, St. Paul School of Theology, Kansas City, MO 64127 PAUL DUFF, George Washington University, Washington, DC 20052 BEVERLY R. GAVENTA, Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, NJ 08542 JUDITH LIEU, King’s College London, London WC2R 2LS United Kingdom KATHLEEN O’CONNOR, Columbia Theological Seminary, Decatur, GA 30031 C. L. SEOW, Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, NJ 08542 VINCENT WIMBUSH, Union Theological Seminary, New York, NY 10027
2004:
JANICE CAPEL ANDERSON, University of Idaho, Moscow, ID 83844 MOSHE BERNSTEIN, Yeshiva University, New York, NY 10033-3201 ROBERT KUGLER, Gonzaga University, Spokane, WA 99258 BERNARD M. LEVINSON, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN 55455-0125 THEODORE J. LEWIS, University of Georgia, Athens, GA 30602 TIMOTHY LIM, University of Edinburgh, Edinburgh EH1 2LX Scotland STEPHEN PATTERSON, Eden Theological Seminary, St. Louis, MO 63119 ADELE REINHARTZ, McMaster University, Hamilton, ON L8S 4K1 Canada NAOMI A. STEINBERG, DePaul University, Chicago, IL 60614 SZE-KAR WAN, Andover Newton Theological School, Newton Centre, MA 92459
Editorial Assistant: C. Patrick Gray, Emory University, Atlanta, GA 30322 President of the Society: John J. Collins, Yale University, New Haven, CT 06511; Vice President: Eldon Jay Epp, Lexington, MA 02420-2827; Chair, Research and Publications Committee: David L. Petersen, Candler School of Theology, Emory University, Atlanta, GA 30322; Executive Director: Kent H. Richards, Society of Biblical Literature, 825 Houston Mill Road, Suite 350, Atlanta, GA 30329. The Journal of Biblical Literature (ISSN 0021– 9231) is published quarterly. The annual subscription price is US$35.00 for members and US$75.00 for nonmembers. Institutional rates are also available. For information regarding subscriptions and membership, contact: Society of Biblical Literature, P.O. Box 2243, Williston, VT 05495-2243. Phone: 877-725-3334 (toll free) or 802-864-6185. FAX: 802-864-7626. E-mail:
[email protected]. For information concerning permission to quote, editorial and business matters, please see the Spring issue, p. 2. The JOURNAL OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE (ISSN 0021– 9231) is published quarterly by the Society of Biblical Literature, 825 Houston Mill Road, Suite 350, Atlanta, GA 30329. Periodical postage paid at Atlanta, Georgia, and at additional mailing offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Society of Biblical Literature, P.O. Box 2243, Williston, VT 05495-2243. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
JBL 121/4 (2002) 601–616
THE CIRCUMSCRIPTION OF THE KING: DEUTERONOMY 17:16–17 IN ITS ANCIENT SOCIAL CONTEXT
PATRICIA DUTCHER-WALLS
[email protected] Knox College, Toronto, ON M5S 2E6 Canada
The portrait of the king in Deuteronomic law (Deut 17:14–21) presents a distinctive view of kingship and royal authority. The role of a Deuteronomic king is carefully limited in ways that seem to reflect ideological interests. Various literary, redactional, and general social studies of “the law of the king” have identified key components. In particular Deut 17:16–17 sets limits on a king’s behavior that appear especially intriguing if only because they are so antithetical to usual assumptions about royal actions. But a social-scientific approach can set this part of the law into the social contexts of ancient agrarian monarchies and empires. The task of this article is, then, to ask: When we use socialscientific theories to examine the ideological circumscription of the king in Deut 17:16–17, what insights can be gained about the power politics of the social group espousing that ideology in the social context of the ancient world? Several preliminary remarks on issues of redaction, background and significance, and method are necessary. I. Preliminary Issues Redaction The focus of this article will be two verses within the law of the king, Deut 17:16–17, more specifically, vv. 16aa, 17aa, and 17b. These lines limit the king’s ability to acquire horses, wives, and riches. A compositional and redactional study of the law of the king is beyond the scope of this article, but we can This article is a major revision of a paper presented at the SBL annual meeting in 1999 for a joint session of the Biblical Law section and the Deuteronomistic History section. The theme of the session was “Royal Authority in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History.”
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assume the generally accepted views on such issues. Most commentators note the similarity in vv. 16aa, 17aa, and 17b, and many place them in the earliest Deuteronomic or proto-Deuteronomic layer of composition.1 Scholars then make various proposals on Deuteronomic and Deuteronomistic additions that eventually created not only these two verses but the whole law of the king and the section of laws on the offices (Deut 16:18–18:22). Commentators also propose various dates for the redactional layers ranging from pre- or protoDeuteronomic or Deuteronomistic development to exilic composition or redaction.2 Along with many scholars, we will assume that the lines in question, if not other parts of the law of the king and the laws on offices, are part of a preexilic, Deuteronomic composition.3 This assumption places the examination of 1 Among other commentaries, see Peter C. Craigie, The Book of Deuteronomy (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976); A. D. H. Mayes, Deuteronomy (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979); Horst Dietrich Preuss, Deuteronomium (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1982); Patrick D. Miller, Deuteronomy (IBC; Louisville: John Knox, 1990); Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11 (AB 5; New York: Doubleday, 1991); Eduard Nielsen, Deuteronomium (HAT; Tübingen: Mohr-Siebeck, 1995); Ronald Clements, “Deuteronomy,” NIB 2:271–538. See also more specialized studies, e.g., on the law of the king: Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972; repr., Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1992); F. García López, “Le Roi d’Israel: Dt 17,14–20,” in Das Deuteronomium: Entstehung, Gestalt und Botschaft (ed. Norbert Lohfink; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1985), 277–97; Gerald Eddie Gerbrandt, Kingship According to the Deuteronomistic History (SBLDS 87; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986); Udo Rüterswörden, Von der politischen Gemeinschaft zur Gemeinde (BBB 65; Frankfurt am Main: Athenäum, 1987); Norbert Lohfink, “Distribution of the Functions of Power: The Laws Concerning Public Offices in Deuteronomy 16:18–18:22,” in A Song of Power and the Power of Song: Essays on the Book of Deuteronomy (ed. Duane L. Christensen; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1993), 336–52 (originally, “Die Sicherung der Wirksamkeit des Gotteswortes durch das Prinzip der Schriftlichkeit der Tora und durch das Prinzip der Gewaltenteilung nach den Ämtergesetzen des Buches Deuteronomium (Dt 16,18–18,22),” in Testimonium Veritate (ed. H. Wolter; Frankfurter Theologische Studien 7; Frankfurt am Main: Knecht, 1971), 144–55; Gary N. Knoppers, Two Nations under God: The Deuteronomistic History of Solomon and the Dual Monarchies, vol. 1, The Reign of Solomon and the Rise of Jeroboam (HSM; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1993); idem, “The Deuteronomist and the Deuteronomic Law of the King: A Reexamination of a Relationship,” ZAW 108 (1996): 329–46; Bernard M. Levinson, Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation (New York: Oxford, 1997); J. G. McConville, “King and Messiah in Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History,” in King and Messiah in Israel and the Ancient Near East (ed. John Day; (JSOTSup 20; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 271–95; Gary N. Knoppers, “Rethinking the Relationship between Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomistic History: The Case of Kings,” CBQ 63 (2001): 393–415. 2 A related significant issue is the relationship between the view of kingship in Deuteronomy and in the Deuteronomistic History. The view that at least vv. 16aa, 17aa, and 17b are preexilic suggests that they either precede or are contemporary with Deuteronomistic portrayals of kingship. But the issues are complex and outside the scope of this paper. See especially Gerbrandt, Kingship; Knoppers, Two Nations; McConville, “King and Messiah”; and Knoppers, “Rethinking the Relationship” and the literature cited in those works. 3 See, e.g., Gerbrandt, Kingship, 103–8; Mayes, Deuteronomy, 270–71; García López, “Le
Dutcher-Walls: Deuteronomy 17:16–17
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the implications of Deut 17:16aa, 17aa, and 17b within a monarchic political situation in the seventh century B.C.E. when Judah was largely dominated by Assyria.4 Background and Significance There are various theories as to the background and significance of the limits placed on the king in Deut 17:16–17. Numerous scholars point out that these limits (and much of the law of the king) have a historical background in the sustained prophetic critiques of royal authority and royal abuses of power. A related proposal is that the origin of the limits is in the actual experiences of Israel with its kings, their powers and their excesses.5 Against this understanding of the historical background, discussion of the law of the king, as a whole and within the laws on offices, reveals two aspects of the significance of these laws. (1) Deuteronomy 16:18–18:22 is significant because it places all authorities in the nation under the authority of Yahweh and within the covenant character of law for the nation. (2) The laws on offices provide for a balance of
Roi,” 282–87; Rüterswörden, Von der politischen Gemeinschaft, 89–93; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1–11, 55–57; and McConville, “King and Messiah,” 276–81. Thomas C. Römer summarizes: “There may be quite a consensus in critical scholarship about the seventh century B.C.E. as the starting point of deuteronomism” (“Transformations in Deuteronomistic and Biblical Historiography,” ZAW 109 [1997]: 2). 4 While the written text of Deut 17:16aa, 17aa, and 17b will be taken as an expression of Deuteronomic ideology, positing a written format for the expression of an ideology is not strictly necessary to the task. One could posit a group within Judah’s elite classes in the seventh century that promoted such an ideology without a written expression of it because ideologies can be propagated through other material means, such as monumental architecture and ceremonial events. An examination of the role of literacy and writing in the expression of ideology, though beyond my task, is a significant, related topic. See Elizabeth DeMarrais, Luis Jaime Castillo, and Timothy Earle, “Ideology, Materialization and Power Strategies,” in Agency, Ideology, and Power in Archeological Theory, Current Anthropology 37 (1996): 15–31; and Mogens Trolle Larsen, “Introduction: Literacy and Social Complexity,” in State and Society: The Emergence and Development of Social Hierarchy and Political Centralization (ed. John Gledhill, Barbara Bender, and Mogens Trolle Larsen; London: Unwin Hyman, 1988), 173–91. For examples of articles that understand this type of expression of ideology in ancient Israel, see Carol L. Meyers, “Jachin and Boaz in Religious and Political Perspective,” CBQ 45 (1983): 167–78; and Keith W. Whitelam, “The Symbols of Power: Aspects of Royal Propaganda in the United Monarchy,” BA 49 (September 1986): 166–73. For works that focus on Assyrian influence through figurative and cultural forms, see Jane M. Cahill, “Rosette Stamp Impressions from Ancient Judah,” IEJ 45 (1995): 230–52; and Christoph Uelhinger, “Figurative Policy, Propaganda und Prophetie,” in Congress Volume: Cambridge 1995 (ed. J. A. Emerton; VTSup 66; Leiden: Brill, 1995). 5 See, e.g., Mayes, Deuteronomy, 270; Miller, Deuteronomy, 147; Clements, “Deuteronomy,” 418, 427; see also Knoppers, “Deuteronomist,” 331–34; and McConville, “King and Messiah,” 276–81, who both provide a discussion of the issues and related bibliography.
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powers among the leaders, which limits the power of all the offices, particularly the king, so that the laws work together as a “constitution” for the nation.6 For many scholars, the law of the king, more specifically, is significant in placing theological/ideological (if not actual) limitations on kingship. Scholars discuss three broad limitations. (1) The law markedly reduces the powers of the king and thereby the possibilities of abuse of power. (2) The law places kingship within the covenantal and community character of Israel as enjoined upon it by Yahweh. (3) The law reminds the king that the full allegiance and loyalty of the whole community, and in particular the king himself, are to be given to Yahweh.7 The specific clauses in the law of the king in Deut 17:16–17 concerning horses, wives, and wealth also are seen by scholars to have various types of significance. All three prohibitions fit generally within an intent to limit royal powers and thereby abuse, and to enjoin royal allegiance to Yahweh. The limit on horses signifies a limit on a professional standing army as opposed to popular militias and has related implications concerning Yahweh’s leadership in “holy war.” It also entails a limit on foreign entanglements and alliances to secure horses for military purposes. The limit on wives signifies a move to limit foreign entanglements and in particular to limit temptations to apostasy that accompany such marriages outside the community of Israel. The limit on wealth signifies a limit on commerce with foreign nations and/or a limit on the king’s accumulation of power and status above other Israelites.8 What is striking about all these discussions is how much they are oriented to understanding the background and significance of vv. 16–17 (and the law of the king by extension) almost exclusively in an internal Israelite context. As reviewed above, the law and these verses are taken to originate in Israel’s historical experience with its kings and/or in prophetic critiques of kingship. The theological/ideological significance of the law and these verses is the limitation set on royal behavior within the community of Israel and under Yahweh’s covenant, granted that for some scholars this does limit foreign entanglements symbolized by military, trade, or marriage alliances. Almost absent from these discussions is any recognition that, in the time period during which elements of the Deuteronomic law of the king were being developed (the seventh century
6 Although these authors differ on redactional issues, see in particular Miller, Deuteronomy, 141; Lohfink, “Distribution”; Preuss, Deuteronomium, 137; and Clements, “Deuteronomy,” 417. 7 Again, although these authors differ on redactional issues, see Craigie, Deuteronomy, 253–54; Mayes, Deuteronomy, 272–73; Lohfink, “Distribution,” 348; Gerbrandt, Kingship, 110; Miller, Deuteronomy, 147; Knoppers, “Deuteronomist,” 332; and Clements, “Deuteronomy,” 425–26. 8 See Craigie, Deuteronomy, 255–56; Lohfink, “Distribution,” 349; García-Lopez, “Le Roi,” 292–93; Gerbrandt, Kingship, 111–12; Rüterswörden, Von der politischen Gemeinschaft, 91; and McConville, “King and Messiah,” 276.
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B.C.E.), Judah was either a vassal of the Assyrian empire, was briefly attempting to free itself from that empire, or was attempting to avoid/react to the Babylonian empire. While this article will not seek to discount the theories on vv. 16– 17 that have been noted so far, it will attempt to expand the understanding of the internal social dynamics implied in the limitations on kingship in Deut 17:16–17 and to place the background and significance of these verses within the larger social context of the Assyrian empire.
Method In order to achieve the ends just noted, a social-scientific approach is necessary to focus on the patterns of interaction among the social actors involved, be they kings, elites, or empires. This approach will be complemented by the historical study of ancient Israel and Assyria, particularly utilizing recent work on political and ideological relationships within the Neo-Assyrian empire. In addition, because what is at issue in a law about kingship is a conceptualization or ideology of kingship rather than the action of particular historical kings, the methods used must also be sensitive to the function of ideology in social power relations. Building on the discussions of recent decades about ancient Israel’s social world and institutions,9 we will use systemic and comparative theories from the social sciences, including macrosociology and anthropology.10 Within systemic and comparative social-science theories on states and state development, two recent approaches have been especially helpful for examining social power relationships and the impact of ideology on those relationships within ancient social contexts. Both the theory of dual-processual evolution and that of coreperiphery relations are extensions and refinements of theories on early and developing states, which have been familiar in biblical scholarship especially on early Israel.11 The usefulness for our task of these two recent theories stems
9 The bibliography on sociological studies is extensive; for collections of relevant articles, see Community, Identity, and Ideology: Social Science Approaches to the Hebrew Bible (ed. Charles E. Carter and Carol L. Meyers; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1996); and Social-Scientific Old Testament Criticism (ed. David Chalcraft; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997). For a review of the field, see A. D. H. Mayes, “Sociology and the Old Testament,” in The World of Ancient Israel (ed. R. E. Clements; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 39–63. 10 See, e.g., Gerhard Lenski, Patrick Nolan, and Jean Lenski, Human Societies: An Introduction to Macrosociology (7th ed.; New York: McGraw-Hill, 1995). 11 On dual-processual evolution, see especially Richard E. Blanton, Gary M. Feinman, Stephen A. Kowalewski, and Peter N. Peregrine, “A Dual-Processual Theory for the Evolution of Mesoamerican Civilization,” in Agency, Ideology and Power in Archaeological Theory, Current Anthropology 37 (1996): 1–14; and Thomas Fillitz, “Intellectual Elites and the Production of Ideology,” in Ideology and the Formation of Early States (ed. Henri J. M. Claessen and Jarich G. Oosten;
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from their attention to several relevant factors: ancient monarchic societies, complexity within social systems, and ideology as a societal component. An ideology as a part of a culture’s socially constructed and shared meanings12 has a dual function: to provide cognitive meaning, “a more fundamental dogmatic dimension,” and to provide practical guides to action, “a more pragmatic, operative dimension.”13 Thus, ideology is a “focussed expression of different shared meanings and different interpretations of the same meanings as they are related to specific socio-economic and political interests.”14 A conflict about an ideology, or between variant ideologies, within a particular social setting will mirror conflict among or between social actors who have their own interests in power, wealth, status, and so on.15 To take these clauses in vv. 16–17 as a part of an expression of royal ideology is thus to propose that we see these lines as an expression of a particular “worldview” that had concomitant social, economic, and political implications and to propose that the ideology was fostered by a group of elites within seventh-century Judah. What is common to all the studies of agrarian states is the pattern of struggle among elites for control of the apparatus of government—either as a “state apparatus” or, in the form most common to agrarian societies, as the monarchy. 16 Thus, the circumscription of royal authority
Leiden: Brill, 1996), 67–83. On core-periphery relations, see especially Christopher Chase-Dunn and Thomas D. Hall, Core/Periphery Relations in Precapitalist Worlds (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1991); Edward M. Schortman and Patricia A. Urban, “Core/Periphery Relations in Ancient Southeastern Mesoamerica,” in Living on the Edge, Current Anthropology 35 (1994): 401–13; Centre and Periphery in the Ancient World (ed. Michael Rowlands, Mogens Larsen, and Kristian Kristiansen; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987); and Resources, Power, and Interregional Interaction (ed. Edward M. Schortman and Patricia A. Urban; New York: Plenum Press, 1992). 12 A variety of definitions of “ideology” have been used in sociological literature, and a number of conceptual debates have arisen. See, e.g., the discussion in Henri J. M. Claessen and Jarich G. Oosten, “Introduction,” in Ideology, ed. Claessen and Oosten, 1–23. 13 From Myron J. Aronoff, who uses Geertz and Berger and Luckman to formulate his definitions (Myron J. Aronoff, “Ideology and Interest: The Dialectics of Politics,” in Political Anthropology Yearbook I [New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Books, 1980], 4). 14 Ibid., 8 15 Ibid., 25. 16 Gerhard E. Lenski, Power and Privilege: A Theory of Social Stratification (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984), 211; and Keith Whitelam, “Israelite Kingship: The Royal Ideology and Its Opponents,” in World of Ancient Israel, ed. Clements, 121. For the notion that “kingdom” is the appropriate term for ancient monarchies, see Paul Garelli, “L’État et la Légitimité Royale sous l’Empire Assyrien,” in Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires (ed. Mogens Trolle Larsen; Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag, 1979), 319. Different studies have defined the conflict as the struggles of local versus state institutions (Donald V. Kurtz, “The Legitimation of Early Inchoate States,” in The Study of the State [ed. Henri J. M. Claessen and Peter Skalník; The Hague: Mouton, 1981], 177–200), or as the struggles of kinship-based groups versus ruling elites (Shirley Ratnagar, “Ideology and the Nature of Political Consolidation and Expansion: An Archae-
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implied in Deut 17:16–17 was probably not the only definition available, and conflict over how to define kingship involved both conceptual and practical elements. Since all groups in a situation of ideological conflict claim theological validation and legitimation for their views, the various definitions of kingship each probably claimed to be upholding “true” nationalistic and Yahwistic interests.17
II. Internal Social Dynamics We begin a social-scientific examination of the “internal” implications of vv. 16aa, 17aa, and 17b by asking what are the meanings of the prohibitions against excessive horses, wives, and wealth, focusing on the “practical” or “realworld” function of the ideology—what this ideology claimed about what a king could or could not actually do in political and economic terms. Dual-processual theory was developed in reaction to evolutionary theories of state development that use a “simple stage typology to account for variation among societies of similar complexity.”18 Instead, this theory investigates “the varying strategies used by political actors to construct and maintain polities”19 that may not show a linear, evolutionary development but rather may show cycles of change, growth, contraction, and varying patterns of elite control of the state. Dual-processual theory identifies two broad types of power strategies used by elites in agrarian states. In the first, called an exclusionary strategy, “political actors aim at the development of a political system built around their monopoly control of sources of power.”20 In competition among elites for wealth, status, and power, or in competition of elites against a major power holder such as a king, an exclusionary political strategy emphasizes the building and exploitation of networks of social, economic, and political connections beyond a power holder’s local group to build prestige and power. To develop exclusionary power by networking, political actors exploit, for example, military technology and control, patrimonial rhetoric and systems of ranked clan and descent groups, and trade and control of luxury and prestige goods.21 By contrast, the second power strategy, termed a corporate power strategy, aims to distribute, structure, and control power within limits set by an elite ological Case,” in Ideology and the Formation of Early States, ed. Claessen and Oosten, 170–86), or as the struggles of rulers versus commoner communities (John Gledhill, “Introduction: The Comparative Analysis of Social and Political Transitions,” in State and Society, ed. Gledhill et al., 1–29). 17 I am indebted to Dr. Marvin Chaney for this insight. 18 Blanton et al., “Dual-Processual Theory,” 1. 19 Ibid. 20 Ibid., 2. 21 Ibid., 4–5.
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structure of corporate governance. “Power is shared across different groups and sectors of society in such a way as to inhibit exclusionary strategies.”22 Not to be confused with an egalitarian or democratic impulse, corporate power strategies emphasize the domination of society by powerful, centralized formations. Ideologically, such a strategy “always involves the establishment and maintenance of a cognitive code that emphasizes a corporate solidarity of society as an integrated whole . . . [and] . . . emphasizes collective representations and accompanying ritual.”23 Exclusionary and corporate power strategies are not mutually exclusive within any one polity. Both may be pursued by political actors in varying degrees at the same time; or one or the other may be applied to internal or external social relations; or they may be used sequentially as the goals of elites, or the elites themselves, change.24 Where do the limits on the king fit within these power strategies? First, horses are principally used for military technology, in the ancient Near East particularly to pull chariots. For elites struggling against a ruler or among themselves, the ability to control military power was the most basic form of force by which to carry out one’s own strategies. Kings in particular needed an army that could carry out commands and secure resources. 25 Other elites generally wanted to limit the king’s ability to use force, at least against them, while allowing the kingdom to have sufficient defensive power. Because horses required a large expenditure for acquisition, care, and training, the prohibition against horses may represent a limit on the king’s ability to control a professional army. Keeping military technology in the hands of either military officers separate from the king’s private forces or in the hands of a militarized elite class limited the king’s power to enforce his own strategies and decisions over against these elites.26 From a sociological perspective, marriage among elites is an arrangement of economic, social, and political import, rather than a romantic matter. The number of wives, their origins in key upper-class families or clans, and the number of children produced, were all matters of royal status. We can highlight the use of marriage by elites, and kings in particular, to gain political advantage or establish strategic political alliances.27 Limiting a king’s ability to arrange mar-
22
Ibid., 2. Ibid., 6. 24 Ibid., 8–12, where Blanton et al. apply the theory to the states of Mesoamerica. 25 Reinhard Bendix, Kings or People: Power and the Mandate to Rule (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), 219. 26 Lenski, Power and Privilege, 237. 27 Gideon Sjoberg, The Preindustrial City (New York: Free Press, 1960), 149. 23
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riages at will with key families or allies would hamper his use of an important strategic political tool.28 In a sense, “gold and silver,” or wealth, is the most transparent of the three limitations put on the king in Deut 17. In agrarian societies, control of the apparatus of government brought the possibility of enormous accumulation of wealth, since the whole economy was oriented toward extracting wealth from all productive sources and channeling it to the center, the government, monarchy, elites, and king.29 A limitation on the wealth of a king translates into curtailing the king’s control of the economic surplus by restricting his rights to taxation, trade, rents, fees, plunder and confiscation, and so on. The principal rivals to the king’s control of wealth were other elites, particularly the holders of large patrimonial or prebendal estates.30 The prohibitions against excessive horses, wives, and wealth in Deut 17:16–17 are specific limitations of the king’s abilities to use typical exclusionary power strategies. It appears that the group propagating this aspect of royal ideology knew very well the strategies a king can use to gain power against rivals to the throne and against other elites. The king was not to be allowed to seek exclusionary control through development of a large chariot force, to exploit political connections through marriage alliances, or to use trade networks and prestige goods to accumulate wealth. This sociological perspective thus reinforces the idea that the significance of these verses lies in their limitation of the king’s power within the state of ancient Judah. But this sociological perspective also emphasizes, more than most scholars have seen, the internal political struggles inherent in the propagation and application of such an ideological stance. In the background of such limits on kingship stand certain power holders who are acting against other elites to increase their power over the king by limiting his exclusionary powers.
III. External Social Dynamics Historical studies that examine the impact on Israel and Judah of the Assyrian empire in the late eighth and seventh centuries B.C.E. form the background for all further work.31 The destructiveness of Assyria’s western military 28 This dynamic was explored without the use of sociological theory in Jon D. Levenson and Baruch Halpern, “The Political Import of David’s Marriages,” JBL 99 (1980): 507–18. 29 Lenski, Power and Privilege, 212. 30 T. F. Carney, The Shape of the Past: Models and Antiquity (Lawrence, KS: Coronado Press, 1975), 61. 31 Representative works include Morton Cogan, Imperialism and Religion: Assyria, Judah,
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campaigns and the vassal status of Judah during much of the period, with the conditions that status entailed, such as payment of tribute, are well established. Numerous studies have also examined the effects of the political and cultural concomitants of Assyrian hegemony, particularly regarding the influence of genres of ancient Near Eastern and Neo-Assyrian treaties and oaths on biblical literature. These studies have focused on Deuteronomy and Deuteronomistic writing and on covenant forms and theology, covering topics ranging from the generalized study of treaty and oath formulas and structures and their impact on the Deuteronomic stream of tradition, to strict verbal parallels such as those between Assyrian and Deuteronomic curses. 32 Although the influence of ancient Near Eastern treaties on the form and theology of covenant in Deuteronomy is generally accepted, some issues remain.33 Recent articles have studied further the use of Assyrian literary genres and specific verbal parallels to biblical literature.34 Eckhart Otto has explored the far-reaching impact of the ideological, social, and economic changes that accompanied Assyrian hegemony on Deuteronomy, both on its principal conceptualizations in reactualizand Israel in the Eighth and Seventh Centuries B.C.E. (SBLMS 19; Missoula, MT: Society of Biblical Literature and Scholars Press, 1974); Moshe Elat, “The Political Status of the Kingdom of Judah within the Assyrian Empire in the 7th Century B.C.E.,” in Investigations at Lachish: The Sanctuary and the Residency (Lachish V) (ed. Yohanan Aharoni; Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Institute of Archeology and Gateway Publishers, 1975), 61–70; Benedikt Otzen, “Israel under the Assyrians,” in Power and Propaganda, ed Larsen, 251–61; Ehud Ben Zvi, “Prelude to a Reconstruction of Historical Manassic Judah,” BN 81 (1996): 31–44; and Roy Gane, “The Role of Assyria in the Ancient Near East during the Reign of Manasseh,” Andrews University Seminary Studies 35 (1997): 21–32. Also see such varied studies as Mario Liverani, “L’Histoire de Joas,” VT 24 (1974): 438–53; Moshe Weinfeld, “Zion and Jerusalem as Religious and Political Capital: Ideology and Utopia,” in The Poet and the Historian: Essays in Literary and Historical Biblical Criticism (ed. Richard Elliott Friedman; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1983), 75–115; K. Lawson Younger, Jr., Ancient Conquest Accounts: A Study in Ancient Near Eastern and Biblical History Writing (JSOTSup 98; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990); Antti Laato, “Second Samuel 7 and Ancient Near Eastern Royal Ideology,” CBQ 59 (1997): 244–69. 32 The bibliography is extensive, including such representatives works as William L. Moran, “The Ancient Near Eastern Background of the Love of God in Deuteronomy,” CBQ 25 (1963): 77–87; R. Frankena, “The Vassal-Treaties of Esarhaddon and the Dating of Deuteronomy,” OtSt 14 (1965): 123–54; Weinfeld, Deuteronomic School; idem, “The Loyalty Oath in the Ancient Near East,” UF 8 (1976): 379– 414; D. J. McCarthy, Treaty and Covenant (2d ed.; AnBib 21A; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1978); A. D. H. Mayes, “On Describing the Purpose of Deuteronomy,” in The Pentateuch: A Sheffield Reader (ed. John W. Rogerson; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996). 33 See Gary N. Knoppers, “Ancient Near Eastern Royal Grants and the Davidic Covenant: A Parallel?” JAOS 116 (1996): 670–97 and bibliography there. 34 William Hallo, “Jerusalem under Hezekiah: An Assyriological Perspective,” in Jerusalem: Its Sanctity and Centrality to Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (ed. Lee I. Levine, New York: Continuum, 1999), 36–50; Bernard M. Levinson, “Textual Criticism, Assyriology, and the History of Interpretation: Deuteronomy 13:7a as a Test Case in Method,” JBL 120 (2001): 211–43.
Dutcher-Walls: Deuteronomy 17:16–17
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ing older laws within a revolutionary reform program and on particular expressions and laws.35 Perspectives from the social sciences can augment such scholarship. In recent years, sociology has seen the development of a theory of core–periphery relations, that is, of relations between a dominant, core state and the secondary, peripheral states on its borders.36 This theory has identified a number of variables that must be taken into account in describing core–periphery relations. These variables include differentiation among societies at different levels of complexity, the nature of the hierarchical relationships where domination between societies exists,37 the existence of multiple power centers or cores in a system,38 the different modes of production, kinship, tributary, and so on, in the related states,39 and the variables along which core–periphery relations are measured.40 The most important factors include military, political, economic, and ideological relationships between the core and the periphery. Scholars have furthermore identified three principal variations in the political-economic structure of core–periphery systems. These are (1) a dendritic political economy, where goods flow directly from the periphery to the core; (2) a hegemonic empire, in which the core dominates its periphery by military force but does not necessarily incorporate the peripheral states directly; and (3) the territorial empire, in which the periphery is incorporated into the political system of the core through direct conquest, military occupation, and assimilation.41 The theory suggests that the Neo-Assyrian empire and its core–periphery relations can be characterized as a system in which the core dominated the periphery in certain specific ways through direct and indirect rule but which did not fully assimilate its outermost peripheral states into the core.42 Assyria 35 Eckart Otto, Das Deuteronomium: Politische Theologie und Rechtsreform in Juda und Assyrien (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999). 36 Partially developed by theorists interested in modern world systems, core–periphery theory has also focused on ancient and premodern states with an accompanying emphasis on the use of archaeological materials as a source of data. An assumed pattern of domination and development in the core alongside passivity and underdevelopment on the periphery has proven much too simplified. See such studies as S. N. Eisenstadt, “Observations and Queries about Sociological Aspects of Imperialism in the Ancient World,” in Power and Propaganda, ed Larsen, 21–33; Chase-Dunn and Hall, Core/Periphery Relations; Christopher Chase-Dunn and Thomas D. Hall, “Comparing World-Systems: Concepts and Working Hypotheses,” Social Forces 71 (1993): 851–86; and Schortman and Urban, “Core/Periphery Relations”; and various articles in State and Society, ed. Gledhill et al. 37 Chase-Dunn and Hall, Core/Periphery Relations, 19. 38 Ibid., 12. 39 Ibid., 22. 40 Schortman and Urban, “Core/Periphery Relations,” 413. 41 Robert. S. Santley and Rani T. Alexander, “The Political Economy of Core-Periphery Systems,” in Resources, Power, and Interregional Interaction, ed. Shortman and Urban, 23–49. 42 Eisenstadt, “Observations and Queries,” 21–33; K. Ekholm and J. Friedman, “‘Capital’
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represents the type where the process of expansion involved “relatively little restructuring of the basic structural and cultural premises of the conquered and/or conquerors.”43 Historical scholarship has identified a differentiation between those areas of the periphery that remained in a vassal status and those that became provinces. Vassals retained more local political and economic structures and kept their own population and elites while being placed under explicit requirements, particularly concerning loyalty and tribute. Provinces, on the other hand, were more directly incorporated into the Assyrian political, economic, and ideological structures, with an Assyrian governor and military presence and often major deportations of local populations.44 In both cases a well-developed administrative system functioned to ensure Assyrian interests in its periphery.45 These considerations indicate that the Neo-Assyrian empire used aspects of both hegemonic and territorial structures in its core–periphery relationships. While issues remain about the impact on the periphery of the policies of the Assyrian empire, its relations in the seventh-century in Syria-Palestine can be summarized according to the primary core–periphery variables—military, political, economic, and ideological. Militarily, areas in Syria-Palestine underwent repeated invasions, vassal status, and in some cases permanent occupation, characteristics of a tighter core–periphery bond. Politically, Judah as a vassal would have experienced the typical requirements of loyalty, with the constant threat of more direct assertion of control.46 Economically, the empire Imperialism and Exploitation in Ancient World Systems,” 41–58; Mogens Trolle Larsen, “The Tradition of Empire in Mesopotamia,” 75–103; J. N. Postgate, “The Economic Structure of the Assyrian Empire,” 193–221—all in Power and Propaganda, ed. Larsen; Hayim Tadmor, “World Dominion: The Expanding Horizon of the Assyrian Empire,” in Landscapes: Territories, Frontiers and Horizons in the Ancient Near East: Papers Presented to the XLIV Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Venezia, 7-11, July 1997 (ed. L. Milano, S. de Martino, F. M. Fales, and G. B. Langranchi; Padua: Sargon Srl, 1999), 55–62. 43 Eisenstadt, “Social Aspects of Imperialism,” 22. 44 Moshe Elat, “The Impact of Tribute and Booty on Countries and People within the Assyrian Empire,” in Vorträge gehalten auf der 28. Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in Wein 610 Juli 1981, AfO 19 (Horn, Austria: Verlag Ferdinand Berger & Söhne Gesellschaft, 1982), 244–51; Peter Machinist, “Assyrians on Assyria in the First Millennium B.C.,” in Anfänge politischen Denkens in der Antike: Die nahöstlichen Kulturen und die Griechen (ed. Kurt Raaflaub; Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag, 1993), 77–104. 45 Jana Pecirková, “The Administrative Methods of Assyrian Imperialism,” ArOr 55 (1987): 162–75; and Raija Mattila, The King’s Magnates: A Study of the Highest Officials of the Neo-Assyrian Empire (SAAS 11, Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 2000), 161–68. 46 For discussion and details, see J. Maxwell Miller and John H. Hayes, A History of Ancient Israel and Judah (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986), 314–406; Gösta W. Ahlström, The History of Ancient Palestine from the Palaeolithic Period to Alexander’s Conquest (JSOTSup 146; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 607–740; Larsen, “Tradition of Empire,” 97; and Tadmor, “World Dominion,” 56–60.
Dutcher-Walls: Deuteronomy 17:16–17
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sought control over trade routes and access to raw materials, allowed certain trade and commercial entities to continue, and relied on tribute as its primary economic strategy on the periphery, all typical of a looser economic relationship with border states.47 Clearly Assyria depended on its vassals and provinces to produce wealth, and it set up economic relations to ensure that outcome. Any “extra” wealth that an area might produce was by obligation due to Assyria and was not available to the local elites themselves unless it could be “hidden” from the empire. The ongoing publication of the state archives of Assyria allows scholars to learn more detail about Assyria’s relationships with its vassals. In particular, the seventh-century B.C.E. vassal treaties specify what behaviors and factors were important to Assyria regarding its vassals.48 These treaties highlight the obligations put upon vassals—not to pursue any disloyal behavior, not to engage in treasonous behavior, not to engage in any revolt or rebellion, not to make any other oaths or treaties—and the positive requirement to pass on any reports of rumors of opposition to Assyria or its king.49 Assyrian royal inscriptions augment the study of the treaties themselves by showing how royal self-presentation and propaganda viewed disloyalty by vassals. Oath and treaty violations were perceived as breaking the oath of the gods, repudiating oath agreements, sinning against the oath, and breaking the treaty.50 Actions by vassals that were considered disloyal and were thus treaty violations were described as conspiring with an enemy; rebelling; renouncing allegiance; imploring the aid of another country; plotting with another country against Assyria; plotting defection, uprising, or revolution; and deciding not to pay tribute or suspending 47 Larsen, “Tradition of Empire,” 100; Moshe Elat, “Phoenician Overland Trade within the Mesopotamian Empires,” in Ah, Assyria: Studies in Assyrian History and Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Hayim Tadmor (ed. Mordechai Cogan and Israel Eph>al; ScrHier 33; Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1991), 21–35; J. P. J. Olivier-Stellenbosch, “Money Matters: Some Remarks on the Economic Situation in the Kingdom of Judah During the Seventh Century B.C.,” BN 73 (1994): 90–100; Seymour Gitin, “Tel Miqne-Ekron in the 7th Century B.C.E.: The Impact of Economic Innovation and Foreign Cultural Influences on a Neo-Assyrian Vassal City-State,” 61–79; and William G. Dever, “Orienting the Study of Trade in Near Eastern Archaeology,” 111– 19, both in Recent Excavations in Israel: A View to the West (ed. Seymour Gitin; Archaeological Institute of America Colloquia and Conference Papers 1; Dubuque, IA: Kendall Hunt, 1995). 48 “Treaty of Esarhaddon with Baal of Tyre,” text and translation by R. Borger; “The VassalTreaties of Esarhaddon,” text and translation by D. J. Wiseman, both in ANESTP, 533–39; A. Kirk Grayson, “Akkadian Treaties of the Seventh Century B.C.,” JCS 39 (1987): 127–60; Simo Parpola, “Neo-Assyrian Treaties from the Royal Archives of Nineveh,” JCS 39 (1987): 161–89; Simo Parpola and Kazuko Watanabe, Neo-Assyrian Treaties and Loyalty Oaths (SAAS 2, Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project; Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1988), 161–89; Bustenay Oded, War, Peace and Empire: Justifications for War in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions (Weisbaden: Reichert, 1992). 49 Parpola and Watanabe, Neo-Assyrian Treaties, xv–xxv and xxxviii–xxxix. 50 Oded, War, Peace, 87-99. 51 Ibid.
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annual tribute.51 Above all, the extant treaties witness the fanatical insistence on loyalty from vassals in the period. “[I]mposing oaths of loyalty on defeated nations was a cornerstone of Assyria’s strategy of gradual territorial expansion.”52 Ideologically, Assyria understood itself to be the center of the world order that was established for Assyria and its king by the gods. This order was to be maintained by the king and the apparatus of government.53 The non-Assyrian world was a region of chaos, disorder, and disobedience that was to be tamed and transformed by Assyrian hegemony.54 Thus, Assyrian imperialism in relation to its periphery had deep ideological justifications for the imposition of order by warfare, conquest, control, deportation, and the entire administrative and economic structures of its provinces and vassals. Core–periphery theory identifies how such military, political, economic, and ideological domination by a core can have an impact on the formation and development of ideology within a peripheral state. Even where direct imposition of various kinds of control, such as ideological coercion, are not used, peripheral states often adjust their behavior and thinking to the core’s requirements and values. Motivations of elites within the periphery for this adaptation to the core can include fear about consequences and/or a calculation of benefit for themselves in the situation.55 Recent work has modified the view that terror was the primary motivation among vassals for submission to the Assyrian empire. There is evidence that Assyrian policy regarding its periphery included an awareness of “benefits” that could be extended to vassals and provinces, such as security for local rulers and elites56 (albeit that the periphery might have chosen other “benefits” if given a true unencumbered choice). Certain factions among the elites within provinces and vassal states sought cooperation
52
Parpola, “Neo-Assyrian Treaties,” 161. The ideology of the Assyrian empire has been studied extensively in recent years. See, e.g., A. Leo Oppenheim, “Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Empires,” in Propaganda and Communication in World History, vol. 1 of The Symbolic Instrument in Early Times (ed. Harold D. Lasswell, Daniel Lerner, and Hans Speier, East-West Center; Honolulu: University Press of Hawaii, 1979), 111–44; Mario Liverani, “The Ideology of the Assyrian Empire,” 297–317; Paul Garelli, “L’État et la Légitimité sous l’Empire Assyrien,” 319–28; and Julian Reade, “Ideology and Propaganda in Assyrian Art,” 329–43, all in Power and Propaganda, ed Larsen; H. Tadmor, “History and Ideology in the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions,” in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: New Horizons in Literary, Ideological, and Historical Analysis (ed. F. M. Fales; Oriens antiqui collectio 17; Rome: Istituto per l’Oriente, 1981), 13–33; Machinist, “Assyrians on Assyria”; Tadmor, “World Dominion.” 54 Liverani, “Ideology,” 306–7; Oppenheim, “Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Empires,” 120–21; Machinist, “Assyrians on Assyria,” 83–91. 55 Schortman and Urban, “Core/Periphery Relations,” 404. 56 Giovanni B. Lanfranchi, “Consensus to Empire: Some Aspects of Sargon II’s Foreign Policy,” in Assyrien im Wandel de Zeiten (Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale 39, Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient 6; Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 1997), 81–87. 53
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with Assyrian hegemony in order to secure such benefits and increase their own local power.57 This sociologically and historically informed model of core–periphery relations in the Neo-Assyrian empire highlights the international considerations that were part of the scene in seventh-century Judah—especially the military, political, and economic dominance of Assyria and its ideology of control of its periphery. The circumscription of the king in Deut 17:16–17 can now be set into this international social context. A king must not multiply horses, that is, must not increase professional military power nor seek other military alliances. This facet of ideology appears to adapt kingship to Assyria’s policy of military domination and to specific prohibitions in the vassal treaties (1) against military preparation that would threaten the Assyrian king or his successor, and (2) against any oaths or alliances with Assyria’s rivals. A king must not increase wives, that is, must not enter into political alliances through key strategic marriages. This facet of ideology appears to adapt kingship to Assyria’s policy of political domination and to specific prohibitions in the vassal treaties against any political disloyalty and against oaths or alliances beyond the established one with Assyria. A king must not increase gold and silver, that is, must not seek exclusionary control of the economic surplus. This facet of ideology appears to adapt kingship to Assyria’s policy of economic control of trade and economic wealth and to specific requirements for the payment of tribute. These findings indicate that the ideology of kingship reflected in Deut 17:16aa, 17aa, and 17b appears to have adapted its own concept of kingship to the necessary requirements of survival for a monarch on the periphery of the major world empire of its time. Externally, within the context of the periphery of the Assyrian empire, the limits on the king deny him strategies to assert military, political, and economic independence and hegemony. They thus support a strategy of acquiescence to the domination of Assyria and an ideology that strictly defines the external relationships of the kingdom. This social-scientific perspective on the external dynamics of the limits on horses, wives, and wealth adds important considerations that previous scholarship has overlooked about the background and significance of the limits. The external social context is a crucial locus for understanding the genesis and significance of the ideology implied in the limits. These findings indicate that Judah’s vassal status had a profound impact on this aspect of royal ideology. IV. Conclusion Some of the intriguing implications of both the internal and external dynamics must be considered. When both sets of dynamics are combined, 57
Ibid., 84–85.
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there is a complementarity between them that is required for both approaches used in the paper to be valid. The results indicate that the ideological limits on the king could have proceeded from a particular faction within the social context of preexilic Judah.58 With an eye to Judah’s international relationships, this faction seems to be advocating circumscriptions on kingship so that the nation will maintain a loyal vassal relationship with Assyria. At the same time, with an eye to internal power struggles, the faction also seems to be advocating these same circumscriptions in order to place the king in a less powerful position relative to other elites internally, including the faction itself. In characteristic exclusionary power strategies, this in turn gives the faction further influence over foreign policy. The suggestion that this faction would thereby have received from Assyria support and other “benefits” fits well within the picture developed here.59 Further, this addition to study of the background and significance of the limits complements other scholarship.60 Particularly intriguing is the interaction with the suggestion that these limits enjoin loyalty and allegiance to Yahweh from the king and, by extension, to the whole covenant community. The findings of this article imply that at least one faction found it possible to advocate that the king attempt a careful balance between being loyal to Yahweh and being loyal to Assyria, that is, that the king can be both a good servant of Yahweh and a good vassal to Assyria.61 That two such loyalties could be proposed by the faction as at least compatible if not fully complementary is an intriguing perspective on the ideology of ancient preexilic Judah.62 Other implications of our findings indicate avenues for further study, including integrating these findings with other parts of the law of the king and the laws on offices in Deuteronomy, comparing the portrayal of kingship in the Deuteronomistic History, and comparing the ideology of kingship in the royal and enthronement psalms. 58
This is an extension of my earlier work, “The Social Location of the Deuteronomists: A Sociological Study of Factional Politics in Late Pre-Exilic Judah,” JSOT 52 (1991): 77–94. The issues of defining the faction on the basis of Deuteronomy, the Deuteronomistic History, or Jeremiah remain to be settled, given the somewhat different approaches to kingship within these bodies of literature. See the sources cited in n. 2 above. These issues also clearly relate to the idea of “dual loyalty,” which is explored below. 59 See Lanfranchi, “Consensus to Empire,” 84–85. 60 See pp. 603–5 above. 61 This implication clearly would modify the suggestion by Otto that the adoption and redirection of the Assyrian loyalty oath from Assyria to Yahweh were anti-Assyrian strategies for Judah (Otto, Das Deuteronomium, 364–65). 62 Such “dual loyalties” may not be unique in biblical literature. Immediate and so far unexplored but intriguing parallels come to mind: Isa 30 regarding trust in Yahweh and avoiding an alliance with Egypt against Assryia, narrative sections of Jer 27–29 and 38 regarding loyal Yahwism and allegiance to Babylon, and the status of Nehemiah (and Ezra?) as Persian appointees and loyal Yahwists.
JBL 121/4 (2002) 617–638
ANCESTRAL MOTIFS IN 1 SAMUEL 25: INTERTEXTUALITY AND CHARACTERIZATION
MARK E. BIDDLE
[email protected] Baptist Theological Seminary at Richmond, Richmond, VA 23227
While it is rather tenuous to speak of general consensus with respect to virtually every question of interest to biblical studies, several broad areas of agreement seem to have been reached over the past several decades concerning the narrative of David’s encounters with Nabal and Abigail recorded in 1 Sam 25. First, students of the passage usually consider it a relatively selfcontained, unified account representing a tradition predating the Deuteronomistic History (= DtrH).1 Second, a number of scholars emphasize the highly 1 K. Budde considers 1 Sam 25:2–42 to be “aus einem Gusse und vorzüglich erhalten, ein wahres Kabinetstück guter Erzählung” (Die Bücher Samuel [KHC 8; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1902], 163). The following scholars are among those who hold similar positions: O. Eissfeldt, Die Komposition der Samuelisbücher (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1931), 19; J. Mauchline, 1 and 2 Samuel (NCB; London: Oliphants, 1971), 24–26, 167; P. K. McCarter, Jr., “The Apology of David,” JBL 99 (1980): 493. With respect to the non-Deuteronomistic character of the account, I. Willi-Plein observes that the stories concerning David’s wives found in both the Narrative of David’s Rise (= NDR) and the Succession Narrative (= SN) do not betray the negative attitude characteristic of the Deuteronomist’s discussion of Solomon’s many wives, for example (“Frauen um David: Beobachtungen zur Davidshausgeschichte,” in Meilenstein: Festgabe für Herbert Donner [ed. M. Weippert and S. Timm; Ägypten und Altes Testament 30; Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1995], 353). Scholars debate the possible exception of a portion of Abigail’s lengthy speech to David, which some think exhibits evidence of Deuteronomistic redaction. T. Veijola argues that Abigail’s speech redirects the tale (Die Ewige Dynastie: David und die Entstehung seiner Dynastie nach der deuteronomistischen Darstellung [AASF B 193; Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1975], 47– 48, 51; see also L. Schmidt, Menschlicher Erfolg und Jahwes Initiative: Studien zu Tradition, Interpretation und Historie in Überlieferungen von Gideon, Saul und David [WMANT 38; Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1970], 122; McCarter, “Apology,” 493 and n. 12). It is no longer concerned with the gift but with David’s future. Veijola notes that Abigail is said to fall to the ground twice and that v. 27 contains the only occurrence of hjp` in the narrative (the usual term is hma) and concludes that vv. 21–22, 23b, 24a–26, 28–34, and 39a are Deuteronomistic additions to the account. J. Van Seters rejects as simplistic these arguments concerning the interpolation of vv. 28–31. Without this material, he suggests, the account would be “rather trivial” (In Search of History: Historiogra-
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intertextual character of the passage, especially in relation to the Ancestral Narratives (= AN).2 Third, it has become commonplace to interpret 1 Sam 25 primarily in terms of the apologetic purposes of the so-called Narrative of David’s Rise (= NDR).3 phy in the Ancient World and the Origins of Biblical History [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983], 267 n. 81). 2 In particular, the several examples of parallels between the vocabulary of 1 Sam 25 and of certain narratives in Genesis have led some to attribute 1 Sam 25 to the Yahwist (Budde, Bücher Samuel, 163; P. Dhorme, Les Livres de Samuel [EBib; Paris: Gabalda, 1910], 236; G. Hölscher, Geschichtsschreibung in Israel: Untersuchung zum Jahwisten und Elohisten [Lund: Gleerup, 1952], 376; and, more recently, H. Schulte, Die Entstehung der Geschichtsschreibung im Alten Israel [BZAW 128; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1972]), others to argue that the J (or JE) text was known to the author of the David account (most recently R. Alter, The World of Biblical Literature [San Francisco: Basic Books, 1992], 164), and still others even to conclude that the Yahwist and the author of the David account were personal acquaintances (H. Bloom, D. Rosenberg, and W. Golding, The Book of J [New York: Vintage, 1991] and more recently D. Rosenberg, The Book of David [New York: Harmony Books, 1997]). Many scholars note similarities between other portions of the David story in 1 and 2 Samuel and portions of the AN. The source-critical significance of these similarities is yet to be satisfactorily determined. Chiefly at issue is the question of whether the Genesis narrative influenced the author of the David story, as a conventional understanding of the composition history of Genesis would require, or the Genesis accounts are “parables” based on the Davidic history. See A. G. Auld, “Samuel and Genesis: Some Questions of John Van Seters’ ‘Yahwist,’” in Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible: Essays in Honour of John Van Seters (ed. S. L. McKenzie and T. Römer in collaboration with H. H. Schmid; BZAW 294; New York: de Gruyter, 2000), 23–32; R. Boer, “National Allegory in the Hebrew Bible,” JSOT 74 (1997): 95–116; R.-J. Frontain, “The Trickster Tricked: Strategies of Deception and Survival in the David Narrative,” in Mappings of the Biblical Terrain: The Bible as Text (ed. V. Tollers and J. Maier; Bucknell Review 33; Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 1990), 10–192; C. Ho, “The Stories of the Family Troubles of Judah and David: A Study in Their Literary Links,” VT 49 (1999): 514–31; J. D. Pleins, “Son-Slayers and Their Sons,” CBQ 54 (1992): 29–38; S. Prolow and V. Orel, “Isaac Unbound,” BZ 40 (1996): 84–91; G. Rendsburg, “David and His Circle in Genesis xxxviii,” VT 36 (1986): 438– 46; C. Smith, “The Story of Tamar: A Power-filled Challenge to the Structures of Power,” in Women in the Biblical Tradition (ed. G. Brooke; Studies in Women and Religion 31; Lewiston: Mellen, 1992), 24; M. Steussy, David: Biblical Portraits of Power (Studies on Personalities of the Old Testament 8; Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1999), 90; Y. Zakovitch, “Through the Looking Glass: Reflections/Inversions of Genesis Stories in the Bible,” BibInt 1 (1993): 139–52; see also J. Blenkinsopp (“Theme and Motif in the Succession History [2 Sam. XI 2ff] and the Yahwist Corpus,” in Volume du Congrès: Genève 1965 [VTSup 15; Leiden: Brill, 1966], 44–57) and W. Brueggemann (“David and His Theologian,” CBQ 30 [1968]: 156–81), who call attention to parallels between the David story and Gen 2–11. 3 According to the “classical” form of this interpretation, the NDR expresses the redactor’s concerns with efforts to consolidate the Davidic dynasty during the Solomonic period. 1 Samuel 25, too, it is argued, reflects the redactor’s tendency to avert any criticism of David and to demonstrate his chosen status. See A. Weiser, “Die Legitimation des Königs David: Zur Eigenart und Entstehung der sog. Geschichte von Davids Aufstieg,” VT 16 (1966): 337–38, 47–48. Those who regard Abigail’s second address as the product of the Dtr redactor emphasize the apologetic tendencies of this redactional material. T. Veijola, for example, sees two themes: (1) an effort to protect David from “helping himself” and incurring bloodguilt, and (2) the opportunity to prophesy his “sure
Biddle: Ancestral Motifs in 1 Samuel 25
619
This article will briefly examine these three perspectives on 1 Sam 25, will suggest an alternative understanding of the account, and will explore implications of this understanding for the question of the relationship between Genesis and the NDR. First, we will argue that the text displays an intricate, almost baroque structure that seems more consistent with literary artifice than oral tradition and calls into question the value of the account as a historical source. Second, we will show that the intertextual character of 1 Sam 25 seems to be almost satirical, and certainly ironic, in nature. With respect to the intriguing question of the direction of dependence, the intertextual intricacies embodied in 1 Sam 25, and in particular the resulting ironic portrayal of David, suggest that much of the account has been composed utilizing elements of the written patriarchal tradition. Third, we will suggest that the redactor responsible for including 1 Sam 25 in the NDR was not apparently motivated by an interest in exonerating David. Finally, we will reevaluate the customary early dating for 1 Sam 25. As will be shown, given the literary character, intertextual dependence on the patriarchal/matriarchal tradition, and subversive agenda of 1 Sam 25, the assumption that it predates the DtrH by several centuries must be abandoned.
EXCURSUS: ON METHOD
The term “intertextuality” finds a number of usages in the literature. In the context of the act of reading, it often refers to the implications of the observation that any reader approaches any “text” (including nonwritten texts such as films or works of art) as a component in a nexus of other “texts.” The act of reading establishes relationships between texts regardless of genetic dependence. The focus of this study, in contrast, will be on intertextualities which the author (a) intended as such and (b) expected his or her readers to recognize as such so that their reading of one or house” (Ewige Dynastie, 54). J. Conrad objects that the normal dating of this redactional effort to the Solomonic period fails to account for the fact that David’s actions would have recalled Solomon’s acts of violence and would have therefore been likely “to occasion unrest” (“Zum geschichtlichen Hintergrund der Darstellung von Davids Aufstieg,” TLZ 97 [1972]: 326–30). He argues that the account can better be understood as an implicit critique of the exchange of power in the north, especially under Jehu. J. Levenson (“1 Samuel 25 as Literature and as History,” CBQ 40 [1978]: 24–28) and B. Halpern (J. Levenson and B. Halpern, “The Political Import of David’s Marriages,” JBL 99 [1980]: 507–18) argue that 1 Sam 25 reflects David’s politically savvy consolidation of power in the south via marriage to Abigail (who may have been David’s sister; see 1 Sam 25:42; 2 Sam 17:25; 19:13; 1 Chr 2:16–17; see also Steussy, David, 75–76, 79; and S. McKenzie, King David: A Biography [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000], 55, 170–71), the wife of a Calebite chieftain, and in the north via marriage to Ahinoam, Saul’s wife. For a literarily oriented reading of this material see D. Gunn, The Fate of King Saul: An Interpretation of a Biblical Story (JSOTSup 14; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1980), 91–102.
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both of the related intertexts would be shaped.4 This study will contend that the author of 1 Sam 25 intended it to be read against the background of the AN, that the author has marked links between the two texts, and that an intertextual reading of 1 Sam 25 will reveal subtleties in the characterization of the leading figures, especially David.5 Efforts to assess the significance of the apparent intertextuality in 1 Sam 25 are complicated by the difficulty in determining whether similarities are the result of literary dependence (and, if so, the direction of the borrowing) or reflections of a common repertoire of narrative conventions. For example, as will be examined below, 1 Sam 25 displays a number of parallels with Gen 24. A significant body of scholarship argues that the Genesis text dates from a quite late period, too late to have been a source for the allusions in 1 Sam 25 if the latter does in fact predate DtrH.6 With regard to another example of linguistic parallels between the Deuteronomistic history and the book of Genesis, Y. Zakovitch explains many of the difficult features of Gen 34 (the rape of Dinah) as “assimilations” to 2 Sam 13 (the rape of Tamar).7 In contrast, R. Alter describes the phenomenon of “type-scenes” such as the annunciation and birth of the hero to a barren mother, the encounter at a well that results in a marriage, and so on.8 We will argue, however, that 1 Sam 25 depends genetically on the AN as evidenced especially (1) by Nabal’s name and function—a clear marker that the Samuel account is a literary conceit based on the Genesis accounts; (2) by the cumulative weight of the many verbal allusions, a phenomenon described by D. McDonald in relation to the relationship between the apocryphal book of Tobit 4 Compare U. Broich, “Formen der Markierung von Intertexualität,” in Intertextualität: Formen, Funktionen, anglistische Fallstudien (ed. U. Broich and M. Pfister; Konzepte der Sprachund Literaturwissenschaft 35; Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1985), 31: “Intertextualität [liegt] dann vor, wenn ein Autor bei der Abfassung seines Textes sich nicht nur der Verwendung anderer Texte bewußt ist, sondern auch vom Rezipienten erwartet, daß er diese Beziehung zwischen seinem Text und anderen Texten als vom Autor intendiert und als wichting für das Verständnis seines Textes erkennt.” 5 For examples of continuing interest in this more or less “diachronic” concern with genetic relationships between texts, see Intertextuality in Ugarit and Israel: Papers Read at the Tenth Joint Meeting of the Society for Old Testament Study and Het Oudtestamentisch Werkgezelschap in Nederland en Belgie (ed. J. de Moor; Leiden: Brill, 1998). 6 See H. H. Schmid, Der sogenannte Jahwist: Beobachtungen und Fragen zur Pentateuchforschung (Zurich: TVZ, 1976), 152–53; B. Diebner and H. Schult, “Alter und geschichtlicher Hintergrund von Gen 24,” DBAT 10 (1975): 10–17; M. Rose, Deuteronomist und Jahwist: Untersuchungen zu den Berührungspunkten beider Literaturwerke (ATANT 67; Zurich: TVZ, 1981), 133–41; J. Van Seters, Abraham in History and Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1975), 240–42; S. Sandmel, “Haggada within Scripture,” JBL 80 (1961): 112; F. Winnett, “Reexamining the Foundations,” JBL 84 (1965): 14; E. Blum, Die Komposition der Vätergeschichte (WMANT 57; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1984), 386–89. 7 Y. Zakovitch, “Assimilation in Biblical Narratives,” in Empirical Models for Biblical Criticism (ed. J. Tigay; Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1985), 188–92. 8 R. Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1983), 51. See especially his discussion of the accounts of David’s marriages (p. 61).
Biddle: Ancestral Motifs in 1 Samuel 25
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and Homer’s Odyssey as “density of parallels”;9 and (3) by “the capacity of details in [the pretext, in this case the MP/N] to explain the [intertext, here 1 Sam 25].”10 As a result, 1 Sam 25 invites readers to recognize links to the AN.
I. Structure 1 Samuel 25 displays an interesting parallel structure. The account begins with a dual introduction setting the events to be narrated in the context of the larger story of David (v. 1) and providing the necessary background information for the Nabal-Abigail-David story itself (v. 2). A corresponding chiastically arranged dual conclusion offers additional information concerning David’s marriages during his fugitive period (v. 43) and concerning the fortunes of David’s first wife in Saul’s court (v. 44). The placement of the se·tûmâ (s) suggests that the Massoretes may have analyzed the introduction and conclusion in a similar fashion. This dual framework raises the question of whether vv. 1, 2–3, 43, and 44 are components of the narrative or editorial elements functioning to anchor the narrative in its current context and mark it as semi-independent, a first clue to the compositional nature of the Abigail/David account.11 Several scholars note the abrupt transition from v. 1 to v. 2, the chronological and geographical difficulties presented by v. 1, and the somewhat extraneous nature of vv 43–44.12 The body of the narrative consists of three sections, roughly parallel in structure but unequal in length. All three depict the process of sending messengers,13 the delivery of messages, reactions to messages, reports of the success of the embassy, and the principles’ counterresponses. In the first act, David “hears” ([mvyw, v. 4) about Nabal’s sheep shearing and “sends” (jlvyw, v. 5) messengers seeking gifts, just as he later (act II) “hears” ([mvyw, v. 39) about 9 D. R. McDonald, “Tobit and the Odyssey,” in Mimesis and Intertextuality in Antiquity and Christianity (ed. D. McDonald; SAC; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2001), 14. G. W. E. Nickelsburg expands and refines McDonald’s criteria of density and “interpretability” in “Tobit, Genesis, and the Odyssey” in the same volume, pp. 52–54. 10 Paraphrasing McDonald, “Tobit and the Odyssey,” 14. 11 In a study of intertextuality in modern, especially belletristic, literature, U. Broich identifies several possible markers of intertextuality supplemental to the text itself (“Formen der Markierung,” 35–38). Of these, the fifth (mottoes, forewords, postscripts) calls to mind the framework structure surrounding 1 Sam 25. 12 See Budde, Bücher Samuel, 163; Dhorme, Livres de Samuel, 219–20; Eissfeldt, Composition, 19; and J. Grønbaek, Die Geschichte vom Aufstieg Davids [1. Sam. 15–2. Sam. 5]: Tradition und Komposition (ATDan 10; Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1971), 178–79. 13 David sends messengers except in the thwarted raid on Nabal’s household. Abigail acts on behalf of Nabal’s household, although without Nabal’s permission. Oddly enough, she receives her commission from “one of the !yr[n.”
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Nabal’s death and “sends” (jlvyw, v. 39) messengers to bring Abigail. Between these two movements, Abigail is told ( dygh lbn tva lygybalw , v. 14) about David’s first embassy and Nabal’s response, and she sends the gifts David had requested.14 One of the more interesting aspects of this parallel structure15 involves the emissaries’ reports to their principles (v. 12 || vv. 36–37): David’s men return from Nabal and “tell him all these things” (!yrbdh lkk wl wdgyw hlah) motivating him to take up arms, just as Abigail, Nabal’s wife—eventually —“tells him [Nabal] these things” (hlah !yrbdhAta wtva wlAdgtw) so that “his heart dies within him.” This parallel structure is imbalanced, however. The second section, considerably longer than the other two, involves a number of duplications and narrative anachronisms. The narrator twice reports that Abigail sees David approaching (vv. 20, 23). Abigail falls twice in obeisance before David (vv. 23, 24). A superfluous parenthetical comment (vv. 21–22) makes explicit David’s inward reaction to Nabal’s insult already implied in the earlier, simpler narration of his actions (v. 13). Abigail’s servant quite ably and accurately discerns the danger for Nabal’s household inherent in the situation without benefit of the narrator’s revelation of David’s thought processes. In fact, Abigail’s servant does not even know, as the reader does, of David’s decision to arm and ride against Nabal. In the servant’s view, David’s initial message and Nabal’s insulting response contain a sufficient impetus to set into motion a very dangerous series of events indeed. The chapter also seems to have interests other than maintaining the David of the fugitive period clearly in focus. He first appears as the charismatic leader of a band of men that is not hierarchically structured. They are simply his men (wyvna), who share his fortunes, who ride with him to avenge an insult (v. 13). They owe him allegiance, but they are not members of a royal entourage . . . not yet. David always, and the narrator usually, refers to them as !yr[n (vv. 5, 8, 9, 12, etc.). Nabal, Abigail, their servant, and sometimes the narrator, however, frequently refer to them with the more officious !ydb[ or !ykalm (vv. 10, 14, 40, 41). It might be objected that these latter terms are often interchangeable and need not be understood in the technical, “bureaucratic” sense and that the narrator has employed them for the sake of variety. Two points in the narrative confirm that it does not restrict its vision to the fugitive David but foreshadows 14 Significantly, perhaps, the language varies in the middle section. Not only is Abigail “told” (instead of “hearing” for herself), but she does not formally “send” the gifts ahead. She “takes” the goods and “places” them on the pack animals, then tells her servants to “go on ahead.” The parallels in this section are thematic and not linguistic. 15 In contrast, T. Veijola notes that the encounter between David and Abigail displays a chiastic structure: Abigail speaks and offers gifts; David takes the gifts and responds (Ewige Dynastie, 50).
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him as the imperious king of a later period. Abigail describes David’s men not as comrades in arms but as courtiers and servants of the king “who walk at his feet” (David rides; his servants comprise the royal entourage). Later still, Abigail herself rides to her second meeting with David, when she becomes his wife, attended by a queenly entourage of maidservants “walking at her feet” (v. 42). Veijola points out other such anachronisms. Abigail’s speech, for example, anticipates David’s response to her (vv. 26a, 33, 34) just as it also betrays knowledge of Nabal’s impending death (v. 26b).16
II. Intertextuality 1 Samuel 25 exhibits a series of verbal similarities to three episodes in the AN: the wooing of Rebekah (Gen 24), the encounter between Jacob and his brother Esau (Gen 32–33), and Jacob’s secretive departure from Laban (Gen 30–31). These allusions, together with nuances provided by the context of 1 Sam 25 as the central component of 1 Sam 24–26, contribute significantly to the characterization of major figures in 1 Sam 25. They construct a nexus of intertextuality that results in composite portrayals of Nabal (Nabal = Laban and Nabal = Saul), Abigail (Abigail = Rebekah and Abigail = Jacob), and David (David = Jacob and David = Esau and David = Abraham/Isaac). The Composite Portrayal of Nabal The depiction of Nabal participates in an intricate system of allusions extending beyond 1 Sam 25 into much of the NDR. In this system, Nabal functions as a counterpart to Laban and, by way of comparisons between Laban and Saul, ultimately as a representative of Saul as well. Employing a literary “commutative property,” the author/redactor of 1 Samuel establishes the relationship Nabal = Laban = Saul, an equation already indicated by possible plays on Nabal’s name in Gen 31:28 and 1 Sam 26:21 (lks, cf. 1 Sam 13:13).17 16
Ibid., 49. Significantly, perhaps, the verb lks, “to act foolishly,” occurs only eight times in the Hebrew Bible: apart from the three occurrences in the Saul/Laban accounts, once in reference to Ahitophel (2 Sam 15:31) and twice in reference to David (2 Sam 24:10 || 1 Chr 21:8). Thus, the David narratives account for five of eight occurrences (the others are Isa 44:25; 2 Chr 16:9). I. Provan argues on the basis of 2 Sam 13–14 and 15–17 that the David of the SN “knows nowhere near as much in these stories as the other wise people around him” (“On ‘Seeing’ the Trees While Missing the Forest: The Wisdom of Characters and Readers in 2 Samuel and 1 Kings,” in In Search of True Wisdom: Essays in Old Testament Interpretation in Honour of Ronald E. Clements [ed. E. Ball; JSOTSup 300; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999], 153–73). David, who is regularly unable to discern the truth in a situation or to see clearly the consequences of his actions, benefits 17
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Nabal and Laban Parallels between 1 Sam 25 and the Jacob/Laban narratives are less striking and direct than those involving Abigail and her counterparts to be examined below, but no less intriguing. First, according to U. Broich, intertextuality may be marked in the “communication system outside the text” through the choice of names for characters.18 Nabal’s unusual name is clearly such a literary artifice (surely, no parent would name a son “Fool”), a palindrome, drawing attention to parallels between Laban and Nabal. M. Garsiel further confirms the paronomasia involving lbn, hlbn, l[ylbA@b, @yyAlbn, @bl, bl, and @bal in 1 Sam 25 and points out that the rabbis had already identified Nabal and Laban with one another.19 Furthermore, this choice of name indicates the direction of the genetic relationship, since it is inconceivable that “Laban” could have arisen as a play on “Nabal.” Second, both the encounter between David (through his intermediaries) and Nabal and the final encounter between Jacob and Laban involve the resolution of questions of payment for services rendered in the protection of flocks and of the possible theft of property. Like Jacob, David portrays himself as faithful in the protection of his “master’s” flock (Gen 31:6, 31–32, 36–42; 1 Sam 25:7; cf. 25:15–16), and both ask for “something” (hm;Wam], Gen 30:31, ironically; 1 Sam 25:7, cf. 25:15, 21) in payment. Laban and Nabal contend that the goods intended as payment are, in fact, their belongings, to which Jacob and David have no authentic claim (Gen 31:26–30, 43; 1 Sam 25:11). Both accounts stress the hero’s innocence of capital offense: Jacob in the matter of the stolen te·raµpîm (which were “not found,” Gen 31:32–33, 37) and David in the matter of Nabal’s death (“evil not found [in David],” 1 Sam 25:28). When Jacob departs with his wives, Laban’s daughters, Laban accuses him of “stealing his heart” (Gen 31:20, 26); when Nabal’s heart becomes stone and he dies, David takes his widow as wife. Finally, the conflicts between Laban and Jacob and Nabal and David occur in the context of sheep shearing:
/naxoAta, lm,r“K'B' /naxoAta,
zzOg“li &l'h; @b;l;w“
(Gen 31:19)
zzOg“Bi yhiy“w"
(1 Sam 25:2)
/naxoAta, lb;n: zzEgOAyKi
(1 Sam 25:4; cf. also 25:7, 11)
from the folly of his enemies (Saul, Nabal, and Ahitophel, for example) and the wisdom of members of his entourage (Abigail, Hushai, for example). In this respect, David’s “wise” posture regarding avenging himself against Saul is a remarkable exception. 18 Broich, “Formen der Markierung,” 39–40. 19 M. Garsiel, The First Book of Samuel: A Literary Study of Comparative Structures, Analogies, and Parallels (Ramat-Gan, Israel: Revivim, 1985), 127. “Rabbi Simon said, ‘Nabal is Laban—
Biddle: Ancestral Motifs in 1 Samuel 25
625
Surprisingly, zzg only occurs another five times in Genesis–2 Kings (Gen 38:12, 13; Deut 15:19; 2 Sam 13:23, 24). The two usages in Gen 38 concern Tamar’s deception of Judah, who has gone to shear sheep. 2 Samuel 13 recounts Absalom’s sheep-shearing celebration, at which he murders drunken Amnon.20 Saul and Laban A number of scholars have called attention to similarities in biblical depictions of Saul and Laban, especially in terms of their relationships to their sonsin-law David and Jacob.21 A number of these parallels and allusions involve intertextualities between the framework of the Abigail/Nabal narrative (1 Sam 24 and 26) and the passage (Gen 31) that is also the focal point for parallels between Laban and Nabal. Just as David protests his innocence of “insubordination” ([vp) and “sin” (afj) in his dealings with Saul (1 Sam 24:12 [Eng. 24:11]), Jacob demands that Laban specify charges of “insubordination” ([vp) and “sin” (afj) to justify Laban’s pursuit (Gen 31:36). In fact, the father-in-law’s unwarranted pursuit of the son-in-law is perhaps the major theme in both texts (#dr, 1 Sam 24:15; 26:18, 20; Gen 31:23; cf. 31:36). In both, the father-in-law seeks assurances that the son-in-law will protect the father-in-law’s progeny (1 Sam 24:22–23; Gen 31:44). Finally, Laban and David each invoke God to “judge between” the parties to the conflict (1 Sam 24:13, 16; Gen 31:53). Other parallels between Saul and Laban occur outside the complex of 1 Sam 24–26. “Deceit” characterizes dealings between Saul and Laban and their households (1 Sam 19:17; Gen 29:25; 31:20): most notably, Saul and Laban deceive their prospective sons-in-law in negotiations concerning marriage (1 Sam 18:17–29; Gen 29:15–29);22 in turn, their daughters outwit them to the advantage of their sons-in-law in instances involving te·¸raµpîm (1 Sam 19:8–17; Gen 31:29–35).23 In an “inversion” of a theme characteristic of the intertextual
just as Laban was a swindler, so was Nabal a swindler’” (Yalqut Sim>oni on 1 Sam 25, cited by Garsiel on pp. 130–31). 20 Sheep-shearing time in Hebrew narratives seems to connote deception and danger. See Ho, “Family Troubles,” 519–20. 21 Frontain, “Trickster,” 176; M. Garsiel, “Wit, Words, and a Woman: 1 Samuel 25,” in On Humour and the Comic in the Hebrew Bible (ed. Y. Radday and A. Brenner; JSOTSup 92; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1990), 163; Steussy, David, 90; and others. 22 S. McKenzie (King David) is only the most recent scholar to consider the account of Saul’s offer of Merab to David as wife (1 Sam 18:17–19) a late interpolation. Along with 18:1–5, 10–11, and 29b–30, the LXX does not attest it. Despite this likelihood, however, the interpolation—which establishes parallels between Laban’s deception in Jacob’s marriages to the sisters Leah and Rachel and Saul’s dishonesty in offering David first Merab and then Michal—evidences the interpolator’s recognition of the equation of Saul with Laban, which was manifested already in the NDR. See Frontain, “Trickster,” 176. 23 See further H. J. Stoebe, “David und Mikal: Überlegungen zur Jugendgeschichte Davids,”
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relationship between Samuel and Genesis, Jacob’s love for Rachel (Gen 29:18) and Michal’s love for David (1 Sam 18:20) mirror each other.24 The comparison tends to heighten the irony of Samuel’s portrayal of David, who shares many of Jacob’s less noble qualities but apparently does not love his wife as Jacob did. Saul and Nabal The lynchpin of this matrix of associations is the identification of Nabal with Saul evident in the inclusio surrounding 1 Sam 25. Indeed, as has been widely recognized, this identification seems to be the point of the structure of the complex. David’s sparing of Nabal comments on David’s sparing of Saul recorded in the framing doublet (1 Sam 24 || 1 Sam 26). R. P. Gordon and, especially, R. Polzin catalogue a total of five verbal/thematic features that link 1 Sam 24 to the framing chapters, thereby equating Saul with Nabal:25 (1) the concentration on the question of David’s status (compare Nabal’s question in 1 Sam 25:10 to Saul’s in 1 Sam 17:55–58) centered on the portrayal of David as Saul/Nabal’s “son” (1 Sam 24:16; 25:8; 26:17, 21, 25; cf. also 24:12); (2) the observation that Saul/Nabal repaid David evil for good (1 Sam 24:18 [Eng. 24:17]; 25:21); (3) the characterization of the disputes between Saul/Nabal and David as disputes (byr) to be adjudicated by God (1 Sam 24:16 [Eng. 24:15]; 25:39); (4) the assertion that YHWH smote (#gn, 1 Sam 25:38) or will smite (#gn, 1 Sam 26:10) David’s enemy (Laban and Saul, respectively); and (5) the motif of “seeking” David (1 Sam 24:3, 10; 26:2, 20),26 which reaches its apex in Abigail’s wish/prediction that David’s enemy, “who seeks [his] life,” may/will become “like Nabal” (1 Sam 25:26; cf. 25:29). In addition to these lexical and thematic parallels, Polzin also points out the high incidence in 1 Sam 24–26 of the terms “and now” (ht[w, over one-third of all occurrences of the term in 1 Sam appear in chaps. 24–26) and “behold” (hnh) functioning as “formal signpost[s].”27 in Von Ugarit nach Qumran: Beiträge zur alttestamentlichen und altorientalischen Forschung: Otto Eissfeldt zum 1. September 1957 dargebracht von Freunden und Schülern (ed. W. F. Albright et al.; BZAW 77; Berlin: Töpelmann, 1958), 237. 24 See Zakovitch, “Through the Looking Glass,” esp. 149–51; Ho, “Family Troubles,” 515–16. 25 R. P. Gordon, “David’s Rise and Saul’s Demise: Narrative Analogy in 1 Samuel 24–26,” TynBul 31 (1980): 37–64; R. Polzin, Samuel and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History, Part Two: 1 Samuel (Indiana Studies in Biblical Literature; Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989), 205–15 (contra G. A. Nicol, “David, Abigail and Bathsheba, Nabal and Uriah: Transformations Within a Triangle,” SJOT 12 [1998]: 135). 26 The motif extends beyond 1 Sam 24–26; see 1 Sam 19:2, 10; 20:1, 16; 22:23; 23:10, 14, 15, 25; 27:1, 4. 27 Polzin, Samuel, 206.
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The Composite Portrayal of Abigail A. Bach accurately observes that “Abigail [is] the focus of her own narrative. . . . All the other characters interact only with Abigail.”28 David never meets Nabal in person. Once informed of Nabal’s rash reaction to David’s embassy, Abigail seizes the initiative, to maintain it throughout the crisis. She conceives and executes a plan to spare David from his own rash counterreaction. Ultimately, her intervention does not benefit Nabal. Instead, one can argue that she achieved revenge against Nabal on David’s behalf.29 Even her subsequent marriage to David may have been the fruit of the idea she planted in David’s mind (1 Sam 25:31; see further below). Allusions to characters in the AN, namely, the matriarch Rebekah and the patriarch Jacob, serve to enhance Abigail’s stature as the key actor in the account. Abigail and Rebekah Intriguingly, Hebrew narrative does not often describe people of either gender in terms of their physical beauty. In fact, only thirteen people are described as “good-looking” in Genesis–2 Kings with the language employed in 2 Sam 25.30 All three of Israel’s matriarchs and five of the women in David’s life are distinguished for their particular beauty. Joseph, David, Absalom, Adonijah, and an unnamed Egyptian soldier31 are the five men noted for their good 28
A. Bach, “The Pleasure of Her Text,” USQR 43 (1989): 42. that some historical kernel underlies 1 Sam 25 (given the literary artifice evident in the narrative, a debatable assumption), S. McKenzie concludes that Nabal’s death, attributed to YHWH’s intervention, may in fact be traceable to “a . . . sinister cause—murder—plotted by David but carried out by someone else. . . . In this case, the prime suspect has to be Abigail” (King David, 100) 30 In addition to the descriptions of “good-looking” people in Genesis–2 Kings, there are three references to “good-looking” cows in Gen 41 and a law concerning the attractive female prisoner of war taken as a wife in Deut 21:11. 1 Samuel 9:2 describes Saul as more b/f, often translated “handsome,” than any other man in Israel. Since it emphasizes Saul’s stature, it is unclear whether the text refers to Saul’s looks or to his fitness for battle. At any rate, the text does not employ the formulaic expression used of David, Abigail, and the matriarchs. The formulaic expression is intertextually significant in two respects. First, as P. Beentjes points out in a study of inner-biblical quotations, biblical authors employ such formulae as a means to mark intertextual relations (“Discovering a New Path of Intertextuality: Inverted Quotations and Their Dynamics,” in Literary Structure and Rhetorical Strategies in the Hebrew Bible [ed. L. de Regt, J. de Waard, and J. Fokkelman; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1996], 49). Second, of those described with versions of this formula, only Abigail and Rebekah, the matriarch whose depiction in Gen 24 represents the primary pretext for the portrayal of Abigail as David’s bride, “survive” their beauty unscathed. Joseph becomes a target of sexual predation because of his looks, as do Tamar, Bathsheba, and Abishag. Good looks also play a role in the fates of Absalom, Adonijah, and even David. Abigail’s beauty, in contrast, does not in the end endanger her; it brings ruin to Nabal. 31 harm vya yrxm vya (2 Sam 23:21 Qere). 29 Assuming
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Journal of Biblical Literature
looks. This concentration alone seems intertextually significant. Other commentators have also noted the obvious ambiguity of beauty, especially in the David stories.32 Just as Joseph’s good looks attracted unwanted attention, beauty proves a particular danger for David’s women and contributes to the arrogance and ultimate downfall of two of his sons. YHWH’s advice to Samuel not to regard the prospective king’s outward appearance (Whaer“m'Ala, fBeTeAla', 1 Sam 16:7) may be read as the moral of this theme in the story of David. Of greater interest to this study are the linguistic options.
daom] awhi
ha,r“m'Atp'y“ hp;y:
daom] ha,r“m' tb'fo ayhi ha,r“m' tb'/f ha,r“m' tp'ywI
hV;ai (Sarah, Gen 12:11) -yKi hV;aih; (Sarah, Gen 12:14) r:[}N"h'w“ (Rebekah, Gen 24:16) -yKi hq;b]rI (Rebekah, Gen 26:7)
ra'ToAtp'y“ ht;y“h; ljer:w“ (Rachel, Gen 29:17) ra'To tp'ywI . . . hV;aih;w“ (Abigail, 1 Sam 25:3)
daom]
daom]Ad['
ha,r“m' tb'/f hp;y: ha,r“m' tp'y“ hp;y:
hV;aih;w“ (Bathsheba, 2 Sam 11:2) t/ja; (Tamar II, 2 Sam 13:1) hV;ai (Tamar III, 2 Sam 14:27) hr:[}N"h'w“ (Abishag, 1 Kgs 1:4)
ha,r“m' hpeywI ra'ToAhpey“ #se/y yairo b/fw“ !yIn"y[e hpey“A![i. . . aWhw“ ha,r“m' hpey“A![i . . . r['n" hp,y: Avyai ra'ToAb/f aWh
(Joseph, Gen 39:6) (David, 1 Sam 16:12; cf. 16:18) (David, 1 Sam 17:42) (Absalom, 2 Sam 14:25) (Adonijah, 1 Kgs 1:6)
Rachel is described with the fullest form of what seems a formulaic description: (daom]) ha,r“m' / ra'To (tp'y“ or tb'/f).33 Only the descriptions of Rachel, Joseph (the 32 See especially Meir Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Indiana Literary Biblical Series; Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985), 354–64. See also R. L. Hubbard, Jr., “The Eyes Have It: Theological Reflections on Human Beauty,” ExAud 13 (1997): 57–72. 33 Biblical Hebrew employs several terms to describe physical beauty. Most commonly a form of the root hpy (“beautiful, handsome”) appears alone (adjective: Job 42:15; Prov 11:22; Cant 1:8, 15, 16; 2:10, 13; 4:1, 7; 5:9; 6:1, 4, 10; verb: Ezek 16:13; Ps 45:3; Cant 4:10; 7:2, 7; compare Jer 4:30; Ezek 31:7). The adjective b/f (“good”), descriptive of positive qualities in a wide range of semantic fields, appears alone much less frequently in reference to physical beauty (Neh 3:4 and,
Biddle: Ancestral Motifs in 1 Samuel 25
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Hebrew Bible’s prototype of the lk,c, individual [1 Sam 25:3], although this term is not used of Joseph), and Abigail employ the optional ra'To, although other verbal parallels between 1 Sam 25 and the AN suggest that Gen 24 provides a focal intertext for the Abigail story. Incidentally, the fact that parallels between the language of 1 Sam 25 and Genesis are not limited to texts belonging to one of the classical pentateuchal sources undermines the notion that 1 Sam 25 is strictly related to J. Instead, it either knows the whole ancestral tradition, or the Genesis and the David story (both the NDR and the SN) have cross-pollinated at several stages of lengthy growth processes. Perhaps significantly, Abigail’s beauty, emphasized in the introduction, plays no overt role in the development of the plot in 1 Sam 25. Nabal’s wealth first attracts David’s attention. There is no indication in the text34 that David knew Abigail prior to the first encounter recorded in 1 Sam 25. Even in this encounter, David responds exclusively to her speech. Nothing is said of David’s reaction to her physical appearance. In fact, the only indication that he may have noted her beauty comes at the end, when he sends for her to become his wife. Unlike the others said to be beautiful, Abigail’s beauty does not precipitate the events that unfold in her story. Apparently, the allusion functions primarily to predispose the reader to regard her in matriarchal/royal light. Rebekah and Abigail may also be the two most industrious women in the Hebrew Bible, at least judged according to the haste with which they pursue tasks. The verb rhm occurs a total of forty-one times in Genesis–2 Kings. Eleven of these occurrences are feminine forms. Of these eleven, three have Rebekah as the subject (Gen 24:18, 20, 46) and four have Abigail (1 Sam 25:18, 23, 34, 42).35 Rebekah hurries to give Abraham’s servant something to drink and to water the camels. Then Rebekah graciously washes the feet of Abraham’s servant and of his companions (wta r`a !y`nah ylgrw wylgr $jrl, Gen 24:32) weary from their long journey. H. Gunkel found this aspect of Rebekah’s behavior, her extraordinary kindness and hospitality, particularly expressive of her suitability as the bride chosen for the heir of the promise.36 Abigail, in turn, hurries to perhaps, 1 Sam 9:2 and Esth 8:5). Human beings can also be characterized as “comely” (hwan, Cant 1:5; 2:14; 4:3; 6:4; compare Jer 6:2; verb form, Cant 1:10), “lovely” (!y[in:, Can 1:16; 2 Sam 1:23; ![n, 2 Sam 1:26; Ezek 32:19; Cant 7:7), and “desirable” (dm'j]m', Ezek 24:16; Cant 5:16; dm,j,, Ezek 23:6, 12, 23). Not surprisingly, the Song of Songs contains the highest concentration and widest variety of such descriptions of beauty. Interestingly, however, the formula characteristic of the AN, the NDR, and the SN does not appear in Song of Songs. 34 But see n. 9 above. 35 The remaining four are Gen 18:6 (Sarah hurries to bake bread), Exod 2:18 (Reuel inquires how his daughters have been able to finish watering the flocks so quickly), Judg 13:10 (Samson’s mother hurries to tell Maon about her encounter with the messenger), and 1 Sam 28:24 (the witch of Endor hurries to prepare food for the weakened King Saul). 36 H. Gunkel, Genesis: Translated and Interpreted (Mercer Library of Biblical Studies 1; Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1997), 251–53, 256.
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load donkeys with gifts and provisions for David and his men, and she hurries to dismount her donkey and to bow to David upon encountering him. Conversely, after graciously and humbly identifying herself as servant to David’s servants, willing even to wash their feet (ynda ydb[ ylgr $jrl hjp`l ^tma hnh, 1 Sam 25:41), she hurries to mount and ride after David’s messengers, who have come to bring her to David as his bride. Both women demonstrate their industry, graciousness, and decisiveness. Whereas Rebekah encounters Isaac only once in Gen 24, Abigail’s relationship with David develops in two movements in 1 Sam 25. As a result, echoes of Gen 24 can be heard in varying degrees in the accounts of both of the Abigail–David meetings. The description of Abigail’s initial behavior at the first meeting, which is also pressed into double duty as a parallel to the account of the encounter between Jacob and Esau, bears verbal resemblance (lygyba artw (ypal lptw rwmjh l[m drtw rhmtw dwdAta, 1 Sam 25:23) to the parallel description of Rebekah’s behavior when she first meets Isaac (artw hyny[Ata hqbr a`tw lmgh l[m lptw qjxyAta, Gen 24:64). There is an intriguing parallel between Gen 24:18, dral published a brief study that examined some of the Assyrian designations for the northern kingdom in the ninth and eighth centuries B.C.E.1 He operated with the basic claim that the Neo-Assyrian designations reflect various historical situations involving Israel from 853–720 B.C.E. In the course of this study, however, Eph>al reached a negative conclusion and asserted that these Assyrian designations “cannot be taken as indicative of the territorial extent (nor of the political conditions) of the kingdom of Israel.”2 This assertion represents a tradition of viewing the different designations for the northern kingdom as simple synonyms that had little, if any, relationship to Israel’s changing political circumstances throughout the ninth and eighth centuries. There are several weaknesses in Eph>al’s treatment that call for a new examination of this topic. First, he does not analyze all the appearances of northern designations. Additionally, new pieces of evidence (such as the Tel Dan inscription) and new issues have emerged in the last decade. He also deals mostly with texts that are not royal inscriptions and does not consider in an extended way the study of Israelite and Judean history. Furthermore, Eph>al’s denial of territorial and political implications for the designations ignores the specific form (including the presence of determinatives) and context of the 1 Israel Eph>al, “‘The Samarian(s)’ in the Assyrian Sources,” in Ah Assyria: Studies in Assyrian History and Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Hayim Tadmor (ed. M. Cogan and I. Eph>al; ScrHier 33; Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1991) 36–45. 2 Ibid., 39.
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terms in the various inscriptions. Accordingly, the present article both builds upon and moves beyond Eph>al’s study in order to reexamine the designations for the northern kingdom found in Assyrian royal inscriptions from Shalmaneser III to Sargon II. This examination specifically analyzes the various designations within this corpus by focusing on the differences in the terms, their relationships to one another, their literary and historical contexts, and their implications for Israelite history and biblical interpretation. The datable Assyrian royal documents indicate that references to the northern kingdom span over 150 years. These references primarily consist of three different terms: “Bit-H… umri,” “Samaria,” and “Israel.” The term “BitH… umri,” or “house of Omri,” occurs only in Assyrian sources, while “Samaria” occurs also, but more rarely, in the Hebrew Bible (1 Kgs 21:1; 2 Kgs 1:3; Hos 10:7). Moreover, in the Assyrian texts, the term “Israel” occurs only in an inscription of Shalmaneser III, while “Samaria” and “Bit-H… umri” occur in various contexts throughout the rest of the inscriptions of this period. The occurrences of designations for the northern kingdom in the inscriptions are as follows: Assyrian King
Inscription
Shalmaneser III Shalmaneser III Adad-nirari III
Monolith Inscription (ca. 853) Black Obelisk, Calah Fragment Kurba